My Sister, the Birthday Whore

Yesterday was my sister, Sar’s, birthday and she was CRAZY. Why, you ask? Well let’s start the list:

1. She thinks everyone has to stop everything because it is HER day….ummm hello? Some people have to work.

2. She thinks she doesn’t get a day, but a whole month…..yea right. Everyone knows that only Christmas babies (AKA me) get a whole month to celebrate their birthdays!

3. She refuses to share birthday celebrations with her Hubby. We ALREADY had birthday bash this weekend…but it was for her Hubby, which means we have to have another birthday bash exclusively for her. CRAZY.

4. Lastly because I get these kinds of emails from her, while at work:

(Clearly, she is delusional and clearly she left off the list the BEST part: ALCOHOL)

So I wanted a healthy dinner tonight. – Chopped salad
Spinach salad
boiled eggs
peppers
cucumbers
cilantro
turkey bacon (i think we have some)
grapes
walnuts
Gorgonzola cheese – or the smoked Gouda chopped up in it.
olives
artichokes
rotisserie chicken – we should just buy and cut some of the flavorful chicken in the salad – yum
good salad dressing – I really want the cilantro dressing from trader joe’s – maybe i’ll run by and pick some up on my way home.
And anything else good you can think of to add
french bread with olive oil (we have the olive oil)

My Most Prized Possession

So this past weekend, Honorary Brother in Law (HBIL), came in from Vancouver for a visit because it was his brothers’ and my sisters’, Middlechildadvice\’s Blog , birthday bash celebration. We had a great time celebrating everyone’s birthdays and hanging out with the various family members.

However, I was less than pleased to see HBIL because we weren’t really on speaking terms.

Why you ask?

Well, HBIL had the audacity to tell me that he went to a Britney Spear’s Concert and basically sat so close to the stage he could have touched her  (he is a closet Britney fan AND he works for the radio) and DID NOT TAKE ME! Then he puts all these amazing pictures up on his facebook page, just to rub it in my face. RUDE, right?

This is how close he was....

I love you Britney

Me: I am not talking to you or listening to you on the radio anymore.

HBIL: I would have invited you, BUT I didn’t think you had a passport.

Me: I HAVE a passport.

HBIL (smiling craftily): Oh……well……. I did get you a present.

Me (clearly SUPER EXCITED): OMG, what is it? Did you get me her autograph?

HBIL: No better……..

Me: Well, what is it?

HBIL: (pulling out something slowly and dramatically on purpose)

 

ACTUAL confetti from Britney's concert!

Me: What is this?

HBIL: It is a piece of confetti from Britney’s concert, but not just ANY piece of confetti, this piece Britney actually LOOKED at…while it dropped from the sky and I grabbed one for you …knowing you would treasure it always!

And that dear readers, is why I am no longer mad at HBIL. For now.

Hangin with the Bro-in-Law

So, the Brother in Law (BIL) and I went out last week to the movies (I Love You, Man) and then my favorite, drinks at Yardhouse. We had fun; basically we wanted my sister (who was on vacay in FL) to realize that WE can have fun without her!  It was my furlough day…which I am really starting to fully embrace.

Me: I LOVE furlough days!

Me (surprised): I had fun hanging with you…who knew we would have so much fun together!

BIL: I know! You aren’t so bad!

Me: What is THAT supposed to mean?

BIL: Uhhhhh….that didn’t come out right….

Yes, I believe in the Easter Bunny

I love the Easter Bunny, and at our house he ALWAYS comes. (Albeit in the form of Hubby, but that is besides the point)

One of my most favorite things that Hubby does for me is that he makes a big deal out of the Holidays for me. I don’t know why, but I.LOVE.HOLIDAYS. LOVE EM. Especially when it comes to holidays where one “gets” things. Easter baskets are a favorite for me because you get chocolate and LOTS of it. And because you have to go look for your basket….I like a little bit of a challenge, however if Hubby hides the baskets too well….well then I get crabby when I can’t find mine fast enough.

So, this holiday, the sisters are demanding Easter baskets too….

Rae: You better make me an Easter basket!

Hubby: No, I don’t have too….

Rae: Yes you do! Please? I will do the dishes (this is clear desperation here, people!)

Later on Hubby calls me

Hubby: So, I (the Jew) have to make you and your sisters Easter Baskets? What is wrong with this picture? And depending WHO is the nicest determines the SIZE of their Easter basket!

Me: I get the BIGGEST one! And don’t forget to hide them in good places–but don’t make mine too hard!

Gotta love Easter time! Hope you all have a great one!

Freezer Mugs Can Start Fights

This weekend, while visiting Hubby’s Grandmother the funniest thing happened. We went over to their place for cocktail hour before dinner and Hubby cracked open a beer.

Grandmother: You want a mug for that?

Hubby: Sure, I guess so.

She then proceeded to walk over to the bar area and holds out about six of those freezer mugs. You know, the kind that you should put in the freezer, so when you pull them out they are nice and cold for that perfect, ice cold beer? MMM I am getting thirsty just thinking about it. Well, she didn’t really know the purpose of the freezer mug.

Hubby: Grandmother, I think you are supposed to put those in the freezer, that way they are nice and cold and keep your drink that way.

Grandmother: Oh, I wasn’t really sure what they were for. I guess I didn’t realize they don’t stay iced if you don’t put them in the freezer. Silly me.

So, she takes all six of those mugs and puts them into the freezer and her significant other (SO) asks her what she is doing. They then proceed to argue about the significance of freezer mugs for about 10 minutes:

Grandmother: Did you know you have to KEEP these in the freezer for them to work?

SO (crabby-like): Huh, what? Why do mugs go in the freezer? That’s stupid.

Grandmother: So they stay nice and cold. I didn’t realize they melted.

SO: Huh, why would they melt? I don’t understand.

Grandmother: Because they are a FREEZER mug.

SO: But, why doesn’t he just drink his beer out of the bottle? What does he need this mug for? WHY does it go in the freezer?

And that is how the freezer mug started a fight….

Chainsaw Snores and Waffle Nazi’s

So, this past weekend, Hubby and I went to California to visit his family for his Grandmother’s birthday. I must admit, I was a little remiss to make a turn-around trip ( mostly because I HATE road trips, I am just not a good traveler and we were up there for one one whole day and half the next morning), but I am glad we went. We had a great time with the family despite some minor obstacles.

We drove up late Saturday night and arrived basically in time to go to bed. Hubby was hoping a night without the pets and a NOISY sister would allow for a good night’s sleep. (AWWW, isn’t he sweet?) However, he couldn’t have been MORE wrong on that one. His dad, in the next room, was snoring SO LOUD that I thought he might wake up the entire hotel. And I don’t mean light snoring, I mean shaking our room so the walls shake and there might be an earthquake snoring. I mean just imagine that the snoring is SO.VERY.LOUD that even a pillow over your head won’t block out the noise! Yea, it was bad and since I could barely sleep, I decided to wake Hubby up too.

What? He shouldn’t be sleeping, if I’m not!

Me: PSSSST Hubby!

Hubby: Huh….Wha?

Me: HOW does your Mom sleep through THAT snoring?

Hubby(falling back asleep): Ugh. I have no idea

Me: PSSSST Hubby…I can’t sleep. PSST. PSST PSST…..

fastforward next morning

Dad: How’d you guys sleep?

Us: NOT AT ALL! YOU SNORE!

Dad: No I don’t. I wear breath right strips.

Us: They don’t work!

So then we all decide to go to breakfast. The hotel we were staying at had a waffle maker where you could make your own waffles! I was SUPER excited. I.LOVE.FOOD. And am particulary fond of breakfast food. However here’s what happened:

There I am minding my own business, making waffles when I am approached by a crazy-haired waffle nazi lady (WNL) with a psycho look in her eye.

WNL: Whose waffle is in there?

Me: Mine.

WNL: Well, did you set the timer? I mean geez.

Me: No, I don’t need timers, I can magically sense when it is done. I am just THAT good. (under my breath so she didn’t hear me): psycho I am going to throw my waffle in your face

WNL: I mean geezus there are A LOT of people here wanting waffles. You can’t hog the waffle machine!

She was terrible people, she was just crazy and very obnoxious about the waffle machine. Who knew that waffles would bring out the worst in people?

How do these crazies ALWAYS find me…even on vacation?

SEX-tuple

There is this game on the iphone that I am addicted to. Hubby found it, and I LOVE it. It is called Sextuple. It is a word challenge game where you are timed to make words. The goal is to find the six letter word before you run out of time. It makes you think. And being the genius that I am, it always helps to keep my brain sharp. 🙂

Anyways, a few weekends ago, I taught my mom how to play it.

Mom: What are you doing?

Me: Playing a game.

Mom: What game? I wanna play!

Me: NO! It is MY game.

Mom: Let me play. What is it called?

Me: Sextuple.

Mom (incredulous): Wha?

Me: SEXTUPLE

Mom: Really?

Me: MOM! Get your mind out of the gutter. SEXT means six letter word.

Mom: Yea, I knew that…..

Me: Mom, you are a sicko!

NOT IT Old School Style

SO, the parents were visiting  last weekend. And I was explaining the NOT IT rules to them, which made them laugh. Actually,  Hubby and I were having a standoff in regards to the vomit by our bed. See why.

After explaining the rule, while we all watched Hubby clean up the vomit, I learned of the way my parentals dealt with the NOT IT rule way back when (yea, they are old school); it’s weird that they were that clever back in the day.

Dad (talking to Hubby): Ugh I know all to well what it is like to clean up cat puke.

Mom (under her breath): pshaw.

Dad: Yea, I usually had your mom clean up the vomit because I don’t know how.

Me: HA HA HA HA! What do you mean?

Dad: Well, your mother knows what special products to use on the carpet so it wouldn’t stain. I didn’t. So, it was better that she do it.

Me: 1. I don’t believe that and 2. I am going to use that now too!

Hubby: Don’t give her ANY more ideas!

And that, dear readers, is NOT it old school style.

My Best Feature

So, it is a running joke in my family that I got the ghetto booty. I don’t have the boobs, I have the booty and everytime I see the whole family they don’t let me forget it, especially the sisters (I think they are just jealous).

My parents are in town this weekend for a quick visit and my mom was talking about how her pants are too big in the booty.

Me: I will NEVER have that problem! (Even though I am doing my morning workouts…I doubt the booty will change…I just know, and I am okay with it)

Mom: Yea, I agree, you don’t have that problem.

Me: Thanks, Mom, way to show some support. Anyways, it doesn’t matter. It is my best feature, Hubby’s favorite, in fact.

(Shouting) Right, Hubby?

Hubby (shouting from another room): I always liked your eyes.

Me (pshaw): Yea, right…..that is so lame. No one likes eyes!

Mom: AWWWWW

Me: Gag me

Lysol the Germs Away…

Right now, I want to marry Hubby again.

He has cleaned the house, while I wallowed in my dirty blankets with my stuffy nose watching the worst movie ever, Private Valentine…don’t ask. I love Jessica Simpson, but that movie was horrible. At least it made me forget my germs for a bit.

So, lo and behold Hubby shows me the bedroom, which he has cleaned for hours…no more does the smell of snotty tissues, dog barf (the dog barfed yesterday in our room…luckily, due to my sickness, NOT IT rules did NOT apply) and the bathroom sink is CLEAN. YAY! I am so happy.

However, this made me think of a very funny memory. One of my first times visiting Hubby’s hometown in Texas, I got really sick with some kind of cold/flu thing. So, Hubby’s Mom took care of me. And I was grateful. But, here is my memory. She cleaned the entire room I was staying in from top to bottom, changed all the sheets and then just as I was getting ready to get into my new, clean sick nest…..she sprayed everything….including my pillows with Lysol! And I don’t mean a little bit of Lysol. BUT, I mean drenched everything in Lysol. It was horrible…the smell….ugh. And now Lysol scares me. It really does.

To this day, when I get sick, Hubby says if I don’t behave he is going to spray me with Lysol. And THAT is enough to make realize how lucky I am when Hubby makes me a nice, clean sick area….Lysol Free!

P.S. I guess I will stop writing mean things about him for now…