I’ve been MIA for a while, having traveled to Vermont to spend some time with the folks, and since, have decided to stay another couple weeks…so, I thought I’d share a little quirky quickie so you don’t COMPLETELY forget me 😉
A husband went to the police station to file a “missing person” report for his missing wife:
Husband : I lost my wife, she went shopping & hasn’t come back yet.
Inspector : What is her height?
Husband : I never checked.
Inspector : Slim or healthy?
Husband : Not slim, can be healthy.
Inspector : Color of eyes?
Husband : Never noticed.
Inspector : Color of hair?
Husband : Changes according to the season.
Inspector : What was she wearing?
Husband : Not sure whether it was a dress or a suit.
Inspector : Was she driving?
Husband : Yes.
Inspector : Tell me the number, name & color of the car?
Husband : Black Audi A8 with supercharged 3.0 litre V6 engine generating 333 horse power, teamed with an eight-speed tiptronic automatic transmission with manual mode. And it has full LED headlights, which use light emitting diodes for all light functions and has a very thin scratch on the front left door.
Our bus stopped and 2 Italian men got on.
They sat down in the seat in front of me and engaged in an animated conversation.
I ignored them at first,
But my attention was galvanized when I heard one of them say the following:
“Emma come first.
Den I come.
Den two asses come together.
I come once-a-more!
Two asses, they come together again.
I come again and pee twice.
Then I come one lasta time.”
I can’t take it anymore…
“Hey, you foul-mouthed sex obsessed pigs!” I retorted indignantly, hissing between my teeth.
‘In this country, we don’t speak aloud in public places about our sex lives!”
“Hey, coola down lady,” animatedly exclaimed the one.
“Whooza talkina about sex?” asked the other, looking completely perplexed.
“I’m a justa tellina my frienda how to spell Mississippi” the first cried, looking at me like I had two heads.
ps) Kat…hope you don’t mind my stealing two of your gifs
pss) B…if you still read this blog, laugh now.
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
Now, I hope you all know me enough by now to know that I am picking fun here. My Mother-In-Law is a strong, intelligent, sensitive woman and we get along famously. It just took us some time to find our own relationship, as it did my husband and his Mother-In-Law. There is love and there is respect and that is all there needs to be.
It’s important to let the seeds of this relationship grow naturally, organically, outside that of the child/spouse connection.
There is nothing in the rules of marriage handbook (and I’m sure there is one out there, somewhere) that says you have to love or even be friends with your spouse’s mother.
It helps, but it’s also okay if not.
(I don’t know why, but Fathers-In-Law relationships do NOT have the same dynamic)
Love doesn’t happen just because she birthed your spouse nor for the fact that you happened to choose her child as a life mate.
That just opens the door. To be welcomed in and invited to take up space in their hearts, you must be worthy in your own right.
If there’s any hope for a relationship, there has to be respect. On both sides. And, because you’ve both earned it.
Respect is one of those things we each feel we deserve.
Just because.
Not so.
As with any relationship in life, whether personal or professional, we can respect the title/position, but the person in it, must earn it.
Also, as we cannot choose our blood relations, we do our best to love them because of our common link, but we often find ourselves in the position of not respecting them for various reasons.
Love but don’t respect – common in relationships to those we are born into.
But for those to whom we have no connection other than by proxy via our spouse, if we do not/cannot develop a familial love, we can at the least hope to develop a relationship based on mutual respect.
If not (especially if your spouse is close to your In-Law) then personally, I’d say your marriage has a boot on its neck.
Especially evident when you and your spouse have kids of your own…
Becoming a Mother-In-Law can be daunting if the relationship with the new son/daughter lacks respect as well as the love connection.
Could you imagine becoming a grandparent to the little seed of your precious apple in a relationship fraught with tension and stress because either you or your In-Law or your spouse were always on the defensive?
Nahhhh…that’s for the birds and a bit like cutting off your limb to spite your trunk, if you know what I mean.
So, this Mother’s Day, it is with high hopes that all the wives and husbands who share porch space with me here, boast a happy, healthy, loving relationship with your respective Mothers-In-Law. If not, I sincerely hope you share one of mutual respect.
If not yet, work on it. It’ll make all the difference in the world…to ALL of you.
If you’re a newbie, or a work in progress, keep at it.
The door opened the day you got married…it’s up to you to be welcomed inside.
Conversely…to all the Mothers-In-Law out there still struggling with the addition to the family…
It is with respect I say this…
“They are married.
You didn’t lose one, you gained one.
You did your job, now enjoy the fruits of your labor while they make fruits of their own.
Resist when you’re not asked.
Be there when you are.
And if you can’t…try harder.
Should you choose the right road, and it IS a choice, you’ll end up smack-dab in the middle of the intersection of Love Lane and Respect Avenue.
Yesterday I visited a too-long forgotten toy box brought to mind by a friend.
Today I found something I’d thought lost when an earlier laptop decided to commit Hara-Kiri.
I love these reminders that I’m getting old…because now when I think I’ve lost something irreplaceable, I can at least hold out hope (if I remember to) that I’ve just forgotten that I took steps to make sure that didn’t happen.
It’s like that AH HA moment of opening the freezer and finding your favorite pair of underwear!
“Ah Ha! Now I remember, I put you in there to help with the night sweats.”
I’m not the only one.
Right?
RIGHT?
Okay, sure, whatever…I’ll just say it made sense at the time and I’m glad all I did was forget I put them there and not that I forgot I had them, or that I lost them, or shit….now I’m so confused.
What was I looking for?
Oh, wait…I found something. That’s it.
I found something I thought I’d lost because I forgot I saved it just in case I lost it because I had forgotten to save it.
Ahhhhh. There…that’s better.
Right?
So…what did the Old Lady That Lived in a Freezer find?
1200 photographs of her ‘once in a lifetime’ trip to London.
I KNOW right? What a thing to think was lost and gone forever!
I was crazy pissed off at my(self) laptop for dying with my magical mystery tour locked inside.
But…I must have had a non-senior moment the day I put them all on DVD, which I found in the last box of ‘stuff’ pulled out of the garage because hubby finally got my bookcases put together.
And imagine my ginormous, humongous, silly ass, what in the hell did you do this time comes spewing out of the hubby’s mouth as he comes running to see what’s happened cause the wife is going ape shit, reaction?
Yup…like that.
Seriously, I swear I’ll never get pissed off when I lose something again (if I remember to) because chances are I’ll remember I just forgot and I’ll find what I lost, or remember what I forgot to remember about where I put it or…crap!
This is too much work. I’ll just try to remember next time that I might have forgotten something.
Right?
Oh…and for the foreseeable future, I’m heading back to London. I’m sure I’ll find something to share.
Apologies to Pete Townsend for maiming Squeeze Box’s lyrics…but you’ll get why in a moment.
Nothing like the yearly email reminder, to get me thinking about how many women are afraid of their first (2nd, 3rd, 4th, infinity) mammogram.
But ladies, there is no need to worry
INTRODUCING, the first ever, 3 day, 3 exercise, workout guaranteed to get you ready for your yearly ‘squeeze n’ squash’
MAMMO-CRUSH 3×3
By taking a few minutes, three times a day, for the three days preceding the exam, and following this foolproof exercise regimen, you will be totally prepared for the test
And best of all, you can do these simple exercises right in and around your home
In preparation for these three days, here are a few things you’ll need to do ahead of time
1.) Make sure you have a three day’s supply of your favorite guilty pleasure placed front and center in the fridge, with this note:
“If you’re looking for milk, it’s in the door; if you’re looking for a beer, it’s in the drawer; if you touch this (insert treat name), you’ll be on the floor”
You might want something like this?
2.) Keep your car gassed up, your phone charged, within reach, and have your breastie-bestie on speed dial
3.) Take two of those ugly, black, metal bookends we all manage to utilize but keep hidden in the back of the bookcase and place them in the freezer
4.) The last step works best if you live in an area where you have access to people. If you do, there’s nothing you need to ahead of time. If you do not, however, you will have to use your imagination.
But…keep in mind the milkman, postman, paperboy, lawn guy, Jehovah Witness…you get the idea. But remember, you’ll need to tailor this exercise to fit a particular time slot if that’s the case
Okay…have you got all that? Three days, three exercises.
Ready?
Here we go…
EXERCISE ONE:
Open your refrigerator door and insert one breast between the door and the frame
Shut the door as hard as possible then lean on the door for good measure
Hold that position for five seconds…12345
(screw the one-one thousand, two-one thousand crap)
Release
Take a cleansing breath and repeat two more times
Switch sides and do the same for (to) the other breast
Upon completion, reach in and grab (with gusto) that guilty pleasure
Make as much noise devouring it as you are capable of
Come on ladies…put your heart into it…I want to hear you MOAN!
EXERCISE TWO:
Remember those bookends in the freezer?
Take them out
Strip to the waist
Go outside and grab the first stranger you meet
(HOLD IT! I can’t believe none of you caught this before I did…but let’s REVERSE those previous two steps shall we?)
Invite that stranger into the room
(gender not important at this stage, humility is not relevant)
Press the bookends against each side of one of your breasts
Ask the stranger to place his/her hand gently, but firmly, against your naked back; just below the shoulder-blade, to steady you and make it easier for them to breathe warm, moist air into your ear
Smash the bookends together as hard as you can…kind of like this:
Hold
Release
Do it again
Switch
Smash
Hold
Release
Do it again
Set up an appointment with the stranger to meet next year and do it again
EXERCISE THREE:
Visit your garage at 3AM when the temperature of the cement floor is just perfect
WAIT – NOW is the time for your phone a friend – Hit that speed dial
Once your breast-bestie has been given her orders and is in place, take off all your clothes and lie comfortably on the floor with one breast wedged under the rear tire of the car
Give the go ahead signal to have her slowly back the car up until your breast is sufficiently flattened and chilled
(This is a one and done exercise as you can see below)
Turn over
Repeat with the other breast
That’s all there is to it.
Three exercises, three times a day
YOU. ARE. NOW. TOTALLY. PREPARED
Okay…now that you’ve had your gentle reminder…who’s going with me?
😳
This Public Service Announcement made possible by the following sponsors:
Forge Steely Grip Multi-Angle Vices; “You can be sure they’ll get the job done!”
Big As Shit Tires – “Your one stop shop for Off Road tires!”
Sprinting Like Hell Cellular – “When that call just HAS to go through, go Sprinting Like Hell”
Paradise Breast Center – “Don’t say we didn’t warn ya…get that exam today!”
Today’s post…despite the title…is about inspiration. I know right? The title is kind of misleading but…
A friend told me today that she missed my ‘more-often’ posts.
Yeah, well, me too!
I’d been so busy scooping poop these last few months, I hadn’t realized they only thing inspiring me to write was shit!
So, her comment was timely in that I’d just read two blog posts talking about seeing the big picture, keeping your eyes on the prize, concentrating on the good, listening to your heart’s softly whispered ‘it’s all going to be ok’ when you’re mired in the daily shit that could otherwise keep your psyche locked in the outhouse.
To count your blessings instead of lamenting your woes and understand that life is bigger than the last busted bone or paddleless trek up shitcreek. All true, though as we all know, it’s not easy.
More than possible, but not easy.
Now, I’m not one to call myself particularly optimistic (I have my reasons), I do engage in this battle daily…trying to see the bright side, seeking out the silver lining or at least trying to find the humor in all things, counting my blessings, stomping on the sneaky devil ankle-biters that are always trying to knock me on my ass and piss me off. And while the war is ongoing…the battles are getting easier. My reaction muscles are learning new tricks (and I’ve taken to wearing armored high-top boots!)
But to get back to it…when Jules made that comment today, it did get me wondering why, with my new-found pseudo-optimistic outlook, I haven’t been inspired to post something light or happy or springy.
That’s easy…and sad…
It’s pretty obvious I’d gotten into a routine of slinging the contents of those overfloweth buckets of poo I’d been collecting during those last few shit storms. Namely…
“Areyajokin, Bulleffincrap, and Canyashootmenow”
For now though, it looks like storm season is over and it’s time to dump the shit where it’ll do some good. Nothing so wrong in my new garden that a few buckets of good old-fashioned manure won’t fix.
So, time to get to emptying them and refilling them with something that smells a bit better, tastes divine, and looks a lot like happiness.
Never mind that it’s sleeting and snowing…my backyard’s full of flying flirts, the bulbs are busting and bearing up, the seedlings are starving, and I’ve got just the shit for them.
Welcome Spring…it’s time for you to eat!
And for you…at the top of my Things I’m Thankful For list…
I’m Happy because… This is NOT my derrière Though after the last few months…it could have been
But seriously…
Here’s to looking up, looking within, and looking out…to find your inspiration
50 Shades of Gray Hair 
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