July 2016

Tales Of Real Life Goblin Sharks (And How To Avoid Them)









There exists in the wild a rare but uber-creepy predator called a Goblin Shark. The human form, however, is much more common and even more vicious.

The thing that makes the Goblin Shark so eerie is that it swims along, like a seemingly normal fish when all of the sudden it opens its mouth and a second mouth shoots forward and attacks its prey. Like it literally shows up out of nowhere and bites. If you don’t believe me, watch this video.

Ok so it might not technically be a second mouth but that’s exactly what it looks like! Then the appendage-mouth goes back inside and takes it’s normal form again.

As we were watching this Goblin Shark do it’s thang’ I realized I’ve been Goblin Sharked and maybe even been a Goblin Shark at one time or another. You know when someone says something kind of nice to you, but then it’s followed up by what you’re pretty sure is a fancily-dressed insult?

The statement starts off innocently enough but then reaches out of nowhere, spears you in the gut and goes back inside so suddenly the person has walked away before you even realize you’ve been Goblin Sharked!

Another form of Goblin Sharking is where the foe uses a sticky-sweet voice and you think you’re about to hear something nice, but what comes out is a total slam. My dad calls this a “poop-filled Twinkie.”

It’s like a passive-aggressive way of totally hurting someone’s feelings without looking like a totally bitty to the rest of the world. From the outside the Sharkette looks like a regular fish minding her own business, but it’s that moment the freakish hidden mouth shoots out that sticks with you.

I say no more! To the Goblin Sharks out there, either own up to your predator ways or keep your second mouth shut! And to those of us getting Goblin Sharked, let’s start calling them out!

To the former classmate who commented on how “nice and curvy” I’d gotten since high school I’d like to go back and say, “Hey Goblin Shark! I just had a baby six months ago and that sounds a lot more like an insult than you probably meant it to.”

And telling me my son’s hair is so “fun!” but am I planning on cutting it soon?? Obviously you don’t think it’s cute. Your second-mouth didn’t fool me there.

The real ocean-born Goblin Shark is rare in the wild but too common in the world of women. And because kids tend to learn by example, I’d bet you’d find a mini Goblin Shark in any 4th grade group of girls. So please remember, an insult dressed as a compliment is still ugly.

Germs, Worms and Parasites


I recently realized I’m “not normal.”  Actually I think I realized that in the 7th grade but just recently when it comes to germs. Specifically, butt germs.

The straight-up truth is, I’ll sit on any toilet seat, anywhere, at any time. As long as it appears dry. This has only backfired once in my life. I must have been distracted because without looking I plopped my tushie down on the seat and was COVERED in what I can only assume was male urine because it appeared the suspect had taken great care to not only mark his territory on the toilet, but all over the entire single-user restroom. I immediately went home and showered.

My sister, Heather, feels this way anytime she touches what she perceives to be a germy surface. She’ll do anything to avoid a public restroom. Recently she realized she had to “go” as she was pulling into the gym parking lot and turned around and drove home, missing the class.

“But what are you afraid of?” I asked her last night.

“The germs!” as if that’s the most ridiculous question she’s ever heard.

“No but what are you actually afraid is going to happen if your butt touches the toilet?” I need to know!

She looks at me as if a turkey leg is growing out of my head.

So I involve her husband, Mike, in the conversation.

“Mike. Do you sit on toilet seats?” I ask.

“I power squat.” And he immediately and unabashedly demonstrates his power squat over an imaginary toilet.

“Because I will sit on any public toilet,” I explain. “Even there is a toilet seat cover right there, I won’t use it. What’s the point?”

His jaw literally drops like a cartoon cat’s. He stares at me for at least five seconds with his mouth in that position. I can almost see his opinion of me completely transforming in that moment. He’s speechless, so I go on.

“What are you actually afraid of?”

“Feces. The feces will absorb into your buttocks and you’ll get herpes. STD’s, Chlamydia….”

“But none of my openings are touching the toilet seat! None of that can absorb through my skin!” I protest.

He then goes into hypothetical’s about “slipping” on the toilet and suddenly riding “side saddle”. It feels like this has happened to him before and I’d rather not have that image in my mind so I turn to 16-year-old Tyson, my nephew, who has been listening.

“Butt worms,” he says.

“Tyson. For the last time, those worms didn’t live in my butt, they lived in my stomach!” and I’m instantly regretting showing him my parasite that I saved in the toilet.

I recently did a cleanse in which I did pass several rope worms through my system. Heather, who immediately had to wash her hands upon viewing the parasite, had requested I save him so she could see him in person. I named him Perry.

When Tyson peered into the toilet his face turned white and I thought in that moment I was going to have to catch my 6 foot 3 football-player nephew. His eyes glazed over as he temporarily lost consciousness but was thankfully able to stay upright. He’s since referred to my “butt worms” on many occasions.

FYI- you can’t get parasites from toilet seats. I googled it just now.

As part of this parasite-passing diet I’m doing, my food choices are limited. No sugar, no grain, no processed food. Nothing that gives me pleasure. So I grew a garden. With lots of lettuce. I’m telling my girlfriend, Jessica about the lettuce garden when she gets a pained expression on her face.

“Oh no. What?” I ask.

“I grew lettuce once, and only once.”

Apparently she cut and washed her lettuce thoroughly in a sink bath. (Better than I had.) She then put the leaves in gallon ziplock bags and when she went to use it the first time noticed teeny, tiny green bugs on the bags. She freaked out and threw it all away.

“Ew! Ew! Why did you tell me that?” I’m feeling the heebie jeebies. “Mine are in those stay-fresh green bags! I never would see green bugs on them! And I’ve eaten it every day this week!”

Now it’s like I really don’t want to know if there are bugs on my lettuce but I can’t NOT look! That night I make my family tacos and I intend to eat taco salad. I stare at my lettuce, telepathically willing any bugs to disappear. I pull out the first paper towel in the bag. It’s clean.

“Thank you Lord!!”

I pull out the second one and there they are. Two itsy bitsy green bugs. Nooooo!!!!  They do exist!

But I didn’t throw it away.

I had a choice. I could literally eat only taco meat and cheese out of a bowl with a spoon for dinner or try to salvage the bug-lettuce. I know what a normal person would do. But we’ve already established my level of normalcy. I could eat a taco shell and ruin my diet… I could starve. I want a taco salad, damnit!  I have no other food in my house I can eat right now!

I washed that lettuce, ran it through the salad spinner twice and I ate it. I ate the bug-lettuce!

Before I go I should note that my two greatest fears involve bugs: spiders and lice. My fear of lice is so great that included in my emergency store is RID Lice Shampoo. If a Zombie Apocalypse happens we’ll be starving and living in the dark because I haven’t stored SPAM or batteries, but dangit, my brain-eating children will be lice-free!

It’s Not A “MomPetition”

vest(1)Why, as women, do we constantly compare ourselves to other women? Lately I’m self conscious about my clothes, my home decor and always about the size and girth of my butt. We all do it and we need to stop! Because we don’t do it apples-to-apples style. I don’t look at my strengths as a mother and compare them to my friends’ best attributes. I constantly look at my girlfriends’ most admirable traits and compare them to my weaknesses.

I once took a road trip with my friend Jessica’s family and when we got there her minivan was SPOTLESS. I’m not lying. I’m beginning to think she’s a witch.

But lately it’s been worse. It’s like a constant “Mother’s Day” where I feel like I can’t live up to the expectations. But the worst part has been comparing my “funny.”

My college roommate and far away best friend, Katie, is one of the funniest people I know. I still remember the day we met someone asked the room if anyone knew the phone number for the grocery store. Without missing a beat she said, “Thank you for calling information. Please state the name and address of the party you’re trying to locate.” Actually whatever she said was funnier than that. I can’t even write it as funny as she said it. But it was that moment that I knew we would be friends. We spent the next year coming up with absurdly funny life observations.

When other college girls were taking sexy selfies, we did this:

IMG_20160616_0002 (1)













And This:

















We passed inappropriate notes and doodles back in forth at church and missed hours of sleep laying in bed erupting into fits of giggles. We called it being “slap happy”- it’s what happens when you’re so tired everything makes you laugh. We laughed. A lot.

Katie hasn’t lost even an ounce of her college humor. She takes full advantage of her 5th babies wig-like hair. I’m not kidding, her newborns have hair Jennifer Anniston would envy. On Groundhog Day she posted this picture:



























I totally didn’t get permission to use this.

All my gushing over my funniest friend is all to say that I’ve recently fallen prey to comparing my funny to other people’s funny… specifically Katie’s. I’ve never been jealous of Katie’s sense of humor in my life! This is new territory here. It’s always been something we had in common but lately I keep thinking, “She has five extremely beautiful, talented kids that she’s always running hither and thither!  Yet she has time to create funny Facebook posts and Christmas cards. What’s wrong with me?!” This has resulted in me going inside my shell lately and not blogging. Someday my dream would be for her to co-write the blog with me, an attainable version of our previous dream of hosting a talk or a reality show. People would totally watch us.

Until those dreams come true, it’s time for me to put on my granny panties and realize that it’s okay if I’m not as funny or witty or creative as Katie. I should use her humor for inspiration and motivation, not intimidation. Even if my clothes and home decor aren’t as cute as hers.