The economy hits you right where it hurts... the tooth (fairy).

This morning, I heard the funniest story ever. Seriously, it is, I can't make this stuff up funny. I actually had to make sure it was true.

This little girl I know from the boy's kindergarten class got a dollar when she lost her first tooth. That's the going rate at my house, but this little girl doesn't live at my house. So, this six year old little girl looks at her dad, and says, "A dollar? The tooth fairy's a broke bitch." Swear. That's what he said she said. No foolin'. So he just looks at her and is like, "We're in a recession." I'm shaking my head because at this point, it's already the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. But wait, there's more. When she lost her next tooth, the "Tooth Fairy" left her a fiver. She goes up to her dad and says, "She's getting better. Are we still in a recession?" Er. Mah. Gerd.

Through all of this, I'm thinking about the boy's experiences with the tooth fairy. The first time, she forgot... But she left a really nice note and a dollar the next day. And not just any dollar, a gold dollar coin because the boy was convinced that the tooth fairy brought gold coins. We may have been in a pirate phase. Regardless, it was an excuse for me to run around yelling, "Dubloons!"

When I was a kid, though, my grandma worked at a bank. My mom decided to capitalize on this by giving me foreign currency to perpetuate the whole tooth fairy travels the world nonsense. But what I wanted to know what what the eff was I supposed to do with two dollars from ARGENTINA?!?!?! All my friends are getting cold hard American currency and I'm over there like, I could buy a newspaper if I were in Argentina... I'm pretty sure I also scored some defunct German currency. So, if anybody's got a time machine and aspirations for world travel, I have some money you can use to buy a local paper.

And then my subconscious was all like, "BEARDS!!!"

I really like music, but only like classic rock and stuff. New music is debatably music... and scares me.

But last night, I crawled into bed, snuggled up with my pillow, and got my feet tucked under the covers for sufficient warmth...

 And I was singing ZZ Top.

WTF right? It always freaks me out when I do that. A completely random song will just pop in my head and I have a total "Beautiful Mind" moment. Like, "Whoa... was that just on tv or am I making crap up again? Balls..." I feel confident that ZZ Top was indeed not featured on Body of Proof or Hulu Plus last night... So, the only logical conclusion, besides the New Agey one, which BTdubs is awesome, is beard envy. I just can't grow a good one. At least not until I'm old and then I fear it will never be this awesome.

 

 

The New Agey conclusion is way more Matrix-y. It says basically that when a random song pops into your head, you'll probably have deja vu with it in a few days or something. And deja vu is your spirit or whatever remembering this part of your life path that you put together before you know, birth and stuff. I like it. I find it comforting. It's like tonight Bonnie Tyler is telling me, "It's okay, Ashley, you're supposed to be sad and snuggling with a baby moose pillow pet." I'm legit, peeps.

 



But back to the beards... There's this old guy living on base. The first time I saw this guy, I was in the car, driving down the road, duh, and on the sidewalk was hair. Nothing but hair. These beautiful graying blong locks blowing back behind this bicycler... As we got closer, I realized, Hippie had long hair and a matching beard... BOTH blowing in the wind... All I could do was scream, "BEARD!!!"

And if you don't get me everything I ask for, then you're just a nice old man like Mother says.

I don't like cleaning... or glitter.

Being a grown up sucks.

I mean you have to be... gulp... responsible, cook and clean, and take care of other people and like, keep them alive or some crap.
                                     

I mean, seriously, did life not get the memo that I'm probably lucky to be alive. Seriously. I have the delicately trained palate of a four year old. My friends are all like, "Ooo... I really want some sushi..." and I'm just like, "Dude. Fishsticks. Ahhh... with mac n cheese. Totes."

 

But I totally and completely utterly loathe cleaning. This should not be a surprise to anyone. Especially anyone who knew me as a teenager. I would seriously have so much clutter and crap in the back floorboard of my car that the only person who could ride back there was the girl with no legs. Hand to God, the total truth. And Hubs was such a trooper. Well, that was when he was Boyfriend, but poetaytoe, poetahtoe.

That really doesn't translate well to the written word, let's call it off. ;) So, he would try to clean out my car... and then it'd be back to that same shape a month later. So, really, he should have known what he was getting into.

Now we've been married for like nine-ish years and I haven't really changed that much, except that through therapy, I've realized...

So... I don't. A lot. But my kids still do. The buggers are like all up in my business being crazy, makin messes, and I'm like, "Who exactly do you think is gonna clean this up, scooter?" But the carry on with the paper shredding, and the toy throwing, and the glitter. The effing glitter. I hate glitter. I mean I love it... as a concept or thing not brought into my house. I used to love it in all it's beautiful facets... until The Girl found the glitter. See, I thought it would be a cute idea to make them an activity corner. It was until I got crap down, got too lazy and forgetful to put it up, and The Girl found glitter.

I finally got around to sweeping my house and I think I found enough glitter on my floor to sparkle up a whole club full of plus-sized strippers.

Pink is the new black... if you're colorblind.

Hubs is colorblind. When I first met him, he had an interesting exchange with my Asian friend.

Asian friend: If I wear a green shirt, can you still see me?

Hubs: I dunno, if I spin you around a lot, will I dis-Orient you?

Bahahaha!

So, anyway, we're at Hubs' office waiting on him to come back inside and we're talking about being colorblind. See, Hubs and his troops had a for real serious fifteen minute argument wherein he vehemently said their uniforms were gray, and his peeps disagreed.

His comeback? "I'm colorblind, why are YOU in this career field?" BAM! It's apparently one of the drop offs for those who are not... Mensa material. So we're in the shop and the Boy, totally out of nowhere, goes, "Once, when my dad was really colorblind, he bought pink shorts." I freaked out. I mean, it was hilarious, but I was all...

And the boy was just like whatevs...

So here's the story. Oh and it's a good one... Before we even had kids, we were visiting my dad and we went to the mall. Hubs went to Aeropostale while I went next door to Bath and Body Works. Apparently he can't stand the sheer concentrated scent of girl. So we come out with our respective bags of loot, yadda yadda yadda, we got home. I'm sitting with my dad and Hubs is out in the living room, and I thought, Oooo... I wonder what he got. I pulled out shirts and shirts and shorts... and I stopped. I looked around. I looked at the shorts. I looked around. I looked at the shorts. I guffawed. Yeah, a real live guffaw. It happened people. I look at my dad and ask him if he wants to see something funny and in true "my dad" fashion, he responds with, "Funny haha or funny queer?" I looked around. I looked at the shorts. I looked around, and said, "You know, I'm not sure." I held up these pink shorts. Pink. P. I. N. K. Pink. Not like flaming hipster pink, but a nice pastel pink for coloring his "eggs".  So I call out, "Hubs! C'mere!" He comes in wondering what the hubub is because now there is in fact, a hubub. It goes something like this...
Me: "Did you know these were pink?"
Hubs: "No they're not."
Me: "Yeah, they are."
Hubs: "Are you serious?"
Me and Dad: "Yeah..."
Hubs:

So he rode his lollerskates back to the roflhouse, er... went back to the mall to exchange them, and the lady asked what was wrong with them. He goes, "They're pink!" She says, I swear to glob, "Pink is the new black." OY!

Cut back to Hubs' shop and Airman eagerly awaiting the deets with a pen poised over a government issue yellow legal pad, and all I can say is, "Just tell him you heard pink is the new black."

Baby snailicide is bad and other things you find in Turkey

Right, so we live in Turkey. When we found out we were moving here, the girl was confused. It took a lot of  convincing to make her believe that we were not moving into Thanksgiving dinner. Anyway, we're here now.

The air gets in your lungs like mad. We just say we've got "Turkey". The Turkey is laughing at my poor sad little American OTC allergy medicine. "Bahaha, stupid American medication, you can't stop me!!!"

Then there's the tea. Cay. Pronounced Chai. Yeah. I love chai. I was so excited when we got here and everybody's going on about chai. And it's not that unreasonable. You hear about all of these spice markets and whatnot. I'm all like, "Whooo Chai!!!" Then I get a cup of tea and I'm like, "What's this malarkey?" It's Cay. Oy. Then I wonder why people drink hot tea in Turkey. I start to suspect psychosis. Then I had some... It was like Scooby Doo eating Scooby Snax.

What they don't really tell you is about the critters. We have these weird crows. I'm just going to say that a "murder" of crows started here. With these. They're like, zombie crows or something. But it's not all terrifying. We have hedgehogs. No squirrels, but hedgehogs. And snails... So many snails... When it rains, they come out everywhere. And they're always baby baby snails... All over the sidewalk. And every step you take...

Baby Snailicide...

Crappy Reviews of Movies Take 1: Hyde Park on Hudson

Started watching Hyde Park on Hudson. I'm in a period piece mood of late and picked this up on a whim. Honestly though, they had me at Bill Murray as Franklin Delano Roosevelt. I mean, how could you not? He's all putting the moves on his cousin with the cute hats.

Now the King and Queen of England are visiting, and I'm very much delighted to report that Olivia Colman is playing the lovely Queen Elizabeth II. She's angry because they're having a picnic and she hates picnics, and they're gonna have hot dogs and she hates hot dogs. She's clearly having a Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day. lol I'm also digging Bertie's stammer. And bow tie.

Okay, so FDR was a hound dog. For real, broke Cute Hat's heart, but she made friends with Assistant, and all was well in the end. Liz and Bertie even ate hot dogs.

Overall, I loved the concept. It was actually a pretty good movie. Not amazing, but pretty good. Plus, it's Bill Murray as FDR.

Curse words-apotamus

I'm a writer. Writers like words. WTF right??? So anyway, words have power, but they also take away power. It's magic!!!

Demetri Martin is awesome. Like for real funny. He had this show on Comedy Central, and he was talking about the power of words. Like how if you add DJ to someone's name, they lose power. Example:

DJ Abraham Lincoln. 

 

Would you follow that fool's advice. Nah, you'd be all like, spin another track top hat, and he'd scratch up the Gettysburg Address or something. It's one of my favorite joke type things of all time.

So today, we're hanging out, the boy takes my seat. So, naturally I call him Jerkapotamus. You know, because what self respecting mother doesn't call her kid names. He goes, “Hey, I'm not a jerk.” I said, “I didn't say you were a jerk, I said jerkAPOTAMUS.” Which struck up a conversation between me and the hubs about making up words. You can add -apotamus to anything and it doesn't sound so bad. I suggested Hubs use it as a nice way to hate his coworkers with doucheapotamus.

I'm also a big fan of creating curse words. The Brits curse brilliantly! I love them. Sodding and cocking and bleeding. They're great! Though some of my favorites are homegrown, f***tard, f***sicles, assbutt. The list goes on and on.

But seeing as how I live in a house of tiny, people concentrate, I have to use word substitutions. I get my curse words from Orbit gum commercials... then turn them into door mats. What the french, toast?

 

Some I get from Adventure Time. Who the fluff are you? What the lump?

 

 

I've never used “smurf” though, which seems a shame because it has such potential. Smurfitty smurf smurfin' smurfapotamus!