Can You Talk the Talk?

I had a good friend remind me of a classic phrase I uttered 100 times a day in college. To those of you who don't know me, it probably won't bring as much amusement. Does anyone remember the character, Chachi Arcola, on the TV show, Happy Days? I really don't even know how it evolved but if we referred to something as"chach", like, "That jacket is sooo CHACH!" it was not a compliment. We had code words and quotes from movies and TV shows that made us piss ourselves in hilarious laughter. There was no such thing as a mullet. It was known in my circle of friends as a "Jokehead". Because the joke was on you if you thought their hair was short, because from the back the waterfall of longer hair appeared. There was Joke-A-Pork (Jokehead with porcupine spikes in front). There was Joke-A-Cork (Jokehead with corkscrew curls down the back). And the awe-inspiring Joke-A-Cork-A-Pork (Jokehead with porcupine spikes AND corkscrew curls). I guess I spent a little too much time pontificating this crap. Hey, I managed to graduate in four years so give me a damn break.

These days with the amount of technology kids are exposed to, they have their own lingo. Between cell phones and texting, I can't keep up. This is not old news to any of you. I just figured out how to successfully text myself. Being a proper English writing freak (aside from the usual smattering of typos. Bite me..), I find it hard to type @ (at) or UR (you are) or 4sho (for sure). My kids even find little phrases that have little or no meaning and say it till they're drooling with silliness. Sophie's latest catch phrase, which drives me nuts because it's just stupid, is "AGENT P". WTF???? She's special, let's leave it at that.

So part of the era of text lingo and teen fads are obviously affected by Myspace and Facebook. I have a Facebook account, I use it to keep up with my in-laws overseas and Sultan has one, too. I was graciously informed by the young kids I teach that I'm way too old for this. "Miss Molly! How OLD are you?! YOU have a Facebook page?!!!" Thanks. And you, my little one, are too damn YOUNG to know about Facebook. Have you seen some of their Stickerz you can send? At first you see kittens and puppies and little baskets with hearts overflowing. Aaaaawwwww!!! Then you see genital penetration. I'm talking full-on, cock into poonani action. And naked lesbians making out. And gay men oiled up with dog collars and buttless chaps. Okay, that one I didn't mind so much because the men looked like Dolce and Gabbana models and let's face it, they're yummy. But as a website that connects the young generation together, do we really need so much blatant sex? Really? Sex is everywhere. Advertised for deodorant, slutty looking dolls, food, clothing. Can there be one sacred place where I'm not reminded, "It's time to fuck! Let's all be horny bitches!" Lord in heaven. Aren't we trying to prevent teen pregnancy? Plus it is very misleading to those young girls out there who have never seen a penis. How disappointed they will be when they discover most men don't have a 12-inch dick. And men out there, don't flatter yourself. No matter how much you stretch it next to that ruler, yours ain't getting' past 6 1/2 inches on a good day.
I have to run. I need to update my Facebook status and check and see if anyone sent me that hermaphrodite ballerina with nipple tassels sticker I've been waiting for!!!

Oooh Goody! A Debate!

When I categorized people who wear certain articles of clothing as "ghetto", I clarified that ANY RACE can be seen wearing these items. For me the prevailing issue is not what a person wears, it is how they carry themselves in public and thus how they are perceived as contributing members, or not contributing in some cases, of society.

This is what I hate about all this shit... You do not need to be excessively loud, yelling to your friends, girlfriends, kids, whatever in public places. You draw attention to yourself and, as my 2 commenter noted, NOT in a good way. You do not need to swear or call your friends by racial slurs. If I choose to swear in the privacy of my own home or when I am within listening space of MY friends, that is MY choice. When you refer to each other using the "N" word (okay, in my defense I have heard MANY races use this word) or "mutha' fucka'" and my kids are next to you waiting to get into the water park, I want to fucking punch you in the ignorant head. That "N" word, by the way, is never okay for anyone to use. I don't give a shit how entitled you think you are. It's offensive to me show kindly shut the hell up. And I do not mean ALL people who dress this way. When you enter a place where there is a line of people who were there BEFORE you, you do not have the right, just because of your ignorant, belligerent personality feels entitled, to move your ass to the front of the line, often with 5-10 of your friends. Bullshit. When you act like this in a place where I am with my mom or my kids or where I want to shop for a birthday gift in peace, God forbid someone makes eye contact with you. Then it's the old, "What the fuck are YOU lookin' at, motha' fucka'?!" Yeah, I've heard from assholes who are black AND white. Fuck, it's my opinion, my experience. Get over it.

I've met complete fuckwads that are black. I have met asswipes who are Asian. I've met miserable twats who are white. It doesn't matter your skin color, race, religion, where you live, or how low you choose to wear your damn pants, it is how you act. If you can carry on a decent conversation, if you are intelligent, if your are polite, if you have a good sense of humor, and want to wear your pants off your ass, chances are I will like you. I have friends and family members of several ethnicities so get off my ass. If anyone feels singled any race out, I am clarifying, I did not. I am singling out ignorant, self-entitled, swearing, loud-for-no-reason, people who intimidate others because they think they are tough, who might be white, Catholic, Muslim, Jewish, black, yellow, purple, polka dotted, or fucking tie dyed. YOU are the dillholes I have a problem with....

Get Your Ghetto Ass Outta' My Face, Please

I cannot stand how certain males in the young generation, say between the ages of 15 and maybe 22, feel the need to "ghetto it up". And I am not naming any particular race who is guilty of this idiocracy. I have seen white boys, black boys, Asian boys, even Arabic boys act like jackasses while they assert their pretend attitude. Puuuuhhhhlleeeezz. You are all losers who need some lessons in manners, social etiquette, and dress code.

I was at Marshall's last night shopping for some birthday gifts. There was a handful of guys who multiplied into about 10 by the time I hit the checkout. You know exactly the type I'm talking about. Over-sized jeans hanging off their asses so you can see their entire pair of boxers. Eeww. $160 Nike high top basketball shoes. Size XXXL leather baseball jackets with an egually large hoodie pulled over their head. It's not that damn cold. You look like you are going to rob the place for Christ's sake.

To accompany the retarded dress code, these guys feel the need to yell at each other all the way across the store. Does causing a commotion make you feel like you have a bigger dick or something? To me when people act like this it is a huge red flag. You are trying to create a clever diversion so you can pull some crazy shit off. Going to steal a Polo sweatshirt? Going to steal that lady's wallet from her unsuspecting handbag? Going to attack me in the parking lot and jack me for my ring? Fuck you, I think you are trashy mother fuckers and I hope whatever you are planning ends your ass up in jail. But that's my opinion, maybe you just really enjoy acting like a dickwad. I don't care. I find it super offensive.

I was actually scared as I paid for my wares and headed for the parking lot. One of the gangsta boys followed me out. He literally kept eyeing me as I walked as fast as I could to my van. I seriously thought he and one of his boys were going to jump me. Call me a paranoid mom who has lives away from the big city too long. Bite my right one. There have been muggings and car-jackings right here in my little suburbian utopia so I'm not out of line here.

If you are not in fact total vagrants of society, why act like it? I just don't get it. It does not make you look tougher or like more of a man. It doesn't impress the ladies. It draws attention to yourself and not in good way. Not sure of the logic in this. Just another thing to piss me off. And you all know how much I like to complain. At least you and your offspring won't be competing with MY kids for entrance into decent universities. You will be either dead or in jail but I'm just wagering a guess here. Keep acting ghetto and belligerent, it's what you do best. Fo' shizzle.

Gee, That's Awkward

Isabella looked closely at my face without makeup awhile ago. She noticed that my eyelashes are pale. She said, "Mommy, your eyelashes are blond at the ends, brown in the middle, and black at the bottom. Isn't that awkward?" I love how little kids can ask the most random questions with pure sincerity. I don't think she really grasped the true meaning of the word 'awkward'.

I'll tell you some things that are awkward, some have happened to me, many have not. I'm just throwin' it out there.......

*Dropping the can of shaving cream on your big toe then bashing your head on the shower door when you go to pick it up.

*Having your child fart so bad it smells like roadkill in the car just before you pick up the babysitter.

*Farting really loud in yoga class... right across from one of your former ballet student's mother.

*Sharting in your pants when you are wearing your new Victoria's Secret boyshorts.

*Having your daughter exclaim, "Mom, that wafer gives you REALLY bad breath!!" when she passes the director of religious education after doing a trial run of first communion.

*Not realizing you have total camel toe in your cute, new, pale gray yoga pants.

*Calling your boyfriend/husband by an ex's name when you come out of your coma.

*Getting your period on a person's white couch. And you just met them. Nice first impression. Who the hell buys a WHITE couch anyways?!

*Having those pesky pictures of you wearing nipple tassels show up before you apply for that teaching position....at an all-girls Catholic school.

*Buying an air freshener for your car and thinking it will smell like Hawaiian Breeze, only to discover it smells like Hellman's mayonnaise....

*Going home with a new swimsuit only to discover pubes stuck all over the "hygienic liner"....and they're not yours.

*Seeing your math teacher head into a gay bar wearing a dog collar and nipple clamps.

*Exclaiming, "Hi LISA!!!" to your friend from the gym who shows up at your house for a jewelry party only to have her tell you in a super pissed-off tone, "My NAME is SUSAN." Ooops. Spend the whole night alternating between apologizing and drinking profusely. You will now have a bad hangover, STILL not recall her name, and this chick ain't ordering SHIT to earn you some free jewelry.

*Attending a dinner party, having 6 or 8 glasses of your favorite Pinot Grigio on an empty stomach, bitching about "how much you fucking hate beef, especially pot roast or roast beef. It makes you gag worse than when you gave your first BJ." You ask the hostess what she's serving "to soak up the booze" and she quietly informs you, "Pot roast." Damn.

*Getting bit on the ass by a snake when you are taking a squat piss in the woods. Camping sucks. Hope it's not poisonous because you can be DAMN sure I will let you die before sucking the venom from your butt cheek.

*Having to attend a formal dinner for your husband's company when you decided to use the new "Hyper Tan Maxi-Quick Formula" for the first time last night before bed. Half of it rubbed off on your sheets, the other half stuck to you like a fine coat of powdered nacho cheese. You look like a tie-dyed Chester Cheetah on the Cheetos bag. Including the palms of you hands, superfreak.

*Making fun of people who are fat and lazy and use the "I've got an under-active thyroid" excuse for being obese. You get diagnosed with an under-active thyroid and balloon up to 320. You now use a Rascal to get around and haven't seen your feet in some time. Karma's a bitch, ain't it?

I have to go put some underwear on now. In my PJ's I like to be "free and easy". Wow, that totally sounded kinky and I didn't even mean to go there... Anyhow, my kids decided to "pants" me (pull down my pants when I'm not expecting it) tonight and got a nice view of Mommy's beav'. Ooops. Now THAT'S awkward.

Roosters and Red Dirt

Our Hawaiian vacation was simply a dream come true. And it sure as shit seems like a dream remembering the perfect, and I mean PERFECT, 80 degree weather since it's still damn nippy here. I get closer and closer to fantasizing about living in California after every winter I survive in the mid-West. But I'll get to my point.

We traveled to Kauai (pronounced ka-WAH-ee), which is the "Garden Island". It could not have been more lush and tropical if we were in the middle of an Amazon rainforest. The colors were electric--the blues of the sky and ocean and the greens of all the trees and leaves and all the ridiculously picturesque pink and orange and red flowers. Surreal like that psychedelic acid trip you took that made you paint your entire body, your dog, and mountain bike with 2 gallons of poster paint... Massively inspiring, to say the least. Gives a few Clark W. Griswold moments that make you want to "write, and paint, and sculpt...is there a men's room around here?"

There are a few things that are indigenous to this island. First of all, as soon as you get to the Lihue (pronounce li-HOO-ee) airport and exit into the savory climate, you hear the familiar "cock-a-doodle-doo" crowing of roosters. And not because it's early morning, just because these damn roosters and chickens are EVERYWHERE. And they are not the smartest animals around. They are the Kevin Federlines of the animals world. Like one of his bad rap songs no one will ever download, even on a dare, these spastic birds crow any time, any where, just to hear the cock crow, so to speak. Now the males are pretty spectacular with their elegant plumage, russet bodies, large blue and turquoise, and reddish feathers towering from their neck, back, and rear. They look like Vegas showgirls really. And if there's another rooster getting up in their hizzle, you better believe these guys don't play. The bob and weave like boxers, thrust their head to the rhythm of their pace, and can jump higher than a drunk redneck from his pickup truck when he gets busted for another DUI. Quick and crazy.

Another unique quality of Kauai is the plethora of red dirt everywhere. It is the oldest Hawaiian island so all the lava has begun to oxidize and the iron leaves the soil red. Most locals drive pick-ups with ridiculous suspension systems and tires and their cars are covered with a fine, reddish-brown powder. You can tell all the tourists because their SUV's, Mustang convertibles, and Jeeps are freshly cleaned by Hertz. Even some of the little hooligan kids who swarm about town, looking to bug tourists and local shop owners, seems to be this reddish brown color. Now I know that sounds super ignorant, it's just an observation all you keepin' it PC, UN protestors.

Locals who have moved to Kauai from the mainland complain of little nightlife. No night clubs and bars that close too early. With all the adventures you can experience during the day, do you really need to club it up till 4am drinking too many shots of tequila and being hungover till 2pm the next day? I think they do it this way on purpose, so you have no excuse to keep your sorry ass in bed. Miss this freakin' AMAZING climate and landscape?! You've got to be an idiot to not appreciate that. I guess if you still crave that shit in tropical paradise, Kauai is not for you. But if you want to see some mountains, dolphins, whales, coastline, and just CHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLL, I'll meet you there. Not sure how we can one-up ourselves next year. This was perfect. Could have residual memories of my hubby basically re-proposing to me over a glorious canyon to make me jaded perhaps. Elizabeth Taylor diamond ring or not, it was a damn fine vacation.

You know...

...your titties are way too big when the little hook that holds your leotard up around your neck springs open and flops down in the middle of Ballet/Tumbling with 4 and 5 year-olds.... Thank God I had the common sense to wear a ginormous sports bra underneath. Had I not, I suspect there might be many more daddies taking their daughters to dance class next week. Gotta' go change so the same thing doesn't happen in Teen/Adult class. Could be scary exposing teenagers to my cans, even if they're covered by a layer of Spandex. Which reminds me, guess what Sophie and Isabella informed me of daily in Hawaii whenever I had a bikini on?
"Mom, you have really big CANS!"
or "Your cans are going to fall out of that top!"
or "Mommy, you have huge cans!"
From the mouths of babes......

Holy Fucking Shit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sultan and I have been married 11 1/2 years. Our engagement was the shortest in history, well maybe aside from the time Britney Spears married that guy in Vegas.. From the time we met and got married was less than 6 months. And no, contrary to the style of couples who screw and then end up on a "Who's My Baby Daddy?" episode of Maury Povich, I was not knocked up. Sorry to diappoint. It was just love that made us want to make it legit....too legit to quit.

Our original rings were really simple, a small band with three teeny, tiny little stones. Were they even diamonds? Not sure. All I needed was my man, who wants a fancy ring? Okay, okay. Those of you that know me know I think that's a crock of horse shit. Of COURSE I want a giant, blingtastic, Elizabeth Taylor-style diamond ring that I need a Segway scooter just to drag my heavy-ass hand around on. And any chick who tells you, "Oh I just want something delicate and simple. Nothing too big for me, please," is a God damn liar. Just like with a man's dick, size DOES matter. For those of you with embarrassingly small wee wees, I am sorry. Wait, no I'm not. That's your problem.

I got a nice diamond after I gave birth to Isabella. My friends call this a "pain and suffering gift". Fast forward four years and the damn thing cracks in half. No shit. The asswipe store that sold it to Sultan (Jeweler's Row in Chicago) told him, "Hey, you're lucky! You have a really strong wife who can CRACK A DIAMOND!!" I don't do hard labor, I don't cook with cast iron over open fire, I don't work in a steel mill, I do not wear my ring when I bench press at the gym. How in the hell does a diamond, the hardest substance known to man, crack in a ring on my finger?! Probably 'cause they sold us a jacked diamond in the first place. No refund, it was our fault (my ass) and our insurance company told us we were screwed, too. Joy.

Since this little incident I have been sporting one of several fake, yes FAKE, "diamond" rings for awhile now. There, it's out there like an 18 year-old who just came out to his parents at the Sunday dinner table. I'm not a fraud, I just was waiting until the time when I could have my real diamond in all it's dazzling glory. I like 'em big and that requires some waiting and patience. I was a good girl, I deserved it. So I waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiited a long long long long long long time...

Sultan and I went to a jewelry trunk show several months ago. I found the ring of my dreams (aaahhhh!! Insert angelic voices here). It was beautiful, like a cupcake sitting atop my finger, surrounded by angelic little pave diamonds. We did not buy it then and there, this was a decision that required some thinking. My thoughts----"Hell yeah! Buy that shit for me already!!!!!"
Sultan's thoughts---"Umm, we need to figure this out. It's an investment and I need to consider it." Blah blah blah. I was like a kid at Toys 'R' Us when Cabbage Patch Kids just arrived. Now I'm seriously showing my age here....

So there we were on our Hawaiian vacation, enjoying the trip of our dreams. (On a sort of digression, Sultan has worked his little ass off to be able to do this for our family. It sometimes makes me feel bad when I tell people all the great stuff we get to do. But we have been through a lot together to get to this point. I can't apologize for it, I know I am blessed. Sultan seriously came to his country with the shirt on his back and not much else. He is the American dream. He has worked from minimum wage to where he is now. We have been through hell and back with immigration and plenty of other shit. We have earned every ounce of where we are now. I am appreciative, not spoiled. And maybe a little lucky, too..) We were able to experience AMAZING adventures as a family. Kayaking down a spectacular river, hiking through a tropical forest, going on a breath-taking helicopter ride, going to a luau, riding on a sunset cruise and seeing dolphins and whales swimming right up to our boat. Sultan became Mr. Photographer, lugging his camera backpack, assortment of various tripods, lenses, cameras, video camera, and books on photography. We had to see the Waimea Canyon, the "Grand Canyon" of the Hawaiian islands for some photo opportunities. I grew sort of suspicious when Sultan shaved three days in a row. If he is not working and appearing before clients, Sultan turns into grizzly bear lumberjack boy. A little bristly to kiss. He turned the video camera on as he panned the view of the canyon. His view settled on me, slightly annoyed from hearing the kids whine, "This is SSSSOOOOOOOOOOO BORING!!!!" for 20 minutes.
Sultan got very serious, "Molly, you know how much I love you, right?"
Me, "Uh, yeah.."
Sultan, "And you know how much you mean to me, right?"
Me, "Uh-huh..."
Sultan, "And you know how there's something you have been wanting for a really long time.."
Me," SHUT UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Sultan, "Well reach in my pocket because I have something for you.."
Me, "NO WAY!!!!!!!!"
There it was, my ring, my diamond cupcake, my symbol of love, in all it's dazzling, blinding glory. Holy fucking shit!!!!!!!
I have not stopped smiling since. Okay, the Chicago weather made me a little pissed off but who needs sun when you have sunshine in an antique pave setting on your finger?!!!