a nose full of armpit

When I was young I convinced the other kids in my neighborhood that my dad invented farting. I had one hell of an imagination back then. I thought it was a fun game to see what absurd shit I could convince other kids of. (Kids will believe anything so, why not? Fun for everyone.) For days, every time they saw my dad they’d laugh and congratulate him on his great discovery. He had no idea what was going on so he’d just stand there and awkwardly stare at them like they were walking around with a foot growing out of their faces. The ruse went on for awhile until my sister finally told them it was impossible for someone to invent a bodily function and that I was just fucking with them. She thought it was important I remained honest. I was pissed and hated her for ruining my fun. That bitch.

daeneryswomanMy sister has always looked out for me and tried to keep me on the right path. Even going as far as smelling my armpits to make sure I really did put deodorant on when I said I did. Or being the one to teach me how to shave my legs. She is by far the most badass and influential person that I know. Even though I’m a day late for International Women’s Day, it doesn’t even matter. She’s celebrated in my mind every day.

Thanks, Moe, for smelling my armpits and telling the neighbors that we aren’t heiresses to the fortune of fart discovery. 

(Random question – I’m thinking of making a new header for my site, but I’m terrible at doodling. If any of you are good at drawing and interested in doing a simple doodle for me, email me at theshamefulsheep@gmail.com if you want to work something out)

the nerve of that woman

Remember when the hardest decision you’d have to face all day was what flavor Kool-Aid you wanted to have? It was an important choice, fueled by the fear that if you didn’t pick the right one, it wouldn’t complement the taste of your Flintstone’s vitamins. I ate those like crack when I was a kid. When my mom wasn’t looking I’d crawl onto the counter and steal an entire handful and shove them into my grubby little mouth. She caught me once, and moved them to a place where I couldn’t reach no matter how hard I tried. That was the first time I remember wishing that fire would rain down on her. How dare she do such a thing! The nerve of that woman.

flintstones

Yesterday Alex and I were having a lengthy conversation about Hot Pockets. I know… wtf, right? We talk about some random shit in my house. Hot Pockets aren’t exempt. When I was a kid, I thought Hot Pockets were the best invention. I even wrote a small report on them for school about their greatness. I thought that they were packaged in something that would,quite literally, keep them hot while they were in your pocket. Great for people who wanted a snack while they were in class or people who couldn’t take a break at work. I was amazed. What a genius idea.

So, I didn’t grow up wanting to be a ballerina or a veterinarian. I grew up wanting to work for whoever made Hot Pockets. My parents wanted me to aim high. So I did.

buzzlightyearkids

I love the innocence of childhood. Luckily, I’m surrounded by young nieces and nephews to remind me how great life is when you’re young. Actually, I’m going to leave y’all with a joke my 4-year-old niece told me last weekend that had her rolling around in laughter.

A hippo put on a purple coat.

 

 

…….. I wish I was as funny as her.

 

i don’t think that’s lemonade…

Ever have one of those days?  You know, the kind where you get to finally find out what urine tastes like, and take a knuckle-puck to the face? Unfortunately, I have. A ‘knuckle-puck’ is not a clever way of saying I was punched. I’m talking about a Mighty-Ducks-inspired hockey shot that drove a puck, courtesy of my brother, right into the cheek of a sad, awkward 8-year-old clutching a Cabbage Patch Kids lunchbox. If you haven’t heard of The Mighty Ducks: you suck and there’s simply no way we can go on being friends any longer. We’re done. (Okay, I’m only joking.) I don’t think I’ve ever even eluded to the fact that I have an older brother. But, he does exist, and he was being an asshole that day. Now, I will say in his defense – I don’t think he  was actually aiming at me. Or… that’s what I like to tell myself, at least.

It was winter in Connecticut at the time. When I ran inside crying to my mom, she sent me back out to lay in the snow. She wasn’t going to let me use the frozen peas she paid for to rest on my bruise when there was free snow just laying around everywhere outside. C’mon, now. 

monstersincsnowcone

This is where a shitty situation turned, well… pissy. All I can say is: don’t believe it when someone tells you yellow snow is just extra lemonade they dumped out earlier in the day. My 8-year-old self can assure you – it’s not. 

It was a rough day. Boys, I tell ya.

thanks for that, mom

You know how parents are ultra embarrassing when you’re growing up? Maybe it’s their undying love of Birkenstocks, or when they try to say trendy things like “that’s cray” and “chillax” or even how they clip their toenails onto their plate after they finish eating. Well, at the ripe age of 28, I’ve come to the realization that this embarrassment never ends. It just evolves into something different.

palmspringspoolsign

(picture taken in Palm Springs, CA this past summer)

Mom: Blair, did you see this sign? Maybe you shouldn’t swim today.

Me: Uh… I’m fine, mom. No diarrhea here.

Mom: But, I saw you rush to the bathroom when I was getting water in the middle of the night. I just assumed it was urgent. Is everything working okay down there? Have you seen a doctor lately? Diarrhea can make you dehydrated. Make sure you drink more water today.

Me: Thanks, mom. I’m good. Just a routine visit in the night.

Mom: Do you remember that time you pooped in the bath tub when you were with your sister? I can think of a couple times you went in the water when you were little. I don’t know what it was… but, you liked to let loose once you hit water. I think it relaxed you. It was so weird.

What’s more humiliating: my mom deciding to loudly discuss my issues in public, or the woman who was frantically pulling her kids out of the water while they were crying, thinking there was actually a possibility I would crap in there? Thanks for the vote of confidence, lady. I’m almost 30.

please don’t hump me

When I was growing up I had an irrational fear of being humped by dogs. There were quite a few years  they scared the absolute shit out of me. Not because I thought they would attack and bite me… but, I thought they would cling onto my leg and make me their bitch. I used to wake up from nightmares of dogs chasing me just so they could knock me over and help themselves to my limbs.

It seems pretty weird, I know. I actually had no idea what humping was at that time. Guys, I grew up under a rock. I was one of those awkward, overly sheltered, strange kids that liked to sit in the corner and pick my nose. When we first met, it was highly likely you’d assume I was home-schooled. (My husband was home-schooled, so I can say that without it being offensive…right?) All I knew was that a dog had tried before, and my grandpa had smacked his butt and pushed him away, calling it gross. After that, I lived in fear of it happening again.

laytonblackwhite

(Layton. A dog Alex and I fostered for a few months last year)

Now, I love dogs. Hell, I love all animals for the most part. But the same fear still manifests itself now. I can’t watch a nature documentary without having the remote readily available. You bet your ass I’m changing the channel if any sort of animal mating comes on the screen. And, there is still part of me that gets a little nervous and sweaty when we are planning a trip to the zoo.I don’t want to see something that, you know… can’t be unseen. I know, I know. It’s the circle of life. It’s what animals do, they are just procreating. It’s nature. Grow up, Blair… you’re 28. That’s why it’s called an irrational fear, people.

Well, today is Veteran’s Day here in the US. Not only did my grandfather protect me from a hump-happy dog, he also kicked some Nazi ass in WWII. Thanks, Grandpa. Miss you. Please don’t roll over in your grave because I’ve included you in a post about humping.

And, thanks to all veterans for your service. I’d buy all of you lunch if I could afford to.

tell me something funny

I’ve been nominated for a Liebster Award. I see them floating around everywhere, and I truly have no idea what they are. What I haven’t seen around : who wins. anybody? what do I get if I win? who chooses the winner?! WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE?

So, I’ve decided I’m going to do a rebel-version of the award “rules” and just answer the questions. The only reason I’m doing gonna do it is because the person who nominated me is pretty awesome. She cracks me up. Go visit Sandra’s blog “what sandra thinks”  here.

Her questions were:

How many different places have you lived and which was your favorite?
I’ve lived in 7 different states  here in the US: Massachusetts, New Jersey, Connecticut, New York, Pennsylvania, Utah, and currently North Carolina. My favorite was Utah — friendly people and snow-capped mountains. Hello.
Describe yourself in 5 words or less.
My cat has her own room. (six words — but it says a lot)
Who is your hero or idol?
JK Rowling. A bit cliche, but growing up I always thought it was amazing how she could captivate an audience.
Where is your favorite place on earth?
Anywhere coffee, sweatpants, and fuzzy slippers are socially acceptable to wear all day.
What is your most-loved childhood memory?
Races with my sister to see who could poop the fastest. Kids.
What annoys you most?
When people are unwilling to see something from another’s perspective. Or anything foot related. Feet are disgusting.
If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, health concerns aside, what would it be?
Pizza or Chinese food. Not real Chinese food — the bastardized American version.
Where would you go on your perfect vacation?
A margarita and a beach is all I need.

Rather than pass it along to other people, I thought it would be fun to just ask my own question to anyone who wants to answer. I’m going to base it off my favorite question of Sandra’s.
What is your funniest childhood memory? (kid stories always make me laugh)