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I break for metal chickens. Actually, I don’t. I almost rear-end cars in front of me.

Or, I should call this,  how my husband tells me how to drive.

Or, how I will tell The Bloggess that it’s really weird not to care to almost get in a car accident because you see a whole parking lot full of giant metal chickens.

I guess that’s a little long and wordy for a title. I suppose the title above that is kinda long. Is it bad that I’ve almost forgotten what I’m writing about?

Oh yeah- The Bloggess is coming to Seattle for her book signing! HOLY SHNIKEY!!!! Did you hear?? THE BLOGGESS IS COMING!

And I’m going. I will bring my mini Beyonce, her book “Let’s Pretend this Never Happened”, and my 2012 Bloggess calendar.

Oh, I know, I’m going to title this- “Let’s not pretend, but that in fact, it DID happen”.

Enough with the title dammit!

The Bloggess is why I started blogging. After reading her post on “And That’s Why You Should Learn To Pick Your Battles” from last June, (probably THEE best blog ever written. You better go on over and read it so you know what the hell I’m talking about.) I discovered what blogs really are.  Anyone can write a blog. But writing a blog that is fucking hilarious is a totally different story.

I appreciate all kinds of bloggers. But honestly, I want to laugh. I am passed parenting tips on how to potty train, I’m not planning a wedding, and I don’t can my own vegetables. So reading about other people’s marriages is way funnier than anything else right now.

I’m not saying that I aspire to be The Bloggess. Not at all. It was last year when my Facebook statuses were getting longer and longer. People are all like, you’re so funny, you should write a blog. Gee, okay. Twist my arm why don’t you.

So now I can tell random people around the world about my kids, my sweet and tolerant husband, my vajajay and whatever else I feel like dammit!

Recently, while driving to a party with the family, and I was driving so it’s always irritating when McSweetie is next to me saying things like, ‘don’t you want this lane?’, ‘I’d pass this guy’, or ‘are you staying behind this slow grandma?’. You get the idea. My driver’s ed teacher was less annoying.

So I’m humming along just fine, and what do I see out of the corner of my eye? GIANT METAL CHICKENS!! A whole parking lot full of them! I’d never seen so many in one place. I turn to look, when suddenly, I hear “LOOK OUT!” So I look straight ahead. And yes, indeed, the car in front of me has stopped. I gently step on the brakes and stop with PLENTY of time (plenty, dear sweet husband) and say, ‘Why are you screaming?’

McS- “You weren’t stopping!”

Me- “I totally was going to stop in time. And I did. So there.” (Okay, I didn’t say the ‘so there’ part at the end, but I was pissed!)

McS- “What were you looking at anyway?”

Me- “You didn’t see all those metal chickens at that store in the parking lot? How could you miss them? They were so colorful. I’ve never seen so many!”

McS- “I was watching the road, which is what you should’ve been doing.”

Me- “I am able to do both, thankyouverymuch.”

Well, I’m happy to report that it was Emma’s idea to stop on the way back home and get pictures of all those chickens. I’m glad we did. Oh, and I’m not sporting a new fad in makeup. There was a professional face painter at the birthday party we went to, so I didn’t want to miss out on the fun.

Dear Bloggess- I’m coming for you! I mean, I’m coming for you to sign my book.

Love,

Frug

Knock Knock Mother Fucker

Look, it’s Beyonce!

This here, mother f’er costs $1400! That’s some expensive yard art!

Reasons to Live Friday #4

Today’s list…..My daughter’s side-splitting sense of humor.

Here’s a recap of the day-  It was the last day of school and we went to the beach with her brother and his buddy. They went off to dig in the sand and play on the play structure.

She and I stayed back at the beach chairs and towels and played that game where you throw the wiffle ball back  and forth with those basket like catcher thingys. Yeah, that game.

Remember this?

At first I was seated playing catch. I know, I’m so sporty. I was in the chair, and she was lobbing the wiffle ball over to me. Let’s say I was wearing some less attractive shorts. Like culottes. Oh, just hush. It was a beach day. This isn’t Malibu. So anyway, she says, “gee mom, you’re sporting a camel toe”. Don’t ask how my 12 year old knows camel toe. Oh, who am I kidding? She goes to middle school! She probably knows all kinds of foul things!

THEN..

We saw some Sandhill Cranes swoop in to shore. Thems are huge birds. Seeing them swoop in is kind of cool. Then they started chasing each other mid- air so Emma and I were watching and I’m like, “maybe they’ll start fighting”, then she starts yelling, “mate, mate, mate!” Like it’s some kind of chant in the cafeteria of high school egging on a fight. I’m just cracking up. She’s giggling like she’s got YouTube gold ready to happen. Nothing happened and they just did their crane strut down the shore a bit and then flew off for good.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch (I just wanted to say that)

We went back to our game. We noticed an older couple sunbathing further down the beach. I think these folks were in their 70s. The woman was rotund and wearing a two-piece. The guy was wearing trunks, NOT Speedos, thank goodness. The woman started to head down to the shore. Mind you- we have a rocky beach, and our water is freezing. This isn’t Hawaii. So she’s just walking barefoot over all those hard barnacle crusted rocks. My kids have flip flops on. They have tender feet. Not this woman. I think she was Russian. She looked like a Helga or Svetlana. I think she could crack walnuts between her thighs. This woman was- sturdy. So she started wading in the water. Emma says to me, ‘I can’t go in the water, it’s too freezing and she’s old!’ We’re giggling wondering when Owen will catch sight of this woman and gross out. Since anyone in a two-piece is gross to him. Although the gentleman hanging back at his towel, Emma reports, is straightening himself. A LOT. She can see him in her direct line of vision. I can’t without turning around. So she’s describing that he’s continuing to ‘fix himself’ inside his shorts. Then she says he’s groping his stomach and chest. I try to turn and look but don’t want to be obvious. I said, maybe he’s giving himself a massage. For circulation. Or something. It’s probably a Russian thing. Like  what Tai Chi is to Chinese people.

‘Helga’ walks back from the beach after splashing herself in the surf. Emma is impressed with her capabilities to withstand the cold and rockiness. I said, ‘I think she has balls of steel’.  And then Emma replies, not missing a beat, “I think her husband likes HIS balls of steel too much”. I’M D Y I N G!

As if this wasn’t enough… then she and I reclined to our loungers to listen to me read a chapter of The Bloggess’ Let’s Pretend This Never Happened aloud, because I’m cool like that. We were cracking up at the pet wild ‘quail’ (turkeys, cough-cough) chapter. I sometimes don’t read the swear words. Emma particularly enjoyed the pet raccoons with ‘jams’ (pajamas for those not reading it) and the dead squirrel puppet in the Cheez-its box.

To top it off, we ended the day watching the first few episodes of Pretty Little Liars on Netflix.

I think this summer is going to go just fine. I also think my daughter is way cooler and mature than I ever was at 12.

And I am grateful that she thinks I’m cool enough to crack jokes with, and comfortable enough to giggle at kissy, smoochy stuff on TV.

Have  a great Friday y’all!