MORE Annoying Facebook Statuses – That Drive Me CRAZY!


Swing Dieters

On Monday it’s a photo of a healthy salad with a brag note about their latest diet/workout regimine, on Tuesday it’s a delicious green smoothy with a side of almonds and by Thursday there’s a glossy image of cheesy french fries dipped in fudge.

This type of post resembles a scene from Eric Carle’s The Hungry Caterpillar except the caterpillar is full of shit.

No, I will not be your cheerleader.

The Have-a-Happy-Day Selfie

Here’s a shot of little middle-aged me and my boobs taken exclusively to wish you a HAPPY day. You know… in case you forgot what I look like.

Let’s cut straight through the bullshit – this person is soliciting for compliments and likes. They don’t give a rats ass what kind of day you have. They’re nothing more than attention seeking fb ho’s who need a ginormous bear hug.

I’m embarrassed for these poor girls.

People evasively checking into Facebook from the Emergency Room

Nobody likes a tease. If you’re not going to provide the curious reader with 1.) presenting symptoms 2.) final diagnosis 3.) nature of surgical procedure and/or treatment and most importantly 4.) bonus photos, then please don’t bother.

It’s easier for your friends to pray for you when we know exactly what we’re dealing with.

This post will likely… be continued.

For more wonderfully snarky Facebook themed content click here and here.

Dummies Guide to Determining if a Parent Meeting Should be Held

Because I’ve had it up to here!

1. Can the information be emailed, snail-mailed, sent home as memo, left as phone message, posted on Facebook or shouted across the parking lot? If the answer is YES -> no mutherfuckin meeting.

2. Will there be food and beverages? If the answer is NO -> no mutherfuckin meeting.

4. Will shirtless Channing Tatum be the MC? If the answer is NO -> no mutherfuckin meeting.

5. Will there be compensation for gas and time wasted that will never be returned? I didn’t think so -> no mutherfuckin meeting.

6. Will there be cute little monkey’s offering free pedicures? If the answer is NO -> no mutherfuckin meeting.

This exhausted mom of four doesn’t give a rats ass what brand of candy we peddle. Just take my left kidney already – and be done with it.

Anyone calling a meeting to robotically recite a memo of reminders will be ejected immediately through my imaginary  trapdoor into the fiery pits of Hell.

Time is precious – do not waste it.

I’m Offended by the Wussification of Society

This meme ignited a spark that lead me to ponder the absurdity of the recent over-the-top sensitivity movement that’s taken society by storm.


The world is made up of something like 7 billionish people of varying races, cultures and religions.

That said, can we really expect the majority of the population to share the same views and opinions?

Hell no.

So why this ongoing media movement preaching universal sensitivity and unconditional acceptance for anything and everything? Don’t get me wrong, I’m an open-minded and easy going intelligent woman who gets along well with most of the population. I work closely with the public and respect each individual exactly as they are. In fact, I have many friends who hold completely opposite views as myself.

My point is – we don’t have to support every cause perpetuated by the media. Whether it’s adhering to the newly orchestrated rule enforcing the use of preferred pronouns when referring to a certain subgroup of individuals with non-matching sex organs or supporting the notion that all traces of the confederate flag be abolished from history.

It’s okay to agree to disagree. I’m not inferring that hateful views are acceptable, I am stating that remaining neutral or godforbid oppositional on certain topics is OKAY. Having an opinion does not necessarily make one an insensitive bigot.

It seems that’s there’s an overwhelming amount of media pressure bullying the public into supporting every new cause or face being publicly ostracized for insensitivity.

I’m not biting.

And, I don’t care if that makes me unpopular.

Case in point, I personally love and support my many friends and family who lead a homosexual lifestyle, but no, I did not feel obliged to change my Facebook profile picture to the latest Skittles ad. I prefer the patriotic red, white and blue this time of year. Thankyouverymuch.

The over-sensitive will undoubetedly get their whitey tighties in a knot over my fabulously funny Skittles remark that was simply intended as a light giggle and in no way a dig to the gay community.

Furthermore, drawing attention to every single incident involving a victim and assailant of different races does nothing more than add fuel to an inferno societies been attempting to extinguish for the better part of two centuries. It’s irresponsible for the media to continue to bait the next generation into launching an entirely new revolution. For progress to be made, we must move forward.

This newfound wussy movement has gotten way out of hand. Stand your ground people, and for God’s sake… grow some.

Today, I had to remind myself… again

Today, I had to remind myself… again

That every person is as different as an individual flake of snow.

That no two social situations or family dynamics are the same.

That mankind is as unique as the tiny seeds spilled from a glossy envelope in spring. We all sprout in our own time – some with little or no effort, and others holding on merely by a thread – under diligently controlled settings of an incubator.

That everyone’s brain chemistry and neurological wiring are as divergent as the blades of grass sweeping across the rolling plains.

That there’s no pass or fail in parenting and we’re all dealt a distinctly unique hand.

That an intelligent successful or talented child is not necessarily the reflection of a super parent.

That ALL accomplishments are relative to the individual.

That doing your best and giving your ALL can yield significantly different results in different people.

That doing your best is always good enough.

That the world is a ginormous fruit basket, and you can’t compare apples and oranges

That the outcome of any given situation is not always the most accurate reflection of dedication, diligence, effort and perseverance.

That shit happens.

That sometimes you win and sometimes you lose.

That people will always make blanket assumptions and judgements about situations they know nothing about.

That some days this will sneak up on you and leave you feeling defeated.

That whether we choose to acknowledge it or not, validation and positive reinforcement from others are as crucial as the air we breathe.

That the world is a giant kaleidoscope composed of distinctly unique fragments all complimenting one another as a beautiful abstract whole.

How Can He be Graduating…. He was Born Yesterday??

Stop the clock… I’m not ready!

Make no mistake, I’ve been there and done that twice, but I’m still not remotely prepared for my youngest son to graduate high school in a few weeks. In fact, I’ve been in emotional denial his entire senior year.

Letting go is something I apparently suck at.

Rewind to yesterday.

This newborn baby boy was nuzzled into moms bosom for the better part of his first month, simply because he would not be put down. Seriously, he was like a new adorable appendage. The only sleep Mama Bear got was in the recliner holding him.

He stuck like velcro the entire first year and was affectionately nicknamed velcro baby.

Then I awakened one morning and POOF… my clingy baby had morphed into a toddler on a full-blown quest for autonomy – walking, talking and getting into mischief.

Shortly thereafter, at the tender age of four, my adventure seeking tike began nursery school, and never looked back. He was so proud to be in school. The cherry of this sweet milestone was the procession of miniature graduates parading across stage wearing white cardboard hats adorned with floppy powder blue yarn tassels. Mommy bliss.

Then I woke the following morning, and POOF… my preschooler was now in elementary school and had learned to ride a two-wheeler, bat a ball, tie his shoes and open his own milk carton. There was great anticipation for special school events like picture day, the spring concert, Cub Scouts and field trips.

These were happy and exciting times.

When the sun rose on what seemed like the very next day, POOF… This now pubescent boy was spreading his wings. He went to junior high dances, parties and hung out at the skating rink. He began ditching his bike helmet in the shrubs, because being cool trumped being safe. My man apprentice also started wearing name brand clothing and smelling of Axe body spray.

Good bye to hugs, kisses and holding hands in public.

Time passed and what seemed something like a week later, POOF… somehow this rapidly growing boy was now in high school – earning his varsity letter in sports, getting a drivers license, taking the SAT’s, applying to college, going to the prom and landing his first part-time job.

The little boy now towered over me and I could fit my shoes inside his. I was constantly mistaking his voice for my husbands.

He became a bottomless pit who could consume an entire box of cereal or pizza in a single sitting.

Then one morning before he drove himself to school he said,

“Mom, my senior picture is due for the yearbook on Monday.”

Me – nooooooooo!!!! You were just in kindergarten LAST Monday – how can this be happening?

When I awakened a few months later, he was officially a senior. The final hurrah. Senior recognition night, the final homecoming, class trip and the last dance… the senior ball. Graduation announcements and party invitations started rolling in.

“Mom, tomorrow is the last day to get measured for cap and gown. I need to pay my deposit.”

Me – noooooooo!!! You were just in first grade last Tuesday – how can this be happening?

A couple weeks later the senior yearbook materialized on the kitchen table… The Class of 2015.

It’s time.

When his name is called, he will stroll across the stage – hand extended to proudly accept his diploma, and a sweet era will drift into a cloud of the coveted past tense.

Childhood will be no more.

I know my son is ready to embark on this exciting new journey. He is ambitious, bright and virtuous.

He will do great and I am proud.

I bubble with happiness and sadness simultaneously.

It’s time.

Time to let go.

He was just born last Thursday – a healthy 7 pounds 9 ounces, which feels nothing like 18 years gone by – how can this be happening?

Time really does fly.


Gina Fenton is an obstetrical RN, blogger, wife, mom of four and self-appointed advocate for special needs and mental health. She writes the over-the-top humor blog Extreme Mom for sanity preservation and her own entertainment. Gina lives in Upstate N.Y. with her family, two dogs and ThatGoddamnedCat. Her adventurous everyday tales can be found on Her writing has been featured on popular sites like Mamapedia, Bonbon Break, BlogHer, Project Underblog and Mamalode.

My Snarky Two Cents on the Transformation of Caitlyn Jenner

I neither applaud nor condemn Brucelyn’s decision to waltz around in ladies underwear, and I’m not anti-transgender, anti-transvestite or anti-gay. My boys were encouraged to wear their sisters tutu’s, polish their nails and play with a baby dolls of varying races that were purchased by me. I’m a cool open-minded mom like that.

To each his own and it’s important to respect that.

<for those of you iliterate in humor the snark starts here>

I suppose it’s human nature for people to desire what they don’t have. For example, it seems that girls with curly hair are constantly trying to straighten their locks and vice versa. This may also be true for filthy rich dormant celebrities. After all, they’re only human.

Like, if you already have a million dollars, a gold medal and a penis, naturally you’d long for a vagina to shine in the spot light… or something like that.

There’s also the neglected kid phenomena – where the smartest, best looking or most successful member of the family gets all the (media) attention, possibly encouraging other family members to morph into a sparkly pink unicorn in an effort to steal some precious lime light for themselves. We’ll call it The Jan Brady Syndrome.

“Yeah, why does Marcia (Kim) get everything? Marcia! (Kim), Marcia! (Kim), Marcia! (Kim)!”

I’m not discrediting his decision. Yay for anyone who deliberately scales large hurdles to embrace their true inner self. Caitlyn Jenner’s example definitely provides encouragement and support for that particular demographic. It’s finally okay to be who you feel you REALLY are and to Hell with societies opinion. Your happiness is paramount and I applaud this.

However, my snarky alter-ego still feels compelled to poke at Brucelyn with a pointy stick.

Poke. Poke.

Did I poke at Chaz Bono? Hell no, I’ve always loved her and she’s not a showboating Kardashian with a K… that’s why. My sarcasm is exclusively intended for Mister-loves-the-limelight-Kardashian.

Let’s not forget that the subject is a self-appointed reality TV celebrity, which qualifies his life as FAIR GAME to any and all scrutiny.

Let the roasting begin.

The reality TV life is based on public opinion, ratings, hype and sensationalism. I firmly believe this 3 ring drag circus created by Mr. Khardashian is about Brucelyn and Brucelyn alone. He’s enjoying this newfound tidal wave of attention. He did not step out of Victoria’s closet on an exclusive quest to help others. Any form of activism resulting from his runway charade is purely a secondary perk.

He’s spent enough money to feed a village in a third world country for over a year on his facial surgery budget alone. And, yet he still has his family jewels.

Wait. What? You thought he wanted to be a female. Me too. My understanding of male/female sexual gender is 100% based on the presence of particular sex organs. Females have vaginas and males have penises. Period. It’s that simple. A penis can dress in a bustier and ball gown, but that does not make them any more female by definition — in the biological sense. This is why I wholeheartedly support the notion that penises use the men’s room and females use the vag-atory. If you haven’t noticed, those rooms have specially designed waste receptacles to accommodate the micturation process based on whether the individual has an inny or an outty.

<addendum- I’ve been informed by the transgender community that “bottom surgery” is typically performed last. Point noted.>

Getting back to the topic at hand, Brucelyn made the decision to extensively reconstruct his face and pose for the world before altering his sex organs because this is about Brucelyn’s appearance. He wants us to stop and take notice of his newfound beauty. He’s demanding our attention.

Let’s not confuse the next generation folks.

Penis = male. Vagina = female
It is what it is – in the literal anatomical sense. How a person choses to portray themselves or dress is an entirely different issue that falls in the immense grey area of… anything goes. Just because society has created and marketed official politically correct etiquette for the transgender society does not mean we’re obligated to conform in referring to any given individual with a penis as a her. I’ve been an RN for over two decades and if I am assigned to completing your admission history and physical, I will circle the designated sex as male for anyone bearing a penis. Done deal. It is however possible that if one of my friends requested to be referred to by the opposite sex due to gender identification issues, I may or may not comply. It depends on the situation.

My point is that as long as there’s a penis tucked inside the lacy purple thong he’s still biologically a he.

Society can designate whatever politically correct verbiage they choose and people are free to parade as whomever they choose, but ultimately the sex organ defines gender proper.

Trust me, there are many days that I have species identification crisis and wish very badly that I had been born feline. Every fiber of my being yearns to curl up in a warm sunny spot and sleep all day. I can feel it in every cell of my body. I hate being cold and wet. My demeanor and attitude is innately and indisputably feline. “You want me to do WHAT? I don’t think so. I am almighty cat.”

It’s possible that I’m being a tad bit insensitive to Brucelyn but there are so many red flags on my moral radar that it’s difficult to ignore his self-centeredness. .

Make no mistake, this is about him. It is incidental that the transexual community is reaping the benefits of his celebrity PR.

Gender identification issues are serious indisputably real issues and EVERYONE suffering from the same deserves validation, empathy and unconditional acceptance.

The media however is attempting to sell the public a sweet fragrant bouquet of bullshit. “They called her Caitlyn and she lived happily ever after.”

Society is attempting to shame the public into supporting him or risk being called a bigot. Let’s hold hands and toss tulip pedals in support of one mans struggle.

To me, Brucelyn’s frivolous expenditures are not only over-the-top, but unattainable and unrealistic for most of society. So, yeah I have a hard time hailing his heroism. Sure he’s brave for going public, but so am I for getting out of bed every day, going to work and taking care of a family when I suffer from sometimes debilitating depression. I’m not looking for sympathy or attention. You do what you have to do and life goes on.

He’s not all that.

The Vanity Fair images bothers me mostly because his newfound image is nothing more than an optical illusion created by plastic surgeons and photoshop.

The emphasis and attention have been called to his likeness. It’s all about appearance. A message I cannot condone as I believe our outer shell is not an accurate reflection of our actual being.

Maybe, the VF cover accurately portrays who Brucelyn now thinks he is, but that physical image is so incredibly altered it has absolutely no credibility in supporting claims suggesting that he’s a truth-seeking hero.

He’s an attention-seeking Kardashian. That is all.

Breakfast food for thought.

Wheaties… Fruity Pebbles, whatever.

Did Our Moms Second Guess Their Parenting Choices?

Photo by June Holmes and Lisa Nolan-2

Did Our Moms Second Guess Their Parenting Choices?

A guest post by Lisa Nolan

When I was a kid, did my mom make parenting choices without second guessing herself? Broadly speaking, did moms in the 60s and 70s question their decisions? Decisions like letting kids watch too much TV? Or letting children play outside on rope swings and tire swings, or going down to the schoolyard without an adult? Probably not: There were only a hand full of television channels and very few children’s programs cartoons. And I don’t know about you, but not once did an adult ever accompany us to the playground, a local park, or even out in the front yard!

Speaking of playing outside, did moms back then question the use of rocks and sticks and mud, or the collecting of worms and snails? After all, there were plenty to go around and they were free–no online shopping, shipping, or yearly Amazon Prime charges!

Back when I was a young thang, mothers smoked during early pregnancy, drove without a seat belt, stuck kids in the back of the station wagon, and put babies on their laps.

There were no breast feeding versus bottle feeding wars, baby-wearing blogs, or crunchy moms.

There were no farmers’ markets or locally grown and raised food (unless you lived on a farm).

There were no sensory tubs, water-play walls, or brain breaks.

So what was there to second guess?

Maybe my mom did not second guess her parenting choices because there were so few of them! (Or maybe my mom did stop and ponder a bit, just not out loud, let alone on Twitter, Facebook, and blogs!)

In today’s social-media addicted, Pinterest-induced world there are just TOO MANY options to choose from, including how to spend our free time: like how much time to spend on Facebook or reading kid activity blogs versus how much time to spend playing with our children or cleaning house! But do our children really need our our constant attention anyway? (And who needs a spotless kitchen?)

I don’t feel damaged or that I some how missed out because I spent my childhood playing in the neighborhood schoolyard or park without constant adult supervision, ate a few TV dinners, or watched Bugs Bunny on Sunday mornings.

As a mom of the 21st Century I ask myself not which choices should I make, are they good ones or bad ones, but is my life balanced? Do I spend enough time playing with my family, working in my garden, reading my pile of library books, and socializing outside of the house and off the computer?

And maybe that is the reason moms of yesterday did not constantly question their parenting choices, life (it seemed) was simple back then, milk was served in a glass with dinner without question, no discussions over rice milk or soy milk or goat milk, do you want it in a pink fairy glass or blue Thomas the Train cup.

So the next time you stand in your kitchen, drive to the store, or turn on your computer, strive for balance. Go read a book, play kick ball with your kids, keep an eye on them in the yard while you work in your garden, and take one night off from cooking. And serve milk with dinner… in a glass. *** In celebration of OUR MOMS, we have throw-back, blast-from-the-past photo gallery of some amazing mom bloggers as INFANTS and KIDS to share with you (because we can never get enough pics of babies and children)! Several of these talented (and cute-as-kids) ladies are contributing authors to the newly released anthology, Motherhood May Cause Drowsiness: Mom Stories from the Trenches. (Learn more about it on Amazon, add it to your Amazon wish list, or make a purchase–sales go towards paying the contributors–and some expenses! THANK YOU!)

Throw Back Mom Bloggers 02

Throw Back Mom Bloggers 01

BEFORE YOU GO, please show these mamas some social media LOVE on Facebook, they’ve earned it! Allison B. Carter of Go Dansker Mom; Amy Denby of Dear Babies: Crazy Life, Simply Explained; Crystal Cook of The Qwiet Muse; Jenny Kanevski of In Other Words; Lea Grover of Becoming SuperMommy; Lisa Nolan of Monkey Star Press; Liz Cleland of Western New Yorker; Michelle Grewe of Crumpets and Bollocks; Shannon Day of Martinis and Motherhood; Shannon Drury of The Radical Housewife. ~Lisa Nolan Monkey Star Press