Father’s Day, Stereotyped Through Cards

This morning as I left for work, I realized the kids hadn’t signed the Father’s Day cards yet, so I laid them out on the table. Then I realized I didn’t need to leave a note, because based on the front of the card only, they’d be able to tell which card belongs to which of their three grandfathers.

fathers day

I’ve type-casted the dads.

I don’t make the stereotypes, I just adhere to them.

Hope all of you dads have a great weekend, getting waited on and having people make you meals and treating you like a king.

It’s what the rest of us call “Being a dad every day of the year.”

As a side bit of entertainment, here is a Father’s Day card piece that re-ran on In the Powder Room. It was not written by me.


Go N’Syde Mariah Carey? Hard Pass.

I’ve tried to behave, really I have. But I can’t help myself here.

EARTH TO MARIAH CAREY: We’re sort of over it. Pics of you and your kids? Adorable. Pics of you trying to be a sex kitten? I guess I’m just not buying what you’re selling. But okay, I have some time. I’ll try.


She’s aged well, I’ll give her that. But then she does something like launch her new drink line. It’s called Go N’Syde Butterfly Beverage.

Does she mean “It’s too hot, you’ll get sunburned, go inside” or is she talking about her vagina? I’m going to vote vagina. Where she keeps her butterflies. And while I”m sure Mariah’s vagina is very clean, I’m going to take a hard pass on lapping up some Go N’Syde Butterfly Beverage and stick with my current drink “Get The Fuck Out of my Pants Cabernet.”

Who named this fine beverage? I’m looking at you, Prince.


OD: “Think of other drink names like that.”
ME: “Like what?”
OD: “You know, like Mariah Carey’s drink, Come Inside Me. Or whatever.”
ME: “Dear God. That’s a horrible name for a drink.”

And yet, apparently sold everywhere during Happy Hour.


Happy Hump Day Wifers. I miss you!


Champagne Hair, Malt Liquor Principles

Hey all y’all, I’m still alive, hope you are too.

A couple of things to know -

1. In the words of Alice Cooper, School’s Out for Summer. I thought I was relieved until I wrote out the summer schedule. Oy.

2. I’ve applied for two jobs at my current place of employment. I will take either of them gladly, but the wonderful place where I work (it really is, I’m not being sarcastic for a change) isn’t known for its haste in filling open positions, because they have the luxury of being able to choose from a pool of dozens and dozens of people. So send all your good ju-ju my way, because I really, really want the writer one.

3. I left two pans full of cooked chicken breasts in my oven for about 36 hours before I remembered them. My house smelled vaguely of serial killer when I opened the oven door. (The oven had been turned off. Long story.) The kids still thought they were delicious. (KIDDING.)


Who want some rice with their salmonella? I call this Dahmer Chicken.


4. I became Catholic. (Another long story. Tell you more about that later.)

5. I got my hairs done tonight, which I do every 10-12 weeks, and I spent a butt-ton of money on it. I don’t shower regularly or wear ironed clothes or cover my varicose veins, but if my hair color is good, none of that matters. However, I went straight from the salon to The Son’s basketball game, and found out it cost $3 to get in. I’m notorious for not having cash, so I went to their ATM. There was a $2.50 fee to get money out. I just couldn’t push okay. I thought “Are you effing kidding me? I pay hundreds of dollars for him to play in this AAU league, and now I have to pay $3 for the privilege of seeing him play the game I pay for him to play, and now I have to pay a 10% surcharge on the money I pay to see him play the game for which I pay?”


So I didn’t. I took my fresh, three-figure hair and left because I refused to pay a $2.50 ATM fee. Current Husband was already inside watching the game, so it’s not like The Son didn’t have support, and I was still in work clothes and three-inch heels, so I hobbled right on out of there and went home.

It’s weird, the things one can decide to get principled about.


I’ll Be Wicked For Good


It’s been a crazy month. Banquets and concerts and graduations, oh my!

For Christmas, my mom got my sister and me and our daughters tickets to the musical Wicked, which is playing in Omaha right now. I saw Wicked in Chicago, and had really wanted my daughters to see it, so everyone was pretty excited when we loaded up in the car to drive to Nebraska. Being from Nebraska, I can tell you that is a rare emotion for people to have when leaving for the Husker State.

It was just Oldest Daughter, Youngest Daughter and myself – the men stayed home. We gave YD her dramamine and sea-bands, let her konk out, and then OD and I sang and told each other terrible stories for five hours. It was awesome. YD woke up for the last hour and joined us.

We arrived at my mom’s cabin, which you may recall was ground zero for The Great Plugged Toilet a couple of years ago. It always feels a little damp and smells like a cigarette is lit, but it’s fun. My sister and her family came over and brought pizza and we stayed up talking and preparing for the awesomeness that is Wicked.

wicked 3

I put this picture up because it crops out my wardrobe malfunctions, as I realized after I got there that these are the items I forgot:

1. Toothpaste

2. Hairbrush

3. Deodorant

4. Age-defying facial cream made from unicorn horn and tears of babies

5. Perfume to cover the smell of fear

6. More than 2 super tampons

7. The shoes that matched my outfit

Oh yes. That is how prepared I am to barrel through life as I do. And by the way? Every single time I leave for the cabin, I get my period, whether due or not. Because the cabin is the WORST place on the planet to have it. Thank you, Universe.

Oldest Daughter came through on the toothpaste, deodorant, and perfume. My sister came through on the shoes, which kept me from wearing gold Old Navy flip flops to the Orpheum Theater in Omaha.

wicked 2


Getting ready to start…

Wicked 1

My crowd of lovelies…sorry OD, it was the best one of everyone but you.

It was wonderful, of course. Then we went to my nephew’s baseball game and watched him pitch for an inning – he pitched a perfect game the day before, woot! – and then gorged on rolls and loaded baked potatoes and steak at Texas Roadhouse, which was pretty delicious and perfect for our rambunctious group and age range. OD said that she ate so much that she had a food baby growing and could feel it kick. Our table was done with our dinner, everyone was just talking, and everyone agreed we should go. Then, when everyone ignored her and kept talking, she said things like “Not Here is where I’d like to be if anyone is listening” and “Is everyone ready to go? Because I’m actually feverish with gluttony” and then “I might have to punch my way out of this booth.” I was the only one listening to her, and it was cracking me up. Teens. I love them.

We got up this morning, said our goodbyes, and drove back to the Quad Cities and promptly each took a Silkwood Shower. It was great to see everyone, and will be equally lovely to curl up in my nursing home bed with Current Husband tonight.

I hope everyone had a terrific holiday weekend! I’ll remember this one For Good.