Archive for the "Me Being Crazy" Category
Nov
03rd
2010
From time to time, things tend to get a little awkward around these parts. I don’t hold much back in the things I share with you all, and sometimes that includes some pretty embarrassing stories involving Justin. Like the time his fart smells woke me up from a dead sleep and made me throw up. You know, sweet stuff like that.
Some of you have sweetly voiced your concern about this. While I think it’s very kind of you to be worried about Justin’s tender feelings, I assure you that he is not only okay with the fact that I share these stories, he’s proud of them. Yes, I can safely say that my husband is quite proud of his smells. In some cases, he even tells me what he thinks I should write about on here, which brings me to my story…
A few days ago I was sitting on the couch watching tv and Justin was in his chair a few feet away. I kept getting whiffs of this gross sour smell, but didn’t say anything about it for a good 20 minutes. I kept giving Justin the side eye and tried to see if there was any indication on his face that he smelled it too, but he didn’t seem to be bothered by it. But man, It was sick. Almost as bad as the demon fart from that one horrible night.
After some time had passed and the smell was still lingering, I said something to him.
Me: Justin… do you smell something?
Justin: It wasn’t me.
Me: No, it’s not like a farty smell. It’s sour. Like old milk or something.
Justin: Nope. Don’t smell anything.
Me: -staring down at his feet- Umm…
Justin: What??
Me: I think it’s your feet. Smell them.
Justin: I’m not going to smell my feet. You’re nuts.
Then he stuck his foot right in my face and I died. I’m typing to you from my grave right now. It was nice knowing you all.
Anyway, even after I was visibly sick from the smell of his feet, he STILL didn’t believe me! He called me crazy and said something about me imagining things. Oooh no, Homie don’t play that.
Me: I’m serious… it’s YOU. Smell them!
Justin: I can’t smell my own feet. I don’t bend that way.
Me: Oh my gosh… Then take off your sock and smell it.
Justin: Hey Maddie, come here!
Maddie: -toddles on over, innocent and unsuspecting- Hi Dad-dyyyy.
Justin: -holding up his sock- Here, smell this.
If you’re wondering… YES, IT IS WAS CRUEL AS IT SOUNDS. Poor little Maddie took a whiff of his sock and made the most disgusted, horrified face I’ve ever seen her make in her life. She said, “NOOOOOOO!!!!!!“, wimpered and shook her head back and forth in disgust. Justin was cracking up.
So yeah. All it took was making his wife die and his child nearly pass out from the tortuous stench to make Justin finally realize that yes, his feet did in fact stink.
Tags: husbands smell Categories: Me Being Crazy Personal
Oct
14th
2010
See this face?
That, my friends, is the face of a monster. RUN FOR YOUR LIIIIIVES!
(Okaynotreally. I love the guy to death, but for the sake of dramatics, indulge me for a minute.)
When I was younger, I had visions of married life pretty much being a never ending slumber party. You know… movie marathons, an abundance of junk food, talking to your BFF for hours on end, braiding each other’s hair, etc.
What, you don’t braid your husbands hair? Okay, not so much, but you get what I’m saying. I was a day-dreamy girl and slumber parties were my favorite thing in the world at the time. Stay with me here.
(Just a side note, there is some pretty… interesting slumber party stuff on the internet. Exhibit A.)
So now that I’ve been married 4 years and have been properly schooled in the art of being a wife and all that comes along with it (HA. Right.), I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Marriage? Yeah, not a the slumber I envisioned. Oh it’s a slumber party alright, but not like the fun ones you remember. There are no late night movie marathons starring Jennifer Garner. There are late night video game marathons starring loud shooty things and husbands that yell obscenities. There is no braiding of hair. There is however, cleaning up of billions of tiny man whiskers all over the bathroom. But most importantly, and I wish I had known this going into it, there is no actual sleeping. Like, ever.
See, Justin has issues with sleep, which now means that I have issues with sleep. On the nights he stays up late, tossing and turning, I also stay up late tossing and turning. When he gets up for a big, loud, gulpy drink of water, I wake up as well. It’s bad, but I never really minded it until this one night when something truly horrific happened…
We had been married less than a year at the time. We were both sleeping soundly until it happened. Justin farted. AND IT WAS VERY, EXTREMELY, NOT GOOD.
It smacked me across the face and woke me up with the force of a thousand demons. Worst smell of my life. I jumped out of bed immediately and said, “JUSTIN! OH MY G–”, cupped my hand over my mouth and bolted for the bathroom. As if that wasn’t bad enough, as I was rounding the end of the bed, Justin groggily mumbled, “hrmmffl. Babe, can you turn off the tv? grbglllftt.” And then he fell right back to sleep while I was throwing up from his foul smells. That is nerve, people.
The thing is, Justin and I have about 20 memorable stories like this, where he’s woken me up in some way or another and fallen back asleep while I’m left to fend for my life. A few nights ago, he literally punched me in the face and said “WHAT’S THAT!?” while pointing at the ceiling. I was all freaked out thinking it was a bug or something and he fell right back to sleep. I was all, ‘What? Justin, what is it!?!?” and he was out. He swears he doesn’t remember any of these things, but I think it’s a conspiracy. He knows. Ohhh, he knows.
Moral of my really sick story: Marriage is a never ending, braidless, sleepless slumber party of doom. And farts. You have been warned.
[ image credit for creepy slumber party dolls ]
Tags: husbands smell marriage slumber parties Categories: Me Being Crazy Personal
Oct
06th
2010
Pregnant Britney, you just made it so easy for me to decide this year. Bring on the frappuccinos!
And in case you weren’t around this time last year when we were discussing costume ideas, here’s a little glimpse of the horror:
Have you decided what you’re going to be this year?
Tags: halloween costume mary poppins pregnant britney spears Categories: Me Being Crazy Me Being Pregnant Personal
Aug
24th
2010
Last night I had a dream I was driving behind the slowest person in all of humanity. I rode this car’s tail and was becoming all hulkish and crazy-anxious to get to my shopping destination.
All of a sudden, the car stopped and a man stepped out. With both hands in his pockets, he casually strolled back toward my car and stood right at my window. Cocky jerk. I couldn’t see his face, but as I rolled down the window I was fully prepared to rip him a new one. Road rage, much?
The mystery driver bent down, looked through the window and stared straight into my eyes…
Andy Samberg??? Oh. Umm… Okay?
Andy smiled and I immediately melted like butter (???). He politely asked if I’d like to go get a slice of pizza with him (???). Just as I was about to say the words, “Yes! Take me to pizza and then let’s ride on a white horse off into the sunset together”, I woke up.
I seriously don’t know what the deal is with my crazy pregnant dreams. They almost always star a somewhat strange and quirky actor, none of which I find attractive or sexy in any way. I have no clue why they keep popping into my dreams like this. And a slice of pizza? Is THAT the true way to my heart?
Skeet Ulrich… Andy Samberg… Where is Jason Statham when I need him?
(If you see Jason, tell him he’s welcome to pop into my dreams any night he wants. And that I prefer Chinese takeout over pizza.)
Categories: Me Being Crazy Me Being Pregnant Personal Pregnancy #2
Aug
09th
2010
via
Have you ever been dumped without any warning at all? Without even a hint as to what you did or said to make this person not like you anymore? I have. Many times.
Me: Butbutbut… please just tell me what I did!
Dumper: Morgan, it’s over. Just let it be.
Me: We had so many good times! Remember that one time I made you LOL IRL? I can be funny, see? Just please give me another chance… I can be better for you, I promise!
Dumper: *silence*
Me: Wait! I CAN CHAAAAAAANGE!!
I’m actually not referring to past boyfriends. This pathetic scenario actually plays out for me each and every morning when I check my email. It’s the same thing every time…
I have a new message waiting for me. I go back and forth trying to decide whether to read it or not because I already know how it’s going to end and it’s not going to be pretty. Curiosity always wins the battle. I hold my breath. I read the message. It has a list of names. I scan through them and am baffled. What? My super deep and exciting thoughts about pregnancy puking, rude co-workers and Starbucks purchases aren’t exciting enough for these people!?
And then I may or may not shed a tear and go write in my diary. With glitter gel pens.
So for those of you who haven’t yet been lovingly kissed atop the head by Satan himself, let me introduce you to Qwitter. It’s a sweet little program that finds out who unfollows you on Twitter and promptly tells you about it FIRST THING IN THE MORNING. I know, isn’t that a great way to start the day? Finding out who would rather read the things John Mayer blabs about than your dull stuff? It’s way better than Wheaties!
I know it’s really not that big of a deal, considering I know about 10% of my Twitter followers in person, but STILL. sads.
Tags: qwitter twitter Categories: Me Being Crazy Personal
