Happy Mother's Day. Here's Your Spray Cheese!

Dear family,

When it comes to gifts, I know I always say it's the thought that counts. But, if you're thinking about giving me any of the following for Mother's Day, please think again.

Redneck Snack Basket

Look, I can appreciate the merits of spray cheese, and SPAM holds a special place in my childhood memories. But, if you give me a basket of redneck snacks for Mother's Day, you may end up missing teeth like a redneck.

 

Free Wings at Hooters

Obviously, nothing says "Mother's Day" like boobs and chicken wings, but don't take me to Hooters ... ever.

Sex Toys

This seems like a real hot deal, but no. Sex is what got me in this predicament in the first place. Besides, I could just see Daughter mistaking my new flavored lube for hand sanitizer.

By the way, if a company can't even spell fantasies correctly, their products aren't getting anywhere near my hoo-ha.

Beer of the Month Club

Better yet, just stop giving me so many reasons to drink.

NASCAR Ride

I don't have a need for speed. Plus, how am I supposed to put on my eyeliner in a car going that fast?

White Water Rafting Adventure

I have no desire to hurl myself at sharp rocks with an inflatable dinghy thingy as my only buffer. Do black people even go rafting? I mean, it's called white water rafting for a reason, right?

I don't mean to sound picky. I'm sure I'll love whatever I ordered for myself last month and told you to count as my Mother's Day gift.

Extreme Makeover: Wedding Vows Edition

Look at us: So young, so innocent, so clueless.

Today is our 13th wedding anniversary, which got me thinking about the traditional vows we made. They were romantic and all, but knowing what I know now, they didn't really touch on major issues we face in our marriage. These are the vows I should have said:

I, Ivy, take you, Hubs, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold in bed at least 3 nights a week (and on your birthday). I vow to love you with all my heart, in good times and bad ... such as when you're listening to hideous '80s hair bands.

For better or for worse, I will wash the whites in a timely manner so you do not run out of undies. For richer and for poorer (but still able to afford frequent trips to Disney World), I am forever yours.

In sickness and in health and in times when we're just sick of each other, I promise to love your badly written Facebook posts, honor your need for peanut M&Ms, and cherish the made-up words you use in Boggle. 

From this day forward, I will only talk during movies and TV shows when I have really insightful observations to make. Finally, my beloved husband, I promise to not touch Robert Downey, Jr.,  until death do us part--at which time, all bets are off.

Girl, You Must Be Field Trippin'

Daughter and I just spent three days in Colonial Williamsburg for her fourth-grade class trip. I passed the background check (I guess an unnatural obsession with Rick Springfield doesn't make one unfit to care for children), so her school let me be one of the chaperones.

It was a great trip. You just can't beat living museums for educational value. Recreations and actors in authentic costumes performing activities how they were done in the past really bring history alive. The colonial wigmaker guzzling a Big Gulp and sporting a cleavage tattoo kinda brought me back into the 21st century, though.



Daughter at Jamestown Settlement



I learned a lot--and not just about colonial times. After more than 20 collective hours on a bus with a bunch of fourth graders and sharing a hotel room with three little girls, I learned that:


• I love kids--as long as they're my own
• Bus bathrooms are an endless source of fascination for 10-year-olds
• All chaperones are not created equally (apparently, laziness isn't detected during the screening process) 
• I may or may not be smarter than a fourth grader, but I definitely have better hygiene
• Some people shouldn't reproduce; if they decide to pop out kids anyway, they shouldn't inflict the results of their crappy parenting on others (i.e., you screwed 'em up, YOU take care of 'em)
• In fourth grade, "boyfriend-girlfriend" means never talking on the phone and never, ever being seen together in public (basically the kind of relationship some grown men would kill to have with their girlfriends)
• My stress level is inversely proportionate to the percentage of charge left on my iPhone

"There Once Was a Man From Nantucket ..."

You probably came here hoping to finally see that dirty limerick in its entirety. Seriously, whenever I'd hear that limerick on TV, they would never finish it. Took me years to find out the whole joke. And, let me say, it is NASTY!

But, I digress.

I entered a limerick contest and want to share my entries with my loyal reader(s) for two reasons:

1. Who doesn't love limericks?
2. I haven't written a post for a while, and I figure this'll buy me some time.

Disclaimer: This is a PG contest, so don't expect the foulness we all know I'm capable of.
Disclaimer 2: I know I ended a sentence with a preposition, but "of which we all know I'm capable" sounded too stickupmybutt-y.

Here you go. Multiple entries were allowed--and the alternative was cleaning my house--so I entered multiple times. You might wanna cover your nice chair in plastic, because you'll probably pee your pants laughing.

Clean limericks just don’t make the cut
So give me a limerick with smut
‘Cause the naughtier blokes
With their off-color jokes
Always make this old lass bust a gut

~

He wooed her with flowers and kisses
But still she remained quite dismissive
Til a blue box from Tiff’ny
Gave her an epiph’ny
And changed that near miss to a missus

~

Young girls, don’t get down in the dumps
When the little boys treat you like chumps
For when you’re all grown
Those boys hearts you’ll own
With the help of lipstick and some pumps

~

I'm an editor. Fear my red pen.
Your mistakes bring me feelings of Zen.
And when my corrections
Are met with objections,
I say, “Kiss my asterisk, then!”

~

I drink to the troops who protect me
I drink to the men who respect me
I drink 'til my liver
Fills up like a river
This good will has just about wrecked me


If I win the contest, I'll tell you all about it. If I lose, I'll tell you all about it in a pissy, resentful manner.

UPDATE:

I didn't win the contest. I'm pretty sure the judges were intimidated by my astonishing wit. What are you gonna do, right?

To the Middle School Jezebel Who Broke My Son's Heart Today

There. I feel better now.