My Secret American Idol Addiction

I do it behind closed doors.
Sometimes I do it on weekends, but usually it's on a weeknight.
Late at night when children are sleeping.
I'm completely addicted and completely ashamed of my addiction.
I want to stop. I want to stop, but I can't.

I am a 39-ish year old mother who is hopelessly addicted to watching American Idol.

There I said it. A weight has been lifted.

Are you addicted, too?
Please, please tell me you are. Please....

I wasn't always addicted. I didn't even watch American Idol for the first several seasons because I was a better mom and was busy mothering my children. 

I am a late American Idol bloomer, so to speak.

If you don't watch American Idol, then save yourself several moments of confusion and just stop reading.  None of the following will make any sense.

If you do watch American Idol, then I hope at least some of this will make sense.  If you disagree with me, please keep it to yourself.  Otherwise, let me know how brilliant we both are!

Five things I need to get off my chest about American Idol:

5.  Nicki Minaj. Really? Nicki, please just stop talking.

4.  Keith Urban, could you maybe judge with your shirt off?  I think it would add to the quality of the show.

3.  During auditions in one town, the judges kept a handsome, one-legged, young man from going to Hollywood.  They said he wasn't ready.  Whuck?  He had Hollywood written all over him.  Of course, I cannot remember his name or what town. None-the-less, he was totally robbed. I blame Nicki.  Keith, I forgive you.

2.  Despite robbing one person in #3 his dream of becoming the next American Idol, let's just skip ahead and award the American Idol crown to Burnell Taylor? That kid can sing-hing!

1.   I am absolutely fickle, and next week I'll be asking "Burnell who?" I'm demented, too (see #3, for example)

Having said all of the above, I need to add one more thing.

Sigh.

I miss Simon.

10 Signs of the Gumpification of America

I certainly mean no disrespect to Forrest Gump, who I absolutely adore, but is America  getting more stupider or is it my imagination?  

Here are 10 reasons, in order, of why I'm concerned Americans' collective brain is turning to applesauce.

10.  Using words that aren't words like "gumpification" and expecting everyone to think you're witty and clever when really you're just a moron. 

10.  Honey Boo Boo.

9.  The belief global warming is fictional.

8.  All things Kardashian.

7.  Rush Limbaugh.

6.  Needing police to keep the peace on Thanksgiving night so shoppers won't hurt one another as they race to get those pre-black Friday deals.

5.  Mississippi (I would have said Florida, but they have Disney World and that place is awesomeness).

4.  Honey Boo Boo (I'm sorry, but that show counts twice).

3.  Facebook users who post pictures of themselves holding signs saying something ridiculous like, "If I get a million likes my husband will let me get a puppy."
Lady, here's a tip: Get the puppy and ditch the husband.  You can do it even without a million likes!

2.   Fox News.

And the number one piece of evidence suggesting our nation's dwindling intellect...drum roll...

1.   Congress!!

Fifty Shades of Volunteer Work

Yes, I confess I read all three Fifty Shades books. 

In fairness I read them for "research" purposes versus being a total horn-dog. I just needed to see what all the buzz was about and whether or not I needed to invest in nipple clips.

Now that I've read the books, I am a little curious about the movie. I hear a movie may be in the works. Although I cannot imagine how it could ever open in theaters, vs pay-per-view channels, I feel a certain obligation to assist with the casting choices.

After much introspection, I've decided to volunteer to search the globe for the man to play Christian Gray.  I've always considered myself a philanthropist so I really don't mind volunteering for what will, no doubt, be a vigorous undertaking.

In my spare time, I've been googling (and ogling) young actors who may just be qualified to play sexy, billionaire Christian Gray.

If I need to make this my life's work, so be it.
I just really feel moved to give to the arts. I'm sure you understand. In fact, you may even want to volunteer with me for this noble cause.

I'm pleased to say, my volunteer work has already started.  I feel I have found some real Christian Grey contenders.

I suggest you review the following candidates:

Garrett Hedlund
Josh Duhamel
Channing Tatum
Matt Bomer
Ian Somerhalder
Chris Pine

Especially Chris Pine.
Yeah, you really should indulge in a little eye candy. It has zero calories and won't leave you feeling bloated.

Now excuse me.
I need to get back to my volunteer work.

Hoarders - The Next Generation

I'm doing my part to make sure the reality show "Hoarders" is enjoyed for decades to come.  

"How's that?" you ask?

Well, I am raising two hoarder-wanna-be's.
The only thing coming between them and lives as full-fledged hoarders is me.

Although I am a fan of my own crap clutter, I find my children's clutter grossly annoying. It's perfectly acceptable for ME to hoard items, but my children must stop hoarding.

My son's favorite items to hoard appear to be legos and scraps of paper.  Not intact lego inventions or entire sheets of paper, but a megazillion little lego pieces and an equal number of scraps of paper.  These little legos and scraps are everywhere. Everywhere!

I passed by my son's room the other day and thought one of two things had happened. His room was either ransacked by an escaped zoo animal or there had been an explosion. When I didn't see any wildebeests or smell any smoke, I realized the mess was boy-made.

I asked the pint-sized hoarder to clean it immediately.
When that fell on deaf ears, I demanded the hoarder clean it immediately.

Ten minutes later the youngest hoarder in our house announced the miserable deed was done.
Ten minutes?
It seriously looked like a weekend project to me, but I'm not a 9 year old boy with 16 million Lego inventions waiting to be made.

Upon nearing the room, I was hoping to find my son's hoarding behavior had been magically cured.

That dream died when I opened the door and a shower of little papers flew from his closet like bats out of a cave in a Scooby Doo cartoon.  Ruh-roh!

His closet contained enough scraps of paper to make a redwood.

In looking down at the floor, I realized he had an arsenal of Legos littering his floor.

His response to this mess?

"Mom, my middle name is Organized.  Poorly is my first."

Tune in next time when "Hoarders-The Next Generation" explores the tween hoarder...

Shhhhh...Bob Greene Has Secrets

The other night I was sitting in bed, drinking wine, munching on chips carrot sticks while simultaneously browsing various apps on my handy, dandy iPad who I have affectionately named Paddy.

I see an article on my Flipboard App entitled, "Live Strong, Feel Great:  Bob Greene's 3 Secrets to Feeling 20 Years Younger."

The article is actually from 2011, so I have no idea why my favorite app is recycling this particular article.  It must only mean the app gods are trying to tell me something about my lifestyle.  As I sit in bed consuming a large amount of calories at 11:00 PM, I reflect on what message they could possibly be trying to send me.  Hmmm?

Anywho, I'm initially annoyed imagining how young I would feel had I read Bob's dang article two years ago.  Then I read the article, and I am THRILLED to report I am already following all three of his "secrets."

Here are his secrets and...Shhhhh...keep this on the down-low because it's a secret, after all.

(Please note, I am now whispering to you because that's my secret-sharing voice):

Secret #1 - Maintain an active social life.
Well, Bob, no problem there!  I'm happy to say I have over 300 Facebook friends who I report to daily.  They know when I'm having a good day or a bad day.  At least a few of them like what I have to say, and they sure share the Facebook love with me on my birthday.  Plus, I always have my good buddy, Paddy the iPad, by my side.

Secret #2 - Try some tofu
I tried tofu.  I have no intention of trying it again.  Enough said.

Secret #3 -Get active
Well, my index fingers are remarkably active and that should count for something, right?  They get quite a workout texting, Facebooking, and flipping through apps.  I really do have svelte fingers.  I suppose exercise could have the same impact on the rest of my body, but for now I'm going to just continue exercising my fingers.  I would hate to pull a muscle or something.

After following these three tips, I guess it means I should feel 20 years younger.  That means I should feel like a 21 year old.

Bob, I hate to argue with you since you're the fitness guru, but I am waaaaaayyyy too sober to feel like my 21 year old self.  Guess I should pour myself another drink to celebrate my youthfulness!

Waxing and Plucking Your Way to a Historical Moment

'Teen Mom' star, Farrah Abraham, can tell you the best way to remove unwanted hair from your toddler's face.  She learned the hard way, but persevered despite obstacles.  Such courage for a young mother!

Ms. Abraham attempted to wax her three year old daughter's eyebrows.  She then opted to pluck them when her waxing efforts failed due to her daughter's behavior.

The poor mom.  There she is trying to make her hairy three year old more beautifully hairless, and the child doesn't fully cooperate. Kids these days. They are just so ungrateful.

Everyone knows unibrows are ostracizing and no doubt the number one cause of bullying in the preschool - kindergarten age group.   A good mother will do everything in her power to protect her child from being victimized due to unwanted hair growth in the glabella region.  (For you trivia nerds, according to Wikipedia, the term "glabella" is derived from the Latin glabellus, meaning smooth.) Clearly, the child's glabella was not smooth, likely fuzzy at best, and Ms. Abraham was wanting to return the region to its intended texture.

Farrah Abraham didn't just attempt to wax her daughter's glabella eyebrows, fail, then pluck them while her toddler slept.  No.  She then had the courage to blog about the experience.

I'm sure her words resonate with mothers everywhere:

"So here I am faced with a standout historical moment in motherhood when I can confirm to myself that my little, adorable, most cuddle-able cutie, baby girl has a Unibrow :( , I felt bad for her..."

Yes, a "historical moment in motherhood."  My own tween is nurturing unruly eyebrows while I lack the courage to address it face on (pun intended).  As a lesser mother, I am strangely not overly concerned about that inch wide area between her eyebrows.  I am, however, moderately obsessed about the dangers of substance abuse, sexting, bullying, internet safety, and stranger danger.

Clearly my priorities are whacked.  I blame my own mother who allowed me to suffer with my own unibrow until at least middle school.  At that point, I was forced to pluck the unsightly hairs since I'm fairly certain wax wasn't invented for another eight years.

The point is, Farrah Abraham had the courage to stand up to the hair. She didn't wait until her child complained about it or until it looked like a small furry caterpillar had taken shelter between her daughter's eyes.  No, she faced the problem head on and never waxed and waned over the issue (pun intended again).

This is just one example of a hard-working mom making a difference on her daughter's face.
Score one for moms everywhere who think their daughters' eyebrows are the priority.

A Facebook Page is Born

I'm proud to announce the birth of a Facebook page.

It arrived at 11 PM on January 11, 2013.  It entered Facebook world with only one Like, but now it has over eighty. The Facebook page's momma is tired but doing well.  That woman is always tired so this isn't really saying much.

The Facebook page's momma named it "I've Got to Get This Off My Chest."  (Yes, she must have been drunk.)  You can visit the page on Facebook at:
http://www.facebook.com/IveGotToGetThisOffMyChest.

The proud parent is asking you to like and share the page with the masses so her delicate self-esteem isn't bruised and damaged by obvious Facebook de-friending and rejection.

Unfortunately, the Facebook page's momma isn't the sharpest tool in the shed, and she's still trying to figure out all the Facebook bells and whistles.  Are there bells and whistles?

Truth be told, it took her a year just to figure out how to birth a Facebook page!
The lady needs help. In fairness, 364 of those days were spent trying to find a free moment to read the Facebook FAQs related to birthing a Facebook page.  She has two non-virtual children, and they are a complete time-suck joy.  They are so much joy it leaves her very like time to urinate in private, write clever blogs, decipher the many faces of Facebook.  The woman is still not sure she birthed the Facebook page correctly.  She's thinking of asking her non-virtual 11 year old for help. That tween knows everything. Or at least that's what the tween tells her.

All of this to say, Facebook has gained another precious page to their already enormous Facebook family.  Hopefully this page will be nurtured, loved, and will develop into a smart, funny, healthy page.

It's what every parent wants for their child..errr..Facebook page.

Please share this joyful news with others!

"I Have Chlamydia" and Other Reasons I "Love" Jon Stewart

I am a horrible less than perfect mediocre mother. 

I love my kids. I really, really, really do!  I love them more than air.  I love them to the moon and back.

You know what else I love?

Alone time. Gloriously peaceful, quiet, alone time.

I love to pour myself a glass of wine beverage and sneak into my bedroom to watch my television crush, Jon Stewart.  I DVR his show since I cannot possibly stay up past 10:07 P.M. to watch it in real time.

Over the years Jon and I have developed quite a relationship.  Jon expects nothing from me and makes me laugh at the absurdity around me.  He keeps me up to date on all the "news" I need for one day, and I can fast-forward him if he starts to annoy me. It's truly the perfect relationship.

The other night while squirreled away watching Jon, my sweet 9 year old son came into the room.  He snuggled up with me and I melted.  How many more years do I have with my sweet boy wanting to cuddle?  On the other hand, Jon was making some pretty pee your pants funny astute observations about the Mayan calendar and it's relationship with North Korea.

In a moment of parenting weakness, I decided I could cuddle with my son AND watch Jon.  Simultaneously.

Certainly this is a rookie mistake, and I should know better.  I should. I didn't.

Shortly after making this lazy parenting decision, Jon proclaimed jokingly, "I have chlamydia!"

The audience laughed, and my son asked, "What's chlamydia?"

I took a breath, and I simply told my son it is a disease.

In the next breath, my sweet son loudly blurts out, "I HAVE CHLAMYDIA!"
He then laughs hysterically a lot like Jon Stewart had just done.  

I immediately know this is an exclamation he will make on the playground, in the classroom, and most definitely in Sunday school all in an attempt to generate laughter from his equally clueless peers.

That's the night I got to talk with my son about sexually transmitted diseases.

Thanks, Jon. Thank you so much for providing me with that unscripted, awkward, parenting moment.

Jon, I don't want you hanging around my kids anymore, but in fairness, I don't think my son ever wants to watch your show again!

Look Out, Waistline, Here Comes My Mouth

My mouth has literally become the most impressive garbage disposal in North America.  

I can shove anything in there and it disappears instantly.

I know everyone thinks November and December are bad dieting months.  Everyone is busy making cookies and candies.  Large dinners are prepared and served.  Leftovers are consumed in record amounts.

Yeah, I get it.  It's a total bitch to diet in November and December.  I won't argue that.

Once the dust from the holiday settles, I can't just stop the beast.  She's been feeding since November and she won't go quietly into hibernation.  No way.  She needs fed.  Feed her!

Adding to the problem is the fact I know a bunch of generous people.  You know who you are.  Honestly, every person I saw between December 1st and January 1st gave me either candies, cookies, chocolate, or wine.  My friends know me so well!

How could I refuse them?  Did it ever even occur to me to re-gift these baggies of goodness?  Hello?  Of course not!

I just spent the last month shoveling all that goodness into me via my attached garbage disposal. Mmmmm, mmmmm, and mmmmm.

Now it's January and I can't just turn the switch off.  Noooo, I don't have that kind of willpower.

The monster needs fed and that monster is me.  Specifically my mouth, the largest most effective garbage disposal in all the land.

The other day I stood in front of the refrigerator.  I may have initially intended to clean out the refrigerator - as in throw items away.  Instead I decided to clean it out by eating as much as I possibly could while standing in front of it.  I didn't even bother fixing a plate of food.  I just snacked right from the fridge like a poorly trained man.

I would tell you what I ate, but I don't want you to lose all respect for me.  Oh, hell, who am I kidding?

I had a fistful of garlic stuffed olives, four spoonfuls of cheese spread, a bite (or two) of mashed potatoes, a slice of pumpkin roll, a chunk of pork, and a diet coke.  Don't point out the irony, I'm well aware of it.

I would have stopped myself after the olives, but I'm kind of scared to come between me and cheese.

Had I been thinking clearly in December, I would have asked Santa for a muzzle. Or, at the very least, a little self-control.

How to Resolve Cruise Envy

I've got a bad, bad case of cruise envy.

It's not my fault. I blame it entirely on friends who have the audacity to escape the real world and go on a weeklong cruise in January.

You know what I get to do in January?
Hang out in Ohio.  Woohoo!

It's a well known fact I don't cope well when friends go to exotic places or even when they travel to non-exotic places like a nice mall with a Starbucks.

These friends totally and completely deserve and need a cruise to a tropical location. I want them to go and have fun.  Truly, I do.

I also need to get a grip on my cruise envy.
To cope with my feelings, I have no other choice than to squeeze myself into their luggage as a stowaway create a cruise-like atmosphere right here in my own home.

Here's how I plan to do this:

1.  I'm turning the thermostat up to 87 degrees.  We just spent a small fortune getting an entirely new heating and cooling system so I might as well test it, right? Look out, electric bill, you are going up this month!  Of course, I'll need to mask off nearly every window and door in plastic wrap because it gets rather drafty in here.  And with the cost of electricity going up, this may cost me as much as an actual cruise.

2.  I'm going to ignore the mold around my bathtub while I sip a Mai Tai in my lukewarm tub. I'll close my eyes and pretend I'm in the Caribbean.  I have a pretty good imagination and could probably pull this off if it weren't for the fact that from that position I will have a direct view of the back of my toilet.  When was the last time I cleaned back there?  Hopefully the alcohol in my drink will keep me from pursuing that line of thought too much further.  Maybe I should take two drinks with me into the tub.

3.  I'll ask my husband to whip me up a plate of surf and turf, and when he looks at me like I've lost my mind, I'll just eat chips right out of a bag.   It will be like eating gourmet food.  Speaking of food, I'll also eat around the clock since food is always available on a cruise ship. Jealous yet, friends?

4.  I'll start leaving myself tips.  When I go to bed each night I'll put $5 on my nightstand.  After I make the bed each morning, part of me will feel like I'm getting a nice tip.  The other part of me will feel like I'm throwing money away.  It's win-win.  I'm just demented enough that finding bills in random places around my house could be loads of fun...assuming I find them before those pesky kids.

5.  Speaking of kids, I'll turn on the television and I insist the kids watch it for at least 4 hours each day. During that time, I'll pretend they are at the cruise ship's kid program.  While they are at "Camp Cruise," I'll drink the bucket of frozen margarita I keep in my freezer.

6.  When all else fails, I'll shake my head back and forth repeatedly until I'm outrageously dizzy in a vain attempt to replicate that delightful feeling of seasickness.

However, at no point during this cruise replication am I putting on a swimsuit!  For the love of all good things, I'm still digesting holiday cookies.

Who Voted for these Bozos?

I have a job. 
My job has deadlines.
I cannot just sit on my thumbs and pontificate about how much I hate my boss.
I actually have to meet my deadlines.
I actually have to w-o-r-k.
Yeah, it's rough. That's why I get paid to do it. I am not a volunteer.
If I don't meet deadlines, and instead choose to blame everyone around me for the lousy job I am doing, I risk losing my job.
It's called reality.
R-E-A-L-I-T-Y

Reality seems to be missing from our United States Congress.

The last I heard, Congress is not composed of volunteers.
They can neither compromise nor meet a deadline, BUT they continue to get handsomely paid for these failures.

They have plenty of time to meet with the press to complain about the President, taxes, other members of Congress, but they cannot compromise?

Did they skip kindergarten?  It's time to share the damn crayons. You cannot all have the red one!   Is there a time-out chair in Congress? They need disciplined.

This particular Congress will go down in history as one of the least productive Congresses in our nation's history.

Way to go!  We are all so proud we voted for you. Do you actually think we took time to vote just so we could have the pleasure of watching you totally muck up our state of affairs while we sip on $8/gallon skim milk?  Is that what you think?

I would like to propose a new reality television show called "Politicians R Idiotic, Cowardly Kwyjibos" or "PRICKs" for short.  Please brush up on Bart Simpson trivia or refer to the Urban Dictionary if you're not sure of the definition of a Kwyjibos. Yes, I'm pleased with my urban dictionary prowess.

Every Friday night Americans could tune in and see all the ridiculous things our Congress members did or didn't do in the course of the week. You know, like the time they had the giant cojones to block the reauthorization of the Violence Against Women Act and then deny there is a war on women.

Then, at the end of the mind-blowing hour, we call or text our vote for which idiot Congress person should be relieved of his or her duties.  The following Friday evening Ryan Seacrest would reveal, in an overly suspenseful manner, which lame Congress person gets booted into a low paying job in middle America.

In fact, that could even lead to a spin-off show, "Can Your Ex-Congress Person Survive Middle Class?" The answer, of course, is "No," but I digress.

I, for one, do not want to go over any cliffs.
However, if the entire Congress were to slip off a cliff, I think we wouldn't even notice they were gone.