Bruise-Free Bananas

I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m raising a picky eater… But… I’m raising a picky eater.

I mean, she eats all kinds of foods. It’s the QUALITY she’s picky about. Most recent prime example:

A few mornings ago I was getting the girls up and ready for the day. As I was changing Jamie, Ellie headed downstairs without me. I didn’t really pay attention to what she was doing because a.) usually she just grabs the iPad and sits on the couch, and b.) I was going to be down there in like 2 minutes.

A few minutes later, she met me halfway up the stairs with a completely peeled banana in her hands.

“Mommy! This one doesn’t have a bruise! I’m gonna eat it!”

I was pleased that she had gotten her own breakfast, because I was running semi-late.

Until I got downstairs and realized that there were THREE completely peeled bananas sitting on the couch. All with bruises.

Now I know what she meant by “this one doesn’t have a bruise“… Picky betch!


Kiss My Tissue

Last night I did something awful to my back while I was in the shower with Ellie… Like a scene out of a movie, I bent over to pick her up, felt something slip, and then couldn’t stand upright for like 15 minutes. What’s SUPER awesome about this scenario is that my husband is out hunting for the week… So I’m aaalllllll alone with a crap back and a squirmy baby.

Blah blah blah, pain pain pain, so I went in to see a chiropractor first thing this morning. He asked 8,000 questions, took some xrays and then informed me that I had definitely broken my tailbone in a cheerleading accident back in ’02. Apparently, my last 2 chiropractors MISSED THAT SMALL FACT. Ridiculous.

Anyway, I’m going in for some more treatments, adjustments and massage therapy and hopefully I’ll be able to strengthen my back muscles enough to support my dumb spine- which is apparently out of whack from accidents, carrying heavy things on a daily basis, and childbirth.

Here is a portion of our doctor-patient conversation that I thought would give you a snicker:

Dr: Well, it’s kind of difficult to see the bottom of your spine in this xray, because there’s a lot of tissue down here in this area.

Me: Oh, you mean my fat ass tissue?

Dr: Yes. I MEAN NO! No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just that on this particular xray angle your tailbone is difficult to see.

Me: Awesome. Nice save, dude.

Happy Friday!
Love, Mrs. Fat Fast

Can you find the ketchup?

Yesterday Adam yelled down the stairs at me to “please go out to the truck and get his clean boxers because he’s taking a shower and he already has all of his clothes off…”

To which I replied “you only have ONE pair of boxers that are clean?” and he said “I only have like 6 pairs” and I said “WE’RE NOT POOR, YOU KNOW.”

Anyway, I agreed to run outside. The last words I had heard included “on the floor behind the driver’s seat” so naturally that’s where I looked.

Obviously, I am stupid.

I searched and searched for a good 5 minutes, and then came in. No boxers. Adam told me “Jenny, I SAID they’re on the floor  the driver’s seat toward the back you have to lift it up”!!!!

Oh, my bad. So I went out and searched again following the new/old directions I think. Came in. No boxers.

Adam, superpissed, storms out the front door in a towel, immediately reaches in without even looking and magically pulls out a wrinkled, holey pair of scraggleboxers (actually, a lot like a magician pulling a bunny out of a hat, now that I think of it). “SEE? I was perfectly clear.”

Upon further inspection, I see that he pulled out the boxers from behind the driver’s seat, behind a case of wine, under the folded-down seat, between the seat and the floor. Obviously, I am stupid.

My favorite part of this whole exchange?

Me: Why are you so upset? Because I couldn’t follow your 18-sentence directions on how to find your holey wrinkly boxers stuffed into the inner workings of your truck? 

Adam: GAAAH. I swear, Jenny… this is just like how you get mad at me for not being able to find shit in the fridge.

Oh, I’m so sorry honey. Yes, this is *exactly* like when I ask you to get the ketchup out of the fridge and you look for 5 minutes and then give up.

Let’s play a supergame: Can YOU find the ketchup?


Deep Thoughts by Adam

I’ve been a little MIA lately, as I was gearing up to head back to work (gimp leg and all)… so as of today, I’m a workin mama again. It’s bittersweet, but since my little munchkin will now be spending her days with her handsome baby dude friend Talon and his wonderful mommy Jen, I feel confident that she’s having a safe and great time while I work hard to bring home the bacon.

Because I spent 10 hours catching up on administrative stuff today, and will probably do the same tomorrow, and then I’ll be back in the field working until the end of time… please enjoy these quick and tasty tidbits (“Deep Thoughts by Adam”) that I collected over the last week:

Watching the Royal Wedding, at the moment when Will & Kate exit the church as a married couple: “This music sounds like a damn Disney musical. What if a right now like a giant dragon just came out of nowhere? That would make this WAY more interesting.”

Making a really weird face after getting out of the truck: “What? Oh that face? Nothing. I just had a fart I had to be really careful with.”

Driving to the cabin, slamming on the brakes, looking out the window: “Huh. That’s a good lookin’ piece of wood right there.”

Seriously. I know there were a few more, but I just can’t seem to remember them right now. I’ll try to keep a running list from now on. :)

Any funnies from your “better half” lately? Share, please… we can always use a laugh!

Nitrus, Schmitrus

Originally posted on, in 2009:

At my 3 hour dentist appointment today, the assistant offered me nitrous oxide – which I’ve never had. Which is weird, because I have pretty intense dentist anxiety. Anyway when the assistant described it to me as “it’ll just make you feel like you’re on the ceiling,” I was like BRING IT ON! :)

So my dentist told me I was “focusing too much on the needle” when he was numbing my mouth (which ended up feeling like the entire left side of my face), so they had to turn up the gas twice. TWICE. Am I that tolerant of drugs? BTW, what the hell are you supposed to focus on? He joked that I should be thinking about Smurfs and Strawberry Shortcake, BUT I’M NOT SIX.

30 minutes into my appointment, I realized that it’s probably not appropriate to laugh at the scenarios in your head while your dentist has sharp things in your mouth. Apparently the drugs work pretty well, because I was much less focused on my mouth… here is a small sampling of my internal dialogue:

“I don’t quite feel like I’m on the ceiling yet. But I imagine my face kind of looks like that first dead girl in the closet from The Ring.”

“Weird, when I close my eyes, I get that spinny drunk feeling like when I’ve just gone over that line that separates ‘drunk’ from ‘wasted’ except without the nausea.”

“It’s SO WEIRD that I can’t feel anything that he’s doing! Anesthesia is like magic. Except I can still feel the cold water that the assistant is spraying on my teeth. I wonder why they don’t use warmer water?”


“Oh, totally my own hand.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHHA I just thought someone else’s hand was in my lap.Wouldn’t THAT have been awkward if I mentioned it! Hahahaha. Ouch, stop laughing out loud.”

“I wish I knew morse code so I could communicate with my dentist via eyebrow-morse-code. Although, I bet he doesn’t know morse code. But how does he expect me to answer all of these open-ended questions? Maybe I’m already supposed to know eyebrow morse code and I look like an idiot because I’m not using it!”

“Well, obviously he doesn’t know eyebrow morse code, because I’ve been wiggling out ‘SOS’ for like 20 minutes and he’s totally not responding. SOS is all I know. Hey, I wonder what SOS even means? I wish I could use my iphone right now to look it up.”

“OMG, I wonder if he thinks I’m eyebrow-flirting with him?! Like on Friends, when Phoebe foot-flirts with her massage client because that’s the only part of her he can see??? God I hope my dentist doesn’t think I’m eyebrow-flirting with him. I should probably let him know that I was just trying to communicate SOS to see if he understood morse code. But then that might make me look retarded, so I guess I’ll just try to quit wiggling.”


As you can see, nitrus oxide is my new best friend. Although, funny story, I was apparently so high when I left that I was completely out of it… because my dental assistant just called me (4 hours later) to “see if everything was alright because when you left you seemed like you were irritated” –ouch. I was like, “um, sorry? I hadn’t eaten anything and I was there for 3 hours and I had to pee and I was numb and high.” And also I was irritated that my dentist doesn’t communicate via morse code.

PS. Note to all dentists: practice asking ONLY YES OR NO QUESTIONS. Or learn morse code.

PPS. “SOS” means “Save Our Seamen.” No wonder my dentist didn’t respond. Click here for the real wikipedia entry. :)

Is Hillary Duff even famous anymore?

Me (looking through my perfume “closet” this morning): “Honey, what perfume should I wear today? Musky or fruity?”

Adam (groggily, after hitting his snooze button): “Ew, don’t say ‘musky’… that word is just sick.”

Me: “Okay. Honey, what perfume should I wear today? Sexy or fruity?”

Adam: “You know me. I only like the high school girls.”

Me: “HUH?”

Adam: “Like, when I walk by a group of high school girls, I’m like ‘mmmmm'”

Me: “Um… HUH?”

Adam: “Fruity, I like fruity. Like what high school girls wear.”

Me: “Ohhhhhh. Okay, I have one you’ll love.” I spray perfume and walk through the mist. “Here, smell.”

Adam: “mmmmmmmmm”

Me: “Creeper.”

Adam: “What perfume is that?”

Me: “Hillary Duff.”

Remind me again why I bother with expensive perfumes?

I bought this at CLAIRE’S.



Hillary Duff - With Love
Hillary Duff - With Love

“Y’know how I know you’re gay?…”

Adam, having trouble sleeping. It’s 3am:

Me: Your insomnia is giving me insomnia.

Adam: I can’t get comfortable!!

Me: Obviously. What can I do to help?

Adam: Nothing. It’s too hot in here. I’m going to sleep on the floor.

Me: WHAT? Don’t be a dork. C’mon, open the window. Do you want to switch sides?

Adam: NO!

Me: Huh?

Adam: Men don’t sleep on the inside!

Me: Huh?

Adam: That’s GAY!

*giggle* WTF? Also, Adam slept on the floor. HA!

(originally posted on, back when our bed was pushed against one wall of our old apartment… Since we’ve moved into our house, we’ve strategically positioned our bed in the middle of the bedroom- you know, so all sides are manly.)