Blisteringly Ballistic

Swish!

What could be more delightful than a bone-chillingly dreary day?

Why, experiencing the joy of nature on such a lovely day, of course!

Or perhaps more specifically…

Playing basketball outside in freezing temperatures!

With a child whose blatant disregard for my well-being has not gone unnoticed by yours truly.

Did I mention it was astonishingly windy, too?

When there’s finally the teeniest ray of sun poking through the foreboding clouds right before the sun sets, it’s obviously time to wander outside into the frigid air.

Nevermind the fact that it’s chilly enough to guarantee Frosty the Snowman at least one more day of puddle-free existence.

Oh, and thank you, Daylight Savings Time.

Thank you so much.

Your highly anticipated return has provided this wonderful extra hour of daylight.

Which wouldn’t normally be such a bad thing…

Except after a long day, when I’d like nothing more than to convince the kids that the dark sky means it’s clearly time for bed.

Somebody, please tell me why it’s so difficult to force a child to go outside and play on a gorgeous sunny day?

Wouldn’t that be far less painful for everyone?

I guess this must beat shower time.

That’s got to be it.

So there we were.

You wanna go?

You wanna piece of me?

Come at me!

Where you at?

Chop, chop!

Come on!

Show me what you got!

I’ve got frostbite.

That’s what I’ve got.

Wanna see that?

My child seems genuinely intrigued.

So I stuck my hand up his shirt.

My freezing cold, bluish-purple hands.

Ah, warmth!

Gotta keep swimming, swimming…

Or maybe it’s running, running…

Or dribbling, dribbling…

Let me tell ya, cold is a very powerful motivator.

I shot far more hoops than usual that day.

The magic modus operandi?

Bouncing and hopping around like a maniac in a desperate attempt to generate my own heat before succumbing to imminent hypothermia.

Which, evidently, is not a concern for crazy children.

Their sheer insanity keeps them sufficiently warm.

Between hook shots and free throws…

Along with no shortage of illegal elbows, tickles, and fouls…

It was a surprisingly invigorating outing.

Nothing but net.

And frostbite.

Swoosh!

~Happy St. Patrick’s Day, friends! Hope you’re all enjoying a day filled with fun and shenanigans. And corned beef and Guinness, if you’re into that sort of thing. Have a fantastic weekend!~

Nothin' but net! Well, somewhere under those icicles...

Nothin’ but net! Well, somewhere under those icicles…

Spring Break Stupor

Spring is almost here!

Sure, it’s still technically winter.

But it’s already Spring Break.

Ummm…

Yay?

The house looks like a tornado zipped through it.

The laundry is piling up to the ceiling.

And being the unofficial official referee of this crazy clan is taking its toll on me.

Mommy needs a drink.

If this is a preview of what summer holds, I may be tempted to run away with the circus.

ASAP.

What’s that?

Joining the circus is no longer an option?

Damn you, Ringling Bros!

Damn you for not keeping up with the times and taking away that last glimmer of hope.

Sigh.

Don’t get me wrong.

I love Spring Break.

No, actually…

I love some parts of Spring Break.

No homework.

No teacher emails.

No phone calls from the principal.

I’m pretty well convinced we are on the school’s speed dial system.

So yeah, I’m a fan of any type of school-related break.

Besides, sleeping in is always a nice luxury.

Even if it is only until 7am.

Hey, it’s progress.

Anyway…

On Day Oneboth boys managed to land themselves in time out without any electronic privileges.

But then they behaved well enough later in the week for us to actually get out a few times.

And so I found myself going places I’d rather not go.

Like Chuck E Cheese.

Home of the Yuck E Cheese pizza.

That inedibly nasty excuse for pizza always sits in my stomach like a sinking rock.

What’s in that crap, anyway?

On second thought, I’d rather not know.

And then there’s Dave and Buster’s.

Two hours and a zillion dollars later, we walked out of there with our prize:

A Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em game that we could have purchased for $19.99 at any big box store.

But if we stayed home, the whole eating around the clock cycle of fun would’ve continued, à la Hungry, Hungry Kiddos.

Let me tell ya, that gets old really fast.

Between the demands and lack of gratitude from at least one child at any given time, it’s been a most rewarding week.

Get back to school already, will ya?

Spring has not quite sprung…

Daylight savings is about to begin…

And we’re running out of food and sanity.

Wait.

Break’s almost over?

Already?

Noooooo!!!

~Happy Friday, everyone! If you’ve also had the pleasure of being on “break” with kids this week, I hope your sanity is still intact. Have a wonderful weekend!~

Spring Break is fun! Spring Break is awesome! Spring Break is...ugh, never mind.

Spring Break is fun! Spring Break is awesome! Spring Break is…ugh, never mind.

Sanctimoniously Sacrilegious

Chaos.

Calamity.

Arguing, brawling, and squabbling.

All the way to church.

That’s right.

Church.

Once upon a time, my brother and I used to create the most unholy mayhem.

Frequently.

Even at church.

Especially at church.

Evidently, our less than role model type conduct was downright mortifying.

The car wouldn’t even be fully backed out the driveway before we’d initialize our ritualistic slugfest.

Usually, it would begin with one of us discretely cracking an Etch-a-Sketch over the other one’s head.

And things would only get more exciting once we’d exit the confines of the vehicle.

While everyone around us would break into hymns, we’d provide the accompanying music-

Armpit farts.

Not the time or place?

You don’t say.

About to receive Communion?

Good time to get rumbling!

Donation money basket going around?

Decisions, decisions.

Confession time was always particularly challenging.

With plenty to confess, we’d have to keep it vague.

So I’d simply just apologize for fighting with my brother.

But there were definitely things left unsaid.

Then we’d get back to engaging in a few rounds of bloody knuckles, sometimes even throwing in a headlock or two.

We were easily distracted and equally as easily amused.

What can I say?

We were hands-on type of kids.

In the rare moments of sitting still, we’d pray.

Pray for service to end so we could take our free-for-all out to the parking lot.

It’s fair to say we were embarrassing to be around, as we failed to exemplify any holy qualities, in any public setting.

On the positive side, we managed to obey The Ten Commandments.

Mostly.

I mean, at least the most important one-

Thou shall not kill.

And we didn’t kill anyone.

Surely, that counted for something.

But then again…

We were siblings, after all, so there was never a guarantee that wouldn’t change at any moment.

Ultimately, my parents probably considered themselves lucky…

Even if only for the fact that my brother and I never once attempted to bathe or swim in the tub of holy water during Mass.

Hallelujah!

~Hey friends! I’ve got a favor to ask of you. I just set up a Facebook account for Comically Quirky! And I’m on Twitter, too. Please drop by and follow me, and I’ll follow you back! You can leave your links in the comments. Thanks a million, and have an awesome weekend!~

Naughty, nice, and everything in between...

Naughty, nice, and everything in between…

Sardonically Stressed

Stress.

It’s an unfortunate and undesirable side-effect of simply being alive.

Some days, it’s lemons, lemons, and more lemons.

For everyone overwhelmed with stress lately, take heart.

Here’s proof that there’s always humor, even in times of stress:

stress18

(In all fairness, it should be noted that murder is rarely doctor-prescribed.)

stress24

(Are you kidding me? Way to burst my bubble!)

stress34

(I’d be hesitant to attempt this. I mean, what if I cram one down someone’s throat, then Karma steps in and makes them spit it up…straight into my eyeball?)

stress15

(Did you know it takes 45 minutes of meditation to equal the effects of a single satisfying glass of wine? Okay, fine. I just made that up.)

stress6

(A sure sign of mastering ki breathing! Or having taken up drinking…)

stress22

(Is being eaten alive really preferable to a little stress? My guess is probably not.)

stress1

(Finally! A refreshingly drug-free solution that’s both highly effective and easy to use. What’s not to love?)

stress9

(As Henry Kissinger once said, “There cannot be a stressful crisis next week. My schedule is already full.”)

stress8

(Sure, it helps reduce stress…unless you’re prone to perfectionistic, OCD-type tendencies. In which case, coloring can actually increase your stress levels.)

stress31

(Overall, pretty good advice from a dog. But maybe just stick with the walk away part and forget about peeing all over the place. It’s just not classy.)

stress33

(Food for thought, right? Speaking of which…)

stress26

(This might be stating the obvious, but here goes: You should never be your own food source. Never. No matter how stressed you may be, this is a horrible solution.)

stress29

(I’m stressed just thinking about how true this statement is.)

stress38

(This one has become my personal life motto. It makes me happy.)

Throwing things can be great stress relief.

No, really. It’s true!

And if you need some creative ideas for what to do with all those lemons life has been tossing your way, I’ve got some excellent suggestions.

Go on, give it a try!

Feel better now?

Excellent.

Stress?

What stress?

Ain’t nobody got time for that nonsense.

~Happy Friday, friends! Hope your weekend is relaxing, enjoyable, and stress-free. And if it’s not, I hope you always find a way to make lemonade. Or a lemon martini…~

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.

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?

The World of Quirky

You know it’s going to be a great day when you get bitch-slapped by your own houseplants.

Seriously, the dumbest things imaginable somehow morph into reality wherever I go.

What can I say?

I’m a magnet for disaster.

Some days, it starts off with glass shattering all over the kitchen floor after attempting to whack a cup off a high shelf with a spatula.

Or spitting a mouthful of toothpaste into my own hair.

Or walking smack into the bathroom door in the middle of the night and giving myself a gushing nosebleed that keeps me awake until ten minutes before the alarm is set to go off.

Or the alarm clock going off when my arms, hands, and fingers are all asleep, so I numbly swat at the damn clock to silence it, until I am forced to resort to using my teeth when everything else fails.

Or knocking a bowl of blueberries out of the fridge and into the air, tripping over a lonesome shoe in the middle of the living room, and then falling flat on my face.

Or getting hit by the freezer door, microwave door, and car door.

All in the same day.

All I can say is, that’s way too much head-banging going on when there are simply not enough brain cells left to spare anymore.

Anyway…

For some Friday fun, I thought I’d share a few of my all-time most impressive moments.

(I laugh at myself all the time, so I’m cool with sharing a few laughs at my own expense.)

A pair with no sense of direction is a pair about to go on an unexpected adventure

Years ago, my brother and I were hanging out at my house a few weeks before my due date. I was suddenly overwhelmed with labor-like pains, and the poor guy was pretty much forced to drive me to the hospital.

Unfamiliar with the hospital and generally lacking any sense of direction, we ended up in the Psych Ward.

Of all places.

It turned out to be nothing more than false labor pains, but my brother stopped coming over until the threat of delivering a baby in the Psych Ward on his watch had long passed.

Attack of the killer vacuum

I laid the vacuum down on its side so the brush roll wouldn’t damage the hard flooring while I used the hose attachment to suck up mystery meal leftovers off the floor.

Next thing I knew, the vacuum decided to assert its dominance by latching onto my leg like a ravenous vampire, with the brush roll going round and round into my skin like little teeth.

It felt like rug burn, only more intense. And it left a really weird mark on my leg for weeks.

Because I have yet to learn my lesson…

One recent evening while the sun was still out, I stepped outside to water my plants.

In my pajamas.

With a mouthful of mouthwash, because I’m all about multitasking.

I looked out window first to make sure no one else was around, because who wants to be bothered with putting on respectable clothes just to water the plants? 

 But then my neighbor had the audacity to wander out into his own backyard right at that very moment.

Realizing I had been spotted, I added to the intensely awkward moment by unintentionally spitting mouthwash all over the brick on the side of my own house.

Thank goodness the guy had enough decency to avoid eye contact and quietly retreat back into his house.

They say running with scissors is dangerous…

As much as I value multitasking, it does have its drawbacks.

Like that one time I tripped and went flying down the stairs with a toothbrush in my mouth, while carrying a box of Angry Birds Star Wars Band-Aids in the one hand and a jar of tea tree oil in the other.

The goal was to save time as I attempted to quickly bandage up one of the boys’ cut knees (or elbows or whatever the heck was bleeding at that precise moment), then hustle out the door for school, not add to the injury count. But c’est la vie, right?

The truck ate my pants

Our truck can be a challenge to get in and out of. Especially with no running boards to ease the whole entry/exit process.

One day, like any other day, I geared up for my graceful leap out of the parked vehicle.

But this time, I got caught on the seat belt retractor on the way down, and it tore the ass right out of my jeans.

Alllll the way down.

The only redeeming thing here is that it happened in my own driveway and not at some awkward public place.

Like work.

Or at school before a parent-teacher conference…

These in no way represent all of the mishaps I’ve ever experienced.

Not even close.

But if I kept track of them all…

Well, I think I’d run out of paper.

And sanity.

~Happy Friday, everyone! Hope you all have a terrific weekend!~

I also seem to put the "eh" in special.

I also seem to put the “eh” in special.

Oh, the Things It Could Be!

Google is to hypochondriacs what meth is to a junkie.

Oh, come on.

You know the deal.

You’re suddenly afflicted with sharp stomach pains from hell, so you turn to Dr. Google to shed some insight.

Inevitably, Google leads you to sites like WebMD and Healthline for totally reliable self-diagnostic help.

After scanning through symptoms and possible causes, you manage to convince yourself it’s not simply constipation or indigestion.

No.

It’s undoubtedly a raging bout of appendicitis that is about to do you in, right there in the middle of the Back to School section at Walmart…

Unless you make a beeline for the nearest hospital right this very minute.

All you know for certain is you’re obviously dying.

I swear, the symptoms for migraines and brain damage are identical.

Ok, well. Maybe not exactly.

But seriously, have you ever noticed how so many different health issues all have the same set of symptoms?

Oh, the things it could be!

Got a headache?

It’s obviously an aneurysm, and that clock is just a tickin’.

Or it could be head trauma.

What’s that?

Don’t remember hitting your head in the first place?

Well, duh.

Wheezing and coughing?

Could be asthma.

Or a sinus infection.

Or congenital heart failure.

Fatigued?

Could be the flu.

Or Lyme disease.

Or just good ol’ PMS.

Hallucinations?

Could be schizophrenia.

Or epilepsy.

Or just poorly-interacting medications.

Irritability?

Could be hypothermia.

Or a sleep disorder.

Or meningitis.

Nauseated?

Could be food poisoning.

Or a heart attack.

Or perhaps you’re pregnant.

(Congratulations!)

Forgetful?

Could be delirium.

Or dementia.

Or head trauma.

(Seriously, quit knocking your head around!)

Oh, the things it could be!

Lucky for me, I have a high pain tolerance.

Which is great, because I’m freakishly allergic to aspirin and Advil.

Hell, I can’t even take Benadryl to counteract an allergic reaction because it knocks me out cold.

But I do take comfort in knowing I can just conk myself over the head with a frying pan to ease the pain and be good to go.

That’s all the so-called healthcare I need.

This cute little bear has the right idea. Just stick a band-aid on and call it a day.

This cute little bear has the right idea. Just stick a band-aid on and call it a day.

Sunny with a Chance of Tsunamis

Would’ve. Should’ve. Could’ve.

Every single human being has regrets in life, and I’m no exception.

My biggest regret?

I missed my true calling.

I should’ve been a meteorologist.

That’s right, one of those weather-predicting people who seem to be wrong more often than right, yet still get paid for constantly screwing up.

Despite the bad rap they get, I read somewhere that meteorologists are actually correct about 80% of the time, overall.

Which is fairly surprising.

The thing is, I live in a place where all kinds of weather-related mayhem is possible in a matter of minutes.

So this could really work to my advantage.

After all, weather forecasting is not an exact science.

It’s more like a multiple choice quiz.

And I know from experience that I can randomly guess and be right more often than not.

I want to get paid to not think. To not make sense. To make off-the-wall predictions that may or may not come true.

And meteorologists do essentially predict the future.

Or at least, they attempt to.

But storms can shift direction, and lessen or increase in force and intensity.

These things happen.

And between aging satellites and drunk meteorologists, things are bound to get more than a little messed up.

The sun is shining! And now it’s… raining?

But it’s still blindingly sunny?!?

Well, the radar did predict a sunny day… so where did that tornado just come from?

When you look outside the window and there are donkeys on tree branches and horses on rooftops…

Yeah.

Somehow, someway, someone was a little off.

One minute, there’s zero chance of rain… and then it’s suddenly raining hard enough to recreate Noah’s Ark.

Which explains that motorcycle floating coasting  down the sidewalk in plain sight of a swarm of cops.

And those bicyclists pedaling for their lives like drenched hamsters on a treadmill against sudden 70 mph gusts of wind.

And the pedestrian who unexpectedly finds herself going for an impromptu swim through six lanes of traffic.

Yet when it’s supposed to rain all day, every day for a week…

There’s not a single cloud in the sky.

But seriously, where the hell did that tornado come from?

Where was that on the radar map?

What gives?

Really and truly, though. I get it. I do.

Nature is unpredictable and has a mind of its own.

But so do I.

And I still think I should’ve been a meteorologist.

Pretty much summarizes my warped vision of the whole weather-predicting process.

Pretty much summarizes my warped vision of the whole weather-predicting process.

The Modesty of Marge

She’s not particularly exciting.

What does she do all day, anyway?

I mean,  besides vacuum and drive her kids around?

Oh. My. God.

I think I  just described myself.

The horror!

Okay, okay. Enough of that pity party.

Presenting ten of Marge’s most profound, yet undoubtedly humorous quotes:

marge simpson aim low

(Brilliant! Set that bar low enough, and you’ll never be disappointed again!)

marge simpson too tense2

(She definitely can’t be accused of sugar-coating the truth with that attitude.)

marge simpson listen to your heart

(So that’s how it works? I would’ve sworn it was the other way around.)

marge simpson never raise a hand

(A rather classy way to get the message across, sans violence.)

marge simpson springfield

(Proof that it’s easy to become too complacent, even in mediocrity.)

marge simpson brain food

(Intelligence aside, their very presence in your can of tuna means more bang for your buck!)

marge simpson so funny

(Consider yourself lucky. Some people don’t even have a sense of humor.)

marge simpson fetish

(Hey, give her a break! She’s been wearing the same set of clothes since 1989.)

marge simpson doing something right

(The ultimate gauge for accessing a job well done.)

marge simpson vacation

(Who needs Hawaii when you can have your very own jail cell?)

Apparently, I’ve got more in common with Marge Simpson than I realized.

Well, except I don’ t have a blue beehive.

Or three messed-up kids.

Or a husband with only two brain cells.

Poor Marge.

She’s patient, compassionate, and forgiving.

But the moralistic matriarch really didn’t hit the jackpot with that family, did she?

~Happy Thursday, everyone! Hope you’re having a terrific week! If you haven’t already, please be sure to check out the other two parts of The Simpsons series: The Wisdom of Homer and The Logic of Lisa!~