You can give the people who you chat with on Facebook Messenger a nickname. I had no idea that this was even a thing until last week, when my daughter assigned one to me.
Birth Giver. Instead of just a simple “mom” or even “the mama.”
At least my mother’s day card had mommy on it.
So in the spirit of hilarity and creativeness, I decided to nickname her Child-o-my-Loins.
Bling! Child-o-my-Loins sent you a message.
“What’s for dinner?”
Birth Giver: Make a sandwich.
Child-o-my-Loins: I’m tired of sandwiches. I want something that has dimension.
Birth Giver: You want dimensional food?
Birth Giver: I suppose we can have hot dogs.
Child-o-my-Loins: Are they the beef kind?
Birth Giver: Nope, just the meat kind. Might have a little bit of beef in there, you never know.
Child-o-my-Loins: Ick! 😦
Birth Giver: If you’re hungry enough, you’ll eat it and be grateful, you little turd.
Child-o-my-Loins: I’ll just have another sandwich.
I find it difficult to believe that my daughter will be 21 next January. I still picture her in my mind sometimes as a 14-year-old teenager. (Especially when she gets all whiny about what’s for dinner.)
No matter the age of your child/children, they will find a way to make you laugh and facepalm simultaneously.
One razor, ruined for life. Not even razor-like enough afterwards to shave my armpits.
I really had no choice. I went to my brothers house for a cookout Saturday and his in-ground pool was finally ready with a new liner. I was going to float in the deep end with a pool noodle, damn it.
While drinking a beer. There’s a first for everything.
I’m doing alright mentally, I’ve just been really introverted lately. Plus, I can’t seem to get any good ideas for blog posts to brew. This happens now and then to me, I’ll be fairly prolific for a while and then…well, I don’t really have all that much to say.
It’s been hot here in Northeast Ohio, but I have a portable AC unit set up in my bedroom. A cold front came through last night, thankfully. I prefer sleeping with fresh air and just my fan blowing, but the AC unit our neighbor gave us last year is perfect for the size of my bedroom. Getting a “good” night’s sleep is so important to me and when it’s so humid that I have MAJOR boob sweat, sleeping is a nearly impossible task.
It would be so kick ass if we could afford a brand new central air thingy, but have you seen the prices of those suckers? No, ain’t gonna happen. I am just thankful enough to have the portable this summer. The living room is somewhat tolerable if we run both fans. I think we should buy another one, though.
You can never have enough fans when it’s sweltering hot. And yes, I sit on the couch with only my bra and undies on.
Summer is my least favorite time of the year because of the humid heat. I don’t tolerate it well at all. Ohio has the most annoying weather if you ask me. Spring isn’t long enough and fall is gone in a blink of an eye.
What we have fucking plenty of is cold snow and hot sun.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I need to find a nicer climate, man.
I meant for this post to be about more than just my disgust for Ohio summers.
Sorry, my bad.
You’d think that my pain levels would decrease in the warmer weather, but no dice. The only time I get a reprieve is during the evening hours, when I smoke a bit of bud (Sour Urkle this time ’round) and take a pain pill, if necessary.
And, like on Saturday, I have a few beers. It helped me to sit on the ledge of the deep end of the pool and butt scoot jump, yee haw!
What pain in my legs? Pesky hips. Asshat lower back! Take some hops and barley, bitches!!
You see, I come from a drinking family. I’m the only pothead.
My family knows and they don’t judge me, which is really nifty. To be accepted for who you are, you know?
For example, my mom shared this today on my Facebook wall.