Category Archives: Holiday Bullsh*t

Do You Have Disappointed Valentine Syndrome?

Posted in Everything Extreme, Holiday Bullsh*t by

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Married, coupled or single, we invite disappointment into our lives the moment we award the key to our happiness to another person. Yet, every Valentine’s Day masses of people rely on others to make their day special.

Big mistake, not only on February 14th, but for the rest of the year as well.

Happiness does not present itself on your doorstep in the form of a heart shaped box, nor will it be discovered tucked amongst a dozen red roses. It can’t be gifted and should never be contingent on the actions and/or affections of others.

Holding onto the notion that one day you’ll be swept off your feet by a knight in shining armor is not only naive, it’s about as probable as being abducted by a Bigfoot.

These spectacularly scripted love scenes mostly only exist in Nicholas Spark novels, on the Hallmark channel and cheesy soap operas.

The deceptive seed responsible for unrealistic romantic expectations is planted early on in children’s happily-ever-after fairy tales, then packaged and distributed to polite conforming society by profit driven retailers.

Expecting to bathe in champagne and rose pedals every Valentine’s Day is like expecting the romantic honeymoon phase of a relationship to last forever. It’s unrealistic, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing… It’s just life.

The honeymoon phase of a relationship is similar to that once-in-a-lifetime dream trip spent drifting the majestic waterways of Venice Italy in a gondola or an exotic island vacation spent surrounded by glistening turquoise waters – blissful and exciting, albeit short lived. Excitement that shoots straight up and rings the bell when struck with a mallet, then POOF, it morphs back into something ordinary, leaving many hopeless romantics disenchanted.

The fact is, you can’t pre-plan or schedule moments where emotional fireworks spontaneously explode in bright brilliant hues of scarlet and fuzzy pink confetti rains from the heavens.

Spontaneous moments are just that… unplanned and unexpected. While these blissfully awesome moments often blow the top off of everything wonderful, be mindful that this is a gift and not something that is necessarily owed to us.

It is up to us to proclaim February 14th as our very own special day to celebrate the loves of our lives; our children, family, pets, friends, acquaintances or simply a day to engage in random acts of kindness at home, at work or in the community.

The authentic warm satisfyingly fuzzy feeling you get from giving, far surpasses the random scraps of affection you feel are owed to you by others. Spouse and/or significant other and family included. You can’t rely on other people for your own happiness. Ever.

Valentine’s Day is probably the biggest kill-joy of all preconceived expectations. Everyone seems to have an ideal picture in their mind of how “it’s supposed to be.” The problem is that the scenario is in your mind and other people don’t have the script, and even if they did, it doesn’t mean they’d meet your expectations.

Be proactive – make an effort to become involved in a charity or cause that you’re passionate about. Giving unconditionally awards us control of our own mindset and is undoubtedly the most noble and satisfying course of action.

Understand that the intention is to give and not necessarily receive praise – as many recipients may not acknowledge your gracious efforts, and that’s okay. When you make giving about you, you nullify the unconditional factor. Give because it feels good.

Switch up this day or the rest of your life, grab the heart-shaped key and celebrate Valentine’s Day on your own loving terms.

Not a Creature was Stirring: Holiday Chronicles of ThatGoddamnedCat

Posted in Everything Extreme, Holiday Bullsh*t, ThatGoddamnedCAT by

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Twas an early Sunday morning, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse

The holiday decorations had been tossed aside-in-a-tizzy
In hopes that caffeine would kick-in and make-me-get-busy

The teenagers were unconscious, asleep in their beds
While visions of Xbox polluted their heads

With the pooch at my feet, I guzzled my Java
A feeble attempt, to deal with-the-days drama

When out in the hallway, arose an overexcited pup
So, I sprang from my chair, to see what was up

When what to my wondering eyes, did appear
But a motionless rodent – in asystole – I fear

My infamous cat, was so lively and quick
I knew in a moment, it was that-serial-killing prick

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Out leaped ThatGoddamnedCat, in a quick graceful bound

He was pure feline badass, from whisker to toe
With a rap sheet so long, it could be tied in a bow

His ears they were pointed, like the tips of a star
His vision acute, so he could stalk from afar

His instincts were primal, his senses were keen
His pounce when airborne, was… stealthy and clean

He mewed not a word, as he glared at his prize
Pride and contentment, gleamed in his eyes

Then he sprang to his feet, and bounded away
Like a satiated feline, who’d gifted us prey

But I knew he was thinking, as he leapt out of sight
Happy Christmas lowly humans…

I’m done for the night!

Read more stories from The Chronicles of ThatGoddamnedCat!

Meet Max aka ThatGoddamnedCat

Bobbing for Bunnies in the River Styx

Meet LuckyBastard my Chipmunk Friend

Here Birdie Birdie

Twas the First Day of School

Alternate kick-ass uses for the creeper Elf on a Shelf

Posted in Holiday Bullsh*t by

 

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*Replace his limbs with juicy hotdogs and gift him to your hungry dog or pet cheetah

 

*Wind him around a cardboard roll to use as emergency toilet paper

 

*Roll him in Cheese Whiz and strategically place in rat trap to guarantee… “not a creature is stirring.”

 

*Install creepy light-up eyeballs that activate when your naughty kid gets out of bed at night – *submit this to America’s Funniest Videos for a chance to win $10,000 to cover your childs future therapy bill

 

*Wrap him around a plunger and unclog the toilet of festive holiday leavings

 

*Fill with sand and carefully position at the end of your driveway as a speed bump for cocky teenagers and unwelcome solicitors. *spikes optional*

 

*Fill his head with bacon grease and explode it in the microwave for a science fair project, totally winning the science fair

 

*Replace his hands with tongs to help remove the extra-parts–that-don’t-belong-there-in-the-first-place out of the holiday turkeys caboose

 

*Fill his legs with catnip and film the best YouTube video EVER- starring your cat

 

*Lube him up and use as a holiday-themed tampon for heavy flow days

 

*Fill him with fire ants and gift to your favorite coworker, relative, ex-boyfriend or boss

 

*Use as canine pleasure companion for when your dog gets humpy

 

*Give him a stylish steel wool afro and use his sorry noggin to scrub the green stuff out of the fridge

 

*Put your hand up his butt like a puppet – to keep it from freezing when brushing the snow off your car

 

*Soak him in lighter fluid to use as festive fireplace kindling and/or roast his vodka-soaked nuts on an open fire

 

*Make him into an ugly sweater for your litter box scooper

 

*Replace his insides with elastic and use to sling-shot frozen monkey poop at people who hold up the line at the DMV

 

*Use him to put out small fires, like the next time your kids blow up the toaster oven

 

*Use his extra long legs as ties to hold your kids barf bag around his neck during flu season

 

*Replace his stuffing with pennies and use them to pay for your next Taco Bell order

 

*Use as an absorbent mop head to soak up toxic spills… like the explosive aftermath almost always created when well-meaning relatives sneak your dog table scraps

 

*Replace his head with a clove of garlic and fasten him to the front of your straight jacket to keep vampires and crazy relatives away. Eat his head in an emergency

 

*Use to clean up the bloody mess when your 15 year old with ADD gets her period

 

*Place a bulb syringe in his hat and use him to suck the sticky boogers out of your uncooperative toddlers nose

 

*Fasten to your car bumper to cushion the blow for poorly located deer and pedestrians, thereby sparring Rudolph’s life and potentially saving Christmas

 

*Use as an incontinence liner for grandma, so when she gets run over in the annual reindeer stampede… she won’t lose her sh*t

 

Read more Extreme Mom holiday stories here.

 

The Ultimate Turkey Day Clusterf*ck

Posted in Holiday Bullsh*t by

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In my humble mom-opinion, the Birdzilla holiday is definitely the King pin of all holiday clusterflucks.

It all starts with the grocery store clusterfluck. I’m referring to the mass of non-regular customers leisurely strolling the aisles with the entire maternal side of their family in tow. Shopping is for active participants only. Spectators are not welcome in the arena… they have no purpose other than to create a clusterfluck in aisle three.

On the other end of the spectrum is the daddy-deer-in-headlights; the lost looking male sent to the front lines to retrieve forgotten items. These guys are like a stubborn hair clog in the bathroom sink… they won’t budge. We’ll call them solitary clusterflucks.

*Note – During non-holiday shopping trips I have compassion for these pitiful creatures, but unfortunately, it’s the holiday season and the only rule of shopping during the holidays is get in and get out… like your life depends on it.

You encounter the extra person clusterfluck as soon as you enter the check–out area which is not so surprisingly bustling with extra bodies much like pesky ants at a picnic. How many people does it take to swipe a debit card? The answer is ONE, meaning all inactive shopping companions should do like a banana tree and LEAVE!

Finally having completed your shopping mission, you push the heavy overflowing shopping cart with-the-bad-wheel to the outermost border of the parking lot where you were forced to retreat. This is appropriately termed the parking-in-BFE clusterfuck. This sucks because you’re a regular customer who’s earned their VIP parking spot.

Also, the more traffic flowing through the parking lot, the more likely some inattentive holiday jackass-in-a-box will pop out in front of your car and end up as a hood ornament. Live hood ornaments are right up there with Rudolph’s antlers tacked to your mirror and/or Santa’s testicles dangling from your muffler.

This is called the tacky car accessories clusterfluck.

Finally, you slide into home base, but when you attempt to unload your gargantuan grocery order, there’s nowhere to put anything because of the kitchen-counter clusterfluck and the refrigerator clusterfluck.

You saw that one coming, didn’t you?

When food prep commences, the overflowing dirty-dishes clusterfluck is immediately created and will regenerate for another 48-72 hours, making it the biggest clusterfluck of all. I despise washing dishes. I’m a huge fan of serving left-overs on paper plates, which incidentally causes a trash can clusterfluck, but what are you gonna do?

We’re picking our battles here.

Other painful holiday clusterflucks include the obvious dinner table fiasco, where you attempt to squeeze 15 people around an 8 seater table. “No fair… I want to sit near Suzy Lou Hoo!” This is called the intimate-encounter clusterfluck and also the reason I bought the big bottle of vodka.

Then there’s the dreaded people-who-don’t-belong-in-the-kitchen clusterfluck, which is why I leave a bag of unpeeled potatoes on the table. Everyone knows as soon as guests arrive, they immediately invade your sanctuary and try to be helpful.

“Grab a potato peeler. We’ve got a clusterfluck and a half of potatoes to peel,” says me.

To clear up any confusion, the tryptophan found in turkey not only makes you sleepy, it can give you a strong urge to dive off the roof of Macy’s during the Thanksgiving Day parade – right into Underdog’s inflatable ass, which would be affectionately termed the contipated balloon character clusterfluck.

And no, you will not catch me out and about on Black Friday. That’s an entirely separate clusterfluck in itself, worthy of it’s very own holiday book-of-rants.

Stick a spork in me.

This pilgrim is done… at least until the Christmas-time clusterfluck begins.

 

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Click on the link below to receive updates on a fabulously fun mom-authored holiday book due out in 2015 – written by myself and my mommy comrades!

http://momfortheholidays.com

 

 

Secret Mother’s Day… Shhhh!!

Posted in Damned KIDS, Everything Extreme, Holiday Bullsh*t by

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I’d like to propose a new holiday called Secret Mother’s Day, because we absofuckinglutely deserve it, that’s why.

Secret Mother’s Day would be just that.

A big fat secret.

After careful consideration, I’ve determined that it would be absolutely necessary to conceal it from our offspring, because God knows they’d just fuck it up.

It’s what they do best…. which is precisely why we’re keeping them in the dark.

In addition, we’d also keep it from our own mothers because (no offense or disrespect to them) but, obviously, you can’t thoroughly enjoy your own day as Queen Mother her Royal Highness, if you’re obligated to kiss someone else’s ass. That shit just cancels itself out and makes this day very confusing, not to mention disappointing.

Don’t give me that look.

You know it’s true and I did clarify… no offense or disrespect to them intended.

It just doesn’t mesh.

Nothing like winning a weekend to a five star resort and being asked to scrub the hot tub when you’re finished.

Just no.

This lets the air right out of the balloon of intended appreciation.

So there you have it… Secret Mother’s Day.

It would be an entire day, as in 24 entire hours and not just say a two hour block for brunch– if you’re lucky enough to be on the receiving end of that particular gift.

Alone.

No kids, no spouse or significant other, no relatives.

You’re welcome to bring the dog though, because dogs rock.

I said so.

Dogs are incredibly therapeutic, unconditionally loving and awesome in so many ways where humans essentially fall short. every. single. time.

So, it’s you and the dog.

All you have to do is chose the location (my venue is definitely a beach with warm surf and seashells) the type of lounging device you wish to recline in and what you’d like others (who aren’t your family— remember, they’d just fuck it up and for this reason, they’re not allowed within 100 miles of your special Secret Mother’s Day celebration) to do for you.

My short list includes a massage (that’s not in exchange for sex), cold drinks in fancy crystal glasses with pretty little umbrellas, chocolate covered strawberries presoaked in vodka, a stack of books to be read to me by Channing Tatum, an unlimited supply of chocolate peanut butter ice-cream served in waffle cones and a 20-something boy decoration to fan and water my dog, so he doesn’t get overheated.

That’s all I want.

Scratch that, not done.

Throw in a photographer to capture the evidence of our extremely secret and awesome adventure, as well as an Internet connection to plaster this red carpet day all over social media like the rest of the faux Internet moms who-are-most-likely-full-of-shit.

That’s all I want.

Just writing this proposal relaxed me.

Imagine that.

It’s the little things in life, people.

Grab your imagination by the mammary glands and run with it.

It’s Mother’s Day… Dammit

Posted in Damned KIDS, Holiday Bullsh*t by

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As Supreme Ruler of the Kingdom, I hereby proclaim that Mother’s Day be celebrated the entire weekend this year… and forever.

It’s been a rough one, that’s why.

No way is one lousy day of cleaning up your own shit and being on excellent behavior gonna cut it, girls and boys.

Not this year, my precious offspring.

Extreme mom is going completely proactive this Mother’s Day to guarantee that it doesn’t SUCK.

You have been hereby enlisted… as a GIVER.

Therefore, specific TO DO lists will be distributed to each of my brood.

We’re gonna get it right this time.

Here we go.

Mother’s Day… Take 21!!

(The number is accurate. No. Shit.)

ACTION!!!

Here’s a preview of my short list of demands:

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*You will bathe the dogs with excellent smelling shampoo, then scrub the entire bathroom including the tub.

YES, this does need to be spelled out.

The powder room and pets shall smell like a fresh meadow.

*Clean my car- that was incidentally trashed by YOU.

You shall vacuum the resident floor rubble and debris that you dragged in, clean all dog slobber off the windows, dispose of dead insect carcasses from the dashboard and remove sticky goo from the cup holders.

Again, sparkly clean.

•Vacuum both sets of stairs in the house and do not attempt to make a new family member out of the pet hair.

NO, I wouldn’t mention this if history hadn’t dictated already that it’s was absolutely necessary.

Plus, we already have our limit of dependents.

Use care not to clog the vacuum. I’m tired of performing a colonoscopy on the Dyson every single time I attempt to turn it on.

This is a proactive exercise, because unfortunately some things do have to be spelled out.

Remember, this is only my short list.

*grin*

Had my children had the foresight to say… toast me a lousy poptart, scribble HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY on a sheet of paper or pluck me a few daffodils from my own garden, I wouldn’t have been forced to make these heinous demands.

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I shall also, hereby be completely EXEMPT from partaking in any of the following on Mother’s Day weekend, which absolutely includes Friday and Saturday… from this year until the end of time.

I shall not cook or touch unprepared food.

I shall not go to the grocery store.

I shall not do laundry.

I shall be exempt from driving you anywhere.

I shall not do dishes… or even look at them.

I shall not answer questions or engage in conversations beginning with:

Will you?

Can I?

I need…

I’m hungry…

I’m borrrrrrred…

It’s not fair…

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Things that YOU can do for me:

Pretend to be unmiserable.

Make me coffee

Do not complain… about anything.

Most importantly, do this shit WITHOUT being told or reminded.

Anyone breaking the rules of Mother’s Day Weekend will be exiled to the back yard and forced to live in a tent.

I know my expectations are ridiculously high this year.



A girl can dream…



NOTE- This post was from 2013 and my children failed miserably that year.

That’s entirely different post.

You’re not alone fellow moms.

I, and almost everyone who’s not your kids, appreciate the Hell out of you.

Rock on, mamacita’s!! The world as we know it would come to a screeching halt without you.

Word.

Merry Hanukkah, Happy Christmas or WhatTheHellEver.

Posted in Holiday Bullsh*t by

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Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays… Who really cares about the verbiage??

I for one DO NOT.

I’m sick to death of political correctness. Our society is quickly transforming into a bunch of whiny-baby self serving assholes.

A greeting in good faith is simply a greeting in good faith.

Who really cares if you’re a Jehovah’s Witness, disciple of Tom Cruise, Christian, Buddhist or some other modern made-up cult.

It just doesn’t matter.

There is NO EXCUSE for rudeness.

When someone wishes you a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Joyful Kwanza or WhatTheFuckEver, you graciously say “Thank you, same to you.”

Is it THAT difficult?

The person is offering WELL wishes for Gods <or insert your favorite SUPREME POWERS NAME here> sake.

Don’t get your elf thong in a bunch.

The REAL issue here should be- Howinthehell do you spell Hanukkah/Chanukah anyway??!!

The Jewish faith gets a FAIL for inconsistency and indecision. We’ll wait patiently while you people vote on the correct spelling. I say lose the C. Who needs extra letters that you don’t even pronounce?

<< Jeopardy theme song inserted HERE >> It’s already playing in my brain, you may as well enjoy it too.

This particular Jewish holiday also kicks auto-corrects sorry ass every. single. time.

May I suggest a revision, like perhaps… The Jewish Candle Holiday?

It has a nice ring to it. Plus, I can actually spell every one of those words.

Getting back to etiquette and most importantly, things that piss me off-

When you sneeze and someone responds with “God bless you” you DON’T turn and say “Kiss off, you Jesus-freak-son-of-a-bitch, I’m an atheist!”

You just don’t.

Relax man.

You’re being blessed and shit. Just chill.

How about everyone just chooses whateverinthehell greeting they like best? Because, quite frankly, I don’t know when Kwanza or the Jewish Candle Holiday even are, so this would be much less confusing for me.

Most of the time I go with the generic “Happy Holidays.” It happens to be my personal catch-all default phrase, and NOT because I’m afraid of offending someone with Merry Christmas wishes either. I’m the kind of person who doesn’t lose much sleep worrying about other peoples opinions.

Anyway, the reason I prefer the particular Happy Holidays phrase is because it covers the WHOLE enchilada- Christmas Eve, Christmas, New Years, The Jewish Candle Holiday, Kwanza, as well as my personal spawning season otherwise known as my kids birthdays. (No kidding- Dec 20, 29 Jan 9 & Feb 6)

For me, it’s the only way to go.

Another bone of contention that gets on my last frayed nerve is when some Christians get worked up and indignant that EVERYONE doesn’t use the phrase Merry Christmas.

As a fellow Christian let me just reiterate that we don’t own the month of December.

The Earth is a ginormous place that just so happens to look like a very cool psychedelic marble… that’s made up of a bazillion shades of blue.

If you celebrate Christmas by all means shout MERRY CHRISTMAS from the tallest bar stool. Anyone who doesn’t like it can kiss Santa’s fat Buddhist ass.

I can’t verify that Santa is in fact Buddhist, but I blurted that out because the Buddha statue could totally be his Great Grandfather.

Just saying.

Anyway, feel free to SHOUT OUT your greeting of choice.

In the unlikely event that someone has the audacity to rudely voice their objection, simply remove your Grinch taser gun from it’s mistletoe holster and zap them in the eyeball or sensitive groin area. Your choice.

Let’s face it, there’s a lot of stress and tension during this hectic time of year. Shooting up and tasering people would therefore qualify as a kick ass therapeutic activity.

Win win.

Make my day.

I’ll surely be crucified for this post.

C’est la vie.

Also, wrong holiday.

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Important note- Do not scroll down any further without first reading this disclosure.

Disclosure- the following meme content is rude, crude, distasteful, potentially offensive, wrong-on-many-levels and downright hilarious.

All hate mail will be marked… Return to sender.

It is my belief that the almighty higher power has a most excellent sense of humor.

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Turkey Day ClusterfLuck

Posted in Holiday Bullsh*t by

 

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The Birdzilla holiday is the King pin of all holiday clusterflucks.

It all starts with the grocery store clusterfluck. I’m referring to the mass of non-regular customers leisurely strolling the aisles with the entire maternal side of their family in tow.

On the other end of the spectrum is the daddy-deer-in-headlights; the lost looking male sent to the front lines to retrieve forgotten items. These guys are like a stubborn hair clog in the bathroom sink. We’ll call them solitary clusterflucks. During non-holiday shopping trips I’d have compassion for them, but unfortunately, it’s the holiday season and the only rule of shopping during the holidays is get in and get out, like your life depends on it.

The clusterfluck commences in the check-out line which is bustling with extra bodies. How many people does it take to pay? The answer is ONE, meaning all inactive shopping companions should skedaddle.

With all your might, you finally push the katrillion calorie shopping cart with-the-bad-wheel to the outermost border of the parking lot where you were forced to retreat, which is called the parking-in-BFE clusterfluck.

Also, the more traffic in a parking lot, the more likely an inattentive holiday clown will step out in front of your car and end up as a hood ornament. Live hood ornaments are right up there with Rudolph’s antlers tacked to your mirror and/or Santa’s testicles dangling from your muffler.

This is also called the tacky hood ornament clusterfluck.

When you finally slide into home base and attempt to unload your groceries, there’s nowhere to put anything because of the kitchen-counter clusterfluck and the refrigerator clusterfluck.

As soon as you begin food prep, the overflowing dirty-dishes clusterfluck is immediately created and will regenerate for another 48-72 hours, making it the biggest clusterfluck of all. I despise washing dishes. I’m a huge fan of serving left-overs on paper plates, which incidentally causes a trash can clusterfluck, but what are you gonna do?

We’re picking our battles here.

Other painful holiday clusterflucks include the obvious dinner table fiasco, where you attempt to squeeze 15 people around an 8 seater table. “No fair… I want to sit near Suzy Lou Hoo!” This is called the intimate-encounter clusterfluck and also the reason I bought the big bottle of vodka.

Then there’s the dreaded people-who-don’t-belong-in-the-kitchen clusterfluck, which is why I leave a bag of unpeeled potatoes on the table. Everyone knows as soon as guests arrive, they immediately invade your sanctuary and try to be helpful.

“Grab a potato peeler. We’ve got a clusterfluck and a half of potatoes to peel,” says me.

To clear up any confusion, the tryptophan found in turkey not only makes you sleepy, it can give you the urge to dive off the roof of Macy’s during the Thanksgiving Day parade right into inflatable Underdog’s ass, which would be affectionately termed the contipated balloon character clusterfluck.

And no, you will not catch me out and about on Black Friday. That’s an entirely separate clusterfluck in itself.

Stick a spork in me.

This pilgrim is done.

Christmas is in DECEMBER dammit

Posted in Everything Extreme, Holiday Bullsh*t by

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Where I come from we get something like three-ish months of summer, which equates to MAYBE a meager 30 days of warm sunny weather- picnics, watermelon, fireflies, swimming and sandy flip flops.
 
In short, we have ONE summer month and… the REST of the year.
 
Eleven months of the grey season, which includes but is not limited to rain, drizzle, snow, ice and every other possible form of precipitation currently known to man.
 
 
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 So yes, when people (lets call them psycho-holiday enthusiasts) try to contaminate our sacred sunny month with Christmas pollution we tend to get a bit crabby.
 
 

Justifiably crabby.

  
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I for one, happen to be a solar powered individual.
 
 
I get my energy from the sun and my reserves happen to be dangerously low these days.
 

The makers of Prozac can only do so much.

 
They’re like, “You’ve reached your limit lady… our hands are tied.”
 

“Go get some mood enhancing sunshine.”

 
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And, so I do what I can. I soak in every single moment of summer.
 
The problem with winter-related holiday nonsense (no, I will not say the C word again) is that it’s like kryptonite for us who reside in the grey area.
 
The mere mention of the dark side during our sacred sunny sabbatical is enough to boot us out of our happy place clear into the fiery pits of hell, except in OUR hell, it’s snowing.
 
 
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Resisting winter is a northern defense mechanism that’s been etched in our brains since the ice age.

 
To top it off, we broke records for cold AND snow in 2013.
 
I think we did. It felt like it anyway.
 
That’s my story and I’m sticking with it.
 
It sucked Frosty’s longest hardest icicle if you get my drift, then to top it off, we shattered all previously set rainfall records.
 
It felt like it anyway… the record breaking part.
 
 We did, however experience actual flooding.
 
Also, we made the big time meaning we were featured on The Weather Channel.
 

 It was definitely a How-many-Yeti’s-can-you-fit-on-Noah’s-ark? kinda year.

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 Nobody really cares what the answer is.

The point is- when Yeti’s and Noah’s ark are mentioned in the same sentence you’re clearly fucked and there’s not a damned thing you can do.
 

Mother Nature is one moody bitch.

 
As a result, my people (those of us who reside in the grey area of CNY) have morphed into foul-weather warriors who’ve proven again and again that we can tough that shit out.
 
However, uninvited winter holiday hoopla in July tends to drive some of us right. over. the. edge.
 
For the publics safety we’ve established guidelines called…
 

The Northern Survivalist’s STRICT Winter Holiday Timeline.

 
Halloween– the fright fest officially begins Sept 30, although mums and pumpkins may be put out any time after Labor Day. (Note- generous leeway given, because I happen to be a mum fan)
 
 
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Thanksgiving shall occupy the time period between Halloween and the C holiday.
 
 
 
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The C holiday– not one bell shall jingle or hallway be decked prior to the conclusion of turkey day feasting.
 
This means the dishes are washed, dried and put away. Also, the turkey carcass is gone. I freaking hate the turkey-beast carcass with ever fiber of my being.
 
I would rather get a root canal than harvest meat from the leftover turkey any day of the week.
 
Make that two root canals and a pap smear.
 
(I threw that thing in there about the dishes, because I don’t care for the C holiday and I’m trying to keep it away as long as possible. Scrubbing a zillion dishes gives me a little breather)
 

Let’s call this- living in the goddamned moment.

 
Quit racing around like blind mice on meth preparing for the next three-ring circus that’s six months away.
 

Relax.

 

Breeeeeathe.

 
If you must shop or bake cookies in July, that’s your business. Just keep that premature holiday pollution off my facebook.
 
Also, I’ll be happy to taste your cookies.
 
I’m generous like that.
 
I may be a holiday bitch, but I’m an excellent taster of cookies.
 
Unfortunately, there’s nothing we can do about greedy in-your-face retail peddlers who prematurely puke holiday what-nots throughout the land.
 
Winter holiday whatchamafuks will start polluting stores in August.
 
It’s the devils way.
 
Not only do I look the other way. (and say bad words) I also refuse to buy anything.
 
They’re not getting one premature cent from me until The Northern Survivalist’s Strict Winter Holiday Timeline says it’s time.
 
When I wander into Home Depot on August 15th in search of charcoal briquettes and get blindsided by a 12 foot blow-up of Frosty-the-freaking-unwelcome-snowman, I will breathe fire.
 
 This actually works out, because then I dutifully scoop Frosty up in a plastic cup and have something to chase my chocolate vodka with.
 

Hence, the only acceptable snowman in August is the one you drink.

Cheers…

 
 
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The Ugly Truth about Mother’s Day

Posted in Everything Extreme, Holiday Bullsh*t by

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Now that we’ve all had some time to recover, I think it’s time to talk about why Mother’s Day sucks rotten eggs and stinky baseball cleats.

Better yet, let’s have a “My Mother’s Day Sucked Worse than Yours” contest.

I’ll try not to win THIS one.

It’s like this…

You’re mom- The Family Goddess, Supreme Ruler of the Kingdom, The Almighty Healer of EVERYTHING that goes awry.

You’re pretty much the shit.

Nobody can begin to do it quite like you do.

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Men and children (yes, they belong in the same category) are dropped on this planet oblivious and many never overcome this perpetual state of cluelessness.

It’s okay because we love them dearly.

Mom’s clearly have the edge. It’s just the way it is.

The good news is, it’s UNIVERSAL and misery loves company.

(((group hug, neighbor)))

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I remember having big hopes and dreams for a perfect Mother’s Day filled with rest, peace and pampering, just like the dorky Hallmark commercials.

Then Mother Nature laughed..

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!

Good one, but no. Not unless you clone yourself.

Dear Hallmark, you’re a bunch of dream shattering lying bastards and I hope you get a paper cut on your eyeball from one of your own over dramatized and sappy cards.

Let’s scratch out REST.

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The Stages of Mothers Day-

When your offspring are still lovable tator tots, you may get breakfast in bed which consists of Frootloops, coffee, a hand picked daffodil and a gluey mess of a card they made in school. (thank you teachers)

I’m not really sure it ever get’s better than THIS.

Embrace this, because THIS is IT.

Then they get older.

The coveted handmade gifts and cards come to a screeching halt and they may or may not stick around for breakfast.

Boooo.

If you’re lucky, they take you out to breakfast and Big Daddy pays.

The thoughtful bucket has sprung a leak. From here on end, it’s all down hill.

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Now, you’ve become grateful if they can manage to refrain from swearing and fist-fighting in your presence for one lousy day and possibly show a shred of appreciation for good measure.

You taught them better, right?

Crap. Now you’re guilty of THAT too.

They suck and it’s all YOUR fault.

It’s the full circle of always-the-moms-fault.

Which is why I’ve adopted the proactive approach to Mother’s Day.

It doesn’t feel right to unleash my brood into the world until they’re properly trained in Mother’s Day etiquette.

Their spouses will thank me some day and if they don’t, obviously it’s their mothers fault.

*giggle of irony*

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I gave each of my four children a sort of multiple choice list of (mostly) stuff I’d like done around the house, and for my artistic girls, drawings and such that I’d enjoy.

Easy peasy. Spelled it right out.

Are you ready for my miserable report?

#3 finished vacuuming at 10 pm Mother’s Day night and only because I lost my shit.

#2 completed 50% of his offerings. He washed the dogs. I’ll take it.

And, #1 and #4 have been granted extensions because no way am I letting them off the hook.

So there you have it.  The ugly truth.

My rug is clean and my dogs don’t stink. At least we’re making progress.

I guess they REALLY don’t know what to do or how to act without the Queens guidance, which is why I will always reign as Almighty Mom-  Supreme Ruler of the Kingdom.

It’s a mom thing…

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Welcome to the club.

How was YOUR Mother’s Day?