I Just Met You, And This Is Crazy, But DONATE Maybe?!

 

 

My husband is a HUGE college football fan.  So I am pretty much saturated with football from 9am to 1am on Saturdays.  And don't even get me started about Sundays... although I am winning our fantasy league this year, which is a total mind blower since this week I didn't even know my quarterback was on a bye until... what, 5 minutes ago?  Aaron Rogers... I am nothing without you!! 

 

So anyway, LOTS of football.  Which can get, really, really, reeeeaaallly boring.  But today the football talking heads are all "Rah Rah Marines" because of Veterans Day.  And I dig it.  A LOT.  Not only because men in uniform are categorically and unequivocally hot, but because I am a bit worried about the state of our military and national security in general. I mean, the head of the CIA couldn't even keep an extramarital affair secret from his wife.  YOU ARE THE HEAD OF THE CIA!!!  Omahgerd.  This is not gerd.

 

But all the pomp made me think about Marine Corps Kids, an awesome non-profit a friend of mine is a big part of, and I wanted to take this Saturday post to give her a big shout out.  I know I get a lot of mommy and daddy bloggers who stop by here, and I figure if just a handful of you reblog, retweet, post a note about it, like the Marine Corp Kids Facebook page, or even donate to the cause, we can help her tell Marine Corps families just how much we appreciate their dedication, commitment, and sacrifice.

 

See, Marine Corps Kids is committed to supporting military families, particularly military babies, many of whom don't get to see their daddies for months after their born.  They do not provide shelter, money, education, or even a promise of a better future.  Rather, Marine Corps Kids provides love.  They take donations from knitters and seamstresses, crafters and blanket-tiers, and package them up as Happy Birthday gifts for Marine Corps newborns, and new mommies and daddies.  It's just a small gesture of thanks and appreciation that makes a really big, heartfelt impact. 

 

So get out your crochet hooks, your knitting needles, your quilt hoops and craft up a little blanket, some little booties, a little sweater, or hat and send it off to Marine Corps Kids.  And if you can't sew, grab some fleece and make a no-sew tied fleece blanket. You can donate thank you note stationery, custom birth announcements, even just a Happy Birthday card, or just spread the word.  No contribution is too small.

 

Go "Like" the Marine Corps Kids Facebook page, check out the blog, and get involved!  And while you're at it, leave me a comment about other organizations that you are involved in, so we can help give a shout out to them too!

 

WTF Friday: Episode 3

 

It's WTF Friday, Y'all! And I thought I would kick it off with a photo of myself.  Well, at least of a chick I can totally identify with this week. I hope it's a chick. 

 

Anyway.  

 

Let's just say I have been having bladder control issues.  What with all the coughing, and laughing, and pregnancy goin' on.  I can't keep up with the laundry. I have resorted to wearing granny panties I took out of the package last year, looked at, and was like "Oh Hell Naw!".  Yeah, I'm down to those.  This may be one of the many contributing factors that I left out of my There Will Be No Sex In The Champagne Room post.   

 

Other awesome magoo I have been dealing with this week: my kid is a lunatic.  Seriously, this morning I actually did some research to see if his craptastic behavior is the result of some sort of weird lunar phenomenon.  Like maybe he's a werewolf, or maybe he's actually a she and is premenstrual at a very early age. Wrong on both accounts.  Poop.

 

 But he is a master at pushing my buttons.  I mean, I found myself scolding him in a freakin' Walmart, "HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN WHERE YOU ARE...?"  

I swear to God I heard someone laugh at me, like they were thinking the same damn thing I was at that very moment: This is a freaking Walmart, and you're making it sound like we're at The White House or something. Just be glad your kid has pants on.  So when I realized how stupid that sounded, I quickly followed up with, "You're in public." trying to get the point across that we don't throw ourselves on the goddamn floor pitching a fit in public.  Even if that public is a Walmart.  But by then the deed was done and my ego was bruised.  I realized that I had just been embarrassed by The People Of Walmart.  You really don't know you've hit bottom until you've had that epiphany.

  

I felt inferior to this!!  WTF?

 

 And to top it all off, I actually DIDN'T have heartburn last night, which meant I actually got to sleep.  Until I dumped a glass of water on myself at 3am like the mouth-breather I clearly am.  So, I figure I'll put on some leggings and a Macho Man Randy Savage shirt and go see if I can't find me some moving supplies at the Walmart, because I need to get out of here.



There WIll Be No Sex In The Champagne Room

This Week's Theme Thursday topic is How Kid's Ruin Your Sex Life.  Since I am knocked up and as big as the Hindenburg one would think, I got this one.  But after all the political hullabaloo the last few days, I have the personality farts.  And  maybe some writer's block.  So I thought I would Google it to get some inspiration. 

Turns out this is a topic of great concern for both sexes.  Guys Google things like "Is it true that sex ends after having kids because girls are tired, or is it just an excuse not to screw anymore?"  While women Google things like "How long should we wait before we try to be intimate again after having a baby?".  Both questions are basically asking this: "Did I just sell my condo in pleasure town by having a child"?

As you may know from last week's 10 Things I Wish I Knew Before I Got Pregnant post, I used to shag a lot.  A LOT.  When my husband and I got together we were grad students (i.e. unemployed, often intoxicated, with no real responsibilities except rent and the occasional taco). So we had a lot of time on our hands.  And we used it to our best ability.  Plus we really hated the neighbors below us and got a kick out of the fact that the place was built like a Japanese paper house.  Tell me to turn down the TV; that's not the TV, Jerkface!

But things changed dramatically once we got pregnant.  Suddenly my husband would have none of it.  NONE.  OF.  IT.  He was far too aware of the fact that there was someone else in the room now, and that was just not his bag.  I suppose this is normal; irrational and stupid, but normal.

On the other hand, I was on high sex alert. You can't help it.  Why God does this, I do not know.  Dudes get all creeped out, while women finally experience what it must be like to be a pubescent boy.

.......
And then you go into labor and your idiot husband decides it would be a cool idea to take a peek at what's going on at the end of the table that is causing his maiden to verbally act out scenes from Full Metal Jacket.  WRONG MOVE, BUDDY!  That is a picture you can NEVER take back.  Never, never, never, never.  And your manhood does the only thing it knows how to do in dangerous, threatening situations... hide. 

Once all the blood, and guts, and carnage is cleaned-up, and your husband has been revived by one of the hot nurses who helped get your beached-whale ass through this disaster, you are ecstatic that you both are still alive.  And then you take your bundle of joy in your arms and they tell you, you can't have sex for 6 weeks.  To which you respond, "You expect me to do this again? Are you kidding me?  Did you see what just went on here?  I have already called Amnesty International about this shit, and I expect reparations."

........
After a while the dust settles and you are back home, and you get into your new routine.  That routine consists of waking up every two and a half hours to a screaming child who wails just like a foghorn right next to your bed.  And because you get no sleep, you don't even care about your mangy appearance.  What was once "Bed Head" in a sexy way is now "Mess Head" in a freakish, you must be a hoarder, kind of way.  You will find yourself wearing the same shirt for three days, regardless of what brand of nasty has been plopped on it.  And you don't care, because you are still just thankful to be alive.  Meanwhile, your husband is doing everything he can to pretend he is invisible so you don't rip his balls off in your maniacal, hormone induced, sleep deprived state of bat crap crazy.

Oh yeah, I see a date night on the horizon.

Things normalize a bit once you have learned how to survive on diet coke and pixie sticks and have trained your body like a Navy SEAL to function for six days on three hours of sleep.  At this point, your doctor will tell you you're all clear to have sex.  Then you will picture yourself punching her in the ovaries.

.......
Eventually, the time will come when you will actually want to do the deed.  This is usually after some big event, like getting out of jail or winning the lottery.  Both of which provide an opportunity for  consuming copious amounts of champagne, and neither are a likely to occur in your lifetime.

And to be honest, it's kind of scary and you get all nervous, like you've never been on that merry go round before (and like you don't have the stretch marks to prove it).  So once you have been properly motivated, you get back on the proverbial horse and realize, 'this ain't so bad after all'.  And just as you are finally starting to get into it, you look over and see your 3 year old standing there in a state of mortification, talking about, "Daddy... what are you doing to mommy?"

It is during this brief moment that you realize God has spoken, and he has said,

"There will be no sex in the champagne room".

 And then there isn't.



This post was inspired by Theme Thursday.  You can check out what other mommas think about sex after kids here, at Cloudy, With a Chance Of Wine.

How To Make a Blog Badge with HTML Take-Along Box

So here is the skinny: 

 

I used to be a successful couture event stationery designer.  I ran a successful business catering to people with too much money and way too much entitlement.  I liked the money, but the people sucked.  And I worked like 60 hours a day.  And I just can't afford my kids ending up in the hospital every month due to a lack of supervision.  

 

So I quit.  I DID!  And it feels glorious!  Poor as dirt, but glorious!

 

During the time I was building and growing my business, I learned quite a bit about web design, HTML, and all the back-end stuff that goes along with getting a page on the internet to look pretty and be functional.  So now, I am left with a whole bunch of skills that I feel could better benefit those who don't suck. 

 

Don't roll your damn eyes!! 

 

So, this right here is a "How-To Create A Blog Button" tutorial so y'all can bling up your site with a cool little blog badge complete with take-along code box.  You know, so other crazies who love your crazy can graffiti their own blogs with your button.  Cool, huh?

 

This is what the finished product will look like:

<a href="http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i1339.photobucket.com/albums/o715/3monkeysandmom/MonkeyButton1.jpg">

 

Go ahead and grab my code and paste it all over your website.  OR... read on to see how to customize it for your little corner of the web.

 

FIRST:  You need a graphic. 
 

It can be a photo, a vector graphic, some of your kid's art that you scan into a JPEG, whatever.  And you need that graphic to be 125 x 125 or 150 x 150 pixels (you can actually make it whatever the hell size you want.  If you want it to be as big as your head, go ahead... but no one else will ever use it).  125 x 125 and 150 x 150 are standard sizes because most sidebars will accommodate them. 

 P.S.  A sidebar is where you typically put this crap.

 

You've got a graphic as big as your head and don't know how to cut it down to size, you say? No problemo.  Go to PHOTOBUCKET, a free online photo editing and storage facility where you can edit your photo.  If you've got a family portrait, I strongly encourage you to touch-up the faces of your children with a painted-on mustache for your Christmas cards while you're at it.

 

Photobucket will also create an html snippet for your new cut-to-size graphic.  Perfect! Because you need it.  So even if you have the perfect sized graphic, upload it to Photobucket.
**You will use the "Direct Link" code.

 

SECOND: Installing the Widget and Code
 

Take the following code and paste it into an html widget or gadget box on your blog:

 

{<div align="center"><a href="YOUR-URL" target="_blank"><img src="http://YOUR-IMAGE-URL"></a></div>

 

<div align="center"><form><textarea rows="3" cols="19" readonly="readonly"><a href="YOUR-URL" target="_blank"><img src="YOUR-IMAGE-URL"></textarea></form></div>}

 

***Change YOUR-URL to your full web address (e.g. http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com)

***Change YOUR-IMAGE-URL to the html  "Direct Link" snippet you got for your photo (it should be located in a box in the right had side of the screen of Photobucket).

*** Remove { and } from the beginning and end of the code.

 

Save your gadget/widget and check out your new bling. 

 

When people steal the code from the take-along box, all that will show on their website is the graphic portion of the button.

~If you find this helpful and want to share it with the world, go ahead and add the 3 Monkeys and a Martini button bling to your site.  You will be infinitely cooler for it ;) ~

How To Build a Better Blog By Being A Narcissistic Ass

So in my short time as a blogger, I have learned a lot.  I have learned  there are a lot of "tricks" you need to know in order to get people to notice you.  For instance, you need to read other people's stuff in order to get people to read yours.  It's kind of like a carrot and stick thing.  I give a carrot by reading your blog, leaving a nice note and casually requesting you come visit me (by putting a giant link to my blog on yours, which you promptly delete).   And then you get hit in the face with a plate full of crazy and a side order of hot mess when you come to read mine.  Hopefully you laugh.  Maybe even sign-up for the feed so you never miss a single spastic piece of word vomit that gets posted here.  That is when a blogger knows they have really scored; when someone willfully signs up for your spam.  Last I checked, I have a couple of handfuls of poor fools who have done that .  Each of you will be getting a Christmas card and one of my son's lost teeth on a chain you can proudly wear around your neck.  Oh, and a bumper sticker that will in no way encourage cops to pull you over for drunk driving.

This little cat and mouse dance has been going on since time immemorial (or at least since Gore invented the internet).  So I've been reading a lot of other blogs lately. A LOT.  Most suck, I'm not gonna lie.  But some are pretty damn awesome (check my list of favorites in my footer for a sampling).  Some even actually get people to pay to advertise!  Like The Bloggess.  How the badonk she does it, I don't know.  I mean, she is hysterical, there is no doubt. But people love her so much that companies will spend over $500 a month to advertise this:

 

Cat and mother-loving dog wigs.  I am not kidding.  She is that good.  And it makes me really. Really. Jealous.

 

But in addition to the carrot and stick, there are also social media obligations. I started a Twitter account, which is hands down WAY more awesome than Facebook (sorry Zuckerburg).  Facebook is to a prayer book what Twitter is to porn.  So you can probably guess which one I am better at.  And in starting a Twitter account to get some exposure, you must first seek out people you think may be similar to you (i.e. twisted, possibly unemployed, drunks) and harass them until they give in and start following you in return, in the hopes that you'll leave them alone.  Or to voyeuristically watch the train wreck of your life unfold 140 character snippets at a time.  I love Twitter. 

 

More than just Twitter and beating people with your craziness when they drop by, you must also realize that if you are going to be successful, you must be vulnerable.  Some people fail at this and hide behind their quilt patterns and pickling recipes.   You will never be The Bloggess.  Martha Stewart, maybe.  And to each their own... the interwebs is big enough for all (which is what makes it such a beautiful place).  My kind of crazy may not be your flavor of vodka.  But it is mine.  And I'll share it to anyone who wants a sip. 

 

I started this blog thinking I would create a sort of catch-all imperfect mother blog, with recipes and DIY projects, and silly posts that show me bumbling around trying to be a good mom.  Yeah, that lasted a week.  I don't give a poop about how to clean your oven or pumpkin bread (notice I've written about both).  But it wasn't until I finally got the courage to write about something that was "me" that I realized you can't do this trying to predict what other people will want.  You've got to just write from your heart and if someone wants to read it, awesome.  And if someone doesn't, they can shove it.  We are all narcissists at heart, whether you're writing about yourself or writing about building a fort with Popsicle sticks. We all think what we have to say is for some reason important.  I think it is important to laugh, so that's what I try to do.  Make people laugh.  But the bottom line is, I re-read my shit and I laugh.  And that's really all that matters. 

 

That, and getting someone to pay me $500 to advertise cat and mother-loving dog wigs.  Seriously.  That woman is unbelievable.

 

~ This post was inspired by a post I read this morning from a good blog.  You can check it here.

 

And now that I have probably offended half of the blogging community, feel free to litter my comments section with your back-links.  I won't even delete 'em.

30 Days of Thankfulness in 13 Minutes

I am already getting annoyed by the syrupy love-fest being barfed out all over Facebook by the 30 Days of Thankfulness people.  Seriously, I have to come up with something every damn day for 30 days? Ummm... no.  There is just not that much niceness going on over here.  So I thought I would see how much I could pump out in 13 minutes.  Ready?  Here we go...

1) I am thankful for maxi pads. No explanation necessary.

2) I am thankful for being short because I can't see myself in the bathroom mirror unless I jump.  Which means exercise AND entertainment. Score!

3) I am thankful for the little things.  Like money.  Lots and lots of money!  Oh wait, I don't have any of that.  Poop.

4) I am thankful that my kids have all their fingers and toes.  Seriously, I knew a girl in grade school who had no bones in her toes.  GROSS!

5) I am thankful to have a husband who is just as sick and twisted as I am.  And who is still employable. I am actually jealous of that guy.  Never mind.  Not thankful.  Just jealous.

6) I am thankful for having experienced several floods in my house.  I think being knee deep in sewer water adds character I would not otherwise have gained.

7) I am thankful for WINE!

8) I am thankful for this new laptop. (See God Works In Mysterious Ways).

9) I am thankful for having parents who somehow did not eat their young.  And some how managed to escape our childhood without us eating them... because I am hoping for a mad payoff when they kick it.  Just sayin'.

10) I am thankful for my scorching wit, my perfect boobs, and my Herbal Essence commercial-like hair.  I don't actually have any of those things, but...

11) I am thankful for delusions of grandeur.

12) I am thankful for WINE!!

13) I am thankful for chicken.  The food not the animal.

14) I am thankful for electricity because what the poop would I do with out The Real Housewives of Atlanta?

15) I am thankful for being patient, kind, and understanding.  (See 11).

16) I am thankful for Neil Diamond, arguably the greatest musician of all time.

17) I am thankful I got Neil Diamond to give me a personal autograph... made out to #NOTME

18) I am thankful for donuts and... yeah, donuts. Mmmmm... I need a donut.  Why don't we EVER have any fricking donuts in this house!!!

19) I am thankful for WINE!!!

20) I am thankful for Spanx.

21) I am thankful Spanx makes a size big enough to squeeze my ass into something that resembles a watermelon as opposed to the Space Shuttle Atlantis.

22) I am thankful for peace on Earth.  Haa Haaaa Haaa... like that will ever happen.

23) I am thankful for having good, honest, wholesome friends, who all have Twitter handles like @superdouche, @crotchbiscuit, @Imagoodlay, and @asshat.

24) I am thankful for flowers because they smell good AND they look pretty.  And I'm pretty sure my mom is allergic to them, which means they are also a great Mother's Day gift.

25) I am thankful for WINE!!!!

26) I am thankful for Jurassic Park because it gives me hope that someday they may be able to reincarnate me into a dinosaur.  Wait, Mr. Martini says that's not the way that works...

27) I am thankful for having a know-it-all husband who will definitely be my first target when I become a Velociraptor.  They travel in packs, yo.

28) I am thankful for ghettonese.  Look it up.

29 I am thankful for Legos because nothing is better than breaking your face after stepping on them in the dark.

30) I am thankful for that good ol' Midwestern nasal drawl.  It sounds so wholesome and stupid at the same time.  I'm even more thankful now that I have a hybrid Midwestern-Southern drawl.  You can't even make-up that kind of stupid.

31) YEAH BABY!! You're only doing 30 cause you're sticking to the days.  I can do what I want because I just said I'd spend 13 minutes...

I am thankful for having two absolutely beautiful, funny, smart, and capable children who humble me everyday with their sheer awesomeness.  I am thankful for finding the man of my dreams, and having the balls to take the leap with him when everyone else had doubts.  Words can not express how thankful I am for him.  I am thankful for a home, for heat, for clean water...I am thankful we have those things, because I know some do not.  I am thankful that there are 24 hours in a day, because that means you get to start over at least every 24 hours. And lastly, I am thankful for you, my reader, who make my attempt to become a writer something that is not quite as laughable as it once was.  Although, I guess, the jury is still out on that. ;)

And now that all my Facebook friends have de-friended me for being a hater... what are YOU thankful for?