tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61519345585607075912024-02-18T20:34:01.238-05:00Three Monkeys and a MartiniA hilarious daily journal documenting the triumphs and tragedies of raising 3 little monkeys in a world gone to hell. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850167143646256598noreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-957795682692555992014-10-28T05:23:00.000-04:002014-10-28T05:23:04.166-04:00World's Best Pizza Sauce<h4>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">I am a bit of a pizza addict. </span></center>
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<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">I think of it as a food group and try to treat it as such by eating as much of it as I can, as often as I can. And I prefer to make my own pizza because I am A) Cheap, and B) It tastes soooo much better than anything given to you by a guy in a Nissan Sentra. </span></center>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">Pizza Sauce is KEY!</span></center>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Although I intend to turn every single one of my favorite foods into a pizza over the course of the next year, everyone has a go-to pizza. Mine is Chicken Bacon Ranch pizza, which is an offshoot of the Chicken Bacon Ranch Ciabatta Bread sammies my husband loves so much (the recipe for ciabatta and the sammy will follow soon). But the reason it's my go-to pizza is because I have spent years failing to make a decent red pizza sauce and so my classic pepperoni pizza...well,... it sucked. A lot.</span></span></center>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">UNTIL LAST NIGHT, YO!!!</span></span></center>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Oh My LANTA! </span></center>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">This pizza sauce was sooo good!</span></center>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Perfectly sweet and salty, with just the right savory herb flavor. And the perfect consistency, something I could never get right before. This Pizza Sauce is simply perfect in every way. </span></span></center>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">SO, here it is. My recipe for THE: </span></span></center>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4GXSou-Yz8ouoO2v081EHkDR4amIziToiI303I_QXsFc8heYFVCehClAaJi2GQ1MOQSU-Bxw7o4v_1HYBTVMwMpuSg_jJKywgTZfzhaE_PPkDA5Q2DmbWKNOB5EYx5CcI5nmk5Xjct3kn/s1600/World's-Best-Pizza-Sauce.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="The World's Best Pizza Sauce" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4GXSou-Yz8ouoO2v081EHkDR4amIziToiI303I_QXsFc8heYFVCehClAaJi2GQ1MOQSU-Bxw7o4v_1HYBTVMwMpuSg_jJKywgTZfzhaE_PPkDA5Q2DmbWKNOB5EYx5CcI5nmk5Xjct3kn/s1600/World's-Best-Pizza-Sauce.jpg" height="552" title="The World's Best Pizza Sauce" width="640" /></a></div>
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<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">1 6 oz Can of Tomato Paste </span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">6 oz Water </span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">2 ounces freshly grated Parmesan cheese (this is a to taste kind of thing...I like a lot!)</span></span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"> 1/2 tsp Granulated Garlic</span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">1 TBSP Sugar</span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Pinch of Salt</span></span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">1/2 tsp. Dried Oregano</span></span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">1/2 tsp. Dried Basil</span></span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">1/2 tsp. Dried Marjoram (this is key)</span></span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Pinch of Red Pepper Flakes</span></span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Ground Black Pepper (to taste)</span></span></li>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Mix it all up and let it sit at room temperature for at least half hour so the flavors combine. Then slather it all on my Perfect Pizza Dough, and top with nummy meats and veggies and Voila! Perfect Pizza! </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">So, now that we all have an equally good chance of making the world's best pepperoni pizza, what's your favorite non-traditional pizza flavor combo? My next experiment is going to be Paella Pizza, but I'd love some off-the-beaten trail recommendations from you too!</span></span></center>
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3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850167143646256598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-26759910705617348882014-10-21T11:06:00.003-04:002014-10-21T11:06:29.073-04:0010 Best Ridiculously Awesome Mac and Cheese Recipes Ever<center>
It has been cold and rainy and generally blech for the last week here in the heart of Indiana, and although the grey skies are quite the downer, the leaves are quickly turning colors and I simply love that! My backyard is filled with trees and let me tell you, there is no more perfect way to welcome fall than by gazing at the magnificent reds, and golds, and striking oranges that surprise me each morning over a cup of coffee. From the couch. In my house. Because it is freaking chilly outside. </center>
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But I love fall. Because football and sweaters, beautiful colors and crisp air. Because of apples and richly scented candles that are out of place in the warmer months. And most of all, because: </center>
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Comfort Foods!! </span></center>
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Oh how I've missed you big pots of chili and stews, casseroles and bakes, cheesey, gooey, hearty awesomeness that disappear six months of the year. Seriously. I get giddy. </center>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">One of my absolute favorite comfort foods is mac and cheese. Saddle it up with pizza (my all-time-favorite-go-to-food group), I could eat it at every meal of everyday during the sweater months (after that, it's kabobs and salads because, you know, mac and cheese tends to contribute to my perception of having a tank ass, so I shelve it for the summer). But Yay!! It's Fall!!! Bring on the Mac and Cheesy Deliciousness!!! </span></center>
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So without further ado, I present:</center>
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(In no particular order because they are all ridiculously good)</center>
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1) <a href="http://www.kitchenistadiaries.com/2014/02/cajun-mac-cheese-with-andouille-sausage_28.html" target="_blank">Cajun Mac and Cheese with Andouille Sausage and Shrimp</a> (The Kichenista Diaries)</div>
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2) <a href="http://www.laurainthekitchen.com/recipes/chorizo-and-pepper-jack-mac-and-cheese/" target="_blank">Chorizo and Peper Jack Mac and Cheese</a> (Laura in the Kitchen)</div>
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3) <a href="http://allrecipes.com/recipe/macaroni-with-ham-and-cheese-deluxe/" target="_blank">Ham and Cheese Mac Casserole</a> (Allrecipes)</div>
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4) <a href="http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Mouses-Macaroni-and-Cheese/Detail.aspx?event8=1&prop24=SR_Thumb&e11=mouse%20mac%20and%20cheese&e8=Quick%20Search&event10=1&e7=Home%20Page&soid=sr_results_p1i1" target="_blank">Classic Creamy American Mac and Cheese</a> (Allrecipes)</div>
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5) <a href="http://www.justataste.com/2013/02/roasted-garlic-macaroni-and-cheese-recipe/" target="_blank">Roasted Garlic Mac and Cheese</a> (Just a Taste)</div>
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6) <a href="http://www.domesticate-me.com/chipotle-mac-and-cheese-with-bacon/" target="_blank">Chipotle Mac and Cheese with Bacon</a> (Domesticate Me)</div>
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7) <a href="http://poshpescatarian.com/blog1/2013/02/13/luscious-lobster-mac-cheese/" target="_blank">Lobster Mac and Cheese</a> (The Posh Pescatarian) </div>
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8) <a href="http://traceysculinaryadventures.com/2011/05/cheesy-chili-mac.html" target="_blank">Cheesy Chili Mac</a> (Tracey's Culinary Adventures)</div>
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9) <a href="http://thatwhichnourishes.com/the-mac-and-cheese/" target="_blank">THE Mac and Cheese</a> (That Which Nourishes)</div>
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10) <a href="http://www.amuse-your-bouche.com/pesto-macaroni-cheese/" target="_blank">Pesto Mac and Cheese</a> (Amuse Your Bouche)</div>
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OMG! I am so freaking hungry right now for these seriously stellar Mac and Cheese recipes. All of them... get in my belly! Yet Mini Monkey is asking to go to the gym (NOOO!!! This is a bad sign for my Mac Attack). Maybe I'll hit the treadmill after some of this Roasted Garlic Mac. Maybe. What is your favorite Mac and Cheese recipe of all time? I'd love to hear! </div>
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3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850167143646256598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-39694002557850938712014-10-20T11:22:00.002-04:002014-10-22T09:10:42.187-04:00Free Stuff: Google Nexus 7 Tablet <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ON1DtE30jQDLLEPFmNBl4-CCK4RsTB0tbgHmn15OJ6kEKmsXtc2oSanZUhqiTQRl-xFY_XmQzmsLrEcO4uISh9xECJfEpVKtOu3_vfbDsIVNb-m9uRJ7OBiTa_lJub0RfRhEVfxio-qn/s1600/free-stuff.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ON1DtE30jQDLLEPFmNBl4-CCK4RsTB0tbgHmn15OJ6kEKmsXtc2oSanZUhqiTQRl-xFY_XmQzmsLrEcO4uISh9xECJfEpVKtOu3_vfbDsIVNb-m9uRJ7OBiTa_lJub0RfRhEVfxio-qn/s1600/free-stuff.JPG" height="498" width="640" /></a></div>
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Hello lovelies! Oh, My, LANTA!! </div>
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What an awesome giveaway! Who doesn't want a new tablet? </h3>
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FOR FREE, Ya'll!!! </h3>
This giveaway is sponsored by the Magixflix Safe Kids Video App which creates a safer environment for your kiddos to watch content from all over the internet. My 3 year old loves YouTube... and I have no idea how he finds all the dinosaur videos he finds since he can't spell. But kids are crafty wizards, and because of that, we should all be a little concerned about the content of their internet experience. This app helps combat that worry that by providing content that is age appropriate and filtering out the stuff that is not. So check out the app, and enter to win a new tablet!! And tell your friends! <br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: ProximaNova-Light, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">Only one entry per person, minimum age for entry is 20, Entry must come from the US, the winner has to respond within 30 days with a shipping address in the US.</span></span><br />
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3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850167143646256598noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-80449967222035562732014-10-17T09:56:00.000-04:002014-10-17T09:56:52.637-04:00Liar, Liar, Eyes Look Like a Tire Fire<center>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPNB99qI3g7SnVx2Cn7c4-b6N6AsgimGW8X6JPmC_toijeleA66WRaxAkFP0FmCt1cDL99qHA0KchrvBObCgOi0gq5729Ud2AntET78_y2St6HEppDvGS01q2KBm-gwi5jhn4m1irKXvg-/s1600/tranny.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Bad Makeup" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPNB99qI3g7SnVx2Cn7c4-b6N6AsgimGW8X6JPmC_toijeleA66WRaxAkFP0FmCt1cDL99qHA0KchrvBObCgOi0gq5729Ud2AntET78_y2St6HEppDvGS01q2KBm-gwi5jhn4m1irKXvg-/s1600/tranny.png" height="151" title="My Tranny Smkey Eye" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.7272720336914px;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/%3Ca%20href=%22https://www.flickr.com/photos/micadew/8126186143%22%20title=%22Walking%20Dead%20Transvestite%20by%20micadew,%20on%20Flickr%22%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8471/8126186143_151eeb7aef_n.jpg%22%20width=%22213%22%20height=%22320%22%20alt=%22Walking%20Dead%20Transvestite%22%3E%3C/a%3E" target="_blank">Used Under Creative Commons License</a></td></tr>
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So I've been lost. Totally, and completely mentally lost. And when that happens, for some reason I come here. I like to make people laugh, even at my own expense. But I don't get paid for it, and that just plain pisses me off. I've thought about starting a YouTube channel where I will attempt to give make-up tutorials based on YouTube make-up tutorials. See... no matter how good the directions are, when I do my eye makeup (especially when I try to do fancy make-up using instructions from a gorgeous make-up pro) I end up looking like a cross between a large breasted dude who has just begun to dip his toes in the tranny pool and a Kardashian who has fallen off the wagon into a pool of whiskey and bad decisions. So, I think it could be epic good fun.</div>
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Anyhoo... Feeling utterly lost and confused, I popped in to this blog, eyes half-covered ready for someone to spit at me. But all I got was a post from over a year ago titled "I'm Back, Yo" (Hahaha... I lied ;) And coincidentally (or is it ironic) this blog was started 1 year and 364 days ago today! Hmmm.... so, two years ago almost to the day I had initiative. I thought "if you write it, they will come" (or at least stop by accidentally and hopefully snicker or giggle a little. For a minute). I was full of anticipation of baby #3, hilarious antics from baby #2 and kid #1, and drive to make this blog into something. Or to at least score some free swag (I HATE THAT WORD, BTW. But if you have some, gimme gimme gimme!!). And speaking of free stuff... check out the fabulous <a href="http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com/2014/10/citrus-lane-giftbox-giveaway.html" target="_blank">giveaway from Citrus Lane here!</a> Digression complete....</div>
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And then shit got real. Financial troubles, instability, unscrupulous influences, and a new baby. By May of 2013, I felt completely defeated. My business was failing because I couldn't devote 60 hours a week to my clients, and I felt like I was failing at being a mom of three gorgeous boys because I was spending too much time with my clients. And I was definitely failing at being a good wife. A sleep-deprived, malnourished, aggravated raccoon with a penchant for pinot grigio... I had that down to a science. But being a good, loving, supportive wife and mom... not so much. Shit had to change.</div>
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So I made the difficult decision to close my business and focus on the family. That was only made possible by the promise that my husband would actually get paid what his contract said he would get paid (which, let me tell you, unless you can afford a decent attorney, means less than the napkin it is written on). And at first it was pure bliss. I spent two weeks decompressing and slinking into my new role as SAHM. YAHOO!!! Stay At Home MOMMY!! Bon-bons and day drinking and cooking elaborate meals using gastomolecular techniques that would eventually lead to a multi-year contract with the Food Network. I would teach my kids french and Spanish, and have them engineer their own tree house out of recycled pallets from blueprints found on Pinterest. They would learn to crochet and dance and chop wood. And perhaps even grow mustaches by the year's end. I had big dreams and I was STOKED!! WHOOT WHOOT!!! I'm a stay-at-home-mommy, I'm-a-stay-at-home-mommy (to the nah nah nah nah boo boo tune)!!</div>
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But, wouldn't you know that shit isn't all sunshine and rainbows and kegerators filled with wine? I feel kind of worthless. In a very material sense. See, before I contributed financially and now I simply spend. And I know my job as a mom and wife is a big one, and I have no idea how we would keep it together if I worked outside the home, especially since any back-alley butcher-shop willing to hire my crazy ass would likely pay in sides of beef, which the Kindercare will not take as remuneration for their daycare services (their "Company Policy" or whatever). I wipe butts and clean, and play and clean more (although you wouldn't know it since this place looks like a rat's nest and smells like curdled milk tastes), and laundry (oh, laaauuud... the LAUNDRY is INCESSANT), and I cook (sometimes 10 different meal preparations a day... these people are spoiled), and then there is the coloring, the painting, the singing and dancing, and grocery shopping (NOOOO!!! Please don't make me take the children!!! PLEASE, for the love of all that is holy and good!!!), the scolding, the homework help, the brawl-break-ups, the bedtime stories.... And I am also the psych department, the infirmary, the sex kitten, and the fantasy football brah. By choosing to be a SAHM I chose to devote myself entirely to my family. ENTIRELY. And yet, I still feel materially worthless, like I contribute nothing because I don't deposit a paycheck. And feeling like that pisses me off. Have you ever wanted to slap the shit out of yourself? Yes. That.</div>
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So today, 1 year and 364 days after jumping into the blogosphere and eventually climbing out soaking wet without a towel in a poopy-colored swimming suit with a full-coverage ass and soggy pancake boobs, I am recommitting myself to Three Monkeys and a Martini. Because it is mine. It is entirely for me. And it may not pay me (although, I am totally for that happening), but at least it can maybe, hopefully, even just a smidge fill in this very real void I feel. It may be selfish, and I may seem ungrateful, poor pitiful me, and whatnot. And if you believe that, poopy-colored swimsuits to you. I don't give a damn. Because this is for me. And I deserve it.</div>
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So, with that, I will say, I'm REALLY Back, Yo! And I have no idea what direction this is going to go. I'm not sure what I want this blog to be anymore. But I do know that I will figure that out. And I will do it with horrifically bad contouring make-up, leopard print slippers, a push-up bra, and wine in a coffee-cup. Because I'm already home, so I can go big if I wanna.</div>
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3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850167143646256598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-23291307721117147672014-10-17T09:55:00.001-04:002014-10-21T18:01:06.919-04:00FREE STUFF: Citrus Lane Giftbox<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihtZ2q-PKSlijZoa3C36vP8RGyw4J3sp1-SVCy0mvEVf_nY8wdbErN2GeZYc_wLUtqPIJSBzW2ddKkW_EA-kVJkM24Bi7BSOipmNHyN6DcnqNe7g2wp0DQT7fjaPrgRpQ9XFHg4bEfbJ9r/s1600/swagalackin.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihtZ2q-PKSlijZoa3C36vP8RGyw4J3sp1-SVCy0mvEVf_nY8wdbErN2GeZYc_wLUtqPIJSBzW2ddKkW_EA-kVJkM24Bi7BSOipmNHyN6DcnqNe7g2wp0DQT7fjaPrgRpQ9XFHg4bEfbJ9r/s1600/swagalackin.JPG" height="504" width="640" /></a></div>
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In the honor of the re-dedication of my blog, I want to share with you an awesome giveaway I found from <a href="http://www.citruslane.com/" target="_blank">Citrus Lane</a>. They are giving away a 2 month gift box subscription to a lucky gal or guy! Packed with awesome treats and goodies and sundries and the like that you will be hard-pressed to find elsewhere. It really is like a little present in the mail for a special mom or dad in your life (or yourself... you're special too, damnit!!). This is a $58 value, which is way more than I would spend on a gift box for anyone, unless it was vodka. In a box. For me. So this is a pretty cool deal. </center>
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And it's easy peasy to enter. </center>
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Good luck ya'll!!! </center>
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3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850167143646256598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-81719106760836295382013-07-25T10:23:00.000-04:002013-07-25T10:28:05.211-04:00It's a Hawaiian Delicacy! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwfBvv6MDwW_Q18uazvubmdUQjREOWtYJySGoxuIbj1dm0UVpVhyphenhyphenRjLnr7e4yWHqqPWkT1VS8LjdGarQzh6uqdGQ6hVyUkzhrUw8xnsBnouoxTuscbVgnd_uAYtCganErVNfFpZEoKbQLi/s1600/spam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwfBvv6MDwW_Q18uazvubmdUQjREOWtYJySGoxuIbj1dm0UVpVhyphenhyphenRjLnr7e4yWHqqPWkT1VS8LjdGarQzh6uqdGQ6hVyUkzhrUw8xnsBnouoxTuscbVgnd_uAYtCganErVNfFpZEoKbQLi/s400/spam.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Photo graciously lifted off the net from <a href="http://money.cnn.com/video/investing/2013/06/18/investing-the-buzz-hormel-foods-spam.cnnmoney/index.html" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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During the time I was a missing person in the blogosphere, I'm proud to say I have developed quite a following. Of spammers. Particularly ones that own websites about payday loans. Not sure why they see my blog as the perfect space to peddle their wares, but the joke's on them! I don't get a paycheck! Duh. <br />
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Anyway, I thought I'd share some of the gems I have found while cleaning up the spam. <br />
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First, I found out my blog is listed in Yahoo News, from a lovely Anon who left me this: <em>"Wonderful blog! I found it while searching on Yahoo News. Do you have any suggestions on how to get listed in Yahoo News? I've been trying for a while but I never seem to get there! Appreciate it Here is my weblog; xxxxx"</em><br />
That's cool. The specific article in reference: <a href="http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com/2012/10/drunk-mommy.html" target="_blank">Drunk Mommy</a>. Not sure that's the kind of news I want to be known for, but hey, I'll take any kind of publicity I can get. **And oh, by the way, I am not listed in Yahoo News. Fucking liar. <br />
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I got a lot of compliments on the design of my blog too. <em>"Fascinating blog! Is your theme custom made or did you download it from somewhere? A design like yours with a few simple adjustements would really make my blog shine. Please let me know where you got your design. Cheers. Also visit my weblog xxxxx". </em>See, I don't buy into this, as spammers are the online equivalent of a guy at a bar... they try to woo you with compliments and drinks until your panties drop off and you click their virus-laden link. But I did get a couple of these remarks, so thanks! And yes, I designed this dress myself ;) <br />
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These spammers have gotten smart too. They know blog owners will delete irrelevant comments immediately, but they are still lazy and don't want to take the time to actually read anything you write. The solution, this: <em>"Wow that was odd. I just wrote an extremely long comment but after I clicked
submit my comment didn't appear. Grrrr... well I'm not writing all that over
again. Anyhow, just wanted to say fantastic blog! Also, visit my blog xxxxx". </em>It's almost like this one went to college for a couple months.<em> </em>Brilliant little liars. <br />
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I also love the foreign comments. Some of them are in languages I can't read (I'm sure they are all incredibly substantive), but some are some-what understandable. Like I understand this person thinks I am slightly full of shit, <em>"Thankѕ a bunch for sharing this with all peоple. You reаllу unԁerstand what
you're talking about approximately! Bookmarked."</em><br />
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And then there are the spammers who clearly have no concept of reality, making statements about the "great information" I provide, or that they get "valuable knowledge" from my blog. <em>"I think the admin of this wеb sіte іѕ genuinеly working hard for hіs wеb site, sіnсe here eveгy stuff is quality based informatіon". </em>Hey, heads up... I blog about mostly crap. Smelly pencils, poopy diapers, back alley physicians, and snot. If this is informative to you, you need to go back to community college. <br />
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And I got one total bitch. <em>"The verу next time I read a blog, Ηopefully
it does not faіl me just as muсh as this ρartіculaг one. After all, I
know it waѕ mу choice to read, nonethеlеss I gеnuіnely bеlieved yоu'd have
something useful to say. All I hear is a bunch of whining about something you
can fix if you weren't too busy seeking attеntion. Review my website xxxxx (</em>short term loan site<em>)".</em> Something I could fix with a short term loan, right. Of Course!! If spamming blogs with niceties doesn't work, you should try sprinkling in some insults. Reverse psychology. Brilliant. <br />
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I love it when spammers let you know how they found your site, you know, so you can use that information in your targeting and marketing, n' stuff. <em>"I saw your blog while searching on </em><a href="http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com/"><em>http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com/</em></a><em>. Do
you know of a few information on how to get indexed in
</em><a href="http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com/"><em>http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com/</em></a><em>? I've really been intending to for quite
a while but I never seem to make it happen. Appreciate it. View my blog xxxx".</em> See, you are absolutely right, you did find my blog while searching my blog. And I have no idea how you'd get indexed on my blog, since it is a fucking blog!!! <br />
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And my all-time favorite! A spam comment about avoiding spam comments! Tricksey little Hobbit ;) <em>"Hi, i read your blog occasionally and i own a similar one and i was just
curious if you get a lot of spam remarks? If so how do you protect against it,
any plugin or anything you can advise? I get so much lately it's driving me
crazy so any assistance is very much appreciated. Also visit my web blog xxxxx".</em><br />
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I am going to leave all spam remarks that are received on this blog post remain in tact because I know that you, the three people who actually read this blog, will appreciate the irony. Also, because I am going to say right here, if you spam my blog you are going to get hit with the fiery fist of pain, and your dog will run away, and your wife will cheat on you with a dealer at an online casino. In other words, you're a loser. <br />
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Spam at your own risk. <div class="blogger-post-footer">----
3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-78938726976885845552013-07-23T08:51:00.000-04:002014-10-16T17:25:58.775-04:00I'm Back, Yo...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDDCs5cB2P5OJpTql0_abknS_NAIieK-pXOV2GvC4DRsmShMXSj5nVUvDS4UlzcXwon4yw9ojRRFGJlKP0o_oLlHnPYkujaJvdM-4e6-bxyvy90hZ_3qp2GWHHA9NmQaXBoNOGpDI41gSV/s1600/I'm+Back,+Bitches!.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDDCs5cB2P5OJpTql0_abknS_NAIieK-pXOV2GvC4DRsmShMXSj5nVUvDS4UlzcXwon4yw9ojRRFGJlKP0o_oLlHnPYkujaJvdM-4e6-bxyvy90hZ_3qp2GWHHA9NmQaXBoNOGpDI41gSV/s400/I'm+Back,+Bitches!.png" height="268" width="400" /></a></div>
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photo graciously stolen from <a href="http://livroseetecetera.blogspot.com/2013/06/im-back-bitches.html" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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So I'm back. Which is actually harder than one would think. I haven't written a thing aside from a check in 7 months. (For those of you who currently live in the 21st century, a "check" or "cheque" is a thing that comes in a packet and is fake money. You write a dollar amount on them and give them to check-out-people at stores and they let you walk away with stuff). And I know it was a sudden ceasation. I was just overwhelmed. And then depressed. I'm still overwhelmed and depressed, but I drink a lot more now so I've got it all under control. </div>
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A lot has happened since I last wrote. I had monkey #3 in February, and since then I have not slept more than 48 hours in sum and have drank approximately 165 bottles of wine. The big fat ones. For those of you mathletes, I now have a 6 year old, a 22 month old, and a 5 month old. That equals 99 months of successfully keeping other humans alive. Yay me! However, no matter what, someone always smells like urine. Meh. It's funny... when you have one newborn, you bathe him everyday, and change his outfits the moment a speckle of drool hits his shirt. When you have three, they are lucky to get a bath once a week. And by "they" I mean all three, together, in one big nasty germ-laden cesspool of nastiness and bubbles. And they only get a new outfit when you must leave the house (which is never, because how the hell could you manage that total public nightmare)? My sons look a bit like orphans. Or like Adam Sandler from the movie <em>Big Daddy</em> is raising them. Dirty feet and matted hair, and at least one typically has on some kind of bizarre costume piece (like a Batman belt, or Ninja Turtle mask). Mini Monkey leaves a trail of stickiness everywhere he goes. Silly Monkey has worn the same jammies for two days. Meh. It could be worse. </div>
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At least they're happy. </div>
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Let me tell you, three boys is WAY harder than two. I had no idea what I was getting into. This is a real full-time job, and part of the reason I haven't written is because I have been struggling with coming to terms with that. See, before Baby Monkey arrived I was a WAHM. I ran a business full-time out of my house. A successful one, at that. I was in magazines and shit. But it was hard. I often had to wake up at 3am to get to work, and worked well after the kids went to bed, and many hours in between, but I made at least $3.76 per hour, so it paid off. Now I am too lazy to get up at 3am (likely because I don't actually get any sleep until then) and someone is always in constant need of butt wiping. I simply don't have the time in the day to be an income producing member of this family. Which has been hard for me to deal with emotionally, and financially. It's been hard for both Mr. Martini and I. Everyday I feel pulled between trying to be a good mom, and trying to help support our family. And I have come to the realization that I am failing at both. It has been very stressful, and I have decided that instead of doing both poorly (being a stay-at-home mom and working full-time), I'm going to start doing one at least moderately better. So I have decided to start focusing on what's important by putting my kids to work instead. </div>
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I can focus all my efforts on supervising their income producing activities. And from here on out, they must all be income producing. No more reading for entertainment. Nope. You're gonna read into a tape recorder so I can sell the audiobook of Spongebob Squarepants and the Temple of Slime. No more playing with Legos just to exercise your imagination. You're going to build this 14,000 piece Eiffel Tower so we can sell it on Ebay. No more dancing or singing because you're happy. You will dance and sing on this youtube video in the effort to get people to buy our "3 Monkey's and a Martini Sing-along CD", with popular hits like, <em>You Spin Me Round</em>, by Flo Rida, <em>Baby Got Back</em>, by Sir Mixalot, and "<em>I'm Back</em>", by Eminem. You will not draw because you like to create things, you will now draw things that can be sold on our soon to be up-and-running Etsy site. Things like giant scribble wine glasses...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRUOGGTm2SUA_0jefiYqdA1zAoEEzrdrc2UR677k0WDdfcDfrNNGx_Lviru6xiO0r4SvJq3QvFPHY6izUO_szOqTtLROGiWm7qPmPbxcfAgJ_ntdGeNacqF2EjDLEK593sZSCmsaMCydce/s1600/038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRUOGGTm2SUA_0jefiYqdA1zAoEEzrdrc2UR677k0WDdfcDfrNNGx_Lviru6xiO0r4SvJq3QvFPHY6izUO_szOqTtLROGiWm7qPmPbxcfAgJ_ntdGeNacqF2EjDLEK593sZSCmsaMCydce/s400/038.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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They will have to go door to door selling T-shirts like this one (available in the <a href="http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com/p/3-monkeys-boutique.html" target="_blank">3 Monkeys Boutique</a>):</div>
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And in addition to making my kids childhood as lucrative as possible, I also intend to start doing more DIY projects, like this one... </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9gboK1mp1Vqjdwzp2ccvsIVcCG2tPJWYtItqRhgzaLj2SuaXgRleyAdaUKi7JDJj8HYXJtw9oqSJ1xYfBMg_6-xCVx0DEgZgsqoeDz5E7bNwSSK7VaH6qkt-QN9PE2EmvwEDixnqWkefz/s1600/039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9gboK1mp1Vqjdwzp2ccvsIVcCG2tPJWYtItqRhgzaLj2SuaXgRleyAdaUKi7JDJj8HYXJtw9oqSJ1xYfBMg_6-xCVx0DEgZgsqoeDz5E7bNwSSK7VaH6qkt-QN9PE2EmvwEDixnqWkefz/s400/039.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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which should be hilarious, since I rock at Pinterest posting and suck at Pinterest projects. </div>
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I will also be sharing recipes, as well as tips and tricks for the kitchen. Like how to save time grocery shopping by getting your meals to come to you, like this... </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-N7KpjeBp4I7Qg_VXjjKXIH-7eip95qHjAJAZR7lEssme6T17Y1_fWGa7zaVDOhtCNYHj0vL4QmqDI9F0fIg8xUz7aWLkDCcucw3gFAUlfN5LWvyF_ymEfGdXgmh-Oi4R-IjtXjeuWIEu/s1600/030+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-N7KpjeBp4I7Qg_VXjjKXIH-7eip95qHjAJAZR7lEssme6T17Y1_fWGa7zaVDOhtCNYHj0vL4QmqDI9F0fIg8xUz7aWLkDCcucw3gFAUlfN5LWvyF_ymEfGdXgmh-Oi4R-IjtXjeuWIEu/s320/030+-+Copy.JPG" height="300" width="320" /></a></div>
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So be ready to jump on board this crazy train as it leaves the station yet again. </div>
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I am not a stay-at-home-mom, I am a manager now, monkeys! And I will manage the shit out of this house! </div>
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3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850167143646256598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-19680520939866843262013-01-12T10:09:00.002-05:002013-01-12T10:14:31.719-05:00It Was The Best of Times, It Was The End of Times...<div align="center">
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So it has been a year since I last wrote. Well, at least the year has changed. There has been so much going on in the Monkey House, I just haven't had a chance to catch-up. But fear not, I'll eventually get back into the swing of things. I got an email from my mother yesterday that said simply,<br />
" I MISS THE MONKEYS!!!". I get it. I'm a slacker. Thanks Ma. <br />
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So first on the list this year is the Secret Subject Swap. Then announcement and prize awarding for the Christmas Tree contest (No I didn't forget... and my tree is still up, so it's not too late, right?). But lets get this new year of blogging started with my Secret Subject Swap prompt sent by <a href="http://www.mommyunmuted.com/" target="_blank">Mommy Unmuted,</a> a funny gal you should definitely check out. She's unmuted Yo'! And while you're at it, grab a cup of coffee (or wine, or vodka depending on how your kids are behaving) and check out <a href="http://www.bakinginatornado.com/" target="_blank">Baking in a Tornado</a>, the humorista who runs this shin-dig. And upon blog stalking her, you'll find links to all the other laughable ladies who participate. They will brighten your day with a well deserved shot of snark and laughter. <br />
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So my prompt is: <em>If the world had ended on 12/21/12, what one thing would you wish you had done differently?</em> <br />
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In all honesty, I was a little concerned about the world ending. I mean, I've already lived through like 5 "end-of-days" already, so this one had a pretty high probability of actually happening, right? And the Mayans were pretty smart, even if the people who "translated" the meaning of their calendar weren't (it didn't end stupid, it recycles n' stuff). I even woke up early with the intent of being awake at 6am (or whenever it was). You know, I wanted to see the sky explode or whatever. But I feel asleep, and shockingly woke up after doomsday. Huh? Well, so much for my plans to live in a bunker. And not showering that day. Oh who are we kidding? I didn't shower anyway. <br />
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But if the world had ended, I guess I would be kind of pissed that I wasted my time waiting for it to happen. I mean, I really should have spent those last days drinking champagne and betting on black in Vegas rather than making homemade Kindergarten-teacher presents and cleaning toilets in preparation for my own little end of the world (i.e. family visiting for two whole weeks). So mainly, I wish I wouldn't have spent the end of days cleaning toilets. <br />
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The moment of truth would have also left me wondering why I had spent so much time working, saving, struggling (I mean, I sacrificed having pants all year in an effort to better my family), and generally spending time <em>not</em> drinking champagne and eating bon bons. I mean, we paid off a shit load of debt, but who cares? We all are going to die in a fiery pit of doom and despair. It is times like those that you realize a nice pair of pants would probably be worth the expense. And a sparkly sweater. Like one a <em>Real Housewife </em>from Miami wears to the gym. Damn. Oh well... I can buy one now. But won't because then I'd have to go to the gym. Baawwaahaaahaa!! That's hilarious!!! And even less likely to happen than doomsday.<br />
<br />
I would also have regretted not taking the time to become more fluent in Spanish. I mean, if we're talking apocalypse, anything can happen right? So maybe some Mayans would come back to life and rule over the rest of us like dictators. I'd like the chance to get in good with the dark overlords, just in case. But no... I spent my time in Spanish class learning how to say "Where is the bathroom?" and "The cheese is good". I did once haggle my way through a transaction with a street vendor in Cabo San Lucas, but I think they just got bored with humoring my lousy Spanish and my arrogant white-girl-tourist attempt to haggle in their native tongue. So, yeah. I didn't do much to ensure my survival if in fact Mayans came back to put the smack down on all of us. In retrospect, I totally would have rectified that. <br />
<br />
Lastly, I think I would have spent more time trying to fully understand the ins and outs of Quantum Theory. Why, you ask? Well, so I could build a time machine, duh. What other sure-fire way could I ensure my survival? Oh yeah. I guess just waking up did the trick. Well, shit. Where's the champagne anyway? Mommy's got some catching up to do. <div class="blogger-post-footer">----
3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850167143646256598noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-15934334498986085812012-12-17T09:46:00.001-05:002012-12-17T10:14:58.307-05:00Take a Moment and Give a Beautiful Child a Helping HandSo today I read a post from a blogger friend that touched my heart, and I thought I would share her campaign with all of you. If we all open our hearts and share Becky's story, and contribute a dollar or two, we can help give Nathan a Christmas Gift that will truly make a difference in his life. Read on for the details: <br />
<br />
Originally Published at <a href="http://hypnoticbard.blogspot.com/2012/12/christmas-for-nathan.html?spref=bl">The Insomniac's Dream: Christmas for Nathan</a>: <br />
<div class="post hentry" itemprop="blogPost" itemscope="itemscope" itemtype="http://schema.org/BlogPosting">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" name="595610962467459837"></a>
<br />
<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name">
Christmas for Nathan</h3>
<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-595610962467459837" itemprop="description articleBody">
Today, I am going to take a break from the
funny. I would like to introduce you to my friend, Becky, and share her story
with you. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://pbs.twimg.com/media/A-IbfoeCUAEEMXF.jpg:large" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" closure_uid_7oze7r="2" height="200" src="https://pbs.twimg.com/media/A-IbfoeCUAEEMXF.jpg:large" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr>
<td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Becky and her son, Nathan
Jr. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Her son, Nathan Jr. is four years old. He has
been diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome and Global Developmental Delay.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://pbs.twimg.com/media/A-IZbeVCUAIEdq2.jpg:large" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" closure_uid_7oze7r="3" height="200" src="https://pbs.twimg.com/media/A-IZbeVCUAIEdq2.jpg:large" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr>
<td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How handsome is this little
guy?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
He is behind in speech and fine motor
skills.<br />
<br />
Cognitively, he is at 18 months old. Becky and her husband have
tried teaching Nathan sign language, but it is difficult for him and he can only
sign a few of his basic needs.<br />
<br />
Nathan has a problem with expression
through words that causes him a lot of frustration, melt downs, and aggressive
behavior.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://pbs.twimg.com/media/A-IZqqnCUAA6qQ4.jpg:large" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" closure_uid_7oze7r="4" height="200" src="https://pbs.twimg.com/media/A-IZqqnCUAA6qQ4.jpg:large" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr>
<td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A very brave Nathan during one
of his many hospital stays</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
He can not hold a
crayon, marker, or even a pencil. He uses an Ipad at school to express what he
is trying to say when he is unable to speak. He uses the Ipad to learn and draw
letters with his finger. He is learning about shapes and how to write. There
are a variety of therapeutic apps available to sooth and help him to settle down
when he is upset.<br />
<br />
When Nathan is at home he is constantly frustrated and
struggles all the time to express himself. <br />
<br />
Having an Ipad at home would
enable him to tell his parents his needs and wants. <br />
<br />
Unfortunately, Ipads
are very expensive and beyond what this family is able to afford. Becky went to
Craigslist in desperation, looking for help. She was met with hate and
threatening emails about her son and his disability. In tears, she explained to
us on Twitter what was going on. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://omaha.craigslist.org/wan/3478370532.html"><span style="color: #f6b4e8;">Her Craigslist
Ad</span></a><br />
<br />
She shared some of these hateful emails with me as well as her
story. I cried for her. I cried for Nathan. My heart aches for a child who
struggles every day to express even his most basic needs. My heart breaks for a
child who lives life always frustrated because he can't express himself, and no
one understands him. <br />
<br />
On top of all of this, Becky has only recently won
a hard fought battle against cancer. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://pbs.twimg.com/media/A-ReQw7CUAE8Pp2.jpg:large" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" closure_uid_7oze7r="5" height="200" src="https://pbs.twimg.com/media/A-ReQw7CUAE8Pp2.jpg:large" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr>
<td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who needs a wig when you have a
bow and a beautiful smile?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Can we take a minute out
of our days, a dollar or two out of our wallets this Christmas Season and see to
it that Nathan gets an Ipad?<br />
<br />
Please use the PayPal below to help this
family and make this a very special Christmas for a very special little
boy.<br />
<br />
It is very simple, go <a href="https://www.paypal.com/webapps/mpp/send-money-online"><span style="color: #f6b4e8;">to PayPal</span></a> and
where it asks for her email, you type in this Becky.budden@yahoo.com The rest of
the fields are self explanatory. <br />
<br />
*** I've also made it easy to donate! Click the Donate button below and enter in the amount you'd like to give. I'll forward all donations to Becky on a daily basis. <br />
<br />
<form action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post">
<input name="cmd" type="hidden" value="_s-xclick" />
<input name="hosted_button_id" type="hidden" value="7VC5DK3QYXA3U" />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<input alt="PayPal - The safer, easier way to pay online!" border="0" name="submit" src="https://www.paypalobjects.com/en_US/i/btn/btn_donateCC_LG.gif" type="image" /><br /></div>
<img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="https://www.paypalobjects.com/en_US/i/scr/pixel.gif" width="1" />
</form>
<br />
<br />
Nathan already says Thank You. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://pbs.twimg.com/media/A-ThwaZCcAAxKA1.jpg:large" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" closure_uid_7oze7r="6" height="150" src="https://pbs.twimg.com/media/A-ThwaZCcAAxKA1.jpg:large" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr>
<td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thank you so
much</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">----
3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850167143646256598noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-64255142875678085142012-12-14T09:52:00.000-05:002012-12-14T09:52:23.871-05:00WTF Friday: Episode 8 ~ If I Won a Million DollarsSo I've been invited to participate in a really cool club called <a href="http://www.bakinginatornado.com/p/secret-subject-swaps.html" target="_blank">The Secret Subject Swap</a>, hosted by Baking in a Tornado. By invited, I mean I totally invited myself and wasn't booted at the door even though my name wasn't on the list. <br />
<br />
Secret Subject Swap is much like a Secret Santa party, except with blog topics. Your topic is chosen by the Secret Subject Swap gods (i.e. Karen, at Baking in a Tornado) from a pool of topics submitted by all participating bloggers. She tells you what your topic is, but no one else knows. And on a chosen day, you all reveal your posts about your given topic. My topic was submitted by <a href="http://dinoheromommy.com/" target="_blank">Dinosaur Superhero Mommy</a>, and is <em>"Whoa, you won one million in the lottery... what do you do?"</em> <br />
<br />
So...<br />
<br />
The prudent part of me would invest some in mutual funds; ELSS's and ULIP's and what not. I'd invest some in a business start-up (I hear <a href="http://www.oneclassymotha.com/2012/12/11/tip-for-tuesday-the-miracle-of-life-through-inappropriate-crafting/" target="_blank">One Classy Motha</a> is coming up with some patent-pending Beaver Babies... a learning tool that has a hilarity factor of about a billion). I'd give a little to stem cell research and I'd invest in the grey sweat sock industry (long story). And lastly, I'd invest in Ann Taylor. Why? Because they make pants. <br />
<br />
I'd also give my folks a chunk. I figure they earned it after 30-odd years of my crap. And I'd send a hunk to Mr. Martini's folks too. We're not talking like I'm all giving and philanthropic. We're talking enough to buy a new TV, or to go on a short vacation, or something. Okay fine. A new car. And a fancy watch. But the bulk would be invested. <br />
<br />
The real me (read: not prudent, take-the-money-and-run-around-like-an-idiot-screaming-"I'm-Rich-Bitch" me) would go to Vegas and bet on black. I'd buy a Jaguar, just so I could say I drive a Jag-u-ar, pronounced like they do in the commercials, which is not at all like anyone, anywhere pronounces it. I would buy a boat even though I live approx. 300 miles from the nearest body of water. I would go to Tiffany's and try on EVERYTHING and buy NOTHING! <br />
<br />
How much do I have left?<br />
<br />
I would buy a pony. I would buy an inflatable bounce house and I would have that sucker inflated ALL THE TIME! I would buy a fur coat. No I wouldn't. But I'd buy a damn good fake. I'd buy stock in Barefoot Wines. Hell, I'd start a Pinot Grigio winery and call it <em>I'm Rich Bitch Wines</em>. I would also buy at least 23 kegs of Berghoff and 190 lbs of shell-on peanuts so I could re-live my college days.<br />
<br />
I would buy designer pants in all shapes and sizes and throw them out my car window at moms with shopping carts full of children and messy hair at the Walmart... cause I know how they feel. I would buy 4 lbs of king crab legs and eat them all myself. I would also by a 24 pack of toilet paper, because that kind of intestinal assault would definitely land me on the hopper for a full 2 hours. <br />
<br />
Lastly, I would buy the rights to this song:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/LHacDYj8KZM?rel=0" width="420"></iframe><br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0pt;">
<span style="color: red; font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span> Be sure to check out the other Secret Subject Swap topics and responses by clicking <a href="http://www.bakinginatornado.com/p/secret-subject-swaps.html" target="_blank">here</a>. I would tell you to vote for me, but it's not that kind of club. <span style="color: red; font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">----
3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850167143646256598noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-6768259947778843842012-12-13T12:03:00.000-05:002012-12-13T12:06:21.076-05:00I Got Married By A Wild Boar Hunter on a Remote Island in the North Pacific<br />
So this week's Theme Thursday post from <a href="http://www.somethingclever2point0.com/">Something Clever 2.0</a> is about weddings. I could talk your ear off about weddings, since my day job is to create fabulous custom wedding invitations for bridezillas around the world. But today I have to talk about my own wedding. Which was perfect. And included no invitations at all. Which made it even more perfect. <br />
<br />
See, my husband and I had a whirlwind courtship. We "hooked up" in March and were married by Thanksgiving. We travelled throughout the US during that time, bought a house, renovated it, got pregnant, and then decided, well, we should seal the deal, I guess. We thought about having a real wedding. A small intimate affair that would take place in Chicago (neutral territory for both of our families), but for several reasons (mostly because I was afraid my dad would have a stroke if we told him, since he was still paying off my first wedding) we decided to elope. I walked into my office one November morning and there was a ticket to Hawaii sitting on my keyboard. How could you NOT marry that guy? <br />
<br />
I was whisked away to the <a href="http://www.halekulani.com/">Halekulani Hotel</a> in Honolulu. Um, yeah. There was a button by the door you could ring for a personal concierge. The bathroom was bigger than my whole apartment. The view of Waikiki beach was Amazeballs. But there was construction going on at a nearby hotel that just sort of cramped our "pretending to be rich super-snob" style. So Mr. Martini asked for a refund and we hopped on the first plane to the Kauai. That was back when we did that sort of crazy shit all the time. Just hop on a plane and go to XYZ. Or just decide not to get on a plane and do something else. I don't want to sound like a rich super-snob, but it was fun pretending to be a rockstar for a minute. Of course we're still paying for those 6 months of fun that started 7 years ago, but whatevs. <br />
<br />
There was a golf tourney going on at our hotel and our beach cabana was right next to Tiger Woods' (you know, before we knew Tiger was a raging douchebag). So we thought we were the Shiznit! And we were gonna get married! Whoot Whoot! I was a princess! So now we had to find someone to marry us. Which we didn't realize would be such a difficult thing to do. I called like a dozen marriage guys (you know, pastors, reverends, etc. that do beach weddings as a side gig) and everyone was booked. OMG! We flew all the way to frickin Hawaii and all I got was this stupid bag of Macadamia nuts? WTF? I wanna get married!!! We finally found a pastor/wild boar hunter who said he could do it. At 4pm. That day. <br />
<br />
I didn't even have a dress. Not anything I thought would be marginally appropriate, at least. Turns out, nothing at the only shopping place we could find would be very appropriate either. Since I was pressed for time (we're talking like 2 hours till "go" time here), I grabbed the only thing that fit reasonably well and ran off (funny how that has become a theme in my normal everyday life too...).<br />
I would be getting hitched in a black knee length party dress with big red hibiscus flowers printed all over it. Meh. It beat out sequined hoochie dress. It would have to do.<br />
<br />
We made it to the beach on time, as they say, and met our pastor. A real nice guy who asked us over for Thanksgiving dinner. They would be serving wild boar caught using table scraps from his son's restaurant. I liked the guy immediately. Mr. Martini however, was a ball of nervous energy. He was so nervous you could literally see fear in his eyes. And then he was asked to do the impossible. Wait until we saw a sea turtle. Say what, Mr.? We have to stand here looking into the ocean until we see a frickin sea turtle before you'll marry us? Heh? So finally, after what seemed like at least five minutes, Mr. Martini lied so we could get on with it. That's how you should always start out your married life... with a big ol' fat lie to a man of the cloth. <br />
<br />
There was some kind words, a declaration of love, some vows (which I have a printed copy of somewhere) and the exchange of rings. And of course the kiss. There are three wedding photos of us, and one is the fake kiss we did after the "ceremony". Turns out our boar-hunting pastor was also an amateur photographer, and he wanted to get the perfect shot. In any event, we got hitched. We were married. It was official. Let the throwing of the rice, popping of the champagne, eating of the cake, and dancing off the asses commence!! And then...<br />
<br />
That night, we did what all married couples do. ;) <br />
<br />
I fell asleep while he watched the UCLA-<span style="background-color: yellow;">USC</span> football game on TV. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixh9Leev8Ee7Ilex9Mc_MTqjSPfdYxkV3N17xxCUSiDeQ3gZyWztub6NzO_7DqNlpDwCrjhL0UggIM73g9QNDxfJAHQWE1ecARmZWS6XCDj_DQlLe1LVWD2gLO8-TSFrSW8oqnbYZ6Qppr/s1600/hawaii+006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixh9Leev8Ee7Ilex9Mc_MTqjSPfdYxkV3N17xxCUSiDeQ3gZyWztub6NzO_7DqNlpDwCrjhL0UggIM73g9QNDxfJAHQWE1ecARmZWS6XCDj_DQlLe1LVWD2gLO8-TSFrSW8oqnbYZ6Qppr/s400/hawaii+006.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
It was the most perfect day ever, and I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. <div class="blogger-post-footer">----
3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850167143646256598noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-21509174049398727782012-12-07T10:32:00.001-05:002012-12-11T06:00:51.584-05:00WTF Friday: Episode 7 --- A Christmas Photo Contest!<h2>
Oh Snap! There's a Contest at The Monkey House!! </h2>
Because it's the holiday season, and all the blogosphere is hyped up about Christmas, I thought it would be fun to do a little photo contest. That's right, I am hoping enough of you will go out of your way to make me feel good by taking a moment to add a photo of your favorite Christmas tree ever. There are two categories: Prettiest Tree and Runner-up (which may be the ugliest tree, or may be the second prettiest tree, or may just be the tree with the most ornaments). Bottom<br />
line: two prizes will be given. I ask that the trees actually be ones you took part in decorating or at least drove by and saw with your own eyes (i.e. don't just find something hideous on the interwebs). <br />
<br />
The two winning photo submitters will receive a prize valued at roughly $100,000,000,000 (a set of 4 handpainted Martini Glasses and free advertising on my blog for a month - a 150 x 150 size... and I'll help you design your ad if you need a little graphic help). The handpainted martini glasses will be worth a ton of money when I go loco like Van Gogh. Or Picasso. Or Cezanne. Whatevs... they will be priceless 'cause I made 'em.<br />
<br />
So add your photo to a blogpost, webpage, your flickr account, or whatever and submit the URL to the linky below. Let's be honest, most of us do not have Martha Stewart trees since we have kids. Handmade popcorn garland, the playdoh ornaments, or in my case, heirloom sticks from the Depression handed down from my grandma (no lie) would not likely grace the cover of <em>Better Homes and Gardens</em>. But I think even my stick-covered tree is pretty. So, anyone can win! <br />
<br />
Here are a couple examples:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp2Rq7ievEYGOhbBH4Ry5TwPyMV1LyoplGGof54LWYhspmM6Mu4WnbAVa-LU4-tfHE14BduYtCuR4zH9VDaU03NMzZCMPR_dZ_hBwOX6dU2QVt6_rLTBDzMAKRRj7QMMD8Z0wWCmWWugV4/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp2Rq7ievEYGOhbBH4Ry5TwPyMV1LyoplGGof54LWYhspmM6Mu4WnbAVa-LU4-tfHE14BduYtCuR4zH9VDaU03NMzZCMPR_dZ_hBwOX6dU2QVt6_rLTBDzMAKRRj7QMMD8Z0wWCmWWugV4/s400/2.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ugly Tree - This could win a prize!! </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCNP35U5pe32Dg1U9yzd3ABGr8ikdutpKI42p0AUvv5HMX9PHTaes8qid2fyEpEHOe5s2z7veX2Zso2N1nJrs5cXFghf1H151F2BTblEzYmLUnaPmho5iJR9EY7KvlTiW8FJY5eC42DNI_/s1600/beautiful-christmas-trees-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCNP35U5pe32Dg1U9yzd3ABGr8ikdutpKI42p0AUvv5HMX9PHTaes8qid2fyEpEHOe5s2z7veX2Zso2N1nJrs5cXFghf1H151F2BTblEzYmLUnaPmho5iJR9EY7KvlTiW8FJY5eC42DNI_/s320/beautiful-christmas-trees-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Beautiful Tree </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Um, yeah. If this is your house, you get both prizes.</div>
<br />
The contest is open until December 20th at 9am, at which point judging will begin. The winners will be notified by email and will be featured in December 21st's WTF Friday post. <br />
<br />
If you have any questions, you are taking this way too seriously. But feel free to<a href="mailto:3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com"> email</a> them to me anyway. I love emails. Especially when they aren't trying to sell me Cialis or anabolic steroids. Neither of which I have any use for. Bourbon and Zanax... that's another story. <br />
<br />
<br />
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3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850167143646256598noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-85988349575431109552012-12-06T12:25:00.000-05:002012-12-06T17:11:00.934-05:00Disco Balls and Cabbage... My Kind Of Christmas<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Non-Traditional Holiday Traditions, Martini-Style</h2>
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So, the three cents I will get in ad revenue will not make up for the $14 it cost me to create this post. That is how important Christmas is to me. I Freaking LOVE Christmas! And I'm old, so it's not even because I get presents. I love the tradition of it, even though no one would disagree that my "traditions" are a bit, um, non-traditional. </div>
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Take Christmas Dinner. When I was growing up, everyone would pile into the car on Christmas Eve and go to grandmas house in Kenosha, Wisconsin. Kenosha, if ya don't know, is a little enclave of ethnic diversity, dominated by Italians, but with lots of Eastern Europeans sprinkled in for good measure. My family would be one of those Eastern European sprinkles. And apparently, in Eastern Europe, sausage (pronounced Saaaaaaa-sage) is a big deal. So unlike most families who have baked ham or a beautiful roast turkey, we would have kielbasa and sauerkraut. </div>
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I went to Grandmas every Christmas Eve for over 20 years before trying this delicacy purely because it looks like something that was barfed up by a cat, and the smell could gag a maggot. </div>
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Turns out it is actually quite yummy. I finally got the balls to try it the last Christmas I trekked back to Kenosha, when I was like 26. There was plenty of alcohol involved...mostly so I could make it through the evening with my family. To set the scene a little, my aunts and uncles think beer can wind chimes are holiday décor, and someone always winds up falling into the tree, which until 2005 was decorated with real candles. </div>
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Well, Grandma has passed, and now that I have kids I insist on doing Christmas at my house. So now, my family has to pile in the car to come to Indianapolis every Christmas Eve, and guess what's on the table? Yep. Kielbasa and Sauerkraut. Every. Christmas. </div>
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Another non-traditional "tradition" that screams Christmas to me, but would likely leave most people thinking they're at a roller rink in the 80's, is Disco. Macho Man by The Village People and It's Raining Men recorded by The Weather Girls in particular. So, I guess it's your traditional Gay Disco Christmas...</div>
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Every year I would come home a couple days before Christmas and help "decorate" my parents house. Decorating really only consisted of putting a silver bell on top of the TV and frocking whatever raggedy Christmas tree reject was left in the parking lot of the bar down the street. Sorry dad, your trees were kinda... um, scraggly. </div>
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And since my folks aren't really Christmas Crazies, we always had lame ass non-Christmas-Christmas music. Those Darned Accordions was my mom's favorite. And since my brother and I patently agree that accordion music SUCKS, and would rather suck on the broken tree lights than listen to it, we instituted Gay Disco Christmas. We'd put on one of those compilation albums, like Disco Favorites Number 87, and skid around on the floor in our socks trying not to knock down the tree as we launched glass balls from varying distances toward said tree. At the end, one of us would hoist the other one up just high enough so they could grab the pathetic top branch to attach the crowning hula Santa. You know, those hula dolls you put on your dashboard? Yeah, our tree topper was one of those. But Santa in a grass skirt. </div>
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All the while, belting out lines like "I'm gonna go out, and let myself get, absolutely soaking wetttttt!" And "Dinggggg, Dinggggg, Dinggggg,.... You can ring my be-e-e-el, ring my bell. Ding Dong Ding, Ringalingaling". </div>
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See. Gay Disco Christmas. Who wouldn't love that tradition? </div>
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So, here is where my $14.00 investment comes in. I thought I would create a little video to get you, my kind reader, into the Gay Disco Christmas spirit. Enjoy! </div>
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<iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/zL8g3BmUu-4?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">----
3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850167143646256598noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-17527528974275290312012-12-05T11:14:00.003-05:002012-12-05T11:14:29.471-05:00You Can Go Ahead and Buy My Book...<h2 style="text-align: center;">
So I'm a published author!</h2>
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Actually, I was already a published author. Little known fact: I used to be an academic and, well, I wrote about stuff with authoritay. Mostly about pirates (the Arrgh kind, not the Chinese kind who make fake DVD's) and about voting behavior and ideology, media and... oh, you're yawning? Awesome. Glad a decade of my life's hard work bores you. Well, it bored the crap out of me too, quite frankly. But, out of all those years of binge drinking and dorkitude at the university, I got at least one article published in a somewhat respected journal. Well, it was respected until they let me in. It was a pretty cool study that compared the substance of political information (i.e. what you and I call "news") reported by The Daily Show vs. network news during the '04 election. Turns out, funny news is also more substantive and is better retained in the memory. You can check out the study <a href="http://www.amazon.com/joke-comparison-television-presidential-Broadcasting/dp/B000VXR2RA">here</a>. </div>
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And, well, duh. I blog all the time because I think what I have to say is read-worthy. Am I a delusional published author? Probably. But it turns out at least a couple other people agree enough to have slapped some of my crazy in an ebook (along with some other crazy from some other hilarious moms). You can check out the collection of funny from Life Well Blogged <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Laughing-Allowed-Life-Blogged-ebook/dp/B00AIBC6IU/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1354721329&sr=1-1">here</a>. It's an e-book for Kindle. I don't have a Kindle. But I think it's just about time for me to get one ;) And all the proceeds of the book (not my new Kindle) go to Hurricane Sandy relief (so I don't get a goddamn dime. Boo!!!). </div>
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But, Yay!! Charity!! </div>
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I am flattered and honored that these gals thought I'd be a good fit for their collection. And I hope you all run out and download it ASAP! I can't wait to read it myself on my new Kindle (Oh, Amazon... how I love thee ;) And just so you know, I will be writing this purchase off as a business deduction. I mean, I am a published author. That's kind of my job now. </div>
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Yay me! New Job! </div>
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3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02850167143646256598noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-76526357341134278422012-11-30T11:04:00.003-05:002012-11-30T11:04:32.675-05:00WTF Friday: Episode 6<h2 class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The Bloggess, Liquor Store Doctors, and Leprosy</h2>
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Welcome to the sixth episode of WTF Friday at 3 Monkeys and a Martini! <br />
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As you may know, there has been a no-pants saga which has recently ended due to the purchase of several ill-fitting pairs of <a href="http://www.target.com/" target="_blank">Target</a> pants. Hey, they may be too long and they may Add-A-Dick-To-Me with their lumpy crotchness, but they are pants. And they are all mine! Muuhhuuuaaahha! <br />
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It is truly amazing what a pair of pants (and a new sweater or five) can do for your self esteem. I've even showered in the last two days! And I plan to go out of the house... in public... to buy food. And I am not even going to go to <a href="http://www.walmart.com/" target="_blank">Walmart</a>. "Whoa, slow down! Don't get crazy on me," you may be saying, but my new pants have created a monster. I may even slap on some mascara and bronzer. Look out Mr. Martini, I am on the prowl. Meeoow! <br />
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But seriously, I think my Target pants have helped me become somewhat acceptable. Or at least not toxic. I say that because I woke up to this in my in-box this morning: <br />
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Her highness <a href="http://www.thebloggess.com/" target="_blank">The Bloggess</a>, follows me on Twitter! WTF? Have I made it or what? Nevermind she follows like 18k other people. And nevermind she will never read my blog. And nevermind the fact that this will never result in a dime in my pocket. It is still pretty damn awesome. I still think pants are overrated, but maybe, just maybe, these new pants will open some doors for me.<br />
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Speaking of doors...<br />
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Aside from that nugget of awesomeness, I have been feeling quite crappy. I went to a "doctor", which is an indication of the seriousness of my feeling of crappiness since I only go to a doctor when a human being begins to protrude from my vag. This "doctor" was actually a Voodoo Priestess/nurse practitioner/wholesale meat distributor whose office was located in the back of a liquor store. Hey... I have a high deductible. I gotta do what I can to save on healthcare costs. <br />
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So I see this woman right after a man with what appeared to be leprosy jumped off her examining table. I tell her my ear hurts. I have a sneaking suspicion she has yet to wash her hands as she grabs a used Kleenex to wipe off her ear-looky-inny-thingy. I am fairly certain at this point my ear is going to hurt a hell of a lot more in the days to come, judging by the left-over ear on the floor from the leper guy who just left. I tell the kids to cover their mouths, and for all that is good and holy, do not touch ANYTHING! As a reward for good behavior, you will receive a Purell bath upon exiting this facility. Hope you have no open wounds. <br />
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Turns out, all the backaches, headaches, coughing, swollen glands, and ear pain are benign symptoms of nothingness. See, there is clearly nothing wrong with me. Silly me. "Use wam compress on both side of head. Gargol wit sal wotor" she says. Gargle with frickin salt water? What, am I Amish? What the frig ever happened to Zithromax? I came here for one thing, and one thing only. Drugs. And judging by your clientele you have access to the good stuff. Gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme. <br />
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So yesterday I spent the bulk of the day on the couch with a heating pad pressed up against my ear, one of those self-heating backache wrap things tied around my neck, a bottle of Tylenol stuffed in my bra, and I guzzled sal wotor once an hour until I puked. And guess what? I still feel like crap. <br />
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Ironically, I just received a follow-up call from said Voodoo-meat distributor nurse. I said I still feel like crap, and consciously coughed into the phone. Her response, "Oh... take cuple mo day to feel bettah." Thanks. Bitch. <br />
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WTF? <div class="blogger-post-footer">----
3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-4385347587806955462012-11-28T11:52:00.000-05:002012-11-28T11:52:40.023-05:00The Target Mirror Box Of Horror<h2>
I got some pants... and a dose of reality</h2>
So I did it. I bought some pants. That's right y'all! I took a moment yesterday, piled the kids in the cruiser and took 'em to Target. Why Target? Because it was a one-stop-shop. I needed some apples. And toilet paper. And a baby-proof latch thing. And I figured, hell, while I'm at it, I'll get some pants. I wanted to go to the fancy maternity store, but that would have required dressing for the occasion, (i.e. wearing something that didn't already have a ketchup stain on it, and a nicer pair of pants). So now that I have Target pants, maybe I'll get to the maternity store. Likely not, but whatevs.<br />
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In any case, I learned a couple things yesterday while clothes shopping for the first time in like 3 years.<br />
1) Even cheap clothes are over priced.<br />
2) Liz Lange (the in-house Target maternity "designer") has clearly never been knocked-up. <br />
3) Whoever designs the clothes for "women" sized chicks, are not in fact, women. <br />
4) I have some body issues. Which was not helped by the fact that my 5 year old literally pointed and laughed at me when I took off my skirt to try on pants. Dick. <br />
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So, I've gained a bit of weight during this pregnancy. Like 25 pounds already. And there is no stopping in sight. For those who don't know me in real life, I am 5' 2" and built a bit like a hobbit. So any extra poundage is visibly noticeable almost immediately upon scarfing down that plate of pasta. And it has been this way my whole life. Because I am a larger small person, I have had serious self image issues since I was a little girl. And it all started when some jackhat doctor told me I was obese when I was 12.<br />
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That little comment set off a lifetime of self-image issues, culminating in a decade long "battle" with anorexia. I use "battle" in quotations because at the time it was not a battle... it was a way of life. See, you starve yourself in an effort to get to a point where you like what you see in the mirror. The battle is not with the lack-of eating part of the equation; rather, it is in the liking what you see part. But everyone acts as though the disorder lies in the <em>eating</em> part of any eating disorder. That you must simply learn to have a healthy relationship with food. They would be the same assholes who call 12 year old girls obese.<br />
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The disorder part stems from a magnanimous lack of self-esteem that drives every thought, every decision, every choice that you make. And that is not something that can be solved overnight with a magic pill, or with therapy, or with success (i.e. starving yourself down to a size zero). I tried all three. You don't simply wake up one morning and think "wow, that single grapefruit a day has really made me beautiful. I think I'll have a ham sandwich now, 'cause I'm a hottie potatie and I'm all better". You may finally wake up and think, "Damnit, I'm having a ham sandwich because this eating celery sticks thing blows", but you still live forever with the fear of being fat and ugly. That never goes away. Never.<br />
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Maturity helped me conquer those demons a bit, but it was entirely by default. Looking like a <em>Top Model</em> no longer is the most important thing when you've got little people who rely on you for their very survival. The constant fear of being fat and ugly that once literally consumed me has become really small, pushed deep down, and is weighted down with cement shoes of things that really matter... like being able to pay the bills, keeping my kids safe, and being a good role model. And it helps that I have a husband who makes me feel beautiful everyday. Just having him by my side as my life partner is a constant reminder of my success at conquering this disorder. When I left my first husband, he said to me in reference to my now-husband, "Do you think he would have had anything to do with you when you were a fat cow?". Those words stung more than a stab to the heart. But I can say without a doubt, "Yes, assface, he would. 'Cause he is. And he thinks I'm beautiful even with some extra poundage". Our two (almost three) children are evidence of that. <br />
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So, I realized--standing in the mirror box of horror at Target with a five year old laughing at my pants-less cellulite laden ass--that I definitely need to get to the gym once this pregnancy is over. And I should maybe start being a bit more conscientious of what I consume (what, you mean macaroni and cheese has carbs? Shit!). And although I now have to wear a tent as a winter coat, it is all fleeting. It is not <em>me</em>. I am a beautiful girl with some extra weight. And you know what? It doesn't define me. It doesn't consume me. It doesn't determine my self worth. Not anymore. These two little monkeys do. And it is for them that I will hit the treadmill. Not so they can have the hottest mama at the school play (although, I'll be honest, that is a motivator). Rather, it's so they will have a healthy mama who has many years of playtime left. So I can give them the time they need to become men. Real men. Men who don't value a woman by the size of her ass, but rather by the size of her heart. Men who know a good thing when they see it and will stop at nothing to get it, keep it, nourish it, and cherish it. <br />
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Men just like their father. <div class="blogger-post-footer">----
3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-39414101623584245152012-11-27T09:02:00.001-05:002012-11-28T09:50:32.220-05:00WTF Friday: Episode 5<h2>
An (Almost) Pants-less Moving Day</h2>
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Man, it seems like a decade since I last had a second to write. And I have missed it so much. I have even been punishing myself by being a twitterhole since I've been such a bloghole lately. What is a twitterhole or a bloghole? Someone who rarely participates in either. And there is always hilarity going on in the blogs I follow, and the antics from the people I follow on Twitter make a pants-less life worth living, so I've been really punishing myself. <br />
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But we were moving. And as you likely know, moving S-U-C-K-S. Like, a lot a bunch. And one would think with all the experience I have, I'd be good at it. Yeah, not so much. You may have read my <a href="http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com/2012/11/who-needs-pants.html" target="_blank">last post</a> about needing pants. Let's just say on the day of the big move (which was actually more like 64 hours) I found myself with literally no pants. None. Mr. Martini and I had gotten up at 5am to make one last packing push before the movers got there, and upon looking around, panic ensued. I think the words were, "Why the falafel haven't we packed yet!!!??!!" (except I never say falafel). And a frantic, sweaty, panicked, craze-induced frenzy of dumping drawers, and toys, and file cabinets full of junk into random un-marked boxes began. During the madness, I had found a clean pair of yoga pants (ill-fitting of course, but clean) that I quickly pulled aside and put on top of a box while running to the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth. When I exited, my pants were gone, and there were about 400 newly packed anonymous boxes standing tall as a disheveled Mr. Martini continued throwing random crap to and fro. <br />
<br />
"Where the hell are my pants?", I yelled. Now mind you, I had already thrown the 3-day-old-funked-up-pants I had been wearing into some other random box filled with dried flowers, some hood ornaments, kitchen utensils, an accordion, and Twizzlers; which was of course, no where to be found. And by that time, neither was Mr. Martini. <br />
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Ohhhh shazam! You can imagine the fury. I mean, come <em>on</em>! I had just recently written about my lack of pants and how mad it makes me. And now you literally take the only clean pair of ill-fitting pants I own away on a day when strangers will see me, and I already haven't showered in three days? So I did what any gal in my position would do... stormed around the house in my under-roos swearing like a sailor, throwing things around like a spoiled 3 year old. Oh yeah... and the reason I was so pissed was because I<em> also</em> had to give a presentation at my son's school that day. Score! <br />
<br />
My husband doesn't read my blog, but he had been made aware of the no-pants post. He KNOWS!!! When I finally confronted him, his sweaty, befuddled look told me everything I needed to know: "I don't know where the hell your pants are, and to be honest, I don't give a damn." Luckily I found the three-day-old-funked-up pants I had been wearing, so I slapped those on. I Fabreezed myself before heading over to the school, and stopped at the store on my way for cupcakes. I figured if a smelly, un-make-uped, dirty, almost pants-less mom walked in to my school with cupcakes, all I'd remember is that she was awesome. So I gave it a shot. I think it worked, although I did try to keep my distance.<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
This move was surprisingly smooth. Our movers were super fast and even charged less than they estimated, and that NEVER happens. We even got the house <em>mostly</em> cleaned out for the new owners. But because we don't like to do anything the easy way, like a bunch of dumbasses we had the power shut off just so we would have to scramble around in the dark with flash lights trying to hide things we couldn't illegally dump (sorry about that broken crib you guys will eventually find in the potting shed... and the four full trash cans. And the garage full of paint. Oh, and that broken jogging stroller... Whoopsies ;) <br />
<br />
So, we're all moved into our new house, which I love. I have never actually said that about a house that I live in, so that is kind of a big deal. We even had a lovely make-shift Thanksgiving dinner, and we are slowly unpacking all the random boxes of crap. Life is starting to normalize. <br />
<br />
And guess what?<br />
<br />
I still haven't found any damn pants. <div class="blogger-post-footer">----
3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-30773007704035395452012-11-19T07:33:00.003-05:002012-11-19T07:33:37.715-05:00Who Needs Pants When You Have Ham Hock Legs?It has come to my attention that I'm surrounded by needy bastards. People who need time, people who need attention, people who need money, people who need approval, people who need a good kick in the pants... and to be perfectly honest, I have become really, really, annoyed.<br />
<br />
This little personal epiphany may seem trite or obvious to some; just walk into a Walmart and you'll see a gaggle of mouth-breathers surrounding the free yogurt sample chick screaming "Pick Me, Pick Me!!". I mean, intellectually I know this neediness thing is nothing new. I see it at least once a week... at the Walmart. But it has become like nails on a chalk board to me, where I used to be able to let noise like that just roll off my back. I think the real reason all this neediness has pissed me off to such a considerable degree is because I keep my needs and wants to myself. Mostly in an effort to be low maintenance. My mother will begin raucous laughter here. To which I respond, just wait until nursing home time. Muhauuhaahaa! <br />
<br />
So I thought, since we're all being so damn self-involved here, that I would share a list of my secret needs and wants. This may or may not be something you'll want to print and post on the fridge as a Christmas list. <br />
<br />
<u>NEEDS:</u><br />
1) I need pants. There, I said it. I don't have one goddamned pair of pants that fit. Not one. <br />
2) I need more money for the finer things in life. Like pants. <br />
<br />
<u>WANTS:</u><br />
1) I want pants. That fit.<br />
<br />
2) I want more money. For pants. That fit. <br />
<br />
3) I want some stability. This will be the 7th time I have moved in the last 6 years. I just want to settle down. I'm hoping this is it, seeing as how I am going to set myself on fire like a protesting monk if the subject of moving is even broached in my house within the next 5 years. I hate fire. So yeah. Stability now!<br />
<br />
4) I want to feel appreciated. This is probably something every mom/wife can identify with. I do your laundry. I make your dinners. I do the dishes, <strike>clean</strike> move stuff around the house, make sure you have books to read and toys to play with. I clean your poop. And on top of all I do for you, I take care of our children.<br />
<br />
5) I want some friends. Like, real ones. I haven't put much stock in the whole friendship thing since all mine dumped me during my divorce, but I realize that having someone to vent to is clearly a good thing. But really, maybe not (see needy bastards above). <br />
<br />
6) I want to be needy without feeling selfish. If I have learned one thing from all the needy bastards out there, it is this: It's okay to think about "you" once in a while. That is something I need to work on (maybe this should go on the Need list?).<br />
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7) I want to be nicer. But only to a select few. I am actually too nice to most people. In fact, I can't think of a single person that deserves more niceness from me. Just forget number 7. Dick. <br />
<br />
8) I want to know that my kids are going to be safe, happy, and strong. I do my best everyday to make this happen, and every night I pray to God that he'll/she'll intervene and make sure I don't turn them into needy little bastards. See, no matter how hard you try, you will always feel like you're not mom-enough. I want to feel "mom-enough". <br />
<br />
9) I want to get a real haircut. I have cut my own hair for the past 5 years, and I started because I couldn't understand why I was paying someone $90 every six weeks to make me look like Harry from <em>Dumb and Dumber</em>. I can do that for free. And although I give myself the best haircuts I have ever gotten, it is a week-long process. And I don't even have pants. Why the hell would it make sense that I spend that kind of time on something no one will ever notice?<br />
<br />
10) I want one of those Roomba robot vacuums. Mine broke and the floor is a mess. <br />
<br />
11) I want my ankles back. Every day I put on shoes and think about how I once had cute girly legs. Now I have ham hocks. And ham hocks stuffed into Nike's is not a look I would recommend for anyone. Especially for someone wearing no pants. <div class="blogger-post-footer">----
3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-37147998356838163662012-11-16T08:33:00.000-05:002012-11-16T08:33:53.628-05:00WTF Friday: Episode 4<h2>
Sunshine and Crabs</h2>
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It's WTF Friday, Yo'! And boy have I got a little nugget to clog up your mind...<br />
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I've been awarded The Sunshine Award! WTF??? I'm trying to play it cool, 'cause, you know, I'm cool and stuff. But I am kind of excited. The Sunshine Award is like a SAG award in the blogging community. Except there is no trophy, no fancy dress, no free booze, and no paparazzi. So really, it's nothing like a SAG award, but it is given by a fellow blogger who thinks your stuff is better than crap. And I will take that as a major award. So, thank you to The Hypnotic Bard at <a href="http://hypnoticbard.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">The Insomniac's Dream</a> for the love!<br />
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Bam! I get to make this into a sticker and wear it all week!</div>
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Just like any award, with it comes some serious responsibilities. This may be a total load of crap, I don't know. The only award I've ever gotten was one of those "Thanks for Playing" blow-up toys you get when you throw a ping pong ball into a gold fish bowl at the county fair. So having bestowed these responsibilities on me leads me to seriously question The Hypnotic Bard's sanity. Or at least her sobriety. <br />
<br />
In any event, I have to answer some questions so you can get to know me better (as if you don't already know I use the F-word all the time, I frequently wet my pants, and I have a love-hate relationship with Walmart), AND I get the privilege of sending the award onto 5 bloggers whose stuff I think is better than crap. And so you see, the circle of blog life has been revealed.<br />
<br />
So without further ado...<br />
<br />
1) What is your favorite Christmas movie?<br />
<em> I am a fan of A Christmas Story because I love lamp.</em> <br />
<br />
2) What is your favorite flower? <br />
<em> The Peony. Or Pee-oe-nay as I was informed by the lead horticulturalist at Walmart. It is the flower that symbolizes romance and prosperity and is regarded as an omen of good fortune and a happy marriage. Which is really ironic, because it is also the State flower of Indiana and Indiana doesn't even bother keeping track of divorces they happen so frequently. Oh, and it is certainly not a "prosperous" state by any stretch of the imagination.</em> <em> Cue banjos...</em><br />
<br />
3) What is your favorite non-alcoholic beverage?<br />
<em> Hmmm... Coffee, I guess. Water? I drink a lot of water. And I usually put ice in my wine, 'cause I like water that much and I am one classy broad.</em> <br />
<br />
4) What is your passion?<br />
<em>I am passionate about aesthetics. Making things pretty is a major obsession of mine. Which is a strange contradiction since I haven't even bothered to put on make-up in about 3 weeks, and my shirt currently has pit stains AND BBQ Sauce on it. Hey fellas...</em><br />
<br />
5) What is your favorite time of the year?<br />
<em> I love Spring. I love the smell of wet decaying leaves from the fall before. I love the squishy wetness of the grass after the snow melts. I love the smell of lilacs, the first real indication that Spring has indeed sprung. I also love not having to shovel. Not that I ever do, but it looks like a real pain in the ass.</em> <br />
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6) What is your favorite time of day? <br />
5<em>pm... it's wine o'clock. I also really enjoy the butt-crack of dawn. Actually, several hours before the crack shows it's, well, crack. It is peaceful in the house and my brain is fully functional, which is a rare and tender time. I usually sleep through it.</em> <br />
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7) What is your favorite physical activity? <br />
<em>Dancing. My husband is a ladies man and we went dancing before we ever became a "thing". Yeah, that night he could have gotten into my pants in the men's room. I mean, it was salsa night, and that shizzle is HOT, HOT, HOT! But he was a gentleman and didn't take advantage. I knew he was a keeper.</em> <br />
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8) What is your favorite vacation? <br />
<em> So many favorites, but my all time favorite was Bar Harbor, Maine. I saw the most beautiful sunrise ever and shared it with the man of my dreams over slightly warm Dom Perignon from the night before, and I got to wear a crab hat and walked around town pretending to be a pirate. It doesn't get better than romantic sunrises, champagne, pirates, and crabs.</em> <br />
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And so now I get to bestow this honor on five bloggers who make me laugh. Is that a necessary qualification? Technically, no. But for me, it is a big ol' "YES"! </div>
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So check out these hilarious folks, and tell 'em I sent ya ;) </div>
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<a href="http://calibamamom.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">The Calibama Mom</a></div>
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<a href="http://crakgenius.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">CrakGenius</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.oneclassymotha.com/" target="_blank">One Classy Motha</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.diapersorwine.com/" target="_blank">Diapers or Wine?</a> </div>
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<a href="http://shitidonttell.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Shit I Don't Tell Most People</a></div>
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There are a ton of other super funny, super smart bloggers out there that I would love to share the accolades of, but alas, I only get 5 this time. So gimme another award and I will share some more gems that float in a virtual sea of doo-doo. Oh, and, thank you to the Academy. :) </div>
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3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-5434708290317075352012-11-14T08:34:00.001-05:002012-11-14T08:34:34.803-05:00DIY Ribbon Organizer<h2>
World's Best DIY Ribbon Organizer!</h2>
As I am packing up my house for yet another move, I was struck by the fact that I am a frickin' genius! Or at least I found a genius idea when searching online before Pinterest was cool. Using an actual search. All by myself! And I mention this now because this little installation needs to be removed. <br />
<br />
See, I have a lot of ribbon. Approximately 400 spools of ribbon. Satin ribbon, organza ribbon, raffia ribbon... It's like Santa's workshop up in here! And if one is going to use said ribbon, you've got to find a way to organize it, right? Otherwise you're just a hoarder. <br />
<br />
There are approximately two options on the market for ribbon storage.<br />
<br />
1) A stupid design where ribbon spools are threaded on a stick, meaning if you want to use the middle one (which you will), you have to take all the others off to get to it. Ummm... stupid. <br />
2) An UBER-EXPENSIVE custom ribbon holder that mounts to the wall, that really is nothing more than a couple shelves glued together. At first I bought several UBER-EXPENSIVE custom ribbon holders that took care of approximately 1/32nd of the problem. There's $80 down the drain, and I still looked like a hoarder to my in-laws (probably still do... but for different reasons ;).<br />
<br />
Then I found a genius idea that uses plastic gutters to store ribbon! GENIUS! They are the perfect size for standard 20-50 yard ribbon spools (or smaller), you can cut them to fit any space you have, and you can easily access any spool of ribbon, no matter where it is located. Score! <br />
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The original version looked way better. It was 2 rows of 8ft long organizer (err... gutter) over my desk. But of course I couldn't find a photo of that. So this wonky version will have to do.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DIY Ribbon Organizer<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Why so wonky? I got impatient and didn't want to wait for Mr. Martini to install it, so I just grabbed a drill and went at it. Level schmevel. Eh, it served it's purpose. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Here's the low-down: </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Measure your space and/or calculate how many linear feet you will need to accommodate your ribbon hoard. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Buy that much plastic gutter. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> Buy as many end caps as you will have rows x's 2. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Install the gutter by simply drilling screws into the back into the wall. My wonky version used those metal hanger thingys you see on peg board walls because this particular wall was one of those fancy hollow fake wood paneling walls, and the screws just kept popping out. ** I recommend using a level, since not using a level can lead to wonkitude (see above).</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">A couple minutes later you'll have yourself an awesome, inexpensive custom ribbon organizer that is actually user friendly. Genius! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Got any genius storage ideas of your own? Share them! Post me a note or send me an <a href="mailto:3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com" target="_blank">email</a> and I'll be happy to feature your genius ideas too!</span></td></tr>
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3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-25237875632945311302012-11-12T11:16:00.002-05:002014-10-21T11:28:43.067-04:00Create an Easy Peasy Menu Bar in Blogger<h2>
How to Create an easy Menu Bar in Blogger</h2>
I've been chatting back and forth with a blogger comrade this weekend because she had some questions about how to better organize her blog for her readers. Specifically, she wanted to be able to create a menu bar so readers could easily find posts she has written on specific topics. There are a couple ways to do this, but the easiest way is to put your <u><strong>Blogger Labels</strong></u> to work for you. <br />
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If you have been involved with website or blog creation at all, you have probably come to realize that Google is about as difficult to crack with regard to SEO tips and tricks as a Rubik's Cube (note: if you have ever cracked a Rubik's cube, just leave now. I am not smart enough to be in your vicinity. You should be worried about getting dumber by the second. So, off with you). However, by piecing bits of information gathered from various sources, I have found that the<u> Labels</u> in Blogger don't do a whole lot with regard to SEO. Having 25 labels per post thinking they act as keywords for Google search optimization, likely isn't going to help too much with search engine rankings. It can help with the internal organization of your blog by making it easier for users to find specific types of content, but won't make you the number one listing on Google for that term. <br />
<br />
This was a major bummer for me because I thought if I just typed in "Super Awesome Blog" in my Blogger Label box, anyone Googling super awesome blog would undoubtedly find me. Not so. So sad. I will never be Super Awesome (crying in my win....er, coffee). But, they are a very useful organizational tool especially when used consistently. So let's create a menu bar from your Labels to<br />
maximize their effectiveness and usefulness internally.<br />
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Step One: Create a Master Labels List</h3>
Come up with a list of 5-7 words (i.e. Master Labels) that describe your posts. For example, any post I write that is about what is on my mind, my thoughts, my personal experiences gets the label "<a href="http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com/search/label/Martini%20Musings" target="_blank">Martini Musings</a>". Anything that involves my family gets the label "<a href="http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com/search/label/Martini%20Musings" target="_blank">The Monkey House</a>". Recipes get labeled "<a href="http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com/search/label/Recipes" target="_blank">Recipes</a>" etc. You can add additional labels to each post as well. For instance, I will label this post "<a href="http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com/search/label/Mo%27%20Bettah%20Blogging" target="_blank">Mo' Bettah Blogging</a>" (from my Master Label List), but I may also include "Labels, Menu Bar, How-To, and Blogger Tips" when I define my labels for this post. Not so much because I hope it will help with Google search indexing, but because it might help you as the reader find this post based on those search terms if you do an<em> internal</em> site search.<br />
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Step Two: Edit Each Existing Post </h3>
Once you come up with a concise list of topics that your posts can be categorized by, go through and edit your existing labels in each post to include one or two of these "Master Labels". You can create labels for each post by adding them to the "Labels" section under the Post Settings located to the right of your post editor. (Heh? I'm Lost. Help!... When you're writing a post, look to your right. See all that stuff? One is called labels... ad your master label and any other relevant search term in there). <br />
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Step Three: Add The Label Widget (if you haven't already)</h3>
Now that all your posts are categorized by the 5-7 terms or topics that comprise your "Master Label List", you want to add a <u>Labels Widget</u> to your layout. Go to <u>Layout</u>, and "Add a gadget" (it doesn't matter where, because we'll be moving it).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuvZkX7ThPi2D0Ep252ditnwLfJOE7lbTvwmb5cwsg5WfouExiyETARDvhTunoemkz2OEF3K3q0AINRibjmueNW9IkbnmFFPZCevEWanJw-lp9g3LOR0GoXA3WRHi6T3yF6vUzDtqbwq8/s1600/Addagadget.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuvZkX7ThPi2D0Ep252ditnwLfJOE7lbTvwmb5cwsg5WfouExiyETARDvhTunoemkz2OEF3K3q0AINRibjmueNW9IkbnmFFPZCevEWanJw-lp9g3LOR0GoXA3WRHi6T3yF6vUzDtqbwq8/s320/Addagadget.png" height="279" width="420" /></a></div>
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Choose the <strong><u>Labels</u></strong> gadget. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizdvpVsDEy6GM-2PZkNYClBKqPrU2SJAMS1_g6il9A_K555iJiJu80sf-DFgURV3jYvvz4MJZNgk5PUdhne_34BokqI5P-dindC80bizTqXoWMZOuXpC0FVwyewT_jMW5INTNJYTWL2N4/s1600/Labelsedit.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizdvpVsDEy6GM-2PZkNYClBKqPrU2SJAMS1_g6il9A_K555iJiJu80sf-DFgURV3jYvvz4MJZNgk5PUdhne_34BokqI5P-dindC80bizTqXoWMZOuXpC0FVwyewT_jMW5INTNJYTWL2N4/s320/Labelsedit.png" height="252" width="320" /></a></div>
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You will be given a couple options to customize the gadget. Choose the radio button that says "Selected Labels" and then click "edit". All the labels you have ever used will come up in a list. Check the box next to the labels used in your Master List ONLY. You see I only have 7 out of 93 labels checked. ALSO Make sure you check the radio box for "List" Rather than "Cloud". Click "Save".</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7NU4H4ceI5ONj8fRv74CTkypMAPlGE8T3iUtsGMMHr0zmUkE3JDmgZxRr4pFLw4lyJWTPBWpoR-4yRnCQ5vgyPWWrsMrrHG4CUnYblzCeJxTa5PHR_-GPjMjzQ5la6kWln7YvjDLS8ws/s1600/labelsetup.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7NU4H4ceI5ONj8fRv74CTkypMAPlGE8T3iUtsGMMHr0zmUkE3JDmgZxRr4pFLw4lyJWTPBWpoR-4yRnCQ5vgyPWWrsMrrHG4CUnYblzCeJxTa5PHR_-GPjMjzQ5la6kWln7YvjDLS8ws/s320/labelsetup.png" height="179" width="320" /></a></div>
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Step Five: Move The Gadget</h3>
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Now you'll want to customize the location of your gadget. Since we're creating a menu bar, you'll want to bring it to the top, right under your heading. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWAkNd68osW2QJjNOtLz3cvpHlSuCEwvB2Ak-f3RXZe2yDAJb0WkcBPuq0iOm8JnG4KLQKKU2Q_KALo1R2Vpe6Xzn7qCLeTywa92TzdqU2SyoPrp-3hvl18fCul4DJ3VDeyDFLkQ0y9GU/s1600/Labels.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWAkNd68osW2QJjNOtLz3cvpHlSuCEwvB2Ak-f3RXZe2yDAJb0WkcBPuq0iOm8JnG4KLQKKU2Q_KALo1R2Vpe6Xzn7qCLeTywa92TzdqU2SyoPrp-3hvl18fCul4DJ3VDeyDFLkQ0y9GU/s320/Labels.png" height="279" width="420" /></a></div>
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Save your arrangement, and view your blog. You should see a menu bar right beneath your header with the "Master List" of labels you created. </div>
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The appearance (font, colors, etc.) Of your menu bar can be customized in the Template Section of Blogger.</div>
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BAM! You just done did create yo'self a menu!! Pat's on the back! Clinking of the glasses! Whoot Whoots for all!!</div>
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Was this helpful for you? Got any questions, suggestions or ideas for Mo' Bettah Blogging? Leave me a comment!! And grab my button (To the left) and let people know you found this tip at 3 Monkeys and a Martini! </div>
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3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-31895597431816895592012-11-10T11:38:00.000-05:002012-11-10T11:38:08.210-05:00I Just Met You, And This Is Crazy, But DONATE Maybe?!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYhhiiVJDyBFHZ1F580pbiMyqF1lj0QYTQ-38uYJ9IOJFtp1i15ZP-G4l-Ei5u3-rSKUrgAIm0rgmrGwT_TkSs4qbG7_e4maOqX-AjidNpNt4WEOWYhb-DN-TzmlMeXKnrRtY5wf7RUBo/s1600/logo+reduced.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Marine Corps Kids Logo" border="0" height="395" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYhhiiVJDyBFHZ1F580pbiMyqF1lj0QYTQ-38uYJ9IOJFtp1i15ZP-G4l-Ei5u3-rSKUrgAIm0rgmrGwT_TkSs4qbG7_e4maOqX-AjidNpNt4WEOWYhb-DN-TzmlMeXKnrRtY5wf7RUBo/s400/logo+reduced.jpg" title="Marine Corps Kids" width="400" /></a></div>
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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!! </div>
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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. </div>
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But all the pomp made me think about <a href="http://marinecorpskids.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Marine Corps Kids</a>, 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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Marine-Corps-Kids/334315596070?fref=ts" target="_blank"> Marine Corp Kids Facebook page</a>, or even donate to the cause, we can help her tell Marine Corps families just how much we appreciate their dedication, commitment, and sacrifice. </div>
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See, <a href="http://marinecorpskids.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Marine Corps Kids</a> 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, <a href="http://marinecorpskids.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Marine Corps Kids</a> 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. </div>
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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<a href="http://marinecorpskids.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"> Marine Corps Kids</a>. 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. </div>
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Go "Like" the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Marine-Corps-Kids/334315596070?fref=ts" target="_blank">Marine Corps Kids Facebook page</a>, check out the <a href="http://marinecorpskids.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">blog</a>, 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! </div>
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3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-79651158347593509542012-11-09T10:59:00.001-05:002012-11-12T07:32:25.160-05:00WTF Friday: Episode 3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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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. </div>
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Anyway. </div>
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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 <em><a href="http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com/2012/11/there-will-be-no-sex-in-champgne-room.html" target="_blank">There Will Be No Sex In The Champagne Room</a></em> post. </div>
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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 <em>he's</em> actually a she and is premenstrual at a very early age. Wrong on both accounts. Poop.</div>
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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 <em>ARE</em>...?" </div>
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I swear to God I heard someone laugh at me, like they were thinking the same damn thing I was at that very moment: <em>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.</em> 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 <a href="http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/" target="_blank">The People Of Walmart</a>. You really don't know you've hit bottom until you've had that epiphany.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiROfkL21yPPLqfDMPqgIWEGG1JN878o4JJP8TPcW_QOPBfkEAzGhxRJ_OlE1PuqhvXu4a6FqoYtl7oHkGrvWmYSdICG8XIAubvH64rPTDuT6nAcYggAvrdaG44avqC0WPuS393MMHpu1k/s1600/090918-wal-33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiROfkL21yPPLqfDMPqgIWEGG1JN878o4JJP8TPcW_QOPBfkEAzGhxRJ_OlE1PuqhvXu4a6FqoYtl7oHkGrvWmYSdICG8XIAubvH64rPTDuT6nAcYggAvrdaG44avqC0WPuS393MMHpu1k/s320/090918-wal-33.jpg" width="276" /></a></div>
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I felt inferior to this!! WTF? </div>
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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. </div>
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3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-82587802622102228582012-11-08T09:55:00.000-05:002012-11-17T11:14:12.832-05:00There WIll Be No Sex In The Champagne RoomThis 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 <em>Google</em> it to get some inspiration. <br />
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Turns out this is a topic of great concern for both sexes. Guys <em>Google</em> 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 <em>Google</em> 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"?<br />
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As you may know from last week's <a href="http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com/2012/11/10-things-i-wish-i-knew-before-i-got.html" target="_blank">10 Things I Wish I Knew Before I Got Pregnant</a> 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; <em>that's not the TV, Jerkface</em>!<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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." <br />
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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.<br />
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Oh yeah, I see a date night on the horizon. <br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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And to be honest, it's kind of scary and you get all nervous, like you've never been on <em>that</em> 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... <em>what</em> are you doing to mommy?"<br />
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It is during this brief moment that you realize God has spoken, and he has said, <br />
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"There will be no sex in the champagne room".<br />
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And then there isn't. <br />
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This post was inspired by Theme Thursday. You can check out what other mommas think about sex after kids <a href="http://cloudywithachanceofwine.com/1397-2/" target="_blank">here</a>, at Cloudy, With a Chance Of Wine.<div class="blogger-post-footer">----
3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6151934558560707591.post-16823809083255194652012-11-07T10:48:00.000-05:002012-11-12T07:27:50.783-05:00How To Make a Blog Badge with HTML Take-Along Box<div style="text-align: center;">
So here is the skinny: </div>
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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. </div>
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So I quit. I DID! And it feels glorious! Poor as dirt, but glorious!</div>
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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. </div>
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Don't roll your damn eyes!! </div>
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So, this right here is a "<u><strong>How-To Create A Blog Button</strong></u>" 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? </div>
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This is what the finished product will look like: </div>
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<a href="http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i1339.photobucket.com/albums/o715/3monkeysandmom/MonkeyButton1.jpg" /></a>
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<textarea cols="19" readonly="readonly" rows="3"><a href="http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i1339.photobucket.com/albums/o715/3monkeysandmom/MonkeyButton1.jpg">
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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. </div>
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<u>FIRST:</u> You need a graphic. <br />
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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. </div>
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P.S. A sidebar is where you typically put this crap. </div>
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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<a href="http://www.photobucket.com/" target="_blank"> PHOTOBUCKET</a>, 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. </div>
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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 <a href="http://www.photobucket.com/" target="_blank">Photobucket</a>.<br />
**You will use the "Direct Link" code. </div>
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<u>SECOND:</u> Installing the Widget and Code<br />
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Take the following code and paste it into an html widget or gadget box on your blog:</div>
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{<div align="center"><a href="YOUR-URL" target="_blank"><img src="http://YOUR-IMAGE-URL"></a></div></div>
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<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>}</div>
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***Change YOUR-URL to your full web address (e.g. <a href="http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com)/">http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com)</a></div>
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***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). </div>
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*** Remove { and } from the beginning and end of the code. </div>
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Save your gadget/widget and check out your new bling. </div>
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When people steal the code from the take-along box, all that will show on their website is the graphic portion of the button. <br />
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~If you find this helpful and want to share it with the world, go ahead and add the <a href="http://www.3monkeysandamartini.com/" target="_blank">3 Monkeys and a Martini</a> button bling to your site. You will be infinitely cooler for it ;) ~</div>
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3 Monkey's and a Martini
3monkeysandamartini@gmail.com</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5