Thrift Store Thursday and the Littles' Dictionary

Thrift Store Thursday! Slim pickin's this week, sad to say... Guess I need to wait for yard sale season for the truly heinous and grotesque.

Remember when I said that there was nothing more icky to me than the thought of buying lingerie and underwear at the thrift store? I stand corrected and present to you, the following...

Oh yeah, I want to adhere some rubber boob covers to my skin. You know, ones that have already been attached to a stranger's shweddy hooters.

Rut roh, raggy.... Fido got into the catnip again.

Is this not the most scraggly jacked-up bird you have ever seen? Makes you wonder what the criteria is for the workers at the thrift store to actually throw something in the garbage. "So it has wires protruding at the wings...so the feathers are hanging off in chunks in places...so one of the feet only has two toes and one eye is hanging off... We can still SELL IT! YESSSS!"

Friends, I am a native Floridian, and I can tell you that we are not known for our owls. Note that they tried to tie in to something we actually ARE known for by throwing a couple of random oranges in the front. It would kind of be like going on vacation to Arizona and buying a kitschy little, oh, polar bear or something. Whooo Whooo Whoooo actually buys this sh*t? Why, tourists who stop at Stuckey's, that's whoooooo! (*rimshot* thank you, thank you...)

Yep, that's a butt. You know, on second thought, this is not such a bad thing. What better way to tell the world to kiss your ass before you have finished your coffee in the morning without having to actually verbalize it?

And to wrap things up, a couple of random entries from the Dictionary according to the Littles:

(Chase) Salt and Pepper Channel: the "snow" you see when it is not on a broadcasting channel. (As in "They're heeeeeeeeeeere...")

(Hunter) Vagina: A woman's penis.

Yeah, I know. I have some work to do.

I've come to realize...

(Special thanks to Bri for posting on her FB page. You helped me out with a long-overdue blog post until Thrift Store Thursday tomorrow!)

I’ve come to realize that my body. . . sure ain't what it used to be.

I’ve come to realize that my job. . . is the most rewarding thing I have ever done. The pay sucks, but the fringe benefits are awesome. Where else can you get peanut butter and jelly kisses and underarm farts?

I’ve come to realize that when I’m driving. . . I have less road rage than I used to. Maybe I just needed to get away from that South Florida traffic. I still have a way to go, as evidenced by a little voice coming from the back seat every so often when stopped at a light..."JEEZ! Come on lady! It doesn't get any greener!" Oops.

I’ve come to realize that I need. . . less than I ever thought I would. The love of a good man and being blessed with three kids makes me warm and fuzzy. Or maybe I just need to shave my legs.

I’ve come to realize that I have lost. . . my mind. But luckily the kids are too little to be embarrassed by it. So far, they think I am a hoot and a half. Yeah, give 'em time...

I’ve come to realize that I hate it when. . . I cannot use the bathroom alone. Seriously. How many people does it take to help Mommy pee? Apparently, three.

I’ve come to realize that if I’m drunk. . . I get ridiculous and hit on college-aged waiters. With my husband sitting right there. Laughing at me, to boot.

I’ve come to realize that money… doesn't buy happiness. But I seriously doubt it buys sadness either. I would love to test that out.

I’ve come to realize that certain people. . . just don't get it. Period.

I’ve come to realize that I’ll always. . . miss my dad. It doesn't matter how much time has passed, thinking of him and the night we lost him feels like a punch to the gut.

I’ve come to realize that my sister... is my very best friend and I would do anything in this world for her.

I’ve come to realize that my mom… is the reason I am the person I am today. She was a great role model and I know I am truly blessed to have her.

I’ve come to realize that my cell phone. . . will always have features I just can't quite figure out. Curse you, Blackberry.

I’ve come to realize that when I woke up this morning. . . I knew my day would be spent outside. First clue, Chase whispering, "Mom...Mom..." and dangling his snow boots in front of my face.

I’ve come to realize that right now I am thinking. . . about getting on to this transcription job. It calls me, but I need to wait until the heathens are in bed.

I’ve come to realize that my dad. . . was a rock star. I had the fun, cute, hilarious dad... the one your friends just love.

I’ve come to realize that today. . . was fun, despite the looming PMS. I feel it comin' y'all. Take cover.

I’ve come to realize that tonight. . . is going to be Transcription Mania.

I’ve come to realize that tomorrow. . . will be more of the same. My Morning of Solitude (aka both boys in school until 11:30) will not be spent with Regis and Kelly or Judge Judy. Damn.

I’ve come to realize that I really want to. . . get on the bathroom remodel project. Bye, bye fifties pink tile!

I’ve come to realize that life. . . is so blooming short. There are no rewind or pause buttons. Live it up, laugh it up, and love, love, love.

I’ve come to realize that this weekend. . . 's weather may booger up our Super Bowl party plans. Nuts.

I’ve realized the best music to listen to when I am upset. . . is anything on Kids Place Live. How can you stay upset or sad when you hear songs like "Squirrels in my Pants"?

I’ve come to realize that my friends. . . are true blue, whether my internet girls or real life peeps.

I’ve come to realize that this year. . . Dave will turn 40 and although I am already there, I find it hilarious for some reason.

I’ve come to realize that my husband. . . is one of the good guys. I thought they were a myth, not unlike mermaids or the Chupacabra. But, nope, the good guys really do exist. <3

I’ve come to realize that maybe I should. . . Um....I got nothin' here, people. I live with no regrets. If I think I should do something, I just do it.

I’ve come to realize that I love. . . living in my loungewear. Comfy clothes rock my socks.

I’ve come to realize my past. . . although sometimes ugly or painful, have shaped me into the person I am today. I wouldn't change a thing.

I’ve come to realize that parties. . . are fun, but I can't stay up much past 11. You can imagine the fun New Year's Eve party guest I am.

I’ve come to realize that my life. . . is like a roller coaster. Sometimes fast, sometimes with an unexpected curve or dip, but always an exciting ride.

It is 12:45 and...

...the little kid has eaten, so far, today...

2 bowls of oatmeal

An apple

2 bowls of Cocoa Puffs

2 pieces of cheese

and now is having a round meat sandwich. His name for a bologna sandwich.

The kid must be going through a growth spurt. Either that or he has developed a hollow leg or tapeworm. At this rate, he is going to eat us straight into the poorhouse. Anyone want to hire a super-cute 4 year old? It may be time for the kid to get a job. So far, his only real skills appear to be consuming mass amounts of food and taking gargantuan dumps. Oh, and hopping on one foot throughout the house as well as climbing on furniture. He should have a Doctorate in that.

You're welcome, Daddy

The middle kid and I were folding clothes in my bedroom the other day. OK, I was foldig clothes, and he was sort of balling things up in piles and calling it good. I won't split hairs on this one, since I think he gets an A for effort. My apologies to a future wife. I think he has mastered that man trick of doing something badly so that he will not be asked to do it again.

Anyway, he was doing a squat-hover sort of thing just over Dad's pillow, and as he gave a "folded" shirt a pitch into a pile, the ol' fanny came out with a phrrrrrrrrt. To which, of course, we laughed uncontrollably. I reiterate that I am a total 10 year old boy inside when it comes to farts and burping. The really great part of this, is that he suddenly stops, gives me the straightest face, and announces, "Well, there is a little something special for Dad when he goes to sleep tonight."

Warped kids...I gotz 'em.

John Boys

I pee. Like, a lot. I am not sure if it is bladder brainwash from when I was growing up, or what. You know, "Go pee-pee before we leave" or when on vacation, "We are stopping for gas. Go in and pee. You don't have to? Well, try anyway..." It could also be the fact that I had three ginormous babies that did some squishing to my organs (8 lb, 4 oz, 8 1/2 lbs, and the whopper that was 9 lbs, 11 oz). At any rate, I can tell you where bathrooms are in any store, restaurant, play area, friend's home in Y County. I have even had to make pit stops in porta-pots here and there. And those things make me want absolutely puke.

I swear to you, I can pee "just before" I walk out the door, drive 30 minutes, and be like, "Aw, hell, gotta go again." Make no mistake, I have no problem with holding it...no dribbling here...but I just have super-functioning kidneys.

That being said, I would not want to do a big fat sneeze when holding a full bladder. That could be catastrophic. Or hilarious. Depending on where I am when it happens. Haha, I said "Depend".

At any rate, so, OK, I have two little boys. One big boy, of course, who can go potty alone, and has for many years, but two littles that still have to go in the Ladies Room with me. When the biggest kid was little, I was a single mom and when he got too old (in his mind) to go into the Ladies' Room, I remember standing in the doorway of the Mens Room, holding the door open with my foot and announcing loudly, "Austin, I am RIGHT HERE. Are you OK? Aust, I am STILL HERE, OK?" (Translation- "Any potential pedophiles, be on alert. Do not even THINK of messing with that kid there. Momma Lion is at the door. Oh, and sorry to any of you fellers just trying to get your pee on, having to listen to a woman's voice bouncing off the tiles. Shy bladders will have to 1. wait, or 2. go pee in the parking lot.")

Anyway, the littles are nowhere near being ready to go to the Mens' Room solo, so they come in with me. Usually, I go in a stall and have them stand right outside the door, with their shoes peeking under where I can see them, but if the bathroom is crowded, they have to come in the stall with me. Yep, pretty crowded, and you hear me saying the following:

1. Do not touch ANYTHING. No, not that, or that. Please, will you just put your hands in your pockets???

2. I will flush it with my foot. Do not touch the flusher. Thanks anyway, but I will handle it.

3. Leave that metal box alone. (Ladies, you know what I am saying. Ick.)

I had both littles in a crowded bathroom recently, and we packed into a stall. I was doing the hover and my youngest loudly proclaims for all to hear, "Hahahahahahaha! Mom, you are peeing out of your BUTT! Hahahahahaha!" To which I hear snickers and giggles. So I try to quietly explain that a) it is not actually coming from my butt, and b) GET OUT from behind there!

Then he says, "Oh, so it must be from your BA-JINE-AH! Hahahahahahaha!"

Heavens to mergatroid. I wanted to get the heck out of there, but I had to make the Walk of Shame to the sink. I tried not to make eye contact with anyone.

It made me recall a story one of my best friends told me about her daughter coming into a stall with her and announcing to all in the bathroom, "Mommy, you have a REALLY BIG VAGINA!" Yikes. I suppose peeing from the butt is a little better than that. But not much.

Maybe it is time to stand guard at the Mens' Room after all.

Thrift Store Thursday

So, my intention was to do a holiday-themed TST, but upon checking out the holiday decorations available for purchase from my local TS, I found it to be sorely lacking.  This leads me to believe that either 1.  Very few people are donating holiday decorations, or 2. Someone, or someoneS bought most of the available Christmas cheer.

I lean more toward #2, only because I have seen many outdoor holiday displays around town that make me wonder/afraid of what it looks like inside.  You know, craptastic displays like this one...

Nonetheless, I was able to find a few interesting pieces for your enjoyment.  I suppose they could be bought and given as Christmas/Chanuka/Kwanzaa/Festivus/Winter Solstice/WhatTheFrickEver gifts, so let's say we are sticking with the theme.  Pretend with me, much like we pretend that I actually create these posts on Thursdays.

OMG.  The perfect gift for my sister-in-law.  Provided, of course, she changes her name to Brandon Edward Reams.  Oh, and that date at the bottom.  I am sure she would be cool with shaving ten-ish years off of her birthday.  I do think she will like the lovely bluebird with the broken-looking neck.  Or is he constipated?  Jury is still out.

Or maybe this vag-inspired picture? Seriously, I am not the only one that sees this...right?

How would you like this cheery fellow looking at you from atop your armoir?  My fear of clowns doesn't seem quite so irrational right now, does it?  (Frickin A...really.  Who puts this in their house and calls it good???)

For that special someone.  You know, when you want to say, hey, I'm wild about you.  So much so that I bought you this shitty wooden gorilla.

AHHHH!  A TRIBBLE!  Oh, just a wig. Eww....

Know anyone who just bought a house and needs a sofa?  Or in this case, a SofaKing Ugly?

But this gift....  This one is super-special.  This says hey baby, you rock my world.  Or else it says, hey, did you know your friend was a freaky pervert?

(I just have to preface this with a "good Lord.")

It is especially awesome if the recipients name is Kermit.  As in, "Hey Kermit, big boy, come and get it, baby."

Or you could just do gift cards and cash.  If you want to keep your friends for another year.

Making up for it

OK, to make up for my crybabylittlebitch post from yesterday, I present you with this, courtesty of YouTube.

OMGigglinGertie, how cute is this kid? And how does he know all the words to this song? (OK, maybe just he and I sing it that way, but still...)

I like it, I love it, I want some more of it.