CrankMama

And the Winner is... Moobs

I hereby nominate Moobs for October's ROFL (roll on the floor laughing) award.

If you haven't read Moobs before, I encourage you to take a look. His writing is intelligent, crisp, touching, and occasionally laugh out loud hilarious...

This nomination is for his uniquely British take on Donald Trump and the Apprentice.

Read it here.

Thanks to Cristina and Izzy Mom for organizing October's ROFL awards once again.  Visit their sites to see the full list of awardees.

But My Lips Hurt Real Bad...

                            Remember crankcalls?  They're baaaack...

Serenity Prayer Revised

Goddess of Snark grant me the serenity
to accept the peeps I cannot change;
the cleverness to change the things I am not supposed to change;
and wisdom to embrace the differences between myself and the Other Mommies .

Living one hour at a time;
Enjoying one glass of wine at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to maturity and self-obsession;

Taking, as She did, this sinfully kooky world
as it is, not as I would have it;

Trusting The Snark;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with my inner CrankMama
Forever in the next.

Amen.        

Are You Cranky?

In the spirit of having a blogroll that reflects the latest and greatest of "Cranky Mamas" & "Cranky Daddies" blogs, I'm updating my lists.

I'm also only going to link to folks with whom I have some sort of communication and who occasionally come by and visit. 

Thus spoke Queen Crank.

If you'd like to be included, let me know.

Lucky Bun Day

M O N D A Y

Sometimes when the preschoolers are fighting over the loud making devices and asking about death and Mommy is inexplicably tired with a head full of "24" and a heart full of impatience, there's only one thing to do.

Interview Them

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

In an ongoing quest to rediscover my body as more than a soft place for little folks to land, I signed up for a thai boxing class last week.  It all started with an innocent looking flier a few months ago slipped inside the local paper.  There she was.  A muscled lean looking woman with her arm outstretched, hands wrapped for a fight, a look of intense concentration and power on her face.  Below her the promise "Lean & Fit in 10 Weeks." 

I started doing the math.  10 weeks.  That's hardly any time at all.  That's a bad haircut grown out, or time between bikini waxes when I'm trying to save money.  That's the time it took me to find out I was pregnant with twins 'lo those many muscle-ruining moons ago. 

Nevermind that I cannot walk swiftly up stairs without getting winded.  Nevermind that my preferred life stance is one of lounging cynicism and parenting from the couch.  It's not really about weight (because who has the courage to weigh herself anymore?).  It's more about that woman in the picture.  She's well over 30, tough, hot, and intense.

I want to be her.  I want to be lean and fit and ready to fight more than my inner couch potato.

Bring it!

Would You? Could You?

1. Clothing That I'd Buy:

       Who Me Slutty? Dress

        Stick Leg Stilettos

        Longing Labia Lounge Pants

        Oppress Me Now Patriarchy Nylons

        Giggling Not Jiggling Girdle

2.  Magazines I'd Read. Over and Over.

        Russell Crowe's Life As An Aussie Sportsman

        Tantric Yoga Sex Slaves

        Serial Shoe Shopper Delites

3. Exclamatory Sentences I'd Love to Use:

       I couldn't POSSIBLY take the afternoon off!!

        Another job offer!

        Please stop telling me I'm stunning! It's embarrassing!

        Free Shoes! Again!

4. Classes I Want to Take

       Dancing with Handsome Strangers

       Get Fit in 2 Minutes A Day

        How to Look 10 Years Younger by Drinking & Eating

        Fatty Foods

       Good Fortune & Good Luck:  It Can Be Yours with

        Hard Work and Determination

        Make Your Children Obey Without Crushing Their

        Spirits

      

       

   

The Harper's Index They Neglected to Print...

CrankMama Index 12:

1. Number of times, on an average day, I'm told I'm a "breath of fresh air": 2
2. Number of times I'm told I'm a sexy hottie:  .789232
3. Number of times each week I believed a happily married person should have sex when I was 25: 5
4. Number of times each week I believe a happily married person should have sex now that I'm 38: .5
5. Number of brothers: 2
6. Number of brothers who are Mormon: 2
7. Ratio of total in-laws visiting to personal daily wine consumption per 8oz.: 1/80
8. Time in seconds it takes upon picking up reading material, for someone to start an in-depth conversation about lawncare, weather, deadly hunger, or intra sibling hitting: 5 
9. Time in seconds it takes someone to knock on any door that is locked for the sole purpose of insuring my privacy: 5
10. Number of times my Mom calls me each week to ask if anything is wrong because she just "has a bad feeling": 2
11. Number of therapy visits I estimate my children will need to recover from their childhood: 8,001
12. Number I needed to get over mine: 1,000,001

 

WordPlay

1. SexPot = a humansized vat of sex
2. Mama = a hip sassy mom, not to ever be mistaken for mommy or mother
3. Ma'am = what they call you when they're cute and in their 20s and you're so obviously freakin' NOT
4. GalPal = the one who always says you're phat...not fat
5. Get Your Freak On = see #1
6. Cute = what they call you when you don't get called gorgeous hardly *ever* I mean what's WRONG with these people??
7. AloneTime = when mommy runs away upstairs with a bottle of wine and a video and a celeb mag and if anyone comes in the door they are ignored and sent back to Daddy immediately.
8. Toys = Lovely things that are always more fun than flowers
9. Hubcap = husbandly one
10. Moobs = Man Boobs.  Also funny clever site by a MAN.

You Thought YOUR Childhood Was Bad!

                           

This cuddly sweet little "babydoll" was discovered in the bottom of my niece's toybox over the weekend.