Please Stop

Please stop littering, complaining about stupid shit you have no control over, talking to people as if they’re less important than you, merging into traffic like an asshole, wearing less than age-appropriate clothing, allowing your children to do whatever the fuck they want in public places, texting/game playing/selfie taking/not paying attention while operating your vehicle, and talking on the phone while using a public bathroom… it’s weird. 

Not to get all hoity toity, but a few more…

Please stop throwing your cigarette butts all over the place, clogging the middle of the grocery store aisle to have a conversation with that person you didn’t want to run into in the first place, fishing for compliments, and talking on the phone while checking out at a register… it’s rude.

Oh my God, I can’t stop…

Please stop letting your dog crap all over people’s yards without picking it up, getting all up in arms over differing opinions, calling protesters unpatriotic – that’s an oxymoron, telling your bartender and/or server that you’re ready only to stare at the menu for another five minutes, interrupting people, being overly persistent when someone says no, saying all lives matter, and getting onto an elevator before allowing the others to get off… there are rules.


Last one, I promise…

Please stop using the express lane with your cart full of shit, ignoring the cart corrals and leaving your shopping cart in the middle of the parking lot, driving the exact same speed as the car next to you, not saying thank you when someone holds the door for you, believing that personal hygiene is a choice, asking your neighbors for their wi-fi password, chewing with your mouth open, spoiling the ending of a movie or TV show, using offensive and/or derogatory terms for other people, pretending to listen, and asking your server for the winning lottery numbers…it’s not funny anymore.


One Time

There are instances where I make the same mistake twice, quite a few actually, I like to make people question my morals from time to time, but sometimes it only takes once.

One time, I got in a car and sped through a cornfield, because it seemed like a fun idea, with a cat. We spun out and the cat went nuts, scratching my face and arms…so I never did that again.


One time, I didn’t eat any food or have any water on a 90° day and I fainted inside a swim suit store at the Mall of America. I woke up to a stretcher and paramedics asking me if I had an eating disorder to which I rudely told them to look at me, while pinching my rolls, do I look like I have an eating disorder? I’ve made sure that never happened again.

One time, I stood in line for 5 hours to meet Sugar Ray. I’d never do that again.

One time, I pawned an ex boyfriends expensive drill for a whopping $15.00 because he was, and probably still is, a total piece of shit. Given the opportunity, I would do that again.

One time, I took out a payday loan……… and it was the worst fucking thing I’ve ever done. I’m not sure how much more than I borrowed that I ended up paying back but it felt like a million dollars.

One time, I got an underage drinking ticket at The Bird night club that had 16+ nights on Wednesdays. That’s the one and only time I’ve ever been handcuffed by a police officer and I was clearly intoxicated because I asked him if I could keep the plastic mouthpiece I blew into as a souvenir. (He totally let me keep it, which by the way, is white girl privilege at its finest.)

One time, I applied for a job that was so far over my head I walked out mid interview.

One time, my mom caught me stealing her cigarettes and she convinced me to smoke three in a row, took me outside and spun me around until I puked. For the record, I give my mom creativity points for that one.

One time, before I got my license I stole my step dad’s car, skipped school, and drove it across state lines to go shopping at the Mall of America with my best friend. If you wanna read the whole story, click here.

One time, I told my entire fourth grade class that my dad lived in California and had a private jet that he would come and pick me up in on the weekends. My dad lived 25 minutes from me, and drove a red Pontiac Grand AM. Almost comparable.

One time, I cried myself out of getting a traffic ticket…….okay, I lied, I’ve done that so many times.

Nap Attack

I’m a napper. I haven’t always been, but God damn, I just love me some naps. I don’t even have to be tired, it’s still one of my favorite past times every single time I make the decision to lay my head down when the sun is still up.

No shame. 

It seems like naps get a bad reputation. Nappers are not lazy, we just find joy in closing our eyes and ignoring the world. Sure, I could read a book, work on some writing, or clean the house… but sleeping is so much more satisfying. Judge me if you will, but I try to nap at least once a day. I took a nap this morning. 

If you ever watch a movie with me, expect to tell me how it ended because sometimes I can’t even control my napping – it just happens. Most of the time, I don’t even feel refreshed when it’s over, but I never regret it.

Sleeping is something I’ve never struggled with, it’s never been an issue. Give me a concrete floor and a pillow and I’ll be snoozing in no time. My sympathies go out to people who have a hard time getting to dreamland, I can’t relate at all. What’s it like to try to fall asleep? Why can’t you just close your eyes and fucking relax?

I don’t know if it’s because my brain is always going a million miles a minute but I can take a quick 10 minute snoozer and have the most vivid dream. It’s like, Oh, I feel like going on an adventure – Imma nap. 

I urge all of you to embrace a good nap once in a while, or everyday, at least once a week. Make it a habit and list it as a hobby, most importantly don’t feel bad about it.


Motherhood differs from parenthood. Women grow that thing in their stomach and then push them out in a dramatic, painful, amazing way. I am not taking away from the dads out there, you also deal with things that we as moms do not… but we’re fucking the best. It’s just the way it is.

I’ve been a mom for over a decade and it’s brought me more joy, pain, fear, and happiness than I ever thought possible. To be frank, bringing my son into this world was miserable. Thirty-six hours of labor, for them to just cut the damn offspring outta my stomach. I requested the c-section at noon and it happened at 10:40pm that night. I’ll spare you the rest of the grody details.

My son has taught me more than any book or teacher ever could. I am a more selfless, aware, and compassionate person than I was before he entered my world and for that I’m thankful. We’ve had our ups, downs, and in-betweens but at the end of every single day, I’m proud to call him mine.

I used to think that parenting an older kid would be easier than the younger kid phase, but I was wrong. It’s not harder, per say, but the worries and challenges are bigger, just like him. I used to get paranoid that he’d fall and hit his head, or put a foreign object in his nose or ears, now I’m worried about his emotional stability and what is going on when I’m not around. Who he is spending his time with at school, and if his mouth is already as rotten as mine when I’m not within earshot.

He doesn’t hold my hand anymore, but he still catches my blown kisses I throw in his direction and slaps them right on his heart. The day that stops, will be a sad day. I’ve watched him grow up with each of his decisions, good and bad, into this independent man-monster. Sometimes he’s rude, sometimes he has an attitude for no good reason, and sometimes he tells me I look beautiful. Each of his quirks unique to him.

He’ll be in middle school next year and then high school. Eventually, I’ll have to wonder if he’ll want to hang out with me when I can no longer force it upon him, and he’ll have girlfriends who probably won’t live up to my expectations. It goes by quick, some say too quick, sometimes not quick enough. I’ll take each day in stride and trust that I’ve done my job to make him a functional member of our society.

“There’s no way to be a perfect mother and a million ways to be a good one.”

– Jill Churchill

Lies I’ve Told

I’m a liar, but let’s be honest, so are you.

If you told me you’re not a fibber, I wouldn’t believe you. I consider myself to be a bit of a recovering liar, I’ve become way more truthful in my thirties, but these little ones always seem to skate by.

I’ll be there by [enter time here].

Can’t wait!

Exercising on a regular basis starts tomorrow morning.

I’m going to start watching my mouth.

I’ll call you back.

I know, I totally agree!

Next week Tuesday? Yeah, I’d love to hang out.

No naps today.

Gosh, I wish the rain would stop so we could go outside.

I’m going to set goals and finish [insert anything here] in a timely manner.

I’m going to bed early tonight.

I actually really enjoy eating healthy.

I understand.

This is not vodka, it’s water. 

I’m late because [enter any excuse here].

I totally heard you, I was just thinking about it.

Wasn’t me.

I was just joking…

I’m on my way.


I have no idea who said that.

I am going to finish my book by the end of summer.

Don’t worry about it, we’re cool.

I didn’t say anything…

Let’s go out for one, but I’m not getting drunk tonight.

I’m going to get all my laundry done and put away today.

I support you no matter what.

We’re gonna get school supplies shopping done early this year.

This is a judgment-free zone.

I don’t have anything to wear.

I didn’t get that text.

I don’t know that person.

I’ve never stalked [insert anyone I’ve ever encountered] on social media.

It’s just a guilty pleasure [that I feel no guilt over whatsoever].

I’m not going to eat this entire frozen pizza.

I don’t lie.

“I’m the most terrific liar you ever saw in your life. It’s awful. If I’m on my way to the store to buy a magazine, even, and somebody asks me where I’m going, I’m liable to say I’m going to the opera. It’s terrible.” 
― J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye