My Radio Interview with The Bert Show of Q100 FM

This morning I woke up, made some coffee, got the kids ready for school, did a radio interview with Q100....  You know, just a typical Wednesday.

Holy cow, y'all!  So not a typical Wednesday.

The Bert Show planned to discuss my list of 20 Things a Mother Should Tell Her Son, but I had no idea they were going to talk to until my phone rang exactly 3 minutes before I was on the air.  The good news is that I had no time to get nervous.  The bad news is that I had no time for the coffee to kick in.

Hey, did you miss the interview?  No problem!  Brian recorded it on a very sophisticated piece of equipment (you might call it an iPhone 4), so you can listen to it here.  Yay!







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Ellen's Dance Dare at Disney World

Dang, the guys in the club are so much furrier than I remember... 

I'm just kidding, y'all.  That's no club.  It's Disney World!  And that photo is a preview of my Ellen's Dance Dare.  

Have you ever seen the Ellen's Dance Dare videos?  If not, please go to her YouTube channel immediately.  Don't worry, we'll wait on you. 

Oh my gosh, aren't they hilarious?  

And since I've been known to bust a move in public a time or two (or fifty, whatevs), when I watched these videos, I felt like I was home.

But unfortunately for my family, when we were on our way to Disney World was when I thought, 'Hey, I want to make an #ellensdancedare video, too!'  

(You see where I'm going with this, don't you?)

So while we were at Disney World, I dance dared every single character that we met.  All of them.  When Winnie the Pooh saw me grinding behind Tigger, I think he poohed his pants a little.

Hey, when you go to Disney World, are your kids embarrassed about your sun-visor or your fanny pack?  My kids DREAM of a day when that's all they have to be embarrassed about.  Bless their hearts.   

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Bailey's Monsterrific Interview

Have you ever been to the Monsters, Inc. comedy show at Walt Disney World?  It's hi-lar-ee-ass.

Even though the monsters are just cartoons on a big screen, and I know they're not real, somehow Disney makes them interact live with the audience.

Most people think that's really cool, but as for me?  It made me check underneath my bed and inside my closet just a little more carefully that night.  Ahem.

There's a couple hundred people in the theater watching the show.  They flash several different audience members up on the screen as part of the skit.  They try to choose the grouchiest, grumpiest Paw Paws to put up there, because the more miserable the person looks, the funnier it is to the rest of us.

Then one lucky kid is interviewed by the monster.

If I had watched the movie, I could probably tell you which one, and maybe you'd be impressed.  Or, maybe he'd be like like Jon from NKOTB and getting interviewed by an accountant would be more exciting.  I don't know, because unfortunately, if it doesn't have to do with shoes or doughnuts, I'm pretty clueless.

Anywhooooo, Bailey got picked.  Yay!  I'm not sure why, I mean, she was acting completely shy and introverted all week long.

Now, before you watch the video, I'd just like to put one fear to rest.  After the last Presidential debate, everybody was up in arms about the fate of Big Bird and the rest of the Sesame Street gang.

But let me ease those worries, y'all.  No matter what happens with PBS, I'll give you a little bit of Ernie, donation and government subsidy free.

However, if you'd like to make a donation or give me a government subsidy, it's spelled w-e-r-d-y-a-b.  Thank you for your support.

I never knew that I laughed like Ernie until I watched this video.  And now, I can never un-hear it.  It makes me want to LOL without the OL part, if you know what I mean.

So if you need to get in touch me with me later, I'll be organizing my stripped shirt collection, playing checkers with my good ol' buddy Bert, and then taking a bubble bath with my rubber ducky.

Without further ado, please check out Bailey's 58 seconds of Disney fame...





Added Note:  Hold up!  I just realized.... is that Bert's laugh instead of Ernie's?  Crap, I just saved the wrong character.  I need a do-over with pigeons and bottle caps.  Stat!



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Disney: Now and Then

On the left is a photo of my family at Disney World in 2008.  We're sitting on the rock bench that's outside of It's A Bug's Life in Animal Kingdom.  And on the right, it's the same little family on the same little bench four years later.

What a difference four years makes!

I learned a few things about Disney, which is reflected in these photos.

1) If you take your 3D glasses out of It's A Bug's Life to pose for pictures, you may or may not get stopped by a Disney employee who will ask you to "return the stolen merchandise".  Ahem.  That's a mistake you only make once.  Obviously. 

2) When it's your family's first trip to Disney, you think that looking cute is actually important.  You wear designer clothes and collared shirts.  You style your hair and wear uncomfortable shoes.  And then you figure out that you're a total idiot.    

3) And speaking of fashion faux pas and idiots, who wears white pants to Disney World?  It's the dirtiest place on earth!  Not to mention, that trip was after Labor Day.  And if you could see the shoes, they were white, too.  Oh yeah, I said it.    

4) CamelBaks (the water cooler backpacks) are the single most important thing that you can take to Disney World to stay hydrated on the cheap. Camouflage design optional.  Like, really optional. 

5) It's more fun to take children to Disney World who are not currently in your womb.  However, the flip side of that is when children are not in your womb, they beg for ice cream and $50 Mickey Mouse dolls.  It's a give and take. 

When we got back home from Disney, Brian and I talked about how important it is to make memories together as a family.  It's too easy to get busy being busy.

The days seem so long, but the years seem so short.  Where does the time go?

On our first trip to Disney, Bailey was just a little girl, but now she is beautiful young lady.  And Drew was just a four pound blob with an all-you-can-eat umbilical cord buffet, but now he's an amazing, sweet kid.

And see that handsome man in both pictures?  The only thing that's changed is how I love him even more now than I did back then, even though I would have sworn that it wasn't possible.  He's my everything.

Sometimes it takes a side-by-side now and then photo to make you realize how quickly time passes and how precious family is to you.  Life is all about memories.

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I'll do anything for a new pair of shoes

I have so much to tell you about our trip to Disney!  But today, I'm going to start at the end and work my way back to the beginning. Think of it like a Pulp Fiction-style recap.

It had been a long week, and by the fifth full day at Disney, family members were dropping like Lindsay Lohan at a cocktail party.

Disney World is a laid-back vacation in the same way that running a marathon is an afternoon stroll.  It's hot, it's crowded, and I went from walking 10 paces a day to 10 hours a day.  Needless to say, there were some side effects.

My body felt like I had mistakenly entered an arena thinking that I was going to a U2 concert, but ended up joining an NFL training camp instead. My swollen feet, normally a size 7, required a shoe horn and a tub of butter to slip into a size 9 shoe.  And my back felt like I got a chiropractic adjustment from a sadist who especially hates narcissistic mommy bloggers.  

Magic Kingdom closed at 7 pm on Friday, and Bailey and I were determined to close down the park.  Meanwhile, the 10 smarter members of our family were sipping pina coladas by the pool.

It was 6:30 pm, and a giant black cloud hovered stubbornly over Magic Kingdom. It was about to rain cats and dogs, or in this case, Aristocats and Plutos.

We had done everything at Magic Kingdom, and I mean everything.  I even talked Bailey into going to The Hall of Presidents, also known as, an educational field trip/ half-hour history lesson that is not at all interesting or fun for any 11-year-old kid on the face of the planet.

Listen, if your child has seen The Hall of Presidents, then you know that you have literally seen everything that Disney World has to offer.     

I suggested that we leave before the nasty storm hit, but Bailey asked if we could ride the Pirates of the Caribbean just one more time.

And I thought, 'You know what, why not?'  It will be years before the memories of my aching back and swollen feet subside enough for me to book another trip to Disney, so let's do it!

Now, I really can't explain how this next thing happened, so you're just going to have to take a leap of faith with me here.

As I was climbing into the boat, I tripped, kicking off my flip flop into the water below.  And.... wooosh!  The current quickly swept my shoe away to meet Jack Sparrow face-to-flop.

Awesome.

If being clumsy was an Olympic Event, I would have brought home the gold in in my suitcase.

Have you ever known somebody who lost a shoe at Disney World?  Well, now you do.

And what's more white-trashy than walking around Disney World barefoot?  I can't think of a thing.  I guess that post about Honey Boo Boo inspired me more than I thought.

And to make matters worse, those dark clouds had now turned into Tropical Storm No Shoes At Disney.  Pouring rain, crashing thunder, limited visibility, and a stampede of frantic adults wearing Goofy ears.  Not a very good combination for a barefoot, white trash, germaphobe such as myself.

I walked up to the young lady running the Pirates of the Caribbean ride and I said, "I lost my shoe in the water.  Is there any way to get it back?  Is there a filter or something that catches lost items?"

Her response?

"Hahahahahaha!  You lost a SHOE?  On this ride?  How?  It barely moves!"

Well, thank you, miss.  I didn't think that I could feel any more stupid than I did 5-minutes ago, but you really went the extra mile.  I'm sure Mickey is very proud.

Still barely able to talk through her laughter, she said, "I can't get your shoe back, but I can buy you a new pair of shoes."

Huh?  New shoes?  Do you hear the angels singing or is it just me?

Suddenly, all that ridicule and stepping on people's spit was totally worth it!

WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THIS BEFORE?

Okay, new plan for the next trip: Wear $2.50 Old Navy flip flops to Disney World each day, toss one shoe overboard, and get a $25 souvenir courtesy of Disney.

This is brilliant.  And, it will will keep my white trash reputation in-tact.  What a twofer!

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A Song from Disney World

My mom and dad treated the entire family to an amazing Disney World vacation this week.  Only one little problem, though - Mom had to have knee replacement surgery seven weeks ago.

Mom and Dad tried to go with us on the first day, but it was too soon after surgery, so they decided to stay in while we went to the parks.

AND WE'VE MISSED THEM.

My parents might not have been able to go with us to Animal Kingdom today, but they did get their very own original song out of the deal.  Not too shabby.

We love you, Mom and Dad!  Thank you for our trip!

Disney or Bust

If you need to get in touch with me this week, sorry, I'm unavailable.  I'm on a plane bound for Disney World!  Yay!

The last time that I went to Disney World was in 2008.  Bailey begged us to take her before she was "too old to enjoy it".  And at the crusty old age of seven, we were a little worried that her best years were behind her, so we decided to go.  

I was 7-months pregnant at the time.     

But it's cool because I'm tough and I can take it.  Besides, this trip will probably barely even kill me.   

Drew's first trip to Disney World.  Think he remembers it?

The first day went great.  

"It's a little warm but that breeze is nice."

"It feels so good to get some exercise." 

"Oh, look!  Bailey is meeting Cinderella!!"

*wiping sentimental tear*   "I'm so glad that we decided to come to Disney World!"

Our bug glasses from Animal Kingdom

I was a little more tired on the second day...  

"What's the temperature again?  90 degrees?! You've got to be kidding me."  

"Brian, will you take Bailey on the next couple of rides and I'll just wait for you here?"  

*tearing up from exhaustion*  "Maybe we could go in a little early today?"

I'm giving that pumpkin a run for its money!

By the third day, it was getting ugly. 

"My back is KILLING ME!  I can't even get out of bed!  How the hell am I supposed to walk around Disney if I can't get out of bed?" 

"It feels like a freaking oven out here!  How do people live in this horrible place?"

"I don't give a crap if Mickey Mouse spoon-feeds me Rocky Road ice cream, I'm not walking all the way to that tent."

*sobbing*  "Why did I come to Disney World pregnant??  WHY was I so stupid?!  WHY... Why?!"

See that fake smile?  It's the same one that you smile right before you start crying from exhaustion.  NOT THAT I KNOW THIS FROM EXPERIENCE OR ANYTHING.

By the fourth day, I rented a Rascal to wheel around the park. 

"This is the best 50 bucks that I've ever spent."

Do you know that there's not one single photograph of me riding that motorized chair around the park?  I must have threatened somebody (ahem, Brian) within an inch of his life if he snapped a pic of me riding that ridiculous thing.   (Sorry, baby.  It was just the hormones talkin'.)

So here's the thing about going to Disney World during your last trimester: It will ruin a pregnancy faster than you can say, "M-I-C...K-E-Y...M-O-U-S-E".

Shortly after returning to Georgia, I started having chest pains.  Then that Disney trip became known as the precursor to cardiologist visits, hospitalizations, heart monitors, medications, bed rest, premature labor and an emergency c-section.

In short, Mickey Mouse can kiss my butt! 

But I'm hoping that Mickey and I can start over this week.  Maybe we can spend some time together, and I don't know, grab a Starbucks or something.

I'm willing to forgive him for making me have too much fun if he's willing to forgive me for drawing all those mustaches and devil horns. 

Sorry, Mickster.

I'm looking forward to a totally-not-pregnant trip to Disney World.   I think we're going to have a blast!  There's nothing better than spending a fun week with my family.

Until I return from the land of Mouse, 
Amanda 

P.S. Any good wishes that you can send to Mickey that he doesn't kick me out of the park on sight would be greatly appreciated!





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The Song Remembers When

The Devil Went Down To Georgia (disguised as me, Laura and Amy) looking for Trouble.  We wanted to Drive a Fast Car, like a Little Red Corvette, Up Where We Belong to Sparkles Roller Rink.

The plan?  To celebrate Amy's birthday like a China Girl who Walks Like An Egyptian in a Big Country during Dance Hall Days.  Or, you know, skating was fine, too.

The Birthday Girl

I wanted to buy a bottle of Aussie Scrunch Spray and make my hair the Biggest Part of Me, like, totally, fer sure, like, totally.  In fact, I wanted to all out with jelly bracelets, leg warmers and a hot pink mini-skirt because obnoxious fashion is a Hard Habit To Break, y'all. 

I said, "I'm the Cult of Personality and I'm not Too Shy to look ridiculous for a laugh."  Laura said, "True.  You're A Friend of Mine and I Love You.  I Don't Mind At All if you want to wear 80's clothes, but I Still Believe that we can have fun without dressing like a Valley Girl."

Pfft.  Promises, Promises.

But guess what?  She was right!  That night was The Best of Times even though I didn't Go To Extremes.  Huh, who knew?

You can't take us anywhere.  I mean, you can, we just act like this. 

It had been The Longest Time since I'd been to a roller rink, but it looked just like it did All Those Years Ago.  Everything was so Pretty In Pink, along with other 80's True Colors like Electric Blue and lime green.

When I saw 867-5309/Jenny written on the bathroom wall, I felt like I was going Back In Time to the days of my Electric Youth.

I took one look around and thought, 'It's The End Of The World As We Know It (But I Feel Fine).  This place is Heaven!'  Then I thought, 'Hey, Don't Dream It's Over.  Face the fact that you might have a Borderline 80's Obsession and Sweet Dreams Are Made of This!  Tonight, we're gonna party like it's 1999... or, in this case, 1989.

It had been a Cruel Summer, but after slipping on my skates, all I wanted to do was Party All The Time.

When I'm working 9 to 5, There's Always Something There to Remind Me of my grown-up responsibilities.  But when I'm skating, It's Inevitable that I'm going back to my Tender Years.

Should I Stay Or Should I Go Now?  You Got It!  I'm going to Stay The Night!

And from now on, When I Think of Laura, I'll think of "roller rink guru".  She's definitely got The Right Stuff!

After showing off her roller derby moves, she yelled, "Amanda, do you really want to Take Me On?" And I said, "Uh, no thanks.  Do You Really Want To Hurt Me?  Because if I tried that trick, I'd be Livin' On A Prayer that somebody doesn't have to Shout, 'Doctor!, Doctor!'"  

I was a great skater in 1986, but That Was Then, This Is Now.

Laura made some delicious cupcakes for our birthday girl.  I swear, there must have been Magic in that batter!  Some people said, "Let's Wait Awhile before we eat the cupcakes", but I said, "No way!  I Just Can't Get Enough of those things and I'm Hungry Like A Wolf!"

Some Guys Have All The Luck, but Saturday Night, it was all about Girls Just Wanna Have Fun!

We Got The Beat skating to Old Time Rock 'n' Roll and Pop Muzik songs like "You Dropped The Bomb On Me" and "Lookout Weekend", which made me feel Forever Young. 

We almost Shed A Tear saying goodbye to our 80's night.  Amy said, "Before You Go-Go, remember, Don't Worry, Be Happy.  And thank you for making my birthday Celebration so much fun!"

Time After Time, I will look at a Photograph from that night and I'll have to laugh!  We will always Cherish the memories.  I Wouldn't Have Missed It For The World.

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Guest Writer: Orange Cone

My cousin Jason is a hilarious, quick-witted, pop culture trivia-knowin', son of a gun.  And golly gee! - I'm so glad he's my people.

Jason's done all the genealogy research here, but I think we're 2nd cousins on one side of the family and 3rd cousins on the other side.  Am I right, Jason?  At any rate, where I come from, family trees that vine are just prettier, y'all!

I saw Jason on Friday night when he treated me and my sis to a CNO (Cousins' Night Out) to see Peachtree Battle at Ansley Park Playhouse.  It was fabulous!  Tons of Atlanta-related humor and current events.

Here's a photo that we took of ourselves at the play.

Isn't that the worst photo that you've ever seen?  Instagram just burst into tears and shouted, "Not even I can save you!"

So, uhmmm, let's try that again, shall we?

Ugh, seriously?

I swear to you, no drugs were consumed before I took these photos.  I'm just that talented.

Oh, and remember when I said that this post would be the last post about back-to-school?  Well, I LIED.

Jason posted a funny story on Facebook, so I asked him if I could share it on my blog, and he said that I could.  Phew!  Because believe it or not, not everybody is proud of how they are portrayed on my little piece of the internet.

I guess this goes without saying, but if Ke$ha ever got a hold of this thing, her lawyers would inform me that I must stop, stop, stop talkin' that blah, blah, blah.

When I read about Jason's carpool line experience, I could totally relate.  One of the best days of my life was when 6-year-old Bailey came home from school and asked if she could start riding the bus.  

Hallelujah, kid!  I thought you'd never ask!

....................................

"You're doing it wrong!"

...those words from the movie Mr. Mom echoed in my mind as I faced the most nerve-wracking challenge of my life: navigating the 'pick up line' at my niece's elementary school.

Women have a sixth sense when it comes to this sort of thing.  But for most guys, it ranks right up there with loading the dishwasher or making the bed in terms of difficulty.

I was feeling pretty confident as I waited for the 50+ cars ahead of me to make their pickups.  I was really impressed with how quickly the line was moving.  As I got closer, I was amazed at how quickly the teachers were tossing the kids into vehicles, working at the speed of a NASCAR pit crew.

A woman on the sidewalk read my niece's name off the sign on my windshield and started shouting, "Orange cone!" while holding up a photo of - you guessed it - an orange cone.

But I didn't see an orange cone and I froze in panic for a moment trying to find it. She responded by repeatedly yelling "Orange cone!  Orange cone!" several more times while emphatically waving the picture of said cone.

I wasn't trying to be rude or sarcastic when I said to her, "No matter how many times you repeat 'Orange cone!', it still hasn't magically appeared, at least not in my line of vision."  At the same moment, a huge SUV pulled away and I found the Holy Grail known as the Orange Cone.  So I made a beeline for it, but refrained from driving up onto the actual sidewalk and tapping it.

As I walked around the back of the car, I heard my niece tell the teacher that this wasn't her car and she turned to go back inside.  I called her name, and for a split second, I wondered if she was going to claim me or make me look like a kidnapper or worse.  But she came running back yelling, "Uncle Jason!" and hugged me, so I was in the clear.

She hopped into her booster seat and I started to buckle her in as soon as possible.  Not two seconds later, one of the teachers came up behind me and said, "We usually pull forward to put on seatbelts if it's going to take a while".

The glare I shot over my shoulder probably expressed my EXACT thoughts without having to say a word, but I had to make sure that I got the last word anyway.  Using a phrase made famous by Julia Sugarbaker, with more than a bit of sarcasm, I replied, "Thank you.  Next time, I will!"

But I think I've found a solution that lets me avoid the school parking lot altogether but doesn't require my niece to drop out of kindergarten.  Last night, I told her to find out whose Mommy is always waiting at the front of the line... because that kid is going to be my new BFF!

My niece can get a quick ride across the parking lot and back down the street where all the cars are lined up, and when she sees Uncle Jason's car, she can do a quick Jump, Tuck & Roll (she's been wanting to start gymnastics anyway), and we'll be on our way home.  We'll save at least 7-8 minutes a day, and that adds up fast!

We'll see if she can pull it off.... I mean, she will be 6 years old in November, it's time to start pulling some of her weight!

After that ordeal, I couldn't figure out why more parents don't home school their kids?  It would be totally worth it just to avoid the hell known as the pickup line.

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Drew caused a stink at Bailey's tryout

The middle school softball tryouts were last week. Sixth, seventh and eighth graders were invited to show up and show off their skills.

I never tried out for a competitive sport when I was a kid. And that was pretty obvious when I kept referring to Bailey's tryout as an audition.  Listen, if it doesn't require stage make-up or jazz hands, then I just don't get it.

Bailey has been playing softball since she was in Kindergarten. Translation: If I had a nickel for every hour that I've spent at the ballpark, I wouldn't have a "Louis Vuitton" that I bought in New York at the corner of Imposter and You're-a-Poser. It would be a real Louis Vuitton without the quotation marks.

Bailey asked me if she should try out for the middle school softball team. Well, of course she should try out! And that's exactly what I told her. Why? Because it's the good parent thing to do.

Nevermind that on the inside, I was rocking back-and-forth in the fetal position and crying, "Please let her make it, please let her make it, please let her make it..."

See, Bailey's never actually tried out for anything. We've just signed her up for various teams, clubs, and organizations. Big difference.

So I wanted to prepare her for the worst.

I reminded her she was the youngest girl trying out for the team, and if she made it, she would be playing with girls almost 3-years older.  But this tryout would be a great opportunity to meet the coaches and discover what skills needed improvement.  Then I followed it up with some overused cliche like, if at first you don't succeed, try, try again.

How's that for a pep talk?

So if you need a motivational speaker for your next convention, expo, or business luncheon, just email me. I'm pretty available.

We pulled into the parking lot, and suddenly, the butterflies in my stomach turned into fire-breathing dragons. I was sweating like I ate an entire jar of jalapeno peppers on a dare. My heart was pounding like the cast of True Blood just invited me to join them in the hot tub.

I looked over at Bailey, but she was doing fine. (It's nice to see that somebody can keep her cool under pressure. Signed, Somebody's Mama.)

All the girls lined up for drills. And bless her heart! Bailey looked so little out there!

And that's exactly how I saw it, too, with all those imaginary height markers and everything.

I was so nervous. I thought I might puke on my shoes, which was bad because 1) Bailey would have been sooooo embarrassed and 2) I was wearing really cute shoes.

They started the tryout, and Bailey was doing great! I was so proud of her for trying her best.  Everything was going to be okay. Because make it or not, Bailey will be proud of her effort. Good job, baby!

That's when Drew said, "I gotta go potty, Mama."

No problem! See, here's the awesome thing about boys: they can pee anywhere. In fact, boys love to pee outside, so this was Drew's lucky day.

We walked over to the side of the field, to the most out-of-plain-view-but-still-grassy-spot I could find.  I said, "Okay, go ahead and pee."

Drew said, "But I have to poop, Mama."

Uhmm, come again?  You have to what? Wait, uh, here? Right beside the softball field during your sister's first ever tryout?

But what was I supposed to do?  He's only three, so when he's gotta go, he's gotta go.

So I held Drew in a squatting position and let him drop a nugget right there at Bailey's softball tryout.  Then I wiped his butt with his Cars underwear and threw them in the trashcan.

Bailey looked over at us. I saw her facial expression change from "Hey, what are Mom and Drew doing over there?" to "Huh?" to "No.Freakin.Way!" to "OMG, I'll never be able to show my face here again!"

It was a moment.

This is a dramatic reenactment. 

Sorry, but I couldn't bring myself to take an actual pic of Drew's poop because that's just gross, y'all.  I don't care how little he is, dude poop is still dude poop. And the last thing I wanted to do was bring more attention to this event by shouting, "Whoa!  WHAT DID YOU EAT? This one's goin' in the scrapbook!" I thought Bailey had already been through enough.

I did snap this photo, though. I call it, "Drew After Poo: Free Ballin' at Tryouts."

I didn't think anybody noticed until I saw this sign the next day. I'm not sure if I should take it personally, BUTT it seems to be directed at Drew, don't you think?

But guess what? Bailey made the team! Yay! Congratulations, Bailey!

When we were leaving, I looked in the backseat and saw Bailey bawling her little eyes out.

"Why are you crying, baby?"
"Because now I'm on a new team with older girls that I don't know.  I won't be playing with my friends anymore."
"I'm so sorry, honey.  I know it's hard.  But we'll make plans to do things with your friends."
"I'm going to miss them so much!  I only tried out because you said I wouldn't make it!"

Oh.

See, I'm a better motivational speaker than you thought.

(Call me.)

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Embarrassment + Chinese Torture = Relaxation

I had a day to myself WITHOUT CHILDREN.

Did the all caps text indicate my excitement?  No?  Well, how about this?  WITHOUT CHILDREN.  Maybe in red?  WITHOUT CHILDREN.  Listen, I'm willing to add as much HTML code as necessary to get the point across.

Some people might have used this opportunity to clean their house from top to bottom.  Some people might have worked on their household budget.  Some people might have gone to the gym for back-to-back Zumba, Body Pump, and Yoga classes.

And if you know any of those people, TELL THEM THEY'RE CRAZY.  This is a day off!  Let's live it up!


So I decided to do my own personal version of a workout, which included walking around the mall and swiping my debit card until the money ran out.  I think Jillian Michaels has a new DVD coming out on it soon.  

Ahhhh.  The mall.

Don't you just love the mall?

I get a happy high from walking in, seeing the busy shoppers, smelling the freshly brewed coffee, and even avoiding those uber-annoying kiosk people.  "Hello, ma'am. Can I ask you a question? Would you like to try this lotion? Does your makeup contain wax? Do you have a flat iron at home?"


Even though I've spent more time at the mall than John Stomas has spent styling his hair, there was one thing that I hadn't done: a Chinese acupuncture-inspired mall massage.  

Do you know why I've never gotten a massage at the mall before?  Well, it's right there in the question.  It's a MASSAGE at the MALL.

And, unfortunately, the massage area is never located in a discrete, vacant corner.  It's always located in the dead center of the mall where it's the most open and there's the most foot traffic.  Can you say awkward?

But I figured, why not?  I'll give it a shot.  I mean, I'm the same person who dance walked into Starbucks.  Embarrassment is something that happens to other people.   

So this is the scene.

See that empty chair?  That's where I was. 

The first few minutes were strange because I was painfully aware of all the people watching me get a mall massage.  And that's just weird, y'all.  I felt exactly how the gorillas feel when my kids laugh at them at the zoo.    


And the massage chairs, although designed to be comfortable, created a few problems for me.  


1) They were the "one-size fits all" kind of chairs, and I'm slightly shorter than most adults.  Okay, okay - fine.  I'm a midget in some states.  Whatever.  


2) The chair might be made for taller adults, but the face rest was made for 4-week old infants.  My face got swished deeper and deeper into that thing.  Pretty soon, me and my Cabbage Patch doll looked like identical twins.  


3) See how you have to lean forward in the chair?  This position is not conducive to wearing low rise jeans if you know what I mean.  I think it's safe to say that Victoria's Secret is out now. 

But after a couple of minutes, I completely forgot about my humiliation.  And I relaxed.

Soon, the sounds of whiny children became the sounds of crashing ocean waves at high tide.  And the warmth of the iridescent lights became the warmth of the Caribbean sun.  It was paradise.

But that was before the therapeutic part of the massage started. Ahem.

BAM.  An elbow into my side!  CHOP-CHOP-CHOP-CHOP.  A vicious attack on my spinal column!  I never knew relaxation could hurt that much.

And did you know that you have a funny bone in your bicep?  I didn't either until this guy pushed on it.  And now, I'm sorry to report that I still don't have any feeling in my fingertips.  And there's nothing funny about that.

Then I felt 180-pounds of Asian masseuse body slam me.  Both of his feet completely left the ground before his forearms crashed into my back.  It was a wrestling move that I saw Hulk Hogan pull on The Ultimate Warrior when I was a kid.  But this time, instead of WWF, it was more like WTF.

Listen, buddy - I'm sure this is healthy for me and all, but just for the record, I'm totally fine with my toxins staying right where they are, okay?  Thanks.

I was one lung thrust away from putting an old Chinese proverb into action: "Of all the thirty-six alternatives, running away is best."

I'm not sure what the first 35 alternatives include, but I bet it has something to do with going Kung Fu on a masseue's ass.


But toward the end of the 20-minutes, we had come back full circle.  It was relaxing and wonderful again.  And I could hear those crashing waves and feel the Caribbean sun. Ahhhh.  


Then he leaned down and said, "Time up.  Thank you much."


I stood up and was completely shocked at how de-stressed I felt.  All that body slamming actually was helpful.  Who knew?  I guess that's how The Ultimate Warrior stayed in the game so long.  

And just think! - I almost spent that $22 on some Bare Minerals foundation instead.  Pfft.  As if.

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Who's Drunker?

If you saw this post, then you know that I've been having some stomach problems lately.

My gastroenterologist decided that an endoscope was the next step.  

"We'll run a large tube and a camera into your stomach and look around.  And then we'll do a stomach biopsy, too.  But don't worry.  You'll have anesthesia."

Sounds pretty gross, huh?  But I wasn't upset at all.

You hear 'tube running down my throat' and 'anesthesia', but I hear 'day off of work' and 'nap'.  See?  It's all about perspective.

And I don't get nervous about medical procedures anymore.  I used to, but then I had children.  If you get poked on enough, eventually you stop crying about it.  I'm sure that's exactly how Heidi Fleiss felt at some point in her life, too.

But when I was a kid?  I was a total hot mess around needles!  If I didn't puke or pass out or both, people started gathering their loved ones because they knew the end of world was upon us.

Case in point.  When I was 10-years-old, I asked my Mom if I could get my ears pierced.  My younger sister decided that she wanted earrings as well, so I let her go first.  You know, just being polite and all.  But when she started screaming, I chickened out.  And my Mom wasn't going to let me get away with that.

So what would any mature and non-dramatic 10-year-old do in this situation?  Pfft.  I don't have a clue!  But I can tell you what I did, which was hide underneath the coffee table in Merle Norman.  

I guess it goes without saying that I was an immature and dramatic kid.

But now, I'm totally fine around needles.  And I hardly ever hide underneath coffee tables anymore.

They rolled me into the procedure room, which looked and smelled surprisingly like an operating room.  The nurse said, "How old are you?  You look too young to have all those... uh, blonde hairs."

"I'm 37 and thank you for calling them blonde hairs. *smile*  Both my parents were white headed by 40, so I was fighting a genetic uphill battle.  But it's something that I can easily fix with a monthly trip to the salon.  There is no way that I would want to be white headed in my forties!"

In a scientific study completely made up for the purposes of this blog, my anesthesiologist was 46-years-old and his hair was 92% gray.  Ahem.

So he said, "Hey! What's so bad about being gray headed?"

Great.  Now I've offended the man who holds my life in his hands for the next half-hour.  Think of a compliment. Quick!

So I said, "When a man's hair turns white, he looks Richard Gere-ish.  When a woman's hair turns white, she looks Barbara Bush-ish.  See the difference?"

I thought that line belonged on an e-card, so I made one.

YESSSS!  I indirectly told my anesthesiologist that he looks like Richard Gere.  I'm a shoe-in to survive this procedure!

So, look - I'm not saying that he held a grudge or anything, but here is how the next 5 minutes went down.

"Okay, Amanda.  Start counting backwards from 10 and you'll fall asleep."
"10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.  1.  Uhmm, I'm still wide awake over here, doc."

Not only do I have insomnia in real life, but apparently I have insomnia under anesthesia, too.  Awesome.  I guess counting sheep won't do crap for me here either.

"That's alright.  I'll give you a little bit more medicine and you'll be asleep soon."

But before I could say "thanks", the nurse stuck a huge plastic guard in my mouth to hold it wide open.  You know, so they could stick a tube down my throat.

I hate to sound picky here, but isn't that something that could have waited until AFTER I WAS ASLEEP?

The last conscious thought that I had was, 'I'm going to wake up in the middle of this procedure.'

Actually, in my head, it sounded more like this:  'OMG! SOMEBODY HELLLLLP MEEEEE!  I'M GOING TO DIE!  I TAKE IT BACK, YOU UGLY MO-FO.  YOU DON'T LOOK ANYTHING LIKE RICHARD GERE!'

Seriously, y'all.  It was just like being in that Merle Norman all over again.

And I had a plan for when I woke up.  But Dick Gere ruined it for me.

Brian was going to make a video of me.  Everybody knows that acting afool after anesthesia is the fastest path to YouTube stardom and Tosh.0 web redemptions.

But since I had all that anxiety when I went under, that's exactly how I woke up.

I was crying, kicking and yelling for help.  Poor Brian.

Once I was actually awake enough to realize that it was over, I tried to play it off like nothing happened.  'Huh?  Did I say something?  Oh, I did?  Really?  Cause I don't remember a thing.'

For the sake of internet stardom, Brian should have filmed me freaking out.  But for the sake of marriage, he should have wiped my tears instead.  And he's a smart man.

So I'm sorry to report that there's no video of me crying or trying to jump from a moving car or slurring my words or anything.   Sorry, Tosh.  Raincheck?

Brian and I were starving when we left the outpatient center about 3 o'clock.  But I felt drunk.  Where could I go like this?

Well, that's easy!  The Waffle House!

I stumbled in and plopped myself into a booth.  The waitress looked me up and down and said, "What's wrong with you?  You sick 'er sumpin'?

I sooooo wish that I had the presence of mind to make up a communicable disease story, but I wasn't thinking too quickly on my feet.  I wasn't doing anything on my feet actually.

Right after this, I started drunk dialing people.  

I told her that I had anesthesia and was probably more drunk than her 3 AM customers.

"Darlin", she said.  "Then you ain't never been to a Waffle House at 3 AM.  Them peoples is D-RUNK.  In fact, ole Charlie over there's three sheets to the wind right now."

That's when Charlie explained that he'd had a few drinks and was probably drunker than me after anesthesia.

Huh?  Do I smell a drunk challenge?  Oh, IT'S ON.

So Charlie and I competed in a Who's Drunker? contest right there in the middle of the Waffle House.  Pasty Cline provided the jukebox soundtrack, and our waitress, Holly, kept score.  In a couple of minutes, I had more points than she had teeth.

The challenges included things like standing on one foot, walking in a straight line, counting backwards from 20, and recalling all the different ways you can order hash browns at Waffle House (scattered, smothered, covered, chucked, diced, peppered, capped, and topped.)

And I'll be damned.  Charlie WAS drunker than me.

Hey, ABC.  If you're reading this, I think "Who's Drunker?" would make a great reality television show.  And I know exactly where you can find Charlie - either sitting at the Waffle House or at the bar down the street.

Take my word for it:  When it comes to being d-runk, that Charlie's a STAR.

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