Evil Joy Speaks

Spawning the next generation of evil genius, one misadventure at a time

Tag: humor (page 1 of 7)

Learn a Little Modesty Please

I have a serious axe to grind. A bone to pick. A grievance to file. A war to wage.

Sports bras.

Specifically, I take issue with the ‘modesty’ pads in sports bras.


You know – those pads that sometimes are removable and keep the world at large from knowing when you’re cold.

I work out six days a week. Sometimes more than once a day. I produce the sweat of two normal humans during any given workout. Therefore I wash my clothing every time I work out. I never use an item more than once, especially sports bras. If I’m not at the gym, I’m probably working or snowboarding. If the latter is true, I need to utilize yet another sports bra.

I wash all the things per instruction. Yet EVERY FLIPPING TIME a minimum of one bra – more likely 100% of all bras – releases at least one of the modesty pads into the machine. The modesty pad breaks free and becomes immodest.

Every time I fold laundry I fight to get the pads back into the proper position. God forbid any of the bras I have are constructed in identical manners. (Hey listen. I’m trying them all out to find a favorite. Then I’ll invest my life savings into bras. That’s what it will take to purchase the size I need and the number I would like to own.) As I do laundry daily, I fight this epic battle all too frequently. Sometimes I throw in the towel, fold the bra up and hope beyond all hope that the modesty pad has enough self respect to stay with it’s owner until I find the strength to put it back together again. Humpty Dumpty has nothing on me.

The war isn’t over once the pads are back inside the holding area of the bra. The modesty pads are fighting to stay free. I think they believe if they cause enough of an issue, I’ll give up and just throw them to the sock pile. I believe they’re looking to mingle with single socks and have realized if anyone other me does the laundry, they are set free into the unmatched sock box. Maybe that’s how all the socks procreate? I swear there are more socks in there every time I look…..but I digress.

Once I impose my will upon the modesty pad and shove that sucker back into the bra cup, I have to deal with more. Nipple Ripple is a thing, For real. I will not show up at the gym with my sports bra all awry. Not that I care what I look like – it’s the gym – but holy crap, four miles on the treadmill and some weight lifting later, those creases, folds, wrinkles, whatever you want to call them – start to HURT!

I have sources that inform me this issue is not localized to women only in the United States. Sources in Canada and New Zealand confirmed their own horror stories with bra liner modesty pads.  THIS IS AN INTERNATIONAL PROBLEM!

Snarkfest had this to add, “Trying to put them back in requires alcohol (to drink), tweezers, pliers, and more patience than I will ever have.”

If you know of any solutions to this epic problem, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE ALL THINGS WITH MODESTY share your wisdom! I have to go. There are modesty pads being all sorts of immodest over here.

Laundry Woes

 

It’s amazing how small things can push me over the edge. A few months ago with was the “not” loading of the dishwasher. This month dirty laundry falling next to the laundry bin is making me bat shit crazy.

Here’s the deal. I get that my kids are kids and therefore are inherently unconcerned with the tidiness of life. To make all things easier, I’ve added extra laundry bins throughout the areas of the house where they change clothes. There’s a bin in each of their bedrooms. There are three separate bins in the hall closet directly outside the bathroom (I know, I know…I’m dreaming thinking they’ll sort laundry). There are multiple targets, varying in size, throughout the house for which they may aim.  Yet time and time again they fail to hit that golden target.

You have to understand –  I’m the Laundry Queen. If you wear something Monday by Tuesday miday it’s washed, folded, and ready for you to put away. So if I see that same shirt back in the wash on Tuesday night, I know that 1- not only did you not do your chore of putting away your laundry , but 2 – you BLATANTLY threw clean clothing into the laundry. AND 3 – not even into the  bin but rather on the floor next to the damn bin.

I know I don’t have basketball players. My girls play softball. Softball requires accurate throwing and visualizing your target. Trajectory and force are involved (even if they don’t realize it yet, they’re building a great foundation for math and physics). My oldest girl is a catcher and fires the ball back to the pitcher or to second base – or any base for that matter – with such force and precision it amazes me. I KNOW she can hit a target.

SO WHY CAN’T SHE (OR HER SISTERS) GET THEIR LAUNDRY INTO THE LAUNDRY BIN???? wwwhhhhyyyyyyy?!?!?

Thank goodness they’re not boys aiming for the toilet. 

My Super Power

My super power is a big deal. I am DISHWASHER LOADING WOMAN. Hear me roar at my kids to “PUT YOUR DISHES IN THE DISHWASHER!” on a daily basis – feel the pppooowwwer. I had no idea as a child that there was such a power and that I would be gifted this responsibility as such a young age. (Shut up. I’m youngish.)

For a normal human – or person under the age of 17 living in my house – the distance from the counter to the sink must be expansive. And from the sink to the dishwasher – INSURMOUNTABLE. I simply cannot fathom any other reason for the repeated leaving of dishes next to the sink. Not even in the sink where they would be hidden from the mom-eye…but on the counter. In plain view. Cluttering up my kitchen (which equates with making me crazy!).

I alone possess the amazing ability to expertly cover not only the distance from the counter to the sink but – wait for it – the counter ALL THE WAY to the dishwasher.  I know, I know. Back the truck up. It is in fact possible for dishes to make their way from the table into a dishwasher while touching the hands of only one individual. Such skill must be a gift. A blessing from the dishwasher detergent people. Truly – a miracle – only only handed out to very few. This amazing talent has been granted to my husband as well – and goes well with his super power – Supper Power (this mama doesn’t cook).

But…I have found the answer – the key to transferring this power to my children. Using 12 short words, said in a staccato speech patter, I can make magic happen. I am able to control their movements with the words leaving my mouth. If you want to borrow these words, feel free. I don’t have them trademarked or licensed….and you’re welcome to send your children to my house when you use them.

“Put your dishes into the dishwasher or go pick up dog poop!”

I Failed At Soup : A Tale Of Mush

You know when you try to a good thing? I tried.

I failed miserably.

Soup. I failed at soup. How does one fail at soup you ask? Let me tell you.

I should have known things would go south from the start. The chicken was simmering as I sautéed the vegetables. I prepared the spices and noodles – although my normal noodles were hiding so I grabbed the closest ones I could find. I got everything ready to assemble into the crock pot and quickly realized I had no stock, broth, or base. None.

Well crap. I guess a store run is in order.

I got the missing broth and finished making the soup – the same way I do every.single.time.  My family loves this dinner – we all eat it all – including the leftovers. It’s a standard fare in the winter – probably twice a month. Lucky for me (and the teachers) I decided to give it one last stir before packing it up for school. It smelled amazing but the color was a tad off.

As I stirred I realized I didn’t see the nice, firm noodles I was accustomed to finding. But I did find mushy, gross, floury like strings of stuff.

OMG – WHAT A CLUSTER!!

I now had an exceptionally large crockpot full of crap. Total and complete crap. It was terrible. I only had 20 minutes before I needed to leave and deliver the offending soup to school. What to do???

The fact that I have ton of children played in my favor. I tend to triple recipes….one for dinner, one for left overs, and one to freeze. There was still a pot of broth, veggies, and chicken left uncontaminated by noodles. I had just made a ton of brown rice for my lunches for the week. I grabbed that crockpot, threw in the rice, and packed it up for school. Good enough right? Let’s get this show on the road.

Dr. Evil was on travel and I was driving his beloved car. Let’s just say I thank God for those plastic, made to fit, awesome floor liners. The soup did NOT travel well. I finally got this soup concoction to school, cleaned his car up, and went to the gym.

I vow to never make soup for school again. Ever.

Sour cream in a container from the store?  Sign me up for that stuff.

 

 

 

Food for Music Brain

I can’t even begin to comprehend the amount of space occupied in my brain by lyrics to songs. Old songs, new songs, kids songs, church songs, camp songs. Songs I wish I could forget and songs I didn’t know I knew.

If only this amazing power of lyrical recall could be harnessed for good. World peace, furthering medical sciences, engineering new ways to bring clean water to those who need it?

Nope. I can sing along with pretty much any song I’ve heard since I was 5. It’s kinda ridiculous. And I sing each and every one I hear on the radio. If you have been around for a bit, you’ll recall I was a band member. Not choir. I scare people with my singing voice…and have found the latest way to torture my children. I sing when their friends are in the car! Loudly, I sing loudly, and car dance while I drive.

While driving Eldest home I was belting out the words to a Megan Trainor song “If Lips Are Movin.” Eldest shook his head and I asked why. He said the usual 14 year old boy response, “Nothing.”

Next a Taylor Swift song with the phrase, “Boys only want love if it’s torture.”

That’s when he said, “ENOUGH! That’s so not true. All these songs make guys sound so awful. Girls are way meaner than any guys I know! We don’t think that hard about stuff.” (I’m paraphrasing – was so excited to engage in actual conversation I didn’t get the exact words in my head.)

We had a real conversation about music and life. We laughed when I brought up the Ed Sheeran song “Thinking Out Loud.”  (You know…the one where he signs “I’ll love you till we’re 70.) I asked, “What the heck happens when you turn 71?” And Eldest spouts off, ” I guess Grannie and Grandpa are done for since they’re past that age!”

For the record I have no idea where he gets his sarcasm.  None at all.

Since then I’ve been listening to the words of the songs I sing. There are some really cool ones. Many are disturbing. Many are too sexy when I hear them come from the mouths of my Littles. I do let my children listen to “popular” music. I do sensor some songs but not all. They know which words not to sing. If they choose to sing those words, they don’t get to listen to that song anymore.

I love how we’re sharing our love of music and using it to spur conversations, learn lessons, talk about hard stuff. So far, regardless of the child, music has been the spark to start us talking. We bond over music. Sometimes all six of us will belt out a song together in the car. Other times I simply sing until I get smiles that lead to conversation. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep our lines of conversation open.

Here’s to music and all the benefits it brings to our lives.

How do you connect with your children? Is there one thing that works across the board with all of them?

Only Trollops Shave Above the Knee!

Mom. Mother. Mama. Ma. MOM! Mommy.

Moms. Somehow we have become mothers like our mothers before us. I understand the mechanics of how and deeply appreciate the why. But there isn’t an instruction manual.

If you buy a crib at IKEA it comes home with instructions in several languages. And the instruction set you mostly likely use is simply illustrated. But this new little PERSON – there’s no set instructional manual to follow. There are no S.O.P. – no step by step instructions. Just a few books and pamphlets from the hospital or doctor’s office.

My mom was there when my son was born – let me tell you it was a long process. She found a ride back to the hospital at midnight when they finally (after 72 hours of induction gone nowhere) to be there for Eldest’s arrival into this world via c-section. She was there for each baby after that too. And for countless other things. She has taught me to be a better person not only with her words but in her actions.

My mom has been such an integral part of my life I wanted to share it with you.

Only Trollops Shave Above the Knee: The Crazy, Brilliant, and Unforgettable Lessons We’ve Learned from Our Mothers put together by the amazing Crystal Ponti and the Blue Lobster Book Co. is out there waiting for you.

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Crystal gathered together talented writers and we all shared lessons and stories from our moms. I am more than honored to be included. Lessons include but are not limited to “Don’t Eat Yellow Snow,” “Wear clean underwear,” and “This too shall pass.”

Mother’s Day is around the corner and what better gift to present to my mom than a book.  And guess what – your mom will love it too!  Click on the link below or check out my home page to order.  Order it today and you’ll have it for Mother’s Day this weekend!!!

Only Trollops Shave Above the Knee is available NOW. You can find the book on Amazon for Kindle or print and also B&N.com. Available soon on the Apple store. Spread the word about this perfect present for Mother’s Day…and every day.

And once again friends – thanks for sticking around. I’ve had several technical difficulties with my computer and this post was go out last week. My apologies to Crystal on the delay. Regular posting schedule to return!!!

EJ out – to work on fixing the rest of the issues with this lovely computer. (Maybe if I talk sweet to her she’ll work for me???)

Get it today!  Only Trollops Shave Above the Knee: The Crazy, Brilliant, and Unforgettable Lessons We’ve Learned from Our Mothers.

A Text Post : Brought to you by PMS

Last week I sent a request to Dr. Evil.

“PMS wants ice cream.  I have stated this so that you know it is PMS requesting ice cream and not me.  For future reference you may never EVER ask me if PMS wants anything.  I – meaning PMSing me – will let you know.  Would you please add it to the grocery list?”

I decided I was pretty freaking funny.  I was telling my friend from life and now closer friend because we work at the ski hill Gina about the above witty, brilliant message.  She asked me if I remember Kojak?  I don’t recall watching but remember the stories of a killer dog and being wary of dogs if I walked alone at night when I was a kid.

We started a text conversation as only two women can.  We were rolling with our respective laughter to the annoyance of those in our RL (real life) company.  It went something like this:

G : I grew up on one hour crime shows.  Maybe that explains why I want to kill everyone?

Me : Matlock, Trapper John MD, Mash

Me : Three’s Company, Oh..my favorite Hunter and Hunter

Me : All the Steven Segal movies

(I swear she was participating and I wasn’t simply badgering…there were some other things we were texting about…like my farting dog..that I’m leaving out.)

Me : Hogan’s Heroes.  Lawrence Welk.  I’ve seen all of those episodes.  God.  Help.  Me.

G : LMAO!  Quincy, Hart to Hart, Rockford Files.  #$#(& I can’t keep up because I’m laughing so hard.

Me : I was permanently scarred by watching the Sharon Stone movie with the ice pick with (removed for my protection).  Oh!  And ‘this is my brother Daryl and my other brother Daryl.”

G : I <3 Lawrence Welk

Me : Dynasty, Falcon Crest, Dallas.  We could make a board game out of this!

Me : Punky Brewster.  Saved by the Bell. More Mash Oh!!!  Flo.  The Kiss My Grits one!

G : Stop I’m going to pee my pants!

Me : I’m sure Trapper John MD can fix the bladder issues!

G : Hubs said we should start a stand up routine!

Me : Remember the Friday night movie.  Murder by the Camp Fire.  Sorority Sisters Gone Wrong.  Nowadays those sound like porn!!

G : I was a fan of the ABC after school specials.

Me : The more you know. Sparkle Sparkle Sparkle.

G : Maybe the ski hill would hire us!

Me : I’m so writing a blog post about this….

G : ….I’m laughing and ignoring my family.  Until Next time EJ!  Me love you long time.

Me : Hey G! Yes Joy?  Remember that one when Willis captured water outside for Kimberly to wash her hair and her hair turned green from the copper bowl?  Yes?  We just have green on the hills here at our ski hill!

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Yeah….she’s a keeper.  Life is funny.  Just have to find the funny.  Some days it’s harder than others…but this day…the funny found me and is making me smile again today!

Any funny texts in your world?  I’d love to hear about them!

EJ out – to tackle something since I locked my keys in my truck.  While it was parked in my driveway.  Trapped at home.  With all the laundry!

The 12 Days of Christmas Evil Joy Style

On the first day of Christmas my spawnily gave to me
A pile of dog yak to clean up.

On the second day of Christmas my spawnily gave to me
Two lunch boxes with smeared pudding
And a pile of dog yak to clean up.

On the third day of Christmas my spawnily gave to me
Three beds to make
Two lunch boxes with smeared pudding
And a pile of dog yak to clean up.

On the fourth day of Christmas my spawnily gave to me
Four pairs of dirty socks
Three beds to make
Two lunch boxes with smeared pudding
And a pile of dog yak to clean up.

On the fifth day of Christmas my spawnily gave to me
Five golden glares
Four pairs of dirty socks
Three beds to make
Two lunch boxes with smeared pudding
And a pile of dog yak to clean up.

On the six day of Christmas my spawnily gave to me
Six unmatched earrings
Five golden glares
Four pairs of dirty socks
Three beds to make
Two lunch boxes with smeared pudding
And a pile of dog yak to clean up.

On the seventh day of Christmas my spawnily gave to me
Seven used tissues
Six unmatched earrings
Five golden glares
Four pairs of dirty socks
Three beds to make
Two lunch boxes with smeared pudding
And a pile of dog yak to clean up.

On the eighth day of Christmas my spawnily gave to me
Eight wet mittens
Seven used tissues
Six unmatched earrings
Five golden glares
Four pairs of dirty socks
Three beds to make
Two lunch boxes with smeared pudding
And a pile of dog yak to clean up.

On the ninth day of Christmas my spawnily gave to me
Nine different dinner orders
Eight wet mittens
Seven used tissues
Six unmatched earrings
Five golden glares
Four pairs of dirty socks
Three beds to make
Two lunch boxes with smeared pudding
And a pile of dog yak to clean up.

On the tenth day of Christmas my spawnily gave to me
Ten empty toilet paper rolls
Nine different dinner orders
Eight wet mittens
Seven used tissues
Six unmatched earrings
Five golden glares
Four pairs of dirty socks
Three beds to make
Two lunch boxes with smeared pudding
And a pile of dog yak to clean up.

On the eleventh day of Christmas my spawnily gave to me
Eleven loads of laundry
Ten empty toilet paper rolls
Nine different dinner orders
Eight wet mittens
Seven used tissues
Six unmatched earrings
Five golden glares
Four pairs of dirty socks
Three beds to make
Two lunch boxes with smeared pudding
And a pile of dog yak to clean up.

On the twelfth day of Christmas my spawnily gave to me
Twelve tangled electronics cords
Eleven loads of laundry
Ten empty toilet paper rolls
Nine different dinner orders
Eight wet mittens
Seven used tissues
Six unmatched earrings
Five golden glares
Four pairs of dirty socks
Three beds to make
Two lunch boxes with smeared pudding
And a pile of dog yak to clean up.

EJ out – to giggle quietly at my awesome list.

This has been part of the Secret Subject Swap hosted by Karen of Baking in a tornado.

My prompt was submitted by the amazing www.spinstersnacks.com.

“Tell us about a lie you tell on a regular basis.”

So the lie part of all of that….is three beds to make. There are five!!! And I make them do it!!!!

Check out the other awesome posts from today!!!

You can find them at www.bakinginatornado.com!!!!

I’m Leaving on a Jet Plane….

So weird is my life….I love it.

The first time I ran a race of any distance (for me) – 9 miles – it was 2 years ago May.  In California.

It.Was.Amazing.  Bur Sur 9 Miler….amazing.  Beautiful.  Breathtaking.  My first ever girls’ trip.

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Last May – life was still returning to ‘normal’ – no comments on our normal please – we’re all aware how abnormal our normal is…..

So…on with it.

Yesterday… I’m chatting with Snarkfest on Facebook.  She mentioned the Marine Corps Historic Half Marathon is Fredericksburg, West Virginia.  She invited me to come out.  On a whim.

With in 10 minutes – 10 minutes people10 minutes – I talked to Dr. Evil….found a frequent flyer flight, registered for the race, and confirmed the travel.

So I’m leaving on a jet plane to DC airport in May.  For another run of a little distance …. 13.1 miles!!  I’m so excited.

(Good timing in preparation for Grandma’s 26.2 mile run in June.)

See when Snarkfest and I started chatting a while back we found we have a number of similarities.  Our first half marathon times where within a minute or two of each other’s…..both had dental issues in our pasts…..(of all things…)  And we both immediately said that we should plan to run a race together some day.

And…wah-lah!  It’s happening people!

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And I’ve declared May of every other year to be my destination race trip.  And I’m hoping Snarkfest will be my destination race partner!

EJ out – to run – have to get in shape for this thing!!!  Actually to run Eldest Spawn to a sporting goods store – his feet are larger than his baseball cleats from last year and he desperately “Needs” batting gloves.

Oh and Snarkfest and a bunch of my other favorite bloggers have a book out – you should buy it – all the cool kids have it.  You know you want it.  It’s pretty neat!

Here’s a link so you can buy the book, “I Just Want to Pee Alone.”

 

And since you’re in a click happy kinda mood – click on the flashing banner below to cast a vote for me at Top Mommy Blogs.  Thanks!!!!

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Spawn Inductions….

Years ago, before Evil Joy and Dr. Evil earned their titles, Brent and Joy dated.  Brent was co-oping for a company in California and Joy flew out to drive home to Iowa with him.  (And everyone thought we were going to elope on the way home…but no….we didn’t.)

Several hours were spent in a little red Chevy with no air-conditioning driving across the salt flats, mountains and plains.  So many hours in fact Brent and Joy started to have fun with the various songs on the radio.  No MP3 players or iPods to get us home – back in the ‘good ‘ol days.’

Brent had these little stuffed Burt and Ernie dolls.  (They’re hidden away now so the dogs can’t eat them….)  Joy was punchy from the heat and started making Burt dance to Chumbawamba.  He “fell down…” and got back up again.  On the dash-board.  Several times.  And he was one hell of a dancer.

Given the fact Brent and Joy were driving in summer with no A.C. and a packed car…so full Joy’s seat was shoved so far forward even her short legs were smashed….

This was the funniest thing EVER.  Ever.  I mean, seriously, the funniest thing ever.

Imagine –  if you will – a 6 inch tall Burt doll falling down and getting back up again and playing the trumpet.  And drinking.  In time.  With the music.

 

Fast forward almost 20 years.

 

Using Spotify and listening to the 90’s station.  And Chumbawamba comes on. Evil Joy sees Beaker.  Miniature Beaker.  And Big Beaker.

Miniature Beaker has moves.  Serious moves.

So serious Big Beaker became enraged.  And ate Miniature Beaker.

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Miniature Beaker “fell down”…. never to get up again.

 

EJ out.  SkyZone and Snowboarding await…..

 

Take a minute and click the flashing banner – I’ve really really fallen off in the standings at Top Mommy Blogs.  I’d appreciate one click of your time.  Thank you!

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