hurry up Chuckie
mom make him hurry please
I’m standing out here
squeezing my knees
what’s taking so long
why’s he so slow?
please come out Chuckie
I have to go
I’m out here
doing the potty dance
…………………..
never mind
forget it
I peed my pants.
Category: Laughter
I Love Girls!
A friend recently posted this list on his fb page. As the mother of three beautiful girls I thought it would be fitting to create a list of “Rules For My Daughter”.
Rules For My Son:
- Never shake a man’s hand sitting down.
- There are plenty of ways to enter a pool. The stairs ain’t one.
- If you hunt and kill you clean and grill.
- In a negotiation, never make the first offer.
- Act like you’ve been there before. Especially in the end zone.
- Request the late check-out.
- When entrusted with a secret, keep it.
- Hold your heroes to a higher standard.
- Return a borrowed car with a full tank of gas.
- Don’t fill up on bread.
- When shaking hands, grip firmly and look him in the eye.
- Don’t let a wishbone grow where a backbone should be.
- If you need music on the beach, you’re missing the point.
- Carry two handkerchiefs. The one in your back pocket is for you. The one in your breast pocket is for her.
- You marry the girl, you marry her whole family; but don’t forget your mom.
- Write down your dreams and keep them under your hat.
- Experience the serenity of traveling alone.
- Never be afraid to ask out the best looking girl in the room.
- Never turn down a breath mint.
- In a game of HORSE, sometimes a simple free throw will get ’em.
- A sport coat is worth 1000 words.
- Try writing your own eulogy. Never stop revising.
- Thank a veteran, and then make it up to him.
- If you want to know what makes you unique, sit for a caricature.
- Eat lunch with the new kid.
- After writing an angry email, read it carefully. Then delete it.
- Ask your mom to play. She won’t let you win.
- Remove your hat when you enter a room or sit down to eat.
- Give credit. Take the blame.
Rules For My Daughter:
- When seated, if a man approaches, extend your hand. If he shakes and doesn’t kiss it, forgive him, if he kisses it Germ X asap.
- If you’re gonna lay out at the pool, be sure that your bathing suit is so tastefully sexy that all others around you can’t help but look and smile with awe and wonderment.
- I will hunt and kill, Tom, Sally or Bill if they ever think or feel that it’s ok to hurt you- (no one will ever find the body).
- In a negotiation, remember your skills: outwit, outsmart and, if all else fails, outgun.
- Act like you’ve been there before— OWN IT!
- Get up and out- the early bird catches the worm and gets the continental breakfast, too.
- Keep secrets like they are yours (and remember sharing information is what conspiracies are made of…shhhhhh…)
- Be your own hero.
- If you borrow a car to transport a body, wipe it down before you return it.
- If you eat a lot of bread, expect a lot of dimples.
- When shaking hands, grip firmly, make eye contact, then go for the Germ X asap.
- Straighten your back when sitting and standing – hump backs are intended for whales.
- If you like sand between your toes…you must have gotten that from your daddy.
- To hell with a handkerchief, carry Kleenex. A used handkerchief in any pocket (or purse) is disgusting.
- You ARE the girl, we ARE your whole family and I Am your mom… need I say more?
- Live your dreams (remember I’m living vicariously through you so let’s GET-IT-IN!!)
- When traveling alone, be aware of your surroundings- those blonde headed girls walking down 125th, alone, at night, with their bags on their shoulders are hookers child. They are ON THE stroll, not OUT FOR A stroll!
- Never forget that YOU ARE the best-looking girl in the room.
- Always carry breath mints and be ready to throw one at anyone who needs it.
- In a game of HORSE, watch from the comfort of your air-conditioned home and offer them lemonade when the game is over. By the way: do you even know what a game of HORSE is?
- A guy wearing a sport coat isn’t always a bad thing unless it’s plaid and it has matching pants (looking like OshKosh B’gosh).
- Your life is your eulogy. Make it your best written work.
- Your grandfather was a veteran. (Thank him in your prayers tonight).
- Everything about you is unique. Don’t be afraid to show ‘em whatcha got girl!
- Pay it forward at Starbucks. (I know you’re a “frequent buyer” in that joint).
- After writing an angry email, read it carefully, and after forwarding it to me delete it. I’ll read it then I’ll take care of the s.o.b. it was intended for.
- Ask your grandmother to play… be brave my child… be really, really brave.
- You’re a young lady, wearing a fashionable hat indoors and or at the table is acceptable (especially on a bad hair day!).
- Give credit where credit is due and take responsibility for yourself and your actions but don’t let any jerk off get away with blaming his or her dumb shit on you.
More About Aunt Maggie
If you’ll recall i introduced my Aunt Maggie to the blogosphere back in July in “Aunt Maggie’s power Outage”- http://wp.me/p5AbPX-zG . Well today while driving home from mass I thought of her again and decided to share another of my precious “Aunt Maggie” tales.
My Aunt Maggie was a six-foot-tall, full- figured woman. She wore a size 44 double D brassiere, often bragged about wearing nothing but the best, white cotton granny panties on the market, size 22 triple X. Aunt Maggie said that wearing those little nylon and lace things was too much work. She said all of that twisting and pinching and pulling and digging all day long made her fingers and arms sore, and it kept her with an awful rash, too.
Anyway, I didn’t care about any of that. Aunt Maggie was my favorite. We spent hours and hours together, especially when school was out. I specifically recall the year I stayed with Aung Maggie during my spring break. It was April, and boy oh boy, was it windy outside. We used a pair of Aunt Maggie’s bloomers to make parachutes, and we jumped off the barn into the duck pond. That was so much fun… until we saw the snake. That was the longest, fattest snake I’d ever laid eyes on. It had fangs hanging outside its mouth and it had two rows of teeth. Now most snakes have little beady eyes, but not that one… the eyes in that thing’s head looked to be as big as golf balls, and they were oozing some kind of green slimy looking stuff. To make matters worse, I think it was blind but it apparently had some kind of heat sensing ability. That fat, long, double row tooth, fanged, blind thing was swimming right for me, and no matter which way I went, it stayed on my tail. I was screaming and splashing and trying to get away from it when I saw movement out the corner of my eye. I looked over my shoulder and there she was – Aunt Maggie- in all her glory. I wanted to give up and let the snake eat me because life as I knew it, would never be the same after seeing all that up close and in person. She gave a whole new meaning to “naked and afraid”. She was naked and I was afraid… and nauseous… and ready to die.
Aunt Maggie wasn’t having it. I saw her take one deep breath then trap the air inside her cheeks. In one swift move, she released something that was pure evil, it was repugnant and noxious, and at the same time, it was as hot as fish grease. I immediately smelled hair burning…my eyebrows and eyelashes were gone in that instant. Luckily, between the heat and the shear fear and panic, I managed to either subconsciously block or ignore enough of that atrocious odor to limit the blood loss from my nose; but that poor snake never saw it coming. It hit him dead between the golf balls. Aunt Maggie immediately flipped on her back then lunged forward taking that snake’s head between her 44 double D’s and that, dear people, was all she wrote. When her girls let him go, I watched as he lazily slithered to the bank, curled up in the snake fetal position, put his tail in his mouth and sucked himself to sleep.
Young Teen v. Old Mom (still at it)
My young teen and I are at it again and I’m winning!
A pitiful looking stray dog wandered into our yard several days ago and per the norm, my young teen wants to keep it. You know how kids love puppies and kittens and baby bunnies– right up until they become dogs and cats and adult rabbits? Well, that’s exactly how my girl is. You see where I’m going with this? Yep, she loves em either until they outgrow their cuteness or until it wears off or until they become adults. So, she asked if we could keep the pup and of course I said no. Here’s the conversation that resulted in my taking the lead:
Young Teen: “Ma, can we keep her?”
Old Mom: “No”
Young Teen: “Ma, please, I’ll feed her”
Old Mom: “No you won’t, I have to force you to feed the one we already have”
Young Teen: “I promise I’ll feed her. If I don’t you can take my phone”
Old Mom: While laughing hysterically–“Girl, I can take you phone anytime I want, what else ya got”
Young Teen: 1 Old Mom: 2
_________________________________________________________
The Family I Never Dreamed Of—
This is a casual walk down memory lane filled with the truth as, often, only I remember it.
As life would have it my childhood was fraught with the many trials and tribulations as come with growing up “in the middle”. Yep, I’m a middle child and a girl to boot and as if that isn’t enough, I grew up on a farm way back in the woods. Lucky for me boarding school and the witness protection program saved me from a life of being picked on by my brothers, overlooked by my parents and identified by the old man I stiffed for two chickens and a guinea.
Memories, memories, memories… where shall I start?… Ok, how about this… a memory for each room of the house I grew up in…
—up next—Chapter 1 The Playroom
Young Teen v. Old Mom
Heeeeyyyyyy Folks!!!!
So it’s my young teen’s first day back at school. Those of you who follow my blog know my struggles. She’s a 13 year old genius (in her own mind) who would rather than sleep than eat. Anyone who just joined our “already in progress lives” can click on the links below and be brought up to speed—
As I was saying, it’s her first day back at school and while most folks get great “first day back at school” pics, my young teen refused to cooperate this morning. Not only was she not in a great mood, she even said, “ma, can you please not yell all that -have a good day and I love you stuff- when you drive off?” Wow! Yep, my feelings were hurt… but not really. I realize she’e growing up and she’s easily embarrassed.
So, she wouldn’t let me take a “first day…” pic and she didn’t want me to yell out the window— In my quest to be like millions of other parents today and post a pic I decided to share this one…
Can anyone guess the significance?
*hint- I think it has something to do with her grouchy, “first day back” attitude.
I think the score is now tied!! LMAO
Young Teen -1 Old Mom -1
https://runawaynunsandleprechauns.com/2017/08/06/young-teen-v-old-mom-young-teen-1-old-mom-0
https://runawaynunsandleprechauns.com/2017/08/06/ma-thats-not-faaaaiiiir
https://runawaynunsandleprechauns.com/2017/08/06/my-familys-rebuttal
Stay tuned for more episodes of Young Teen V. Old Mom
My family’s rebuttal—
Mimi: Some silly ass is trying to set my grand baby up and using her mom’s name. We know that her mom is loving, caring and most of all UNDERSTANDING! Her mom remembers when she hated to get up for Mass after being up all night. She would never punish her baby by denying her the only thing from which she derives pleasure. Her mom understands phone addiction because she,too, has that ailment. So whomever the ass is that is trying yo start trouble for my grand baby should be prepared to deal with me!
Uncle: Well said, Ma. Please add me to the list of people with whom that unidentified phone-swiping scoundrel will have to deal!
Mimi: Gotcha. Can you believe what Russian hacking has inspired!
We can’t let the Ruskies get in Rah’ s head with fake news!
Worried godmother: Rah, did you really write this? If you did, blink twice and I’ll have our priest start calling in some special favors for you- right now!
“Ma, that’s not faaaaiiiir”
Dear Family, I regret to inform you all that I will be unavailable via cell for the next two days. No, I didn’t lose my phone or drop it in the toilet, and no, my mom did not forget to pay the bill. I am phone-less by my own fault – see my mom entered my room this morning and asked me to get up and head to the shower (it was 7 a.m. and we were going to mass at 8:30)… I responded by saying “ma, that’s not fair” (in my whiny baby voice).
She returned a couple of minutes later and asked again that I get up. I responded the same way as before.
The third time she came in she said two words “Tanner, consequences” –
you all know what I said.
Well on the fourth time she said “Tanner, consequences, consequences Tanner”!
My lazy self told my self with sense to get up but… well… I didn’t, and
believe it or not, she didn’t do anything crazy like flip my mattress or pour cold water on me, she simply walked past my room saying “no phone or games at all today”!
I whined a little louder – “no Ma, that’s not fair” … but I STILL didn’t get up 🙀
On the sixth time that the Lord sent my mama past that door, she said these words “that’s 2 days and the next time I come in here it’s a week”!
Yes, that got my attention. I got up and yes, I’m angry now, and yes, my mama wrote this!
(This is not a political ad and although Tanner Harris did not write and does not support this message, I wrote it and I endorse it and she better abide by it or she’s gonna taste the rainbow– tu-day!)
Please do yourself a favor and read the next post— it’s my family’s response to this message and it’s hilarious—–
Giving In~
The moment I opened my eyes I felt that urge. It was the same urge I’d felt last night, standing like a hidden object in the shadows of my mind. For more than a month, my mind had been plagued with its ever so present being. I couldn’t shake it nor would I force myself to face it. Opening and closing my eyes, I put forth a valiant effort to send it back into the recesses of my subconscious. To my dismay, this seemed to cause an increase in the intensity making it apparent that it was more determined than ever to be fulfilled. Wait, could an urge be “determined” or was I overthinking this? Was I taking this yearning and giving it life or did it already have a life and existence of its own? I was certain that at the very least it had an existence and a very powerful one. Lately, I’d had so many middle of the night awakenings that I was beginning to see dark circles under my eyes. My excessive pride and the floor to ceiling mirrored walls in my bedroom told me that I had to find a way to satisfy this urge without completely giving in to it.
I had to work fast, and my proclivity to lose myself in puzzles and riddles, paired with my extreme delight in doing so, would certainly come in handy as I faced this daunting task. I would have solicited the assistance of one of my roommates, but I feared neither of them would have the patience nor the courage to do so. I was undoubtedly about to delve into something bigger than my roomies and I combined. That thought alone shook me to my core, which was a completely new sensation to and for me. Fear had never been an emotion I allowed myself to submit to.
I inhaled long and deep – allowing my lungs to inflate to full capacity. As I exhaled, I closed my eyes and felt my mind coming to rest at a blank, black wall. My breathing became slow and rhythmic, as if keeping time with the seconds that ticked away loudly on my wrist. I stood motionless. I gradually opened my eyes and surveyed my surroundings, and I let my eyes adjust to the light. As the room came into focus, I spotted it… that tall, slender double decker that taunted me in my dreams.
There was no more holding back. I’d fought as long and hard as the next person. There was no question as to whether or not I would give in- the real question was, to what degree?
As I pondered, I found myself reaching out-
Before I could stop myself, I’d opened the door, removed the box and cut a huge hunk right out of the center of that decadent chocolate cheesecake.
I didn’t eat it right out of the pan, so I didn’t completely give in —
New York or bust- Issue no. 3
Issue number 3: When did it become necessary to take small children out of strollers before passing through security?
We don’t fly very often so the security –baby out of the stroller thing was news to me. Soon after hearing the instructions, I snatched Jill and Corey up, folded the stroller and placed it on the conveyor belt from hell. You know the one that moves your belongings along at a snail’s pace, all the while giving some weirdo, who moonlights as a voyeur, an x-ray vision of anything that passes his creepy screen-veiled eyes.
Note to self- contact Airport security ref: no warning signs about the mean mugged dude giving stroller directives from his spot just on the other side of the machine that conducts the hands-free strip searches, who would also be standing between you and your freshly eye raped belongings, if going thru security on Friday, July 21, 2017, at 6:35 a.m.
Ok, backpacks on the belt- CHECK;
shoes and jackets in the bin and on the belt- CHECK
laptop(s) in THE bin and on the belt- CHECK
New York or bust- Issue no. 2
Second Issue: Why, just why, are elevators placed at the top of really high places (like parking garages) only to have “OUT OF ORDER” signs posted on them? And why on earth would anyone think that a damn arrow pointing in the direction of a flight of stairs would be of any consequence at that moment? The only “flight” people are interested in at this stage in the game is the one they’re about to miss. Could I blame this too on Expedia? Not fair… let’s place blame where blame is due. The same smart ass who has the prestigious position of riding around on that damn golf cart counting open parking spaces and putting that on the scroll bar at the foot of the garage could have added “you’ll have to walk a country mile while carrying your luggage, pushing a baby in a stroller and following a chain smoker to get to a working elevator if you park at the top”. How hard is that?
Note to self- contact Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport (MSY) ref: no warning signs about warning signs, directional arrows or chain smokers (with hacking coughs) that would be encountered if traveling on Friday, July 21, 2017, at 6:10 a.m.
We finally made it into the airport, after very likely contracting some type of incurable airborne smoker’s disease. We checked-in, checked our bags, got our boarding passes and headed to security- with a few minutes to spare.
New York or bust- Issue no.1
Tori, Jill and I jumped out of bed, got dressed, packed the car and headed off to the airport. Yep, we were finally going to see “our Rayne” who lives in Astoria, New York.
Issue Number 1: Who would have thought the New Orleans airport parking would be overcrowded on the only day of the year that we decided to fly? Looks like Expedia would have had red flags flashing and blinking all over their site the day I made the reservations.
Note to self- contact Expedia ref: no red warning signs about the horrendous parking situation that would occur on Friday, July 21, 2017, at 6:00 a.m.
Even though there were signs posting which levels had open spaces, Tori and I were a bit confused, so we wound up going round and round and round – following some other lost soul until we could see daylight. No, I hadn’t planned to park in the uncovered section of the covered parking garage, but we had to catch a flight – so whatever!
Runaway Nuns and Leprechauns 