The Blog of Bex

Things I've learned today: I've learned that my dog can, does and will literally lick the snot out of a 2 year olds runny nose. I've learned further that both parties seem to find this activity deeply enriching. I may never sleep again. And I will DEFINITELY never again have oysters. I've also learned today that both Traci Lords and I will turn 40 this year. I'm not sure why I find this so staggering...but I do. I've learned that I think that every single politician in this country is either a big fat liar or a piece of shit. The scariest ones are those who are lying pieces of shit. They are the kind who would sell their mother to get elected to whatever office they want. It's depressing. In fact, just typing this paragraph has made me want to eat something unhealthy and go to bed. Sigh. Lastly, and I think we can all agree that this comment has no business being in this blog entry (yet I push forward AT ALL COSTS), I find myself wondering why some women put

Just a thought...the next time a 2 year old runs toward me yelling "YUCKY! YUCKY!" I won't instinctively reach out to take whatever he's handing me and/or give him a hug. Especially if said two year old has a spectacularly gross runny nose. Yep. Next time, when I hear the words YUCKY I will dive for the paper towels. Because I am pretty sure that I can see the Virgin Mother in the schmear of snot on my shoulder. And you know what? She looks kind of pissed off. Maybe you should go check out something funny on Humor Blogs.com.

Ugh. I just read the news headlines today. And now I'm SO depressed. Jeez...Heath Ledger is dead??? WTF??? Dude didn't even make it to 30. That really sucks. Oh, and speaking of sucking, can we talk politics for a minute? Oh! Wait, I forgot...I'd rather slam one of my hooters in a car door. (And yes, ladies and gentlemen, I've nursed three babies. It can be done.) My disdain for all things political aside, there was a funny clip this week. I don't know if it hit the mainstream media or not but, as I live in Atlanta, Martin Luther King Day is a big deal around here. There was a celebration in Dr. Kings church (Ebenezer Baptist Church) and sitting behind the podium was our favorite First Gentleman Hopeful, Bill Clinton. Who fell asleep. It reminded me of any class I took in high school and college that pertained to math. The chin resting in an open hand. Elbow, on the arm rest. Head, occasionally nodding. Eyes, closed (although every now and then you could see that th

I love getting pedicures. There is a little place near my home where I go. One day, about a year ago, I was in there getting my toes a little TLC. Suddenly, and out of nowhere I might add, a Vietnamese lady screamed across the crowded room, "DO YOU WANT YOU LIP WAX, TOO???" It was with shock and horror that I realized she was addressing ME. My hand instinctively covered my mouth and I mumbled, "what?" She repeated her question and I felt all eyes upon me as I contemplated her offer of ripping hot wax off of my upper lip. I shook my head in what I hoped was the universal sign of, "NO! I do not require this service because I don't have a hairy fucking lip!" I suffered through the rest of my pedicure but I'll tell you, I couldn't wait to get home. Finally I was done and went home to do what any other red blooded woman would do: I kicked my husband in the balls. He said something like, "What the hell was THAT for?" So I told him, "T

Well, today has been, thus far, quite enlightening. I swear, I only took my eyes off of the boy for 2 minutes. Suddenly I realized that it was deafeningly quiet in the house. Which, of course, means that the little shit was Up To Something. I walk into the laundry room to find him with my beloved bottle of Shout. The bottle had been full and was now pretty much empty. He had sprayed it all over the fridge in there. It was also oozing out of his mouth and onto his shirt (which I'm guessing is going to be SPARKLING clean the next time I wash it). So I assumed the 'Oh Shit!' position (which is, in case you don't have a 2 year old boy, mouth and eyes perfectly open, hand grasping for phone to call 9-1-1). 911 put me through to Poison Control who asked me to read the label to him. I did and he put me on hold to figure out what I needed to do with my idiot, detergent eating son (and in the mean time I demonstrated my multi-tasking skills by changing a poopie diaper that smell

This morning I wanted to head over to the humor blogs website to see how I'm ranked (usually somewhere between 35 and 65). When I dropped in I saw a stack of unintelligible data. Then I suddenly felt implanted into a Nancy Drew novel as there was a warning followed by an intriguing invitation, " An unhandled exception occurred during the execution of the current web request. Please review the stack trace for more information about the error and where it originated in the code. " Oh. That's optimistic. Maybe this is something that I can review and make sense of. So I allow my eyes to drift down in search of anything that could be a "stack trace" or "code". Hmmm... Ah-ha! Found it. Let's read it, shall we??? I feel very confident that this will be illuminating. Stack Trace: [OdbcException (0x80131937): ERROR [42S02] [MySQL][ODBC 3.51 Driver][mysqld-4.0.13-max-nt]Can't op

I'd like to find something funny to write about. A real knee-slapper, where you laugh so hard that no noise comes out of your mouth but you might accidentally fart kind of laughter. But now I'm THINKING about it. Thinking too hard, methinks. So I tell myself to calm down and just observe life. Hmmm...life. I go in search of Thing 3. My son sees me seeing him. Our gaze is locked, neither of us smiling. He slowly inserts his index finger into his nose and holds it there for a moment. He then, with startling speed, withdraws it and shoots it into his mouth without ever losing eye contact. That's fucking terrific. I somehow thought that since the first two kids weren't booger eaters I'd gotten away without having to deal with THIS. And, even worse, it's not funny. Not yet. It'll possibly be funny when he is a world class brain surgeon. But then again, maybe the fact that my kid can eat a booger faster than I can say, "NOOOOOO!! It'll stunt your growth!&

This morning I was digging around under my bathroom sink. I was actually looking for any kind of hair product that might help tame the beast (my hair). And then I found something so unexpected...so strange and unique...that I actually forgot what I was doing in the first place. And, without further ado, here it is: In case you can't read it, this is body lotion that smells like Country Apple. (As opposed to Inner-City Apple, I guess.) Where did this come from? First of all, I'm pretty sure I didn't buy this. And I KNOW that I haven't used it. Yet it's almost all gone. Hmmm...peculiar. I wonder if my husband has anything he'd like to tell me. The other thing I was wondering about is how this product was made. There must have been a Research and Development meeting in the hallowed halls of Bath and Body Works where R & D folks were pitching the scent they thought women wanted to smell like. "No, no, no! Our focus group showed conclusively that women want

Oh my god. I need help. Make that HELP. I have the radio on and a song came on that I was kind of jamming to. It's called See You Again. Nice hook, good beat, I'm shakin' my ass...and then I hear the smarmy DJ voice, "...and that was Miley Cyrus with her hit, See You Again...." And, in case you aren't blessed with pre-teen aged daughters, Miley is also known as Hannah Goddammit Montana. Oh HELL no! Say it ain't so!!! Somebody PLEASE tell me that I wasn't just dancing around in my underwear to a song sung by the teen aged daughter of Billy Ray Cyrus. You know who that guy is, right? He used to sing Achy Breaky Heart back in the 80's. He was the Unchallenged Mullet King "back in the day". Business in the front, party in the back! Can I get a "yee haw"??? Hello, handsome... Monsieur Mullet, circa 1985 And then here he is as he looks now... I think I just threw up in my mouth a little. Anyone know of a 12 step program for serial hai

There are many people out there who have tattoos. I think that many of them were acquired during the late teens or early twenties. Back when you couldn't see yourself as an old person. Whenever I see a frat boy with a lightning bolt zagging around the circumference of his biceps I slowly shake my head, thinking of his arms frail and sagging as an old guy. Women may come and go, but he'll always have his tattoo.... So why I thought it would be a good idea to get one on my ass is - I suppose - a mystery forever. I wish that I could blame my ass tat on the poor judgment of a teenager. But, alas, I was thirty years old. I couldn't imagine that I would have three children (gah! it's still hard to believe!). And I certainly couldn't foresee that I would have three c-sections with three different anesthesiologists commenting that if only the tattoo were a few inches higher it could have been a bulls eye for my spinal tap. The tattoo is actually higher up than I had int

My two daughters, Things 1 and 2, recently alerted me that their brother was in need of diapering attention. They did this in their typically elegant way...they made choking noises and screamed loudly, "MOMMMM!!! Thing 3 made a STINKY!!! Ewww....GROSS." I must say that I find this reaction fascinating from people who NEVER flush the toilet. In fact every morning I go on my Potty Rotation to flush all of the toilets in the house so that if, let's say, the exterminator makes a drop in visit he doesn't write on his blog about what a fucking skank I am. Anyway, back to my diapering duty...as I was scraping you-know-what off of his you-know-what I thought to myself, "Self...this sure does smell bad. And it's so strong...it's like it's not completely contained within his...oh dear god...." This is when I noticed that he had Something all over his hands and forearms. And I'll bet his nose was itchy. I could tell because he left evidence there that

I'm truly not one to brag on myself. But I have to say, I'm feeling pretty good. I had a really nasty tummy bug the other day and lost a few pounds. And yesterday I had my hair done (got some sassy highlights, too!) which always makes me happy. So today I woke up and was inspired to put on makeup AND a bra - and it's not even my anniversary! My husband and I had fun with the kids today and ended things up with a wienie roast in the backyard. I loved it and was feeling great. Until Thing One - my first born - said, "Ugh, Mommy. You have a Bat. In the Cave. Gross. It's really big." In case you are unfamiliar with our vernacular, a "bat in the cave" means that you have a booger that is technically in your nose but is visible to anyone within 500 feet. I've never been known for my huge ego. And it has been suggested to me that I could possibly suffer from Low Self Esteem. But I never thought I'd see the day when an 8 year old suggesting that I ha

I am always amazed when I leave my home in the early hours of the morning and there are people out and about. I can barely see the runners (as the sun isn't yet passed the horizon) but they are hoofing it up the hill. Don't these people know that they should be home - in bed - snuggled up???! So you can imagine my surprise when, at 6AM, I saw the impressive line at my local Dunkin Donuts. But we were heading out of town on a road trip with 3 little kids (all under 8) and a 2 month old puppy. I know what you are thinking...WHY??! We very anxiously wanted to travel for a little bit of more pain - AKA my 20th High School reunion. Maybe more on that later... As if this all weren't bad enough, my husband and I had been to a party the night before and I had just the slightest headache. So I needed coffee and like all reasonable people I went to the Dunkin Donuts because their coffee is THE BEST coffee anywhere! Starbucks can kiss my lilly white! But I digress... So I get in the l

A couple of months ago I went to my twentieth high school reunion. I hadn't seen most of these people since the day I accepted my diploma. One exception was a guy named...well, let's call him "Joe" in case he doesn't want to be discussed on a public blog. Anyway, I bumped into "Joe" several years ago on Bourbon Street in New Orleans around 11:45PM on New Years Eve. I don't know about him but we had been drinking since that morning so I didn't remember much about the encounter. So when I saw him at the reunion I brought up the New Orleans thing and we laughed about it. We started making small talk and he said that he was, in fact, a medical doctor. I thought that was pretty cool. After all, this is someone with whom I'd sit at parties and bang heads with while listening to heavy metal bands. And look how nicely he turned out! I asked him what kind of medicine he practiced and he said, "uh, internal." Well, I'm no doctor (nor did

I am feeling very myopic today. All I can think about is how much I want a BLT and a bowl of cream of tomato soup. Did I mention it's only 9:30 in the morning and I haven't even finished my first cup of coffee? Enough about me...down to business. The bacon would be very crispy. The bread - thick, white and lightly toasted. The tomato will need to be a very high quality tomato. And it will need to have salt and pepper applied liberally to it. The lettuce....hmmm....I can go either way...iceberg, romaine...doesn't really matter. Add a liberal schmear of mayo and you're in business, baby! So seriously, does anyone want to make me a sandwich???

Why is it that kids don't realize it when they are getting ready to vomit? When I'm nauseous I feel like shit for at least 10 hours before yakking. Today I was driving around with three kids in my backseat (yes, I know, I was begging for it). Suddenly I heard something violently strike the back of my seat. It was a funnel of death. My sweet six year old daughter was at its' epicenter and she literally never even took her hands out of her pockets to perform this travesty. She puked on the back of my seat, filling the floor and my babies diaper bag. She also coated herself and the seat belt. I drove home with great haste, kind of like I had a nuclear bomb on board. When we got home I turned to look at her. Licking her lips...check. Hands still in pocket...check. Other two siblings staring at her with something between horror and respect...check. Seat belt hermetically sealed to sweater...check. A smell so bad that the back of my neck began to sweat and itch...check and check.

Tonight, when my husband got home from work, I said, "That's IT! I'm outta here!" So I made my stand and went to the grocery store for milk and bread. The saddest thing is that I really enjoyed myself. I took my time, browsing around. Hmmm. Do I want the Natures Own 7 Grain Bread or the Whole Grain Wonder Bread?? The Organic or regular milk? It was great...not once did anyone ask me to wipe their ass or nose. As I finished up my shopping I found myself presented with yet another option - did I want to deal with the what I'm sure is a stellar Kroger employee or would I prefer to ring and bag up my own stuff? You guessed it...I decided that if anyone was going to drool on my groceries it would be me and I rang up my own stuff. As I was waiting for a self-serve terminal I noticed the two women in front of me. The first thing I noticed is that they were taking FOREVER. I've refinanced mortgages in less time than it took them to ring up 11 items. The second thing I

Happy New Year! Father, forgive me. It's been like two weeks since my last entry. I took a vacation and I didn't even notice. Typical. So I've been thinking about 2008 quite a bit lately and have, specifically, been thinking about any Changes I might want to make. You know, Resolutions. There are a few that are obvious. Quit dropping the F bomb. Lose 10 pounds. Fine!!! Make that fifteen pounds. Be sweeter to my FABULOUS husband and my darling kids. But that's just so...expected. This year I want to really spice it up. Go for the unexpected! This year I will aspire....(drum roll please)...to... win the HGTV Dream House! YES! This is what I REALLY want. Oh please oh please oh please! I want it I want it I want it! I feel like a 6 year old on her first visit to FAO Schwartz. Gimme gimme gimme! I will be a good girl. I won't (any longer) pinch my husbands nose shut when he's sleeping and snoring loudly to see how long it takes him to stop breathing and roll over. I