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Month: July 2012

Bubble wrap: It’s cheaper than therapy. Except when it’s not.

Bubble wrap: It’s cheaper than therapy. Except when it’s not.

I love bubble wrap. I mean, I love it so much I have been known to go to packing stores and buy some just so I can have a metric ass load of it on hand. I even have a bubble wrap app. (Don’t judge. It’s cheaper than therapy!)

So when one of us gets a package that has real live bubble wrap in it, I call dibs and will even body check my own kid against a wall to make sure I lay claim to it. (Again, don’t judge. It’s a life lesson for them.) A few days ago I received a package with some such product and BUBBLE WRAP. (Yes, it is much like a kid who spends more time playing with the box than the toy that was in the box.)

This is my beautiful therapy. Bubble wrap. Oh, sure, it annoys everyone around me who is not popping it. (And I don’t share.) I have always been a bubble wrap addict. I’m okay with that. There are worse things I could be doing. Like say, making outfits out of bubble wrap and a crown and declaring myself Bubble Wrap Queen of the Universe. (Come to think of it…)

So imagine my delight when Clint brought me some super duper extra huge bubble wrap. It was like a Christmas miracle! I admit the excitement over it probably says a lot about my need to get out of the house more but I was happy. (Brilliant idea: Bubble wrap slippers. But you can re-inflate the bubbles after they pop. OR or or bubble wrap drink cozies. You can have your Diet Coke and pop the bubble wrap all at the same time. Really, the possibilities are endless.) Well, this is what he brought home to me. Look at them side by side:

I squealed with joy! It was my nirvana of bubble wrap. I imagined how loud the pop would be. I imagined how my daughter would come running to pop one or two. (And I might have shared. One pop.) I imagined the Doberbutt running for cover. It was glorious. I snatched it up and giggled.

Until…

Look at it closely. Extremely closely.

THE HELL?! This isn’t bubble wrap at all. All of the “bubbles” are attached so there is no popping. There is no snap, crackle, make your dog run away pop!

IT IS FAKE BUBBLE WRAP! And to hand it to me and tell me it is a gift of bubble wrap just for me? Well that just isn’t right and someone is going to pay for it.

Sure a normal person would think that was just hi-larious. No. It was not. It was mean. But, I’m not mad. Oh, no. I’m not going to get mad. I’m going to GET EVEN. (Suggestions are welcome.) In fact, I think Clint can think about how wrong and mean this was while he is sleeping on  the couch. Or cooking my dinner. Or working on a honey-do list so long he won’t even remember a time he wasn’t in trouble.

Don’t screw with a Southern woman and her bubble wrap, y’all. It’s just not nice.

 

Shhhh.. don’t tell

Shhhh.. don’t tell

Hey there blogosphere… it’s the hubby.. Clint.. that guy… whatever you wanna call me.

It looks like I have managed to salvage all of Jenn’s blog posts, comments etc. and have successfully imported them to the new servers. I guess ‘Richard’ wasn’t such a …. well… you know, afterall.

I’m not going to say anything, but I guess this blog post will be a giveaway. 😉

My great “sock bun” experiment of 2012

My great “sock bun” experiment of 2012

(See this post as to why my blog looks different and is all naked. Or as we say down South, nekkid.)

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A few months ago, my good friend Busy Mom (her parents had a specific path for her to follow when naming her) shared a video about sock buns. I was all “What the huh? I don’t understand the meaning of your words put together like that.” So, with the patience you use when dealing with those you have to use small words with (don’t worry about her because she is totally used to it), she told me it was a way to “style” your hair while sleeping.

It’s like a Christmas miracle! I go to sleep with my hair put up in a bun (held by a sock, y’all!) and wake up to salon styled pretty-ness? Count me in. Mainly because, holy hot flashes, wearing my hair up at night is a bonus.

Here I am with my hair all bunned up with socky goodness: (Shuddup about the no make-up look. It was bedtime.)

I didn’t have great expectations about it working because my hair is fine, not super long, and I am stylishly challenged. (And? I totally slept great. No hair on my neck or  in my face and I was cooler. As in temperature. I mean who can be cool with a sock in their hair?)

So when I woke up (again, shuddup with the no make-up thing because I just woke up, people!) and took down my sock bun, I was shocked at what I saw. I was bald!! No. I totally wasn’t. This is what happened overnight:

That’s some hair there. (But as we say in the South, the higher the hair, the closer to God.) 

After a couple of hours, the 80’s called and wanted their hair back, so I took another picture to show what happens when the hair settles down a bit.

This is how my hair looked most of the day. I live in the heat and humidity of Texas, y’all. Normally my hair would be flat within 30 minutes. But no. Waves. In my hair. All day. It was bizarre. I almost expected it to burst into flames and start laughing because my hair doesn’t like me much.

At the end of the day I figured I would be back to flat and hanging like a nappy mop off of my head. Well, just to show how it looked 12 hours later, this is the final picture of the day. This is what it looked like just before bed:

And that my friends is my sock bun experience.

PS- I would totally embed the sock bun video but I have an entire 9 1/2 years of blog to recover. But if you check on YouTube, you’ll find many.

And all together:

PPS- If you see me at BlogHer with a sock all up in my hair late at night, just look away. I’ll look fabulous in the morning!

YES! This is the original Mommy Needs Coffee! Stay. Pleeeeeease! [Updated]

YES! This is the original Mommy Needs Coffee! Stay. Pleeeeeease! [Updated]

Updated at the bottom

Okay so here is the deal.

Mommy Needs Coffee has lived on a server we’ll call Richard for a while. Richard can get quite moody. It seems as if Richard has devoured Mommy Needs Coffee whole because he is either blog eating zombie pain in my ass or is just really mean. So, we are starting fresh.

Please feel free to cry with me now.

There is a chance we can get Richard to throw up the past NINE AND A HALF YEARS of blog posts, but we are not sure. We are taking him from his current home in PITAville and bringing it here for some CPR. (Computer Puking Response) in hopes of recovering the last NINE AND A HALF YEARS of blog posts.

Please feel free to cry with me now.
But, no, this is not a new blog. It is a still me. Just naked. And without the past NINE AND A HALF YEARS of posts. I will try to make it pretty. Or? I will start over somewhere else if this doesn’t work. Because? I am absolutely sick over this. Mommy Needs Coffee? Why, yes, she does, but right now now she needs her NINE AND A HALF YEARS of posts back.

Please feel free to cry with me now.

 

Update: Thanks to Margaret for suggesting there is evidence out there somewhere and Genevieve and her brilliance of thinking of Google Reader, if Richard devoured my entire blog, I have back to July 2007 in full posts. That still loses 4 years but at least it isn’t ALL nine and a half years. THANK YOU. If I had some awesome gift, I’d totally give it to you.