Mortifying Modus Operandi

Don’t embarrass me!

Um, helllooo!?!

I’m not the one sitting there, scratching my crotch at the table during breakfast.

Is it my fault your school requested that parents join their child in class to help guide them through the increasingly intricate course selection process, complete with 4-year plans and endorsements?

What kind of monster do you think I am?

And what kind of horrifying feats do you think I’ll manage to pull off in the 60 minutes I’m there, anyway?

Attempt to spoon-feed you your lunch?

Or show up in fishnet stockings and skanky heels?

Or worse yet, come crashing into your classroom on roller skates…in my pajamas?

Hashtag whatever.

Or perhaps I might discuss puberty/body odor/your latest crush loudly in front of all your classmates?

Or do some sort of ridiculous robot dance while singing a cringe-worthy Justin Bieber song at the top of my lungs?

Or lick your messy desk clean?

Or…

Maybe I’ll just wait for the perfect opportunity to declare:

You got an F on that test? An F?!? That’s it. Mama gonna go all gangsta on yo ass!

Right.

As fun as these scenarios might appear in my mind…

I can’t even.

As a natural introvert, I can assure you I will not be going out of my way to even talk to anyone, let alone cause chaos.

And as a self-respecting member of society, I don’t typically speak like that.

Ever.

Well, except maybe when I’m hangry.

I also wouldn’t purposely embarrass my kids, but ish happens.

Besides, if anything mortifying were to happen, consider it payback for all those unfortunate incidents where I wished for nothing more than the mercy of getting sucked into a black hole.

So just remember this:

I could be worse.

I could be much, much worse.

After all, I’m a badass black belt, dirt bike-riding, humor-writing Mom.

I’m cool AF.

Yaasss, I’m totally killin’ it.

So don’t be salty, bruh!

(Is that a thing?)

~Happy Friday! Thanks for stopping by and slinging some serious slang with me today. Have an amazing weekend!~

It's tough being a teenager. And an adult. Hell, life is rough for everyone.

It’s tough being a teenager. And an adult. Hell, life is rough for everyone.

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The Video Gaming Vortex

Some things get infinitely better with time, while other things seem to do the exact opposite.

One thing’s for certain:

Time can majorly mess with dormant gaming skills.

Clearly, I haven’t been playing video games anywhere near enough lately.

I recently discovered that I now totally suck at video games.

It’s true.

I’ve somehow gotten to the point where I now lose frequently… to any and every opponent.

The horror!

Not only have I been playing poorly, but my hands actually ache afterward from the determined death-grip I inflict upon my controller.

But determination alone still doesn’t stop me from losing.

I hate losing.

And more importantly, I’m far too young to be losing this badly.

Whatever happened to the days of being a badass Video Game Master?

I used to rule Old School.

And now?

I am undisputedly the worst player in my house.

Possibly even the worst player in my neighborhood.

Okay, so that may not be entirely true.

Surely, there must be at least a handful of electronically inept 90-year-olds who would do worse.

But seriously, where did I go wrong?

Modern games have become my worst nightmare.

I used to be able to defeat every last Goomba, Koopa, and Hammer Brother in record time on my quest to rescuing Princess Toadstool from that evil jerk Bowser, who had nowhere to go but down.

Down, down, down, into the fiery lava.

Which, apparently, is where all my gaming skills have ended up.

Super Mario Galaxy makes me feel like I’d just downed a few cases of liquor and then repeatedly smacked my head into a concrete wall before hitting the power button on the console.

And let’s talk about Rainbow Road.

Notorious for being a highly challenging level on Mario Kart, it’s only gotten more complicated over the years.

Naturally.

Especially now, with all the nauseating, seizure-inducing graphics that cause me to barrel off into a black hole in a fit of rage from all the flashing acid-trip type effects.

Mario Kart has evolved to the point where it makes me sick to my stomach as I drive my stylishly customized kart backward, off cliffs, and straight into the oblivion of dead-last place.

Don’t get me wrong, all of these incredibly realistic 3D graphics are astonishingly impressive.

They also make me wanna hurl.

I sometimes miss the days of 2D, where I wouldn’t become nauseated from inadvertently spinning myself sick in just a matter of minutes.

I’m naturally bad with directions as it is, so I really don’t need the additional challenge of getting lost for all eternity on a convulsion-inducing level of some infuriating game.

But all is not lost.

Super Smash Bros is one of the few games I do seem to excel at lately.

I suspect this stems solely from the joy of clobbering big bullies like Donkey Kong and Ganondorf with unassumingly cute characters like Yoshi and Kirby.

But even so, there are times when I get embarrassingly decimated by a highly skilled, child-controlled Jigglypuff.

Mortifying, I tell you.

I’m compelled to blame my unimpressive losing streak on my older brother.

Sure, it was years ago, but I firmly believe that always being stuck as the dreaded Player 2 as a child clearly accounts for my overall lack of game playing time.

By the time I’d finally be about to get my turn after watching my brother play Super Mario Bros for 57 straight minutes, he’d be so pissed about (finally) losing a life on level 8-3 that he’d reset the game and start all over.

I usually had to wait until he left the house altogether to even get a turn.

I suppose there’s also the remote possibility my skills have deteriorated due to my penchant for not being able to sit still for very long.

As an adult, there’s always this overwhelming inclination to get stuff done.

No time to sit idle when there’s so much to do!

But surely that can’t be the issue here.

Nah.

It probably has a lot more to do with the fact that kids are practically born with electronic devices in each hand nowadays.

Or maybe I just need to get more sleep.

At any rate, I guess this means it’s time to return to my Old School roots and start playing like a boss again so I can get back to kicking some butt.

Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, Start…

Konami Code, help me!

Mario has kept up with the times. I, on the other hand, have some serious catching up to do.

Mario has kept up with the times. I, on the other hand, have some serious catching up to do.

Carrots, Cheetos, and Kangaroos

Woo hoo! It’s Friday!

Oh, alright.

For those of you harboring superstitions, let’s forget about the fact that today is actually Friday the 13th.

Let’s focus instead on the fact that Valentine’s Day is just over a month away!

That’s right, it’s time to start spreading the love!

And in the spirit of Comically Quirky, I plan to accomplish this in the quirkiest way possible:

By combining the joy of poetry with my disturbingly creative motivational lunch note-writing awesomeness, of course!

Now, I don’t honestly know what I would do with a kangaroo.

Or a canoe, kazoo, or cockatoo.

But it’s the principle of the matter at stake here.

Trading something orange for something orange is cool by me…if that something happens to actually be an orange.

Not something artificially dyed a radioactive shade of orange with an assortment of health-compromising, life-shortening capabilities.

Geez, kid!

For that major lapse of judgment, you’ll be getting extra carrots in your lunch next week.

And you’d better eat them.

ALL of them.

On second thought, maybe I ought to start preparing for that kangaroo…

~Happy Friday the 13th! Hope you all have a terrific weekend!~

Purposefully Perplexed

Sometimes I have to wonder why I was put on this earth.

Well, one thing is for certain:

It sure as hell wasn’t for my domestic skills.

The world probably isn’t deficient in people who are disturbingly proficient at folding fitted sheets by rolling them into big, blobulous balls of fabric.

So that can’t possibly be it.

Hmmm…

Is it solely for my ability to load and unload the dishwasher?

Granted, I do a commendable job of balancing creativity and efficiency by cramming the crap out of the dishwasher with my mad Tetris skills.

But I can’t imagine that could possibly be it, either.

With the start of a new year, my brain has been doing that thing again.

You know, that thing where it encourages deeper and more intense thinking about…things.

Like purpose.

And I do contemplate my purpose, from time to time.

But mostly, I just try to get through the day without major disaster, chaos, or injury.

It’s the little things, right?

But getting back to purpose.

If I sit down and think about all the things I routinely manage to accomplish in the course of a day…

Chauffeuring kids to school in a crazed frenzy?

Running/folding a dozen loads of laundry?

Pushing the vacuum around the house?

Emptying overflowing trash?

Yeah, not very inspiring.

And these things definitely don’t hold much potential in the way of achieving a sense of purpose.

Oh, well.

Some of the more promising options on my list:

Unclogging the toilet during dinner?

(Thanks, boys! Can’t think of anything else I’d rather be doing.)

Being used for Nerf target practice while carrying a stack of fancy plates?

(I suppose a good challenge never hurt anyone…)

Slamming baseballs over the fence to flaunt my awesomeness?

(I am pretty good at hitting things.)

Making people laugh with my offbeat humor?

(Now we’re talking!)

If I was put on this earth to share the gift of humor through my writing, I’d be most honored.

But if that’s not my true purpose, I can only hope it’s not because I’m on track to becoming the World’s Best Toilet-Unclogger.

~Happy Friday, friends! Hope the first week of the new year has been treating you well!~

What's your superpower? I mean, purpose?

What’s your superpower? I mean, purpose?