Holy Cow Batman! It’s podcast time for the old blog!

I am soooooooooo excited to share this podcast from the wonderful and amazing Kris Keppeler. She took my “These are not words!” blog and read it into her podcast. She did a beautiful job! It’s so cool hearing my words come to life with the expert stylings of Kris. What a voice she has–she should be on NPR. Simply delightful!

Here’s the link to her podcast:

http://kriskkaria.podbean.com/2013/02/17/these-are-not-words/

You should definitely check it out. It’s great for a giggle and her podcast is awesome.

Thank you, Kris. You are wonderful, awesome, kick ass and a bunch of other delicious adjectives. πŸ™‚ XOXO

Here she is with her awesome pups:

Kris Keppeler

How the Hubby and I Cope with Missing Each Other When He’s out of Town.

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Meet Tick Teddy. Tick Teddy is one bad ass mo fo who takes no guff offa anyone. At the same time, he is a sweet little creature and even though he looks like a bloated, blood-filled tick, we love him all the same.

Tick Teddy is very blessed and gets to fly around the world with Daddy on his travels. Tick Teddy has been everywhere. This week he’s in Vancouver, BC and lovin’ life. Actually, I think he may be partying a bit much, but he can take it. Like I said, he’s bad ass.

So, today I get a picture of Tick doing his thing with a little commentary to go along with it. This is how the conversation ensued.

Tick Teddy gettin' his spin on!

Tick Teddy gettin’ his spin on!

Email from Tick Teddy to Mommy:

Oh …daddy told me that you are a piece of ass…what does that mean?

Email from Mommy to Tick Teddy:

Tick Teddy…I think it’s time we had “the talk.”

Daddy is what is known as a perverted stinker. Perverted stinkers like to grab hold of sweet, angelic little girls (like Mommy) and defile them with their joysticks. In order for perverted stinkers like Daddy to want to take advantage of that doe-like innocence, the girl must first be, as Daddy said, “a piece of ass.” Otherwise, Daddy’s joystick isn’t so full of joy.

Now, go kick Daddy for making me corrupt you like this at your sweet and tender age. Oh, and while he’s curled up in the floor crying from your swift kick, tell him Mommy loves him. It’s good to measure out both pleasure and pain at the same time–but that discussion is for another day.

Mommy loves you, Tick Teddy!

Yep, that’s how we do it in the Ambrose house. πŸ™‚

Horrible, inexcuable language here. Don’t read this rant. It’ll shorten your life by at least a year. I greatly dislike fu*kheads.

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So, the other day I ran into the rudest fucker ever at the Starbucks. And I do mean EVER.

When they called his drink they should have called it like this: “Venti double mocha, salted caramel douche bag for Fuck Face. Fuck Face, your drink is ready. Fuck face?”

You guys know me pretty well, right? I take most things with a grain of salt. Not very much actually makes me mad (except road rage, horrible grammar, snatch monsters and sadistic pedicurists–but really, even those things don’t make me mad, they usually make me laugh). So, for me to be livid is, in all sincerity, pretty rare. But this guy…THIS guy…ugh. I wanted to set him on fire and toast marshmallows in the flame.

What, you may be wondering, has me so annoyed? Well, here it is.

I’m behind this guy in line at Starbucks and after he places his order the Starbucks chick (who is super sweet) looks over to me and asks, “Venti caramel frappuccino light with sugar free caramel, two Sweet&Lows, no whip, no drizzle?” I congratulated her on her awesome memory and told her how nice it was that she remembered (I get between 1-2 Starbucks a week, so it was especially nice that she remembered). The guy, who’s about 65, wearing a running suit, missing a fair amount of hair (though the rest was dyed) and not missing about 30 extra pounds, says to me while looking down his gin blossomed nose, “Wow, that sounds like an awful lot of calories for you to drink. And you probably have one a day, don’t you?”

OH. MY. GOD.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, YOU JUDGMENTAL, SHALLOW, STUPID, ASSHOLE MORON PRICK FUCK FACED ASS HAT!!???

DID YOU JUST REALLY SAY THAT AND ASK ME THAT????

DO YOU WANT TODAY TO BE YOUR LAST DAY ON EARTH?

IF I LET YOU LIVE, DO YOU REALLY WANT TO HAVE TO DRINK THROUGH A STRAW FOR THE REST OF YOUR MISERABLE DAYS!?

Yeah, I was irate. But, instead of saying what I just so delicately wrote above in all caps, I said, “Actually no. It’s about 100 calories and no fat. The fat-free milk accounts for about 60 calories. The mix counts for about 40. Then the sugar-free caramel has 0 calories, as does the ice and Sweet&Low. It’s a great way to have a treat without ingesting 500 calories and 30 grams of fat, and it’s delicious.”

The reason I didn’t let this complete asshat HAVE it was that he wasn’t worth it. Here’s what I saw when I looked at him (and it made me sad because he clearly wanted to be something other that what he was):

  1. His attire screamed: “I want to be 30 years old again!” Not that men over 30 can’t wear running suits, I think they should! πŸ™‚ You’d have to have seen him to understand. Think of older women who dress like 15 year old hoochies and you’ll understand how this guy looked.
  2. His hair screamed: “I want to be 30 years old again!” as it was clearly dyed. I’m all about dyeing hair–I dyed mine yesterday. But I think he needs to reevaluate his color choice.
  3. His attitude screamed: All women should be perfect looking all the time, be 5’8″ and weigh 120 pounds and anything less than that is unacceptable–so I should try and make this frappuccino-ordering woman feel bad for wanting a treat.
  4. His demeanor screamed: I wouldn’t date a woman over 22 because anyone over that age is ugly, fat and used up. I’m a man, spelled M. A. N., and I only date super models and porn stars because I’m THAT good.

Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have given any thought to how he looked. People have the right to look however they want to without being judged. But since he was the complete fucktard that he was and clearly casting aspersions at my not-rail-thin-self, I thought his “clamoring to look younger appearance” was relevant.

So, let me explain something to him and to anyone else that expects perfection.

  1. No one is perfect.
  2. No one should be perfect. It’s our imperfections that make us special and unique.
  3. 42 year old women are not supposed to look like they are 17. Everyone ages. Aging is okay. Aging is natural. Aging gracefully is a beautiful thing. Being happy with aging will help keep you sane as NO ONE can stop the aging process.
  4. Our bodies change as we age for a reason. From a strictly “keep the species from becoming extinct” point of view, women in their late teens through their mid-thirties look the way they do to attract the male of the species for the purpose of baby-making. That’s when we are typically the healthiest, our eggs are still young and plentiful, and childbearing should not kill us. As we get older our bodies start to change (so do male bodies, Mr. Starbucks Asshole). The shape of our bodies change due to the loss of estrogen after menopause and how the body reacts to that loss. Gravity starts to get the better of us. Our hair starts turning gray. These changes indicate to the male of the species (at the most primal level) that we are moving from child bearing age to another era of our lives. AND THAT IS OKAY!!! Why would a body that has been on the planet for 50 years be expected to look the same as a body that’s been on the planet for 20? Do most 30 year old cars look the same as they did the day they came off the showroom floor? Likely not. SO GET OVER THE DELUSION THAT WOMEN SHOULD LOOK YOUNG AND SLENDER FOREVER, EAT ONLY SALAD WITH JUST A SPRITZ OF LEMON AS DRESSING, AND AREN’T GOOD ENOUGH IF THEY DON’T!

We all have things about ourselves that we’d like to change. Everyone who reads my blog knows I gained about 10 pounds making (and EATING–yum!) all the food for the cookbook. And while I’m watching what I eat in order to lose those 10 pounds, I’m not sitting around measuring my ass and crying over it. I like how I look, curves and all. I’ve always had curves. Even when it wasn’t cool to have them (think the 80s), I still liked having curves. From any angle, I definitely look like a woman.

Here’s me at 16 and 17 going to my junior and senior proms (good grief–that make-up and hair!!!):

I've never been that tan again!

I’ve never been that tan again!

Yep, I gots me a tush!

Yep, I gots me a tush!

Curves everywhere in the mirror reflection

Curves everywhere in the mirror reflection

Here’s me now:

Baby still got back! ;)

Baby still got back! πŸ˜‰

HA! Look at that furry cowie!!! I had no idea cowies could be that furry!!!

Anyway, my point by putting in cutie cowie is that I don’t have anything to prove to anyone, especially some ass face at the Starbucks. You guys all know what I look like–you can’t escape my silly self on the Internet. And even if I had rounded out to the point of becoming bovine, so what? Why should anyone care? As long as I like who I am and as long as you like who you are, who else should judge?

So please, let’s all let ourselves and others off the Perfection Hook a bit. Okay? When we die will people at our funeral say, “Wow, I would be sadder if only she’d been 10 pounds thinner…” NO! Ultimately what do we want said at our funeral. “She was so thin her whole life–she held up well, even if she was a bitch because she was hungry all the time.” Or, “I will miss her so much. She was sweet and funny and showed love to others every day of her life.” I don’t know about you, but I’d pick the second option any day. πŸ˜‰

Unless your weight is making you unhealthy, don’t sweat the pounds so much. Who said everyone had to be skinny? And certainly don’t sweat the pounds of others. First off, it’s nun-ya as my hubby would say (as in none of your business). Second, who is anyone to judge anyone else’s weight? Third, you never know why a person is big (or thin). It could be a love of cupcakes or it could be emotional trauma or it could be a physical issue. But regardless of any of that, who cares? There are so many other things to consider about a person–their ass being one size larger than they may like shouldn’t be at the top of that list.

Good grief, I’m exhausted!!! So to end all of this let me throw some cliches at you, since I’m flat out of creative things to say.

  1. Shut your fucking piehole if ya ain’t got nothin’ nice to say.
  2. Those without sin, cast the first stone. Then choke to death on a pig’s foot, please.
  3. Quit being a fucking prick or Jodi will end you with a hammer and a potato peeler.

Okay, I’m done! πŸ™‚ Have a good night and love your muffin top! πŸ˜‰

THESE ARE NOT WORDS, &*%*&#^!!!!!!

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First and foremost let me say that I make up words all the time and/or use words incorrectly (usually on purpose though). If the King’s English doesn’t give me the word I want then I’ll create my own.

For example: Flarmp. That’s not a word, but I bet it gets used in my house at least 10 times a week. To the hubby and me, the word Flarmp means the act of a kitty just dropping and rolling in a very deliberate way and usually next to our legs in order to smush against us to get love. There is also the Force Flarmp where WE Flarmp the kitty so that we can give it love. I don’t even know how we came up with the word–it just seemed to fit the act of kitty love dropping.

Also, I make up words in my blog sometimes. Yesterday, I used the word “smartassedness” in a comment. I even mentioned how it wasn’t a word, but it just fit perfectly in the sentence so I used it anyway.

But, there are certain words roaming around out there in the public that are either not words or are words being used incorrectly that make me wanna pull my hair out when I hear them.

Now, please believe me that I’m not trying to be a douche bag here. If any of you use these words, please know that I’m not trying to be a meanie. I’m just putting out there that maybe using words correctly and/or correctly pronouncing words may be beneficial. Especially if you are in a job interview or some other important situation–you want people to know how wonderful and smart you are without getting hung up on the little things that didn’t come out quite right (as people tend to do).

In order to let you know that I amΒ sincerely not trying to be mean, let me share with you a few of my colossal word fuck ups. And just so you know, I’m well aware that I probably have a ton of grammatical errors, punctuation mishaps and stupid word choice issues in this very post, so know that I cast the first stone at myself! Lord knows I screw up all the time! πŸ™‚

  1. Exorbitant: I always said it as “exorbiNant” and thank God someone finally corrected me.
  2. Veranda: Which is a font but not a font anyone knows because it’s actually “VerDaNa.” I’ve been weirdly dyslexic for oh about 20 years with the name of that damn font and NO ONE ever corrected me! I’ve just sounded like an idiot for 20 years. Ugh. I’m incredibly thankful a coworker corrected me the other day. I felt like such a doofus, but at least I’ll say the word correctly from now on.
  3. Purview: For some reason I got it stuck in my head that “purview” and “view” could be used interchangeably. Had you asked me if they meant the same thing I’d have said no and told you why. But for some reason the “come up with words quickly” part of my brain told my mouth to say “purview” before I had time to stop the “pur”. No clue why. I think I may have beaten that outta my head at this point–hopefully. (See, I’m pretty sure I used the word “hopefully” incorrectly.)
  4. Sammich: I know it’s sandwich, but my grandma used to say “sammich” when she was being playful and so when I say/write it that way it reminds me of her.
  5. Good vs. well: I intentionally use these incorrectly sometimes if I’m trying to put across a certain emotion. For example, if someone asks me how my day is going and it has been the day from hell, I’ll sometimes say in specific tone of voice, “Good, good…how’s yours?” If I said, “Well, well…how’s yours?” it would just sound weird.

Okay, now here’s the list of words/non-words that drives me insane:

  1. Boughten: No one has ever “boughten” anything. Ever. Period. You either buy something or you have bought something. You have never boughten anything in your life.
  2. Anyways: There is NO “s” on the end of that word. I used to say it with an “s” also and my mom harped on me EVERY DAMN TIME it came out of my mouth incorrectly. I am soooo (another incorrectly used word of mine as “so” only has one “o”) thankful she did. I want to do the same thing every time I hear someone else do it, but I don’t as I’m sure that is a justifiable cause for murdering me.
  3. ConversAted. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! You conversed with someone. You had a conversation with them. You are conversing with them. You have never conversAted anyone, anywhere.
  4. Medium: Wait, that is a word. But it is NOT a substitute for the word “median” and when I hear traffic people say that there is a car up on the medium so traffic on Scottsdale Road is slow I immediately want to find their helicopter and blow it up. It’s bad enough if we normal people use it incorrectly, but your JOB as a traffic person is to know words that relate to traffic and roads. Median is a pretty important part of road construction, so please use that word from now so that you don’t sound like a complete moron.
  5. HeightH: I understand that it’s “widtH”, breadtH” and “lenghtH” but it is not “heightH”. There is no H on the end of “height”, only a T. So quit it with the TH sound. Please?
  6. Supposebly: It’s “supposedly.” Just say it correctly from now on, please.
  7. Expresso: Is there an X in espresso? No. I didn’t think so.
  8. Probly: IT’S “PROBABLY” DAMMIT ALL TO HELL!!!!
  9. Axed, warshed, wrassaled, greazy and pissa: I totally understand that these word pronunciations are dialect-driven. My mom is southern and says things like “Geminee” for “Gemini” and though the “ee” pronunciation is the 2nd way to say it as listed in the dictionary, it still makes me go insane especially since I am a Gemini. My step-father of a few years came from somewhere where pizza was pronounced “pissa” and greasy was pronounced “greazy” and I’d want to scream every time I heard him say either word. So, in these cases I totally get that it’s dialect-driven and probably what someone grew up hearing so it seems completely normal to them…but can we please break the cycle of word-abuse? Please?
  10. Cra-cra: Okay, the word “crazy” has 2 syllables. So does the un-word “cra-cra.” So, can we please just go back to crazy? I’ll give you a dollar. πŸ˜‰

Last year I did a post on words like: ginormous, trending, wheelhouse and other annoying as fuck words, so I won’t repeat them here, but please stop using those too. They are simply horrible.

I think from now on I’m going to make this face when I hear any of the above words being used. In an effort to NEVER see this disturbing face again, maybe people will stop using them? Maybe? Please God…

Jodi Crazyface

And, just so you know, I’m aware that a language needs to change or it will die–just like a shark needs to keep swimming or it will become fish food. We need to keep adding to our language or it will go the way of Latin. But can we at least use common sense and a wee bit of caution before we bastardize it to the point of being unrecognizable? I just cannot hear this anymore, “Me and him were conversating about trying a expresso and new that it would probly taste badly, but we boughten it anyways.” Pardon me for a moment, I’m going to go hang myself.

 

PS: for those of you in the United States–GO RAVENS!!! (I’m actually a Redskins chick, but if it can’t be them then I hope B’more kicks some ass! πŸ™‚