Last week, I was awarded The Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award by Happy Little Feet, one of my very favorite bloggers and moms. She’s the kind of mom I imagine myself to be in my head. She’s all crafty and Do-It-Yourself-y. She experiments in the kitchen…on purpose! My kitchen experiments are just normal recipes gone awry. I’ve burned pasta before. True story. She actually completes all the projects I just Pinterest. I adore this girl, and I’m so glad that I found her in the blogosphere, and I’m honored and excited that she deemed me worthy of this award.
Plus, I’ve decided that I should be a professional award accepter. Is that a thing? It should be, if it’s not.
On a side note: I can’t wait to see the Google hits I get off the title of this post.
I informed my husband that we were now required to make a sex tape. Which in my case, is more like a horror movie…but whatever. I’m pretty sure all he heard was the word S-E-X. Let’s be honest (which I actually pronounce “Lesbi-honest” aka Jersey Shore style, don’t act like you never watched it!), I could get my husband to agree to anything if I throw sex in the sentence.
What I Say:
“Hey, honey…we have to make a sex tape now. ‘Cause I’ve won like 6 awards, and I’m pretty sure it’s like a thing…we have to do it.”
What He Hears:
“blah blah blah SEX blah blah blah”
I asked my daughter if she would “accidentally” release our sex tape. Her response: “Why can’t you be normal?” She also doesn’t approve of my relationship with Adam Levine. So, when we get married, I’m totally not letting her live with us.
I spent the last few days thinking about Sisterhood and what it means. I tried to come up with some really good examples of female solidarity in my own life…well, this is what I got instead. Oh, and continue reading at your own peril. You should probably not read further if you:
- Are easily offended
- Are prudish and have delicate sensibilities
- Think sex is something that should NEVER be discussed in polite company or with strangers
- Have no sense of humor or at least you don’t share MY sense of humor
You’ve been warned.
I got on the elevator with one of my sweet lovely senior citizen ladies. I look over at her and smile. She looks uncomfortable. I look down and see the cart of depends.
Sweet Old Lady: “I was hoping I could get to my apartment without anyone seeing me.”
Me: “Oh, it’s all good. Pretend I’m not here.”
SOL: “Thank you dear.”
Me: <sneezes> “oh goodness, I just peed a little.”
SOL: <looks at me>
Me: “I just said that out loud didn’t I?”
SOL: <pats my hand and gets off the elevator>
I’m not sure if that was an example of Sisterhood, or just a pity pat. Upon further reflection, it was probably a pity pat, and the most discussed topic at dinner that night. Awesome.
One of my co-workers took this picture.
If you notice in the center of the pic, there is what appears to be a penis. Someone spilled something and it dried in the shape of a penis. Maybe intentionally, maybe not. It makes me laugh every time I see it now.
So, I’m talking with this co-worker (we will call her B) and another co-worker comes up (We will call her P). B is complaining that two other co-workers just horrified her with talks of fibroids, hemorrhage-level bleeding and the type of cramps that leave you in the fetal position incapable of breathing. In a counter-offensive move, B starts interjecting with sex talk. Not because she wanted to talk about sex, but because she wanted them to stop talking about their respective vagina problems. She knew if she threw around terms like “blow jobs” both these women would politely excuse themselves from the conversation. So she’s telling me this horror story, and P walks up.
P: “I refuse to do that <she makes a gagging face>.” It’s probably why I’m not married. It’s just not right.”
B: <makes the BJ face/hand movement>
P: <makes the gag face>
Me: <thinking how happy I am my husband doesn’t know about this “supposed” marriage requirement>
P: “I have a friend that loves it. She’s always giving me tips. She says she does this one thing…” <she proceeds to demonstrate>
Me: “She motorboats his nuts? WTH?”
We spent the next few minutes in abject horror bonding over the things we all agreed we would NEVER do.
I was complaining about my weight to my youngest daughter the other day. She just looked at me, but in that one look, I heard what she was not saying:
“Maybe you shouldn’t have opened that bag of peanut M&M’s after ordering the pizza.”
NOT an example of Sisterhood.
As with all these awards, there are rules.
- I’m deathly afraid of heights. Mostly because I feel a strong urge to throw myself off tall buildings and I’m afraid one day I might actually succumb to this urge.
- I’m left-handed.
- A psychic once told me that I would one day be a great ruler and masses of people would follow me. I was 10, it felt true. She clearly wasn’t talking about my Facebook Fan Page.
- I can’t clean up vomit. If I see it, I will do it. If I even see that you might do it, I will do it. Just talking about it make me want to do it.
- Feet gross me out.
- I use Q-tips to clean my ears. I don’t care about the level of danger. I’m a rebel.
- I don’t like my food to touch. On my plate. Seriously, if my chicken touches my broccoli, I’m not eating it.
I’m not going to technically nominate bloggers for this award, but I will list a few of my favorites and everyone who reads this (all 5 of you) should totally check them out.
I’ve already talked about Happy Little Feet (see above). Here are a few more I love!
I could go on and on, there are so many other blogs not mentioned here that I love, but duty calls, and I must head to work.