Ain't We Lucky We Got 'Em, Good Times

It’s always an honor to see one of your friends get the recognition they deserve. Today, William of Poop and Boogies received what has been a long time coming. Dr. Phil mentioned his blog on his website.

William has been blogging funnies about his own childhood as well as rearing his sons, all the while admitting his lovely bride, Lauren is always right. Not a lot of husbands will admit such a things, let alone blog about it for the entire world wide web to witness.

William is a more consistent blogger then many of us. His sons give him a wealth of material as do the voices in his own head. He is a very funny guy, when he isn’t being outwitted by the boys and his wife.

Congratulations William!!! I’m crazy happy for you!

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Enough about William, let’s talk about me for a while, shall we?

Okay, truth is, I’m not very interesting on my own either. You add my kids and old man to the mix and it feels like a padded room should be waiting in the wings.

The other day, Lane 2 and Addison (Lane 1’s friend who now lives with us) forgot their school books. I could still see the taillights of Lane 1’s car as I tried waving him back with the books in my hand. They didn’t see me.

I put on my shoes and a baseball cap and rushed over to the high school. As I was getting out of the car I realized I looked like a carnie, or a lesbo without a Leatherman, or Britney Spears during her dating Kevin Federline days… I was a hot mess.

They already entered the building, so I had no choice but to go in… as is. Those poor kids. They never said a word but I know they were embarrassed because the bell hadn’t rang yet and the entire student body sat in the lobby area.

It was like a Meow Mix commercial. All heads turned to the door as I walked in. Various kids began calling out, “Hey, Lane, there's your Ma.”

“Hi Lane's Mom!”

“Hey Mrs. Lane!!”

“Hi Mrs. Lane 2's Mommy!”

I sheepishly waved at the large group, noticing my son was hiding behind a pillar, trying not to peek out or be seen by me.

Lane 2 was so happy I brought her homework to her that she just said thank you and smiled.

Addison…oh poor baby. He probably isn’t used to the kind of torture a carnie-looking mom can bestow. He may have blushed as he said, “Thank you, Mrs. Lane.”

The reason they left their things behind is because they were running late. And here’s why…




Addison was going for a Let’s Get Physical look with his snazzy headband.




Lane 2 was going for the, emo punk rockin’ out look.




And then there’s Lane 1...he wanted to “look smart” and bought some fake glasses at a thrift store, along with the sweater. He thought he looked spiffy and Clark Kent-ish. I thought he just looked like a douche bag. And he has the nerve to be embarrassed by me. Whatever!

If you aren’t following me on Twitter or on Facebook, you are missing a lot of fun stuff. I’m only slightly addicted, which is why I’ve been such a bad blogger lately.

Here’s one of the recent gems, you may have missed out on… at dinner a couple of nights ago, Lane 1 said to Lane 2 who had spaghetti sauce splashed on her cheek from slurping noodles, “It looks like you did a cartwheel and your tampon string smacked you in the face.”

Classic Lane humor! Have a great weekend!

You Ain’t Nothin’ But A Hound Dog

It ain't all hearts and flowers, this married stuff. I brag on my old man all the time, see post below. And mostly, he deserves it. Today Mr. Lane is in the doghouse and I need your help.

Is owning up to cock-like behavior enough? Mr. Lane called me to apologize for displaying many forms of assholery and dickonometry as of late. When I hung up, I thought, wow he knew he was a dick without me saying a word. Nice!

But is that enough? Should I make him work for my forgiveness, earn it even? Should I milk it for all its worth? What would you do?

When I lived at home, Mom always made Dad “pay for it” no matter what the “it” was. She had jewelry coming out of her ass. It wasn’t so much that my dad was a real fuck up… or was he? Seems every time he said or did something, anything, Mom would get a new “bad boy ring” her pet name for the “gifts.”

Apparently, she ran out of fingers and he started buying necklaces, bracelets other types of hush money type gifts. Anything to shut the old gal up, I guess.

So thinking about my old man and his behavior, then thinking about his empty wallet…I wondered how can I squeeze blood from this turnip?

Here’s what went down: (Mind you, this is small potatoes in the grand scheme of things.) I made dinner and as we sat there eating, I kept reprimanding both of the kids and my old man for giving the dogs people food. It is one of my biggest pet peeves not to mention it really isn’t good for them, why else would God make dog food? Right?!

So after too many repeats on my end, I locked the dogs in their cage because locking kids in a cage is illegal. Whatever!

Fast forward to 4:30 am. Mr. Lane was getting ready for work and I heard one of the dogs start to puke. I laid in bed playing opossum, hoping and expecting Mr. Lane would realize this was reason 9,642 why feeding dogs people food is a bad idea, and he would take care of the mess.

Instead, I heard the door open and, “You nasty fuckers are outta here.” then the sound of the door shutting.

He came into the room to kiss me goodbye, while I fake slept, he said, “Have a nice day. Love you.” And away he went. Knowing I had two pukey dogs and a pukey cage sitting outside waiting for me, I doubted I’d be having a nice day.

As soon as he drove off, I got out of bed, walked though the pukey kitchen…in my bare feet, gagging, went outside, carried the cage into the bathroom, stuck it, with the dogs straight in the tub. I gathered all of the essentials and released them…now I know what the term caged animal really means. They were so happy jumping around, splashing and making an even bigger mess.

Not even 5 am, no coffee, sleep still clinging to my eyes, while elbow deep in dog sludge, fun! After bathing them, drying them, which resulted in an extra load of towels to wash, cleaning and drying the cage, and of course my feet, I had to clean the floors, tub and finally make my damn coffee. But by then, I had to wake the kids…all three.

Yes we have another live in. It’s kinda like the Heartbreak Hotel around here. Another of Lane 1’s friends is having trouble at home, got kicked out and knowing what a good boy he really is, we said he could stay here. By the way, he was the only child not feeding the dogs people food the night before. Maybe I ought to keep him and ditch the rest?!

After they had breakfast, they went to school, and the phone rang. It was Mr. Lane calling to apologize for leaving me with the aftermath knowing I had a ton of renovation work to do at the teen center. I was slightly proud of him for owning up. I was somewhat surprised by him saying sorry, he just usually doesn’t. But before I let myself get too excited, I thought about all of Mom’s bad boy rings. There’s got to be something more exciting in this turn of events than just an “I’m sorry, you were right.” Isn’t there?



I tried waterboarding Darla, but the bitch wouldn't say which one of them did the puking.




Daisy was terrified that the jig was up, certain Darla was going to rat her out.

As a side-note, a few weeks ago, he was talking to one of his friends and was singing my praises. Again, something he just doesn’t do. He was bragging on me, not about me selling NINE manuscripts in a week, not about me writing for half a dozen stand-up comedians, not about me taking on an extra child, not about me raising up the two we already have, or any of my volunteer work but about my driving back from Florida.

“I don’t think I’ve ever gone 1,200 miles straight through. O-G really out did herself. I know. I was impressed too.”

I know I should be thankful he noticed anything about me while my clothes were still on but, really, impressed? When I think of my achievements in life, being able to drive a freakin’ car really isn’t one of them.

So my bitch session is over. What I want to know is are all boys dumb or just the one I married? And two, what do you guys think I could/should get out of this turnip? Okay, I’ll give you one more…am I just being a bitch who should suck it up and shut it up?