Tag Archives: humor

I Got Knocked Down – And I Didn’t Get Up

What’s more embarrassing for a 16-year-old girl, than falling down on a busy street in her town during rush hour traffic? Falling down and not being able to get up. For hours. “How in the world could this happen?” you ask. This is my story.

It was a Friday night, early summer in Southern California and the Domino’s Pizza where I worked as a phone girl was running slow. You remember the Domino’s Noid from the early 90’s? That pesky red guy with big ears, who would stomp all over your pizza if it wasn’t there in 30 minutes or less? Well, the store I worked in was lucky enough to have a full sized Noid costume! Usually these get ups are reserved for scaring little kids and giving adults a giggle, because everyone feels so sorry for the poor fool inside. Tonight, I was that poor fool.

My boss asked if I’d like to dress up, go outside and hopefully drum up business. Sure! The costume was ginormous, built for a grown man, so we had work arounds to get it to fit me. These accommodations, plus ensuring someone walked me out, meant success. I couldn’t see through the peek hole because I was too short and the feet were too big to walk normally. The costume was hot as hell, so I wore only my tank top and capri leggings I had worn in. We got me set up, head on, (with rolled up towels under my armpits to help it tie under my arms), zipped up and my boss walked me out. The huge feet meant I had to take big clown steps down the big hill of a parking lot, so getting to the street was no small feat.

My boss got me situated and said he’d come back in 30 mins. I turned and began my waving routine – one arm waving, a little booty shake, next arm waving. Cars would honk and I would wave both arms. I was good at my job.

Until he jogged by.

I lost my breath when I saw the most gorgeous guy jogging my way. He was shirtless, muscled, tan and so very pretty. My brain was not engaged when my body took over and I started to move like I was jogging towards him. Before I could ponder whether or not this was a good idea in the gargantuan costume, I lifted one foot and began to exaggeratedly slow jog towards him, big ole Noid arms pumping and bobbing. I didn’t account for the big feet though and on my third foot lift it happened; I tripped and fell. Flat on my Noid face.

I lay there in shock for a second, trying to figure out what happened. I was mortified that I had fallen in front of him. Then I felt him make contact with the costume’s head. It was a hard kick or bump and I figured he had tripped over me. I was waiting for him to ask if I was ok. I waited. Nothing. It was then that I realized he had either in fact tripped and kept going, or he took a moment to actually kick the head of the costume and keep going. Either way, he was gone.

I wasn’t sure what to do. The costume was so big, I couldn’t just sit up and stand. I couldn’t reach the back where the zipper was to try and unzip it, and even if I could, I wasn’t wearing much underneath. The stomach was too big to reach down and pull the feet off. I was stuck. I rolled myself onto my back. That’s when I saw the light pole. I figured I could scoot my way over to it and use it to help me stand. I couldn’t lift the head anymore because the rolled up towels had fallen out from under my arms and now the head was loose and would simply fall backwards. I scooted, inch by inch, to the pole, where I was able to lift the head with my hands and prop it against the pole. I was now laying down on the sidewalk, propped against the pole, alone.

I waited; it HAD to be close to 30 mins and my boss would be out soon. I figured I would do my job, so I waved. Enthusiastically. Every so often I could see one of our drivers pulling in and I would flail my arms wildly, hoping they’d stop. They waved back. No one stopped. So I waited. And waved.

After what seemed like hours, I heard my boss. He was standing at the top of the driveway…cracking up. I was only able to see half of him but I saw him bent over, hands on knees crying. Then he was gone. Soon I see most of the crew outside – all laughing. I yelled, “Shut up and come help me up!” which they later told me sounded like, “Shmfph jsujj mup!”

Once inside, I learned they had gotten super busy and my boss had forgotten about me. So my “what seemed like hours” out there, actually was. I had been out there for 2 hours! He said a driver finally came in and asked him why I was taking a nap so he had come out and when he saw me, couldn’t stop laughing.

You’d think this experience would have turned me off from big costumes but alas it didn’t. I donned the Noid costume many more times, and later in my dress up career, a giant bunny for Easter at a Hallmark store. But I never jogged. I never saw the gorgeous runner again, which was good because I might have kicked him. My only hope is that someday, my kids get to enjoy the wonder that comes with getting into a sweaty, oversized costume and delighting the world with their magic.


The Dream

My oldest, telling me his dream last night:

“So I’m in this room with Hannah (girl he’s been crushing on forever) and she’s with her friends. I have no pants on (because, of course, it’s my son) and she wants me to come sit with them. I have to tell her no, because I have no pants on. Then Bill Clinton walks in with his son and asks me to come with them. I have to tell them no too, because I have no pants on. Then I woke up.”

I’m not done trying to decipher this, but how does he know to have a dream with Bill Clinton and an issue with no pants???

What MOMMY Wants For Christmas!

I’m not sure what to expect for the holidays this year from my 12, 11 and 7 year old boys. In truth, 12 and 11 year olds are totally too old to still be holding on to the whole “Santa is real” thing, but alas, they are holding so tight, if Santa was real, his fat little belly would explode. I’m keeping up with the charade but let’s be honest, I am finding it really hard not to just blurt out, “Oh seriously dude, Santa is not coming down our chimney and he will NOT bring you a new iPad, because HE’S NOT REAL!”

It’s still cool for my 7 year old to believe, in fact, I’d like him to have a few more years of the holiday magic. But the two older ones, well, once my 12 year old asked when he might start masturbating, I kind of figured Santa was out the window. Joke’s on me! I’m actually looking forward to the day I can get him in on the fun. He can be in charge of the creepy-ass Elf on the Shelf and he can help put out the Santa gifts at 1am, when his brother usually finally conks out from having gotten up every 8 minutes for the past 4 hours, to check and see if Santa has come. Then I’ll plan to wake my 12 year old at 5am and make him come downstairs to open his gifts; and no nap that day. He can have all the fun, while I relax in the bath with some cookies we baked for Santa and a good book. But, I digress.

Since I still have to do the whole Santa thing for the boys again this year, I figured I would add my own gift list to the pile, in hopes that someone might review it and be so kind as to indulge ME this year.

What Mommy Wants:

  1. I’d like for my 12 year old to give me the silent treatment for one day. No really, punish me – PLEASE.
  2. A foot rub. And before anyone complains they JUST gave me one, a foot rub that’s longer than the 2.34 seconds of bliss I recently received.
  3. My panty liners to stay in the box. I know they ended up making the most awesome “butterfly art” for your girlfriend down the street, but let’s keep our crafts sanitary napkin free (and her mom thought it was pretty weird, so now we have that going for us).
  4. Chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate.
  5. Someone to play a game of Scrabble with me. Just one game and I promise to forget I majored in English.
  6. An afternoon of baking in the kitchen, while holiday music plays and I sip Bailey’s coffee. Then someone to come and clean it all up.
  7. For the Elf on the Shelf to have a heart attack and pass away. I’ll even go so far as to have a proper funeral.
  8. I’d like to take a bath without someone coming in to:
  • Tell on their brother for trying to fill their new whoopee cushion with actual farts.
  • “See if I’m ok,” then laughing because I have bubbles on my boobs and calling me “Bubble Boobs” the rest of the night.
  • Hang out. Seriously, it’s just weird.
  • Ask what time it is. Guys, there are 15 clocks in the house, none of which are in MY BATHROOM!

I could go on but those would be my top wishes. Honestly, I don’t think I am asking for much, given everything I do for everyone else, (HELLO, house full of testosterone – toilets, walls, doors and ceilings don’t clean themselves of the pee!) and the fact that I do (most) of it without complaint. I think anyone would agree a little complaining is fair, when your kid comes out of the bathroom, holding his underwear and says, “I ran out of toilet paper so I used these. I was trying to be nice and let you enjoy your book so I didn’t call for toilet paper. Here.”

So this is the list I have given my boys and husband. I expect I’ll get the chocolate. I’ve already taken care of the Bailey’s coffee.





My Gift To Me This Holiday

We’re fast approaching the 2 week holiday break from school. I’m terrified. It’s a very real fear, one that begins the week before Thanksgiving and doesn’t abate until we’ve landed safely (and alive) on the other side of the break. So this year, I’ve decided to forgo asking my husband for any gifts and give myself a gift, in the form of day camp for my boys. My friends and family don’t understand my fear and decision. This is a joyous time, one of enjoying relaxing days with no school, no homework, and fun holiday traditions. Right?

I recently experienced a single school holiday. One. Day. It reminded me of what I am in for. Let me explain…

Recently there was a school holiday. Feeling adventurous (insane), I kept all 3 boys home instead of paying for day camp. I had visions of baking bread, watching a movie and going to the trampoline house in the afternoon. They’d need to burn off some energy from the homemade cookies we made after the bread, because of course, making bread was such fun, cookies seemed the next logical step.

Since we’re all moms and probably reading this during our only free time – while on the toilet – or for the quick 3 seconds between kids’ asking for a snack/juice box/attention/potty/dire emergency that IS having a booger on your finger and no tissue, I’ll keep my story brief.

Why I’m Giving Myself the Gift of Day Camp:

  1.  7 year old invited his (girl) friend over, then proceeded to scream and cry because she didn’t want to, “Hang like a man and play pool.”
    11 and 12 year old wanted to earn money cleaning the bathroom. I heard, “Eww, this has to be your poop stain because mine are always hard. You need to clean this.”
  2. I needed to walk the dog and asked 7 year old to come. He comes downstairs with duct tape on his mouth and I’m able to get out that he wants to keep it on. He then screams bloody murder as we walk the neighborhood, with me swatting my hands at him telling him to stop. We get home and he says, “That was cool; now everyone thinks you torture me!” Yay me?
  3. I hear yelling upstairs. Then I hear 12 year old say, “No, I like you better handcuffed to the chair.”
  4. 11 and 12 year old decide to take their cleaning business pro. My neighbor hires them to clean their porch. That night I see a post in our neighborhood Google forum. She thought it funny to hear them talking while working, “We’re going to have to start charging more after this house.” Then, “Yeah, it’s like the porch of grossness. Like it should win an award for nastiest porch on the planet.” My boys have not learned the art of quiet talk.
  5. 12 year old decides I’ve had a rough day (he could tell??) so he brings me a glass of wine. I’m impressed until I take a drink and have to spit it out. His “cocktail” included my (very nice) red wine, Pepsi, and chocolate sauce.
  6. My husband had to work late (coincidence?), so I made them promise to be good while I relaxed in the bath. I was enjoying the quiet when they barged in. “Mommy, he put my pool balls in his pants and said they’re his “man balls” and won’t give them back!” His older brother sees me in the bath and runs out yelling, “Oh gross, she has bubbles all over her boobs. Haha, she has bubble boobs.”

This is ONE Day. I’m not sure I’m up for 1 week. And after last year, when the boys decided it would be fun to play Santa for the neighbor kids, I don’t know what to expect this year. The fire department has already sent an email asking my boys to remember that chimneys are not a playground and have requested I hide our ladder. Apparently, they don’t like pulling kids from chimneys on Christmas Eve.

Hot buttered rum anyone?


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