12weekhardbody’s BodyBlog

On Monday my older son lost his first tooth.  

Apparently if you lose a tooth at school, you are given a plastic necklace with a plastic locket in which to place your tooth.

It’s real expensive and sturdy ****.

While waiting to get picked up from school one of the boys in his class wanted to see the lost tooth.

The locket opened and my kid lost his lost tooth.

Is it possible to get money from the tooth fairy if you lose a lost tooth?

It is.

Here’s what he did.
Wrote a letter to the tooth fairy-
         Dear Tooth Fairy,
         I lost my tooth.
         My lost tooth is at my school.

Lucky for him the tooth fairy is a giver.  She left him $2 even though she had to fly (or whatever tooth fairies do) across town and search outside. On a sidewalk.  And possibly in the grass for a tiny little tooth.

Can we say, "Dedication"?

Both of my sons (ages almost 6 and 2 1/2) have always referred to the twig as a "wienie" and they call the berries testicles (or tech-i-cals as the little one calls them) or nuts.  

Last month my husband and I thought the older one should know some other names for his parts in case he heard some at school (okay it was really because we would find it amusing).  He learned the word "penis" (which makes me giggle when anyone says it).  I told him not to laugh if he ever meets someone named "Peter".  He also learned the term "balls"

Cut to THIS morning at the breakfast table.  

My younger son has reached the "poopie" stage.  He says the word "poopie" in any sentence and kills himself laughing. It was cute at first but quickly lost its edge.

Our older son is Barney Effin Fife and tells his younger brother that he can only say those types of words in the potty.  

Then, he says,  "I’ve got a poem for you that you can use in the potty…
My sun, my sun,
You warm my penis.
My sun, my sun,
You warm my ball case.
You warm my balls."

I tried desperately to keep a straight face when I heard him say "penis", but it didn’t last too long.  He said "ball Case" for crying out loud.  Ball case!  Not exactly sure where he got that one but I think I see a new term in a thesaurus.

Tea bagging= dipping one’s BALL CASE into another’s mouth.  It sounds rather dignified when you say it like that.

Look out Emily Dickinson, you ain’t got **** on my poet .

Well?

(Dedicated to WaynesWorld)

For starters do not forget to pack your stuff.

I was so caught up in packing **** for my kids a few weeks ago that I forgot to pack most of my things.  In fact, I packed a skirt, a pair of capri pants, and two dirty shirts (they were packed separately and I planned on washing them at the beach) for a week’s vacation.  I had other (clean) clothes on hangers but did not remember to pick them up.

I realized this **** up about a 60 miles down the road.  Too late to turn back so I figured I’d just buy one when I got to the beach.

I went to a couple of stores and found a one-piece that I absolutely loved.  It was brown and croqueted.  I know, I know croqueted **** is for sweaters and other clothes not for wearing to the ocean.  I bought the damn thing anyway because I looked good and felt good in it.  It was cool.

Even though I did not have enough sense to pack all of my things at least I was able to find something that I liked.  

Another what not to do?  Do not forget to apply sunscreen E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E!!  Everywhere that will be exposed to the sun.

The lovely ensemble I bought to wear at the beach was, in fact, croqueted.  The part that covered up these huge-assed boobs of mine (alright they’re only huge if a. you can not see,  b. you have no hands of which to touch them, and c. you are not a dwarf) and the part that covers my lady parts and arse had a nude-colored layer of fabric beneath the croqueted part. There was no need to lather on sunscreen for my nether regions. The belly part was exposed to the elements (meaning NO extra fabric beneath the brown).  

I did not think to apply any protection to this part  :S.

Three hours later when I took the swimsuit off at "home", I realized that I had a sunburn.  Oh, what a sunburn it was (and still is).  I look ****ing retarded.  It looks like I have been branded on my torso.  Or that I am trying to convert to an amphibian and become lizardmom.  It has a pattern to it which makes my skin look like I have scales.  Hella sexy.  Um hum, you know that’s right!

Last week I was on vacation and I got a week membership to another gym.  A-****ing-mazing!  I loved every minute of it.  They had so much more different machines.  The locker room was great.  It was huge.  The showers were big enough to have an orgy.  

I would start my workouts by doing 30-40 minutes on a cybex arc trainer (I usually do cardio after lifting but I decided to switch it up).  If you have never used this cardio equipment, then you are missing out.  It is similar to an elliptical but I believe it was designed to keep less strain on your knees.  Your feet are always in front of your knees which also made the workout harder.  When I put it on the hill interval setting my ass was cooked. It was basically like high-knees running for half an hour or so.

The gym also had a stepmill which mine doesn’t have.  This was a little tricky.  My main focus was more on staying on the damn thing.  I did not want the front page of the newspaper to read STUPID BITCH GETS SUCKED AND STUCK UNDER STEPMILL AND IS BURIED WITH IT.  Not at all how I envisioned my funeral.

Even their lifting machines were awesome.  I tried to use as many different ones as I could.  One of my favorites was for lat pulldowns.  Instead of holding a straight bar in front of me, I had to hold two cables (far apart from each other) and pull down from my sides.  I did feel like Jim Baker during a sermon.  Praise the Lord!

When comparing my gym to my cheat gym the cheat gym won in all categories except for the clientele.  They were a bunch of *******s.  I am a people watcher during my rests between sets.  I don’t like it when I smile at someone and they don’t smile back…its a pet peeve.  It makes me want to punch them.  At least then I would see some teeth. On a positive note everyone seemed to spray and wipe down the equipment when they were done.  At least they were clean *******s.

Even though the people weren’t as friendly, I am ready to move just for the gym.

Last week my husband, two boys, and I went on vacation to Isle of Palms, South Carolina (near Charleston).  If you’ve never been you really should go.

One day my husband decided that it would be great if we’d go visit a place called "Bee City".  

Bee City, huh?  What the hell is that (you may be asking yourself)?

It’s a place owned by a retired couple.  They have a large air-conditioned room where you can watch bees come and go to make honey.  If you are lucky, then you may see the Queen Bee in all her queenly glory.  Feeling even luckier?  You may get to see the slutty queen get her bee freak on with one of many suitors.

Bees, Schmees.  What else is there?

Well, there is also a zoo of sorts.  Animals are caged but you can get extremely close to them.  You can even feed some of them if you buy the food.  Ridiculously expensive food.

Well, we bought the food.  There are two types of food.  One is labeled "monkey o’s" and the other is for llamas, alpacas, goats, and deer.

The first animals we saw to feed were the lemurs.  Cute little guys, those lemurs.  We stood right next to their cages, held the monkey o’s (which by the way is about two tablespoons of cheerios), and the took it gently out of our hands.  Verrrry nice.  A great experience.

The next cage we saw was some kind of monkey.  My husband said, "Damn!  Look at his blue balls."  Low and behold the male had a pair of the bluest balls I had ever seen.  A color so blue it would have made a sign at a bar proud.  We are talking neon ****ing blue!  I was a little skeptical of old blue balls (more so of his fingernails than his nards…I didn’t figure he could fit those puppies through the cage).  So I put a few in a cup and let him get them himself.  This too was a nice experience.

I looked over my shoulder and saw a different pair of monkeys in another cage.  One is making a squealing-like noise whilst he is jumping up and down.  The other monkey is standing next to a pulley system.  There is a little tin can near me that is dangling from a rope.  This is where our story takes a turn for the worse.

I am holding my monkey o’s, reading the sign that is posted outside of their cage…
(This is me reading the sign and this is exactly what happened)
"Place one to two monkey o’s inside……AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!OH, ****!  ****!  OH, ****!"

Apparently while I was reading the sign the little female monkey (bitch) threw something at me while I was trying to learn how to feed her monkey ass.  Could have been dirt!? Could have been ****!?  I don;t ****ing know what it was for certain.  Scared the damn hell out of me.  In fact instead of selling food for their animals , they should have been selling underwear for their customers who **** their damn pants!  

The week prior to the flinging of monkey crap a bird **** in my hair :S.  Can’t wait for this week!