Monthly Archives: September 2012

Best. Aunt. Ever.

When my niece was born my brother got custody of her because he’s amazing and we all knew he would be a great dad.  However, my brother worked all over the place building golf courses and shit.  So, it was a collective effort by the family to help him raise that little bundle of…what’s the word here…joy?  Yeah, bundle of joy.  (FYI Internets, babies are bundles of scream and shitty diapers.  That’s what they are bundles of)

I was going somewhere with this.  Oh, so sometimes when my brother was away on jobs in the mountains of Colorado I had that little baby in my possession to incompetently take care of because some jerk made a rule that people can’t take infants on heavy machinery with them.

My niece and I had this lovely conversation on The Facebook the other night.  This is why people should never leave their offspring in my charge.

The text below is copy/pasted from The Facebook.  I thought about correcting spelling and grammar because I love you, Internets, but then I remembered I was lazy.


Ashley’s Status: Hmmmmmmmmmmmm I love you!(: — with unnamed boy

Me: Ashley you are freaking me out with this love shit! Go back to being five will you? No! Five was horrible! Eight! Well that wasn’t great either but at least you could fetch the remote when it was out of my reach.

Ashley:  Ahaha come on auntie I have to grow up at some point!(: and I know how much you loved me when I was five! Thts prob why you have such a love for screaming babies to this day!(:

Me: Oh. Thanks for ruining my peaceful sleep tonight. Now I’m going to dream of screaming babies. They’ll probably all have your face.

Ashley: That’s mean!!!!

Me:  I know! But it’s just speculation at this point so that makes it ok. However, if I do in fact dream of screaming babies that all look like you that makes you the mean one for mentioning it in the first place. I’ll let you know tomorrow which one of us is the asshole.

Ashley: Omg I love ya crazy! Wish you could come to my last show:/ that would be the best b day present EVER! But your super busy with work and all:/ but I’m glad I get to see you at Christmas! Your the best auntie EVER!!!!!!(:

Me:  Wow. That is not how I expected this convo to go. You derailed me with a compliment. Well played, Ash. Well played.

Ashley:  Haha I know I’m good like that(: iv learned from the best havnt I?

Me:  This is totally going on my blog.

Ashley: Lol why?

Me:  Don’t worry about it. And stop asking questions. You did enough of that when you were 4 – whatever age you are now.

Ashley: IM ALMOST 16!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me:  Well you don’t have to yell! I was close. I thought you were 12!

Ashley: Omg auntie

Me:  You’ll appreciate a misjudgement in age like that when you’re older. Trust me on this. Actually, don’t trust me. Ever. I’m out of my mind. It’s most likely your fault.

Ashley How is it my fault! Unfortunately I probably get ALL my crazy ( and then some) from you! After all you did part take in raising me! ( my poor child hood!) (;

Me: Poor childhood? You actually are quite rich from being partly raised by me. There was a swear jar when you were younger. I filled it. As in you could probably go to Harvard because of my potty mouth. I’d say that you should ask you’re dad where your riches are but he probably had to spend it on meds to stay sane. And while we’re doing the blame thing, thanks for the wrinkles.And you’re welcome for the crazy.

Ashley: Lol yea where the hell did my swear jar money go!!! Good question for dad later…. ANYWAYS I only gave you the wrinkles cause you called me Ashley lucifer! Haha

Me:  Well I really thought that’s what your middle name was! What else could it be what with the way you behaved? And on that note, I’m away to bed because I’m elderly. Or because I’m tired of correcting my typing because I’m using my phone for this nut-job convention. It’s probably both. Love you, Asher!

Ashley:  Love ya too auntie! Haha

What the fuck is with the “haha” after the “Love ya too auntie”???

I don’t trust her.

I made this outfit for her. Now it seems a bit wrong that I fashioned her something to wear that made her look like she was on fire. Or it’s perfect. One or the other.

Cheers ~ SF


My Husband Never Ceases To Amaze Me.

A few nights ago Bruce, Super Glue and I were watching some show on TV about Hunter S. Thompson.  It was interesting.  And it had Johnny Depp in it.  Grrrr.  Mama like.


It sparked a somewhat buzzed [OK, drunken] conversation about celebrity cheats and who ours would be.  You know what a celebrity cheat is, right Internets?  It’s when a couple agrees that if…  You know what, I’m not going to explain it to you.  I think we all know what it is.

So, with Johnny Depp oozing sexy all out of my TV I said he would be one of mine.

My other one is Dave Grohl.  Me likey Dave Grohl.  And he’s a drummer like my husband so it makes it OK, right?  RIGHT?

Anyway, I of course asked Bruce who his celebrity cheats would be.  Are you ready for this, Internets?  I assure you that you are not.

Kathy Bates and Meryl Streep.

Let me say it again for effect.

Cathy Fucking Bates and Meryl Fucking Streep.

What. The. Fuck?

When he first said it I just stared at him.  He stared right back.  When I asked what his reasons were he said, “Because Cathy Bates is Bobby Boucher’s mom and Meryl Streep probably has a nice house.”

He continued, “…or… I might have a shot at them.  They’re old.”

I didn’t want to forget this conversation so I scribbled some notes on the back of a pizza receipt.  Records, people.  You gotta keep records.

Cheers ~ SF

check out the brief follow up to Fresh Pots HERE

Sometimes I Wonder Who I Married

My husband is not a texter.  Never has been.  However, since I upgraded him to a smart phone a few months ago he’s made an effort to try it.  He’ll send a text from time to time because he learned how to use the voice-texting feature.  He has fat fingers.  No!  Muscular fingers.  Yeah.  Tonight I asked him to text Super Glue to find out when he was arriving to cook the almost out-of-fucking date chicken that he had brought over and left in our fridge.  Bruce went with the voice texting option.  Internets, it didn’t go well.

This is what he said:

This goddamn chicken isn’t going to cook itself!

This is what was sent:

Just got damn chicken listen to cook itself.


Here is another thread of texts I found on his phone while NOT being nosey:

Bruce: I will see you in hell

Bruce:  Ribs

Super Glue: Let’s golf and get some eggs

Bruce: The Mayans are fucking up my golf swing

Bruce: stop wobbling and agree with the fucking guy

Super Glue: We look like a pair of tits

Bruce: Heather needs a red onion and a tomato


These two need to work on some flow.  Or stop smoking peyote.


These are NOT the hands of a texter.

Cheers ~ SF