Naughty Girl

Yesterday, I stopped in here at the blahg to check on a few things.  Okay, if you’re a blogger, you know by “a few things,” I really meant “my stats.”  I admit it.  Anyway, right there on my dashboard, I found something that was pretty interesting.  Apparently, the most popular searches by people who found my blog involve talking dirty to your spouse or significant other.  I’m sorry, but that is just damn funny!  Know who finds it even funnier?  My husband.

But, seeing that got me to thinking…Just what is it about my blahg that would make Google (or whatever other search engine people are using) think that I’m an expert on talking dirty?  Clearly, a little research was needed.  So, 34 posts after starting my blog, here are a few meaningful Bonesy’s Blahg stats:

# of times the word “fuck” was used: 12

# of times the word “fucking” was used: 7

# of times the word “fucker” was used: 6

# of times the word “bitch” was used: 21

# of times the word “whore” was used: 2

# of times the word “slut” was used: 1

I’m sure there are other “bad” words threaded through my posts, as well.  In case you weren’t aware of this, I cuss like a drunken truck driver who used to be a sailor who was conceived in a back alley by a two dollar crack whore and birthed in a seedy motel.  I’m just sayin’.  But, to be honest, I got a little bored with the searching & counting.

Also, as part of my research… I googled phrases using similar language.  In the name of science, of course.  Here’s what I found…NOTHING!  10 pages into my search, I got bored again & moved on.  I hadn’t even found my blog yet!  Also, thanks to the current blizzard underway, Kid4 was home.  She may be 16, but I just don’t think I’m ready to have that talk with her yet.

So, that brought up even more questions… Just how many sites did those searchers go through before stumbling across mine?  AND.. after searching through all those posts, HOW could you still be curious enough to KEEP searching until you found me?  Jesus Christ, who ARE these people?!  If you’re reading, please raise your hand… And maybe leave me a comment.

I’m not sure what any of this says about me… But I LOVE that I’m now a certified expert on talking dirty!  Who knew?!  (Certainly not my husband, that’s for sure!)  I’m totally going to be on Oprah.  Okay, maybe just Maury.  BUT STILL!  Dudes, when Maury calls, I’m totally taking y’all with me.

Boobie Strut

I wear pink exactly once a year.  I think it’s safe to say it’s just not my color.  My one pink t-shirt was purchased a few years ago & says “Fight Like a Girl!”   (Obviously, I had to have it!) Every year, I dig that t-shirt out of the back of my closet and join up with 5,000 of my closest friends in the Making Strides Against Breast Cancer walk.  Such a long title for a simple walk in the park!  Somebody should have told them that more than a mouthful’s a waste. I prefer Boobie Strut.  Also, do you know why breast cancer awareness is so popular?  Because everybody loves tits!

I have a team of women that I walk with each year, varying in age and circumstance.  We’re called Divas on the Move, though I’m not quite sure why.  We’re not really divas, & we’re kinda slow.  So the “on the move” part is a bit of a stretch.  Obviously, I didn’t name us.  I’d have chosen something cool, like “Flaming TaTas” or “Floppers & Knockers.”  (Hey, don’t judge!  We range in age from 16 to I’m not sure what, but much older than that. Some of us are clearly floppers!)  Also, this year Running Man joined our team!  Okay, I have to admit he is a bit of a diva.  He refused to walk unless I let him wear this pretty bra:

Then he refused to cross the finish line unless I let him pose with these two cool chicks:

After throwing his little tantrums, he did finally finish:

Hopefully next year we can have a drama-free Boobie Strut.  Also, fellow Divas, I propose that next year we go all out with the boobie theme!   We can have “love muffins” and “flap jacks” for breakfast, with a side of “melons.”  I’ll dress my dogs up so they can be “sweater puppies!”  I could go on, but I think you catch the drift.  If we can do the theme thing, I promise not to be hung over!  I think that’s a fair trade.

 

5 Items on my Bucket List

Before last week, I had never given any thought to a bucket list.  I saw the movie, it just never occurred to me to make a list of my own.  Thanks to inspiration from Tex and my friend Dawn and her friend Carol, these are the first 5 entries to my bucket list.  Okay, so they’re the only 5,  it’s now Friday,  & I’m just coming up with them.  What can I say?  I’m a slacker. Don’t judge!

1) Visit Europe & attempt to trace my roots.  No, I’m not a genealogist. (See slacker comment above.)  I just think it’d be cool to visit the lands of my ancestors & attempt to hook up with some unknown relatives.  That might be a little Pollyanna of me, though.  I try not to associate with most of my relatives & they live nearby!  So maybe before attempting to meet any of the unknown relatives, I’ll stalk them for a bit to try to get a first impression before the actual meeting.  Wait…my stalking might give THEM a bad impression of ME.  Clearly, I didn’t think this through yet.  Hopefully by the time I need to put this bucket list to use, I’ll have a better plan.  One that doesn’t involve ski masks or peeking in windows.  Also, one I won’t get arrested for. I hear those foreign prisons are a bitch (Thanks, Lifetime Movies!)

2) One more all-girl whitewater rafting trip.  I went with a group of friends several (truth be told, it’s more like MANY) years ago & we had a blast.  Well, except for this moment:

In case you're not sure, I'm the one in blue with the death grimace.

And except for the few moments after I was tossed into the river & pinned to a boulder by the raft, fighting to keep my head above water as my friends struggled to drag my fat ass back in.   Note to self: Next time, bring stronger friends.

3) Take my kids on one more big, kitschy family vacation before everyone scatters for good.  Yes, I know how insane this sounds.  But my kids are actually pretty cool. Y’know, for kids.  Also, they range in age from 16 – 21.  So guilt tripping them into posing in stocks (or pillories, we’re not quite sure what the difference is)

 

or in front of the World’s Largest Rubber Band Ball (Sorry, this hasn’t actually happened yet, so no picture.)is kinda fun!

(Also, a shout-out to the friends who helped me figure out what the stocks or pillories were called. You saved me from a fatal head implosion.)

4) Publish something.  Anything.  Yes, I am aware I’d actually have to write something meaningful first.  (You’re kinda mean today, by the way.)

5) Find a certain someone that I was horribly mean to in high school and give her a way-overdue apology.  I’m not sure she’s even aware that I was the person terrorizing her in front of her house.  But I feel a little guilty about that, too.  I was her friend by day, terrorist by night. Okay, so I feel more than “a little” guilty.  I should probably just get to work on this one right away.

Now I want to hear from you.  What are the first 5 things you’d add to a bucket list?  Leave a comment & let us all know.

The one where I explain myself. Or not.

So, it’s been pointed out to me that I don’t post often enough.  And I will admit, you’re right.  (Hey, I’m BUSY, people!  Stick with me, I’ll get there.  Maybe. )  Basically, I log on here, look at the last post & go “Holy fuck!  It’s been a MONTH?! Where the hell have I been?  What the fuck have I been doing?”  

Because I’m just that time challenged & ask myself lots of questions.

And then I wonder if there were aliens involved, or maybe just some drunken midgets.  And THEN I wonder, if there WERE drunken midgets involved, did I enjoy myself?  Maybe it was just that great, & I was just that drunk, that I don’t remember it.  Maybe I was the super cool, really tall chick knocking back shots, telling stories,  & dancing on their super-short bar that they’ll be talking about for years in their little midget circles.  I’m sure I drank their stubby little asses right under the table.  … But then I realize I don’t feel that hungover.  Because a month-long bender would be one hell of a hangover!  I would think.  Not that I’d know or anything. 

Shit… What if I was like that super tall guy in that book that the really tiny people tie up with like dental floss or something while they try to figure out what the hell he is & how the hell he got to their tinyville?   I have been feeling a little sore lately… 

OR…If there were aliens involved, maybe they were the anal probe-y kind & they’ve just blanked-out my memory due to the horrors that I had witnessed & incredible pain I had endured.  I hear they’re thoughtful like that.  

And then I remember that I’ve just been working a lot.

If I don’t come out of the bathroom tomorrow, at least you’ll know why.

So tonight we had Kid4′s annual softball banquet.   At the $9 buffet.

Um, Softball Peeps… The $9 buffet?  REALLY??  I thought you liked us!

Buffets are like community feeding troughs, incubators for all things salmonella & e coli tainted.  Do I need to describe to you the petri dish creepy crawlies found in buffet food?  It’s displayed at optimum temperature for bacterial growth!  Now I’m no scientist,  but even I can tell you that creamy salad dressing needs a little refrigeration.  The chicken my husband ate?  Yeah, it needed a little can of Sterno underneath it.   (I’ll let him deal with this particular gastrointestinal nightmare.  I won’t touch that stuff.  There’s skin & bones on it!  What do I look like, a SAVAGE?!)

Also, the thought of some fat bastard breathing on the food I’m about to eat?  Disturbing!  The idea that some snot-nosed, self-touching  little fucker fingered up the biscuits before putting them back?

(Go ahead & re-read that last sentence.  I’m thinking you might have mixed up the fucker & the fingered.  I’ll wait…)

Anyway… HORRIFYING!

Also, they don’t serve alcohol.  WHAT THE HELL, BUFFET PEOPLE??

A Prompted Confession

Not many people know this about me, as it’s such a fiery subject & I normally try to avoid hate mail … But since I’m new to this blogging thing & only have a handful of readers, this is as safe a place to come out as I’m likely to find.  I’m an atheist. (Get it?  FIERY?! *sigh*)  There!  I said it!  Go ahead, I’ll wait while most of you quickly close this window & delete me from your facebook friends list.  All done now?  Anybody left?   <crickets>   Okay then…

Despite my lack of belief, I worked hard at keeping it from my kids.  And then I let them become Baptists. “Let” might not be quite the right word.  “Encouraged” is probably more like it.  When a church rep came door to door & asked if they might like to attend Vacation Bible School, I was like “Hells yes!”  (There may or may not have been a funny look & a quick prayer thrown up to the heavens.)  I was a stay-at-home mom of 4!  Free babysitting for a week?  Sign me up, even if it does come with a side of brainwashing! (Simmer down, Baptists… I’d have said the same thing about ANY religion!)

It wasn’t long before they were attending every Sunday… Then twice on Sunday… Then twice on Sunday + Wednesday evenings.  And not long after that, we had our first church outing.  Skate night with the bible thumpers!  Since the kids were little & pretty break-able, I choked on set  aside my personal feelings & took my kids skating.  To church hymns.  I didn’t even know skating rinks HAD hymns in their playlists!  It was like getting Punk’d, without the “haha we got you” part.  I thought they would eventually get to the contemporary christian music… Uh, no.   It was hymns, then a prayer break, then more hymns… By the time we got to the second prayer break, I was out of there.  It might have been a little rude to drag my kids walk out mid-prayer, but I had choked on set aside my beliefs long enough.  Also, I’m pretty sure if anyone peeked & saw me rolling my eyes & making faces with my head held high (because I’m just that mature) while everyone else was fervently praying, I might would have been escorted out anyway. 

Now that my kids are older, they all know my stance on religion.  But they’re still Baptists (even if they typically don’t attend church).  Which just proves my point that atheism isn’t contagious & I’m not that into brainwashing.

(As a point of note, this post is in response to San Diego Momma’s PrompTuesday, which I totally broke the rules of.  If you know me, this is not a surprise.  If you don’t know me… I just confided in you, so now you know something most of my friends & family don’t.  And thanks for stopping by!)

A word of advice…

While 50 degrees may seem like a heatwave to those of us who have been cooped up inside for far too long, please listen closely.  I mean this in the nicest possible way…

NOBODY WANTS TO SEE YOUR PASTY, FLAKY, CHAPPED, WINDBURNT LEGS!  Um, eww!  Also, while I know it’s mid-May & it seems like you should be able to wear shorts, this is OHIO!  It’s friggin’ COLD & you look ridiculous.

So, here is my advice…

Buy some goddamn Jergens & get busy…. then put on some pants.  Wait, that sounds kinda dirty. 

What I meant to say was “squirt on some lotion, get to work on yourself & put your pants back on!”  Um, dammit!  Maybe I’m not so good at this advice thing.

And to think you regulars waited nearly a month for this post.  You’re welcome.

How I know Orbitz is staffed by kids in helmets

Once a year, I leave my family behind & take a mental health break.  Sure, it’s in the guise of a trade show… But the end result is the same; I come home relaxed & re-energized, ready to jump back into my responsibilities.  Okay, that’s complete bullshit.  I come home exhausted & hung over, ready to jump back into my gigantic, comfy bed.  Mostly this is because I add a few extra days in there to hang with friends.

So, in two more weeks, I’ll be jetting (sounds so exotic when I put it that way) off to sunny, tropical  Bizarro World Kentucky to visit the BFF for a few days.  Which will be a blast, but dry.  Because she, bless her little heart, doesn’t drink.  Which should give me plenty of time to pre-hydrate… Because after that, it’s off to Orlando for the show… and hanging with another great friend.  Who, bless her little heart, has no problem knocking ‘em back with me.  Which brings me to my point (YES, I do have one!)…

Yesterday I got an email from Orbitz that said “Are you ready for your trip to Orlando?” and tried to get me to book a rental car, hotel, etc.  Ok, WTF?!  Has anyone in the history of travel ever said “Y’know, I dread my upcoming trip to ORLANDO?”

Okay, there was that trip to bootcamp a few (ahem)  years ago.  Mostly that just made me a little nauseous to think about, no matter how badly I needed to escape home.  But those were clearly extenuating circumstances!   Because this time, I don’t think anyone’s going to be storming into my room yelling “REVEILLE, REVEILLE, EVERYBODY UP!”  I don’t think anyone is going to make me wear a long-sleeved denim shirt and bell bottoms in 90 degree heat… Or carry a raincoat over my left arm that they’ll never let me fucking put on, no matter how hard it rains!  Also, if I happen to see a gigantic cockroach INCHES FROM MY FACE in my plush hotel room, I won’t have to fear for my life because I get a whole company of chicks in trouble as I jump up screaming.  (And Kris… don’t get any goddamn ideas.  That shit WON’T BE FUNNY!)

So my point is… Orbitz, you stupid fucking bastards!  OF COURSE I’m ready!  You’re just being an asshole!

Inbreeders

As the weather turns warm (FINALLY!) here in NE Ohio, people burst out of their homes like they were shot from a cannon.  Strangely, despite the fact that this area is a hodgepodge of cultures and socio-economic conditions, this cannon appears to be filled with toothless inbred hillbillies.  I’m not sure where they come from, but their numbers continue to grow each year.  It’s like the entire state of West Virginia suddenly packed up & moved to my town…And then the next year, all their inbred Kentucky cousins came to join ‘em.  But let me say right now, “Enough!  Please keep your inbreeders within state lines.  We have enough of our own already.”

Bitch of the Day

I don’t do perky.  I’ve tried the ”think positive, happy thoughts” movement.  Epic fail.  I’m happy… just not HAPPY!  There is clearly something wrong with HAPPY! people.  I think they can stick their rainbows and unicorns straight up their collective ass & the world will be a much better place. 

What I am is moody & temperamental, with maybe a touch of The Crazy.  In order for me to keep my tenuous grasp on sanity, as my doctor currently sees no need to keep me medicated, I vent.  Typically, this results in rambling, bitchy emails and texts to an unfortunate couple of people stuck with the tag “my friend.”  Pray for them, Internet Masses.  They bear the brunt of my madness so that you don’t have to. 

But I will share with you my Bitch of the Day. Maybe every day… maybe not.  Depends on who it is.  (Some of them bitches read this blahg, btw!)

Today, however, the biggest bitch is my iPod…Who just went from Janis Joplin to Lady Gaga.  That is an assault on the senses that nobody should have to suffer through.  Shuffle is not always a good thing.