I may not be “Ebert”, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do a little movie review for all y’all.
Kicking and Screaming, starring Will Ferrell and Robert Duvall, SUH-HUCKS. Hard.
Infact, it sucks SO HARD that I GUARANTEE you that you’ll leave the theatre with filled with Movie Rage.
Ok, maybe not, that could very well be something only me and Skits understand. But trust me, you’ll be SO FREAKING MAD that you spent TWENTY EIGHT DOLLARS to see it.
Hell, I bet you’d be pissed if you paid ONE dollar to see it. No lie.
SUCK SUCK SUCK SUCK.
It’s been 3 hours since we walked out of the theatre and I’m still pissed about the suckage.
It sucked that bad.
Did I mention that it SUCKS?
Because it totally sucked.
I have a very bad feeling about this
Can someone please explain the appeal of Star Wars to me?
I didn’t see the movies as a kid. Probably because we weren’t allowed to see it.
So, when they were re-released at the theaters a few years back, I asked Tony to take me so I could FINALLY understand “the hype.”
A half hour in, I started asking “Is it almost over yet?”
I was hating it. H-A-T-I-N-G. Like, wanted to rip my hair out and punch the walls hate. Like, THIS IS SO STUPID, WHY DID I WASTE MY MONEY hate.
H.A.T.E.
So boring. So cheesy.
Totally didn’t get it.
I hate not “getting it”. But not as much as I hate the movie.
Are you immature enough to admit yours?
I called my sister yesterday to talk about the final episode of The Amazing Race.
I needed to know that I wasn’t the only one crying SO HARD when Uchenna & Joyce were begging for money in the airport.
I also needed to know that I wasn’t the only one who was totally in love with Uchenna.
Also? That I wasn’t the only one who has a HUGE crush on Phil.
Sure enough, I’m not alone. She, too, loves Uchenna. She, too, cried, and she, too, has a crush on Phil.
Uchenna knows how to treat a woman. He is kind, compassionate and understanding. He never once belittled Joyce. When she had to shave her head, he comforted her and acted as if he could feel her pain. He told her she didn’t have to do it, but as she cried and insisted she would do it, he just held her. It was one of the sweetest moments on TV EVER. And I KNOW my TV, people.
I totally love him.
Come to think of it, I have a LOT of celebrity crushes. And since I have no shame, I’ll go ahead and break them down for you.
My Judge Crush: Judge Mathis. He makes my mouth water. Seriously.
My Big Guy Crush: Kevin James I’ve loved this man for the past 3 years, I’m completely addicted to King of Queens. I don’t think I’ve missed an episode. My favorite? The Koosh Ball.
My Old Guy Crush: George.
My Comedian Crush: Todd Glass. Jay WHO? Seriously, the funniest man I’ve ever paid to see.
My Has Been Reality TV Star Crush: Eric Neis. You’re probably all “EW!” But I bet you’ve never done The Grind with him, because if you had, you’d be all “ahh, yeah, baby.
My What The HELL? Crush: Steve Edwards. This could have gone under “My Newcaster Crush”, however, I thought What The Hell was more fitting, because, why DO I love him so much? Why DO I find myself dreaming of meeting him for coffee and holding his hand as we walk along the beach? He’s like, 87 years old? But dude is FUNNY and funny is sexy.
I don’t have enough time to name them all.
Pathetic and immature, I know, but I also know that everyone has celebrity crushes that make their mouth water and if you say you don’t, YOU’RE TOTALLY LYING.
In closing, I’ll leave you with My Childhood TV Crush That I Will Never Get Over For As Long As I Live…
Thanks for making me look schtupid
On our recent trip to Knotts Berry Farm, my son, Andrew, decided he wanted to spend his 20 bucks on a piece of crap gun.
I tried to talk him out of it.
“Baby, there’s nothing special about that gun and I promise you it will break before the week is over. Save your money for something you really want!”
Of course, he didn’t listen to me. I could have flat out told him “NO!” but it was his money he got for his birthday, so I let him make his own decision.
I totally left out the part about the mexican “I no speaky english” woman who cut in front of my kids in line and got a whole lotta me in her face
For some reason, that picture describes exactly how I feel at this very moment. I lie a little. “Exactly” would look more like this. (Because my left boob is all clogged up again and is as big as the head of an adult human being. And hard as a rock. And all veiny. AND? HURTING PRETTY BADLY) But other than that one, er two minor details, that picture TOTALLY describes how I feel.
Large, lazy, hairy AND very hungry.
We spent Saturday at Knotts Berry Farm for my husband’s company picnic. It’s always awesome to spend the day with my family, but it’s NOT awesome to spend the day with my two BOYS who are SCARED OF ROLLER COASTERS or any ride that even looks remotely scary/unsafe/capable of breaking down and getting stuck.
“They’re just kids. They don’t have to ride if they don’t want to. It’s natural for them to be scared.”
Yeah, yeah. WHATEVER.
They’re not 3. They’re almost 8 and 12 years old. And they REFUSE to even try any of the rides and oh how pissy that makes me.
I was terrified of rides when I was younger. My aunt and uncle forced me try one. Actually, they tricked me into getting on but it’s too long of a story, so I’ll stick with “they forced me”. I was screaming and crying. I was telling them that I hated them and that I’d never forgive them.
The ride started and guess what?
I LOVED IT!
Had they not done what they did, I never would have tried it on my own and I’d probably still be too scared to try.
I won’t go as far as my aunt and uncle did to get my kids on a ride, but I totally beg and promise to give them money or whatever else it is that they want.
They’re like. “Um. NO.”
We ended up in camp snoopy, which is the part of the park for BABIES.
We had to wait for FORTY FIVE MINUTES for a ride that they believed was safe enough for them to ride.
“GR8 Sk8”
Lord. Have. Mercy.
It’s a stupid oversized skateboard that slides up and down on a platform. That would be my kid in the third row, with his HANDS UP because, you know, he’s so freaking brave.
Despite the fact I couldn’t get my boys on any rides, we had a great day.
I love my family. Love.Love.Love.
Here are a few of my favorite pictures. I’ll upload the rest to Flickr later on.
I’m pretty sure this is her way of telling me… “HELLO? I’M TOO BIG FOR THIS STUPID BABY TUB, WOMAN!”
**Cute baby butt coverup courtesy of Mommy’s Amazing Paint Skillz.
My Treasure
My daughter.
Your beauty takes my breath away.
Your smile humbles me.
Your laughter heals my aching heart.
Your hand, when it touches mine, melts away the hardness of my heart.
Your kisses sweeten the bitterness within.
Your tears are raindrops to my wilted soul, softening me with each drop that falls.
Your existence is proof that there is a God, that He loves me, and that He knows me better than I know myself.
You, my sweet Gabriella, are my saving grace.
I love you.
“She wasn’t always like this”
Last night, I casually mentioned to Tony that I was having second thoughts about going to his company picnic.
The reason?
I don’t want to embarrass him.
“What are you talking about? Why would you embarass me?” He asked.
“Come on, I’m sure you’re going to be embarassed to introduce your coworkers to your giant, fat wife.”
Then, I started crying. And apologizing, you know, for being fat.
He got so mad. PISSED, even.
“Why do you say things like that? I love you and I’ll never be ashamed of you. You’re the mother of my children.”
I know he means it and I feel bad for upsetting him, but I honestly feel like a part of him is ashamed of me.
Not because he makes me feel that way.
Not because he’s ever given me any reason to think that way.
He hasn’t.
He’s never once told me I need to lose weight, or made comments about my weight.
So, why is there a part of me that believes he feels that way? Why am I dreading the moment he introduces me to the people he works with?
I feel like I should make a tshirt with a picture of me when we first met. “I USED TO BE CUTE!”
That way, they won’t be all “What in the hell does he see in HER.”
That’s how I feel, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry that Tony is upset that I feel that way, but I can’t change it.
I’m disgusted with myself right now. And not because I’m fat.
Because I have been given this incredible gift. A husband who loves me no matter what, and because of my own insecurities, I can’t fully accept that gift…
I know, I know, stop being emotional and drink some freaking milk already.
The girl knows how to get what she wants.
Today I made my first real attempt to fix Gabby’s hair all pretty. As you can see, it didn’t turn out very pretty at all.
The reason?
My boobs.
She was standing in her crib, I was standing facing her, with no shirt on, just a bra. A nursing bra. A nursing bra with snaps in the front.
As I attempted to put the baretts in her hair, she was attempting a little experiment of her own. The girl was trying to figure out how to how to unsnap the bra.
She grabbed. She grunted. She pulled. She grunted some more. And then, finally… “POP!” And out came the boob.
She let out the loudest “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE” I’ve ever heard and did a little victory dance. (Which I have to admit, was totally precious)
She got lucky, I thought.
Yeah, right. As soon as I snapped it back up and resumed combing her hair, she unsnapped it again.
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE” She squeeled, again.
“I’m trying to make you look pretty, you big stinky! Leave my boobs alone! PLEASE! Stop the insanity!”
Psh. As if. “POP”.
That was it. The girl had figured out “the system” and she wasn’t going to stop. I went and put a shirt on.
Gabby didnt’ like that. At all.
“You won’t leave my boobs alone, I’m not going to fix your hair pretty. You get to go to the doctors with jacked up hair!”
SO TAKE THAT, LITTLE BRA UNSNAPPER!
I had a revelation as she was ripping my bra off. Infact my inner voice spoke to me. “I think it’s time you wean the girl, because, it’s only a matter of time before she starts ripping your shirt off in public whilst screaming ‘I WANT BOOBIE NOW!!'”
Gabby’s pediatrician told me it might be time to start weaning her and start introducing her to whole milk (and I didn’t even tell her about the bra incident!) She’s not gained much weight since the last visit and she said that it could be because my milk supply is dwindling.
I think she might be right, but I’m not sure about the whole milk thing before a year. She said it’s ok, as long as I introduce it slowly. I want to believe her, but I noticed she doesn’t wash her hands for 30 seconds, which leads me to believe she doesn’t watch Oprah.
And really, what kind of a mother would I be if I trusted the opinion of someone who doesn’t watch Oprah?
Weeping cheese
That’s me and my boys at 4am this morning.
They left for a weekend camping trip with their dad.
I can’t believe how incredibly sad I feel at this moment.
An entire weekend without my boys. Last night, after dealing with hours of listening to them fight, you think I’d be happy! You think I’d be all “yay! an entire weekend of no fighting!” But I’m not.
I could have went with them, but I didn’t think Gabby would like sleeping in a cold tent.
Wow, I can’t believe how incredibly easy it was to blame it on Gabby. Even easier than blaming her for my farts. The truth is I hate camping. H-A-T-E I-T. I wouldn’t hate it if we had a motor home. A warm place to sleep where you can lock the door and pee on a clean toilet. But sleeping on the ground with the possiblity of a bear or snake creeping up on you?
No thanks.
I’ll probably regret it one day. Not going and enjoying the great outdoors with my family. Infact? I’m regretting it this very minute.
Because I already miss them.
Deeply.
I cried when they drove off, I’m still crying now, and I’ll probably still be crying when I crawl into my bed tonight without getting kisses from the three boys who I love the most.
::update::
When I wrote that? I had been up since 4am. And I was tired.
I think The Tired clouded my feelings.
I mean, I miss them quite a bit. And I sort of wish I was there with them.
BUT!
I don’t have to cook for three days!
I don’t have to clean up after anyone but me and Gabby!
I don’t have to break up any fights!
I don’t have to hear the phrase “I’m bored”!
I don’t have to threaten to “sell a playstation2 on ebay”!
Just me! And Gabby! And a $20 bill! All weekend long!
What a difference 2 hours of sleep make.