Humor Me

I'm a funny gal. I'm not bragging that I have mad comic skillz or anything, but uhm....I won Best Humor Blog twice in the Okie Blog Awards. I don't think they just give those out to the morose and humdrum. As a general rule, anyway. I've always been a bit of a cutup, a goofus and up until a few years ago when the avoidant personality took over, outgoing and willing to do just about anything for a laugh. Now, I tend to pour my humor into writing and save the oral shenanigans for those I love most, those nearest to me, my peeps if you will.

Oh my gosh, I just used the word "peeps" on my blog and I wasn't talking about baby chickens. Heaven help me.

Now, my husband is a funny guy, too, but he is, more often than not, just accidentally funny. He does not share my love of slapstick, sarcastic, off-the-wall stuff, stuff that is so weird and ridiculous you can't help but laugh. Or I can't help but laugh, anyway. When I was rolling on the couch (literally) the first time I watched Napoleon Dynamite he was sitting in the recliner looking at the TV then looking at me and shaking his head. We've watched it so many times now he'll chuckle in a few places, but I really think he's laughing at the kids and me more than the stuff on the screen. We rarely laugh at the same things. Where I was laughing so hard I snorted during Date Night he dozed off and my snorting woke him up. He did like The Hangover, but only because it was raunchy and had lots of cuss words. He does not like Saturday Night Live. I can bust into a loud rendition of Dana Carvey's "Choppin' Broccoli" and giggle at my own self, while he'll look at me blankly and say, "Why are you singing about broccoli? And who is this lady you bought broccoli for? What's broc-o-lay? Is that a kind of broccoli?" And at that point, depending on my mood, I will either bust out laughing at him or just leave the room in frustration to go sing about broccoli somewhere else.

But then there are times he does something like this: (excerpt from this post)

Mom got Paul some flannel pants for Christmas and these are the softest flannel pants I've ever felt in my life. He realllllly likes those pants. The second night he owned them, I was in the kitchen fixing a glass of tea when I heard him holler for me to "comere". Tea glass in hand, I walked around the corner and saw him standing just outside our foyer, with his hands on the banister, his legs about shoulder-width apart. He looked at me over his shoulder and in a thick Mexican accent said, "These are my recreation pants. Do you like them?" Then, just like Jack Black did in the movie, squeezed his buttcheeks and shot me a sexy look and I spit tea across my dining room. Then he took one hand off of the banister, put it on his hip then turned around and sauntered towards me while I was still choking on sweet tea and then he said, "Sometimes you wear stretchy pants.........just for fun."

And those moments are gold, people, pure comedy gold. Because it's so unlike him.
 
So, knowing our children share the same parents, it was a 50/50 gamble as to whether our kids would have a sense of humor or not.
 
If I've heard it once I heard it 43, 273 times: "Your mom". And by "Your mom" I mean, the age-old slam. The ones I remember growing up were like, "Your mom is so fat when she sits around the house she sits around the house" and "Your mom is so ugly she makes a mud fence in a rain storm look pretty" and the likes. Well, my children have taken this once-insult to the ridiculous. I can holler from the utility room, "Kids come get your laundry!" and I guarantee I will hear the reply from at least one of them, "Your mom's laundry." Abby is the worst, by far. I asked her if she wanted a slush at Sonic the other day. She said, "Your mom's a slush." When I ignored her and then asked what flavor she wanted she replied, "Your mom's a flavor."
 
Sigh.
 
The other day, I kid you not I heard that my mom was:
 
--a corn dog
--a front porch
--a flappy pappy
--a rotten French fry
--a stray dog
--a pothole
--a Walmart
--a hay bale
--a sofa
--a Vienna sausage
--a spider web
--a dish soap
--a tree frog
--Rice Krispy Treat
--boob sweat
 
and many, many more.
 
Okay, to be honest, the last two were from my friend, Stacie, who got in on the fun via text message and nearly made me wreck while driving down Main I was laughing so hard.
 
Yesterday we were in the van talking about car accidents and how each of the kids are getting pickups for their first vehicles because they can only fit one other person in the cab and not a whole slew of kids, thus avoiding the need for me to get a prescription for Xanax and possibly therapy every time one of my kids leaves the house. The two oldest groaned at the thought of only being able to haul one friend (and of course, I heard, "Your mom's a truck" from the backseat, too) and I said, "Well, I'm only trying to save your lives," and crossed my arms to signal the discussion was over. Then Kady, who posesses amazing butt-kissing abilities, said, "Well, Mom's right. Teenagers acting stupid and horsing around is the main cause of traffic accidents in America today."
 
Of course, when she said that I chuckled and said, "Thank you, Kady, with that report from the eight-year-old traffic safety commission." Without missing a beat she said, "And now .... back to you, Kristin."
 
I thought Paul was going to have to pull over to the side of the road he was laughing so hard. She's the one that is funny accidentally, like her daddy.
 
Sam's my slapstick hero. He's The Three Stooges all wrapped up into an episode of SNL and any movie starring Steve Martin. He can make faces, fall down, run into things and act goofy better than any kid I know. He never fails to make everyone around him crack up.
 
These past few weeks have been particularly hilarious around here. It seems like daily one or all three of them have spouted off with something particularly hilarious, like so funny the whole family cracks up simultaneously. I'm not sure if it's just my stress level causes me to laugh at things I don't ordinarily find funny, or if it's because the kids have just figured out how to say things at just the right time so they know they'll get a snort out of me. Either way, they are quickly becoming masters at the art of tickling my funny bone. And besides....
 
 
 
 
 
Your mom's a funny bone.

Out to RHOK

Vacation 2010 -- Days 4 and 5

Blogger was down night before last and then last night I was just ready to fall into bed and not think for awhile, so I'm a few days behind.

Sunday we girls took off for Lake Worth to do some shopping. The boys took off for Cabella's. They were gone a lot longer than us girls. And they make fun of us for shopping like maniacs. After we women-folk got back home we ate lunch and then Tracy and I just visited. The girls played on the computer and iPod, watched TV, Abby texted Chance and it was a nice relaxing day.

Well, relaxing until Abby and I decided to go to Walmart. See, I think our Garmin hates us. She is a British gal named Eleanor and she has obviously decided that we Okies are unintelligent hobknockers or something. I searched for "Walmart" and it found a supercenter 5.9 miles away. I hit GO .... and Abby and I ended up trekking across the Texas grasslands, hills and valleys to visit a Walmart in Nebraska. Okay, not really in Nebraska, but by the time we got there it felt like we'd been gone that long. Getting home was worse because I decided to show ol' Eleanor Biggsby of the Garmin a thing or two and not listen to her. Turns out there is a Walmart about 15 minutes from the house -- Abby and I were gone over two hours. Don't think I didn't get teased to all get out over that.

Yesterday Rick had to go to work and Tracy had a workshop to go to, so after giving us detailed instructions on how to get into Lake Worth they left us on our own. "Don't get off Boat Club Drive" they said many times. I listened intently and took their words to heart because another drive to Nebraska didn't sound like fun to me. My darling Texas friend, Lori, and her crew were driving in to meet us for lunch. She texted me the address of the place we were meeting, I programmed it into the Garmin and we set off. Paul decided to drive since I had taken that jog up to no man's land the day before. The Garmin told us to turn left and I said, "I think it's a bad idea....Rick said to stay on THIS ROAD." But Paul was worried he'd offend Eleanor and turned left. We toured a residential housing addition, got to see several empty industrial lots for sale or lease and when Eleanor said "Arriving at destination!" in her very excited tone we were disappointed to find she had led us to a strip mall. A call to Lori, some driving, turning around and gritted teeth put us in the Albertson's parking lot where my husband told me I could drive from here on out and that he adamantly hated Texas. I then caught sight of the sign to the restaurant and drove us across the street to it. There was a sense of sick satisfaction in that for me.

Lunch with Lori and her crew was wonderful. Just wonderful. Wish we could make Okies out of them.

After dinner last night we went to this amazing, wonderful store full of wonderment and amazing items called Sam Moon. I'm pretty sure it's where Oriental Trading Company meets Big Lots meets Fingerhut. I could've spent seven years in those three stores. Unfortunately, we spent 50 minutes there, then I came back here and penned this letter:

Dear Oklahoma,

Get a Sam Moon. Close to me. Now would be nice.

Sincerely,
Redneck Diva

After that it was swimming and hot tub then ice cream.

Today is more swimming, probably more ice cream and very little else. Today is the day we do nothing. I like today.

Vacation 2010 -- Day 3

First off can I just say this? I have no idea how on earth my husband gets the idea in his head that when he is cold I am cold, too. The fact that I am lying on TOP of the covers, spread eagle, sweating and panting isn't enough of a giveaway that I am NOT cold? Yeesh. 1:30am, I was having a wonderful bout of hot flash/night sweat and he just cuddled right up like a cold-natured teddy bear. I just don't get how my sweating on him could possibly make him think he'd warm right up.


Okay, that's out of the way.

The morning started off incredibly late and by the time I dragged my weary hind end down the stairs Kady had already managed to get Tracy to fix her some pancakes and bacon and find SpongeBob on TV. She was a happy camper indeed. Around noon or so we all loaded up in Rick and Tracy's car (and I am so thankful we all fit because the drivers here are all certifiably insane) and headed to the stockyards. We ate some BBQ that was sinful, shopped in a candy store where my frugality flew out the window as I paid $1.39 for a Ring Pop for my child and I took the kids' picture in front of yet another abnormally oversized animal statue. Abby literally rolled her eyes and said, "MOM. I don't want EVERY MEMORY from this trip to be you taking our picture in front of a gigantic farm animal!" What? The humongous rooster yesterday and the cow dressed in western clothes were adorable. She's just close-minded.

And after we exited the stockyards proper we realized we had missed out on getting to sit on the longhorn for a picture (this time of a real animal) and instead decided to go check out the mechanical bull. Sam watched a kid about his age ride and decided against it, but Kady? My sparkle princess, diva-in-training? Yeah, she hopped her happy Oklahoma hiney on that big ol' mechanical bull and rode it a lonnnnnnnng time. I have video. I'll post it when we get home since I left the cord at home. Dur.

After that the temps had climbed to a whopping 106* and we decided it was crazy to stay outside without being submerged in water so back to Rick and Tracy's we went, donned our swim suits and spent a ridiculous amount of time in the pool. I did two hours, but the kids did three. Kady has whined all evening about the bottoms of her feet being sore because she wore the hide off those pruny things. Poor baby. Did y'all notice the temp I wrote in that first sentence, by the way? ONE HUNDRED SIX DEGREES. Texas is insane, y'all.

We hit the mall this evening and Kady and Sam blew yet another $20 apiece on another stinkin' Build-A-[insert critter here]. Sam built a panda. Kady built a flamingo. And named her flamingo Diva. After me. I'm honored. I think.

I have no idea the exact plans for tomorrow, but I'm sure there wil be swimming and Abby is hoping for more shopping. I would desperately like a nap some time. Of course, I would also like to sleep through the night without sweating or being accosted by my cold-natured husband. The likelihood of that happening are about as likely as that nap.

Vacation 2010 -- Day 2

It's hot here. Texas has a whole state full of crazy drivers. The fried chicken is to die for. We're absolutely worn ou....zzzzzzzzzzzz

Vacation 2010 - Day 1

We left around 1 this afternoon for the big city lights of Yukon, America.

Oh and before I go further - don't try to rob the Diva Ranch while we're gone. We have a house sitter, a big BIG dog and the house is full of guns. Granted, the dog is dumb as a rock, but he's still big. And all the guns are full of ammo. The house sitter is mean, too.

We followed Mom and Pops as we got on the road since they were bringing the Tots down here with them. I quit running over my list after about 15 minutes on the road, telling myself there are Walmarts in Texas. And Yukon, for that matter. My jaws unclenched somewhere past Vinita and I felt myself slipping into vacation mode.

I decided that for the sake of this trip and the boundless fun and merriment to be had by all involved I would lift the Twitter/Facebook reprieve and tweet and update with wild abandon.

I gotta say.....it was nice.

Yukon is a great town and it's where my little sister lives, so I like it even more. We had "oven pizza" (Tot One's birthday request) and birthday cake and took about a gazillion pictures while she beat the snot out of a pinata. A trip to Target yielded an iPod Touch for the world's most adorable 12 year old and we haven't seen her face since I got it loaded and set up for her.

It's 11pm, all five kids are still up, all of the grownups are still up. The kids are having more fun than we are at this point. I'm just ready to slip them all some Benadryl in their drinks and feign innocence.

Make sure you're following me on Twitter if you want the play-by-play tomorrow while we drive to Texas for the first time. It should be interesting to say the least.

Out to RHOK

When you see this little sign below, be sure to go visit The RHOK --

because that's where I am today!

Vacation Preparation

By the time vacation gets here I am going to be too exhausted - or insane - to enjoy it.

Today I got the oil changed. I learned last oil change that it's totally worth the extra $5 to go to Lube 'n Go and wait 20 minutes rather than 2 hours at Walmart.

After that I went to the bank and got some money, but turns out we need more, so I guess I'm going back tomorrow.

I wrangled spots for my kids at church camp and nearly had a stroke when the guy told me that fees had jumped from $65 to $100 per kid this year.

I then called the First National Bank of Granny and asked her if she could help pay part of the kids' way to camp. Then I called the Grammy and Pops Bank and Trust Company and basically offered them my children for chores and odd jobs in exchange for spending money for camp.

I handed my son $20 and sent him into the barber shop where he came out with a flat top. I didn't really think he'd do it. He said he was, but I didn't believe him. He got them when he was little, but hasn't had one in years. Apparently even dudes get tired of their hair, too. Mine is in a perpetual pouf on top of my head these days because I just don't think a flat top would look good on me. Plus, I just spent $80 getting highlights. I'd hate to think I'd wasted that money. Abby now says her brother looks like he had head lice so bad the health department lady had to shave his head.

After the barbershop we went to Walmart where I picked up inordinate amounts of sunscreen and bottled water because, after a lovely, cool, slow-warming Spring, Oklahoma has turned into Oklahell. And have I mentioned we're going to TEXAS on vacation, which is one state closer to Hell? I also bought toothbrush covers because there is a monster that lives in our hall closet that eats those little plastic things. And of course, Abby and I were both completely out of makeup and face soap. Of course, everyone in Ottawa County wears the same shade we do (Corpse) and they were out. I also bought Oreos and Advil because you know that the #1 Rule of Vacation is: At least one female will get her period while on vacation.

After Walmart we stopped at Walgreen's to get the makeup Walmart didn't have and scored it buy one, get one 1/2 off. And I also bought Paul hairspray because he likes to spray it into a hard little shell on his head, much like Jim Bob Duggar does. Abby will walk by the bathroom and see the cloud of hairspray and say, "Dad's in there Jim Bobbin' it again."

Then we flew home to finish cleaning up the house because Abby's boyfriend came over this evening to eat pizza and watch a movie.

I spent the entire time of their "not-a-date" in the dining room typing fast and furiously trying to get reviews, posts, and emails caught up before we leave because I'd like to not have to do more than lift a glass of sweet tea to my lips occasionally while I sit by the pool for pretty much our entire time visiting the great state of Texas. Well, when I'm not visiting with wonderful friends who I miss desperately. And visiting the stockyards. I am excited about this actually. Or it may be the Crazy talking now.

And it's 9:16pm. The house is nearly clean. The laundry is nearly done. The kids are bathed and happily watching AFV. Paul has been to golf and is now home. I am getting ready to take off my bra and get comfortable for the evening.

NOTE: Y'all please pop on over to my review blog, The Redneck Review, and see what I've been up to over there. I've had quite a few posts there lately and have gotten to try out some great products and a really neat website with the kids. Just check it out and make me happy, okay?

And while you're popping over places, visit welchOK.com and make my friend, Tyson, happy, too. And if you click on the OpEd section and then "Diva Dish" you'll make me all kinds of seriously happy. Seriously. And leave a comment. I might wet my pants if you do.

Monday MckLinky: Why This Housewife Blogs

Mrs. Hart at The RHOK is posing the question today: Why do you blog?

Since I'm on the verge of my 6th blogaversary it's a question I ask every year and evaluate my purpose, goal and how this whole thing here is going.

I'm the first to admit this little blog here isn't the same blog it used to be. It's changed over the course of six years, but then....so have I. I don't post as often as I did in the beginning, but six years ago Kady was a toddler, Sam had just finished PreK and was ready for Kindergarten and Abby was a big bad 2nd grader. Strange as it seems, I had more time then. Back then I was just a lonely momma who was drowning in diapers, Blue's Clues and Bob the Builder, concentrating on ear infections and developmental milestones and making sure the kids didn't hit, bite, pinch or pull hair. My biggest excitement was my 2 1/2 year old using the potty and talking my husband into letting me sleep in for an extra hour on Saturday. I started blogging as an outlet, a connection to the outside world. I was logging all the things my kids did and said, while at the same time putting down for all of perpetuity the goings-on inside my head. It kept me sane six years ago.

Now my babies aren't babies at all anymore. Abby is staring 8th grade in the face and will be 14 in a few months. Sam, now 11, just finished elementary school and moves to the big school across the street in the fall. Kady is my lone grade schooler now. Instead of developmental milestones, potty training and teaching them animal sounds and their ABC's they're visiting the orthodontist, having boyfriends, dealing with mean girls and bullies, learning how to be the grownups they'll be in the blink of an eye. Instead of logging all the minute daily details of their lives - and mine - I steal a few moments once a week to jump in here and write something that usually falls short of what I want it to be. I'm working on that.

So why do I blog now? Well, for one thing I bought the domain. Essentially, I'm invested. LOL I'm kidding. I am proud of Redneck Diva and how people still read it, even if I'm not as punctual and routine as I once was. I still need this outlet, just maybe not as much or as desperately. My life runs at a different pace now, but it's so nice to know that when I need it I can find my way back here and just write. I've written some really good stuff over the years. I've written some really bad stuff. I've written WOW, I've written meh. And still y'all read. I guess (hope) the WOW outshines and overshadows the meh. And I do love making people laugh. I'm going to get back to that - to finding the funny in the every day. Just hold on. Loosely. (Ooh, that should be a song....)

Now, in addition to Redneck Diva, I write reviews at The Redneck Review, my not-so-weekly column at WelchOK.com and I collaborate with my girls at The Real Housewives of Oklahoma. I still blog because I want to, even if my want-to is outweighed by my busy kid schedule, neverending supply of dirty laundry and many bazillion other responsibilities. And that occasional stolen afternoon nap.

So...why do you blog? The Real Housewives and I would like to know. So write it on your own blog, put your link in the MckLinky on the RHOK page and tell the world why YOU do this "blob" thing, as my mom used to call it. I'm anxious to see what you have to say, but right now it's a holiday and I think I hear one of my children making noise in the back of the house. I'm shutting down the computer real quick so I can pretend to be asleep before she comes in to ask for French toast.

140 No More

I don't like change. I like routine. I like normalcy. I like to do things the same way I've always done them. If you throw a monkey wrench in my plans I wig out. I do the quinessential cartoon run around in circles, waving my hands in the air, screaming my lungs out. On the outside I appear flexible and I will more than likely just go with the flow, but my guts are churning and my head is pounding and my heart is beating fast and I am fighting the urge to vomit. But only those closest to me see that ugliness. Everyone else sees me just smiling and saying, "Hey, great! Sounds good to me. You know me, I'm flexible."

But a change has been brewing for awhile now. And I've been sleeping and hiding and avoiding like a mad woman.

For the past few weeks I have been in a nearly constant state of unrest. Sure, the end-of-school activities were crazy and we're leaving on vacation next week, but that hasn't been the cause. I have been borderline mopey even, quick to tears and the main way I know something is wrong way down deep is when all I want to do it sleep. Sleep is escape from the things plaguing me. Some folks get insomnia when they have something on their mind, but me, I just want to sleep until the problem is gone. The problem with that, though, is that it's really hard to solve a problem while you're asleep. 

I have been blogging just almost six years here at Redneck Diva. I have been writing for WelchOK.com since January. Last month we launched The Real Housewives of Oklahoma. I have a Facebook page, a Facebook fan page for Redneck Diva and I tweet more than that nest of birds in the oak tree out front. And I'm not doing justice to any of them.

My last article for WelchOK was about my intense love affair with my electronics. I realized the other day that I literally carry my cell phone with me from room to room because I'm afraid I'll miss something if I leave it unattended. I have permanent heat scars on my thighs from the laptop. (Okay, I really don't have scars, but I possibly could in the near future.) My thumbs ache. (Okay, they really don't, but when I'm an old lady I bet that's where the arthritis shows up first.) My husband has told me on more than one occasion he wishes he'd never bought me in iPod and that I'd never bought a laptop. I've been telling myself that at least with a laptop I'm in the living room with the family, rather than out in my office on the desktop, but if you're in the room physically and not there in spirit you're not really there and that's kind of insulting to my family. Recently I find myself giving my kids absent nods as they talk because I'm mid-text, tweet or status update. I should be ashamed of myself. And I am.



I love writing. It is truly a part of who I am. When I write and it all comes out the way I want it to, it is euphoric. It's cathartic. It's liberating, exhilating and I'm proud of my talent. When I write and it doesn't come out the way I want it to, it's a challenge, it's something to tackle, re-work, ponder over and fix until it does come out right. I cannot fathom not writing. God has given me a talent. I hope I don't sound conceited when I say that, but I know I have something here. If a person who has a beautiful singing voice sings in public they're not conceited, they're using their talent. They're not flaunting it, they're utilizing what God gave them. Right now, pretty much all I'm doing with my talent is putting out little 140-character quips. It's all appetizer and no meat and very unsatisfying.

What I'm doing with all of my many endeavors right now is like having a balloon that is fully is blown up with air. It's huge with potential energy. If you let out a little at a time, especially if you pull the opening taut and make it squeak, the results are okay, moderately amusing (sometimes annoying) and eventually the balloon is empty. But if you just let that balloon go and it flies around the room all crazy, bumping into things, making you jump and dodge and giggle, it's more fun. And much more gratifying.

That being said, I have decided to back off the Facebook and Twitter. I'm keeping Facebook because I have a 20 year class reunion coming up next year and that's how I intend to get in contact with the majority of classmates. I am, however, disabling mobile alerts. I will keep the Twitter account for awhile, but it will probably be deleted in the very near future. I'm nervous about this because it's a habit, and a fun one at that. I literally had a moment of panic this morning as I thought, "But how will I know what everyone's doing when they are doing it??" Then I remembered, I don't have to know what everyone is doing all the time. There was a time in my life when I didn't know who had PMS, who was shopping for a swimsuit, who just saw a celebrity in a coffee shop and who is the mayor of what location on 4square. Strangely enough, I survived and was happy living my own life. Now I am obsessively trying to keep up with the shenanigans of the 333 people I follow on Twitter (most of whom are total strangers), the 100 fans of Redneck Diva and 371 friends on Facebook (some of whom I haven't spoken to since 6th grade). It's exhausting. My phone chirps constantly. I'm sure my phone is tired. I'm tired.

I'm using all my potential energy in little blasts all the time and when it comes time to produce something I'm already deflated. I feel like writing these days is homework and who likes that? What I'm producing these days is comparable to essays like "What I Did On My Summer Vacation" and "The Person I Most Admire" assignments from 8th grade English. I miss making you laugh. I miss your comments. I miss feeling proud of what I'm putting out here. I miss using inspiration to create something good.

I love my little blog here and I love all the people who made it what it is. I love writing for WelchOK because it's fun and different and makes me feel all grown up and important and stuff, like the syndicated columnist I someday hope to be. I am thoroughly enjoying the adventure that is the Housewives site and can't wait to see where it takes us and what we can accomlish though it. I have no intention of not doing what I'm doing here and those places (unless the housewives kick me out for being a heinous procrastinator), but above and beyond being a blogger and a writer I am a wife and a mother and a person who needs to reconnect with the four most important people in my life - the ones who live in my house.

And I'm going to do it in more than 140 characters at a time.