“My side” of the family.

I ran into my cousin, Bob, at a bar last night. I was with Scott’s family.

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We were two drinks into dinner when Bob walked in. Scott was high on medication from the hospital.

Me: Oh shit.

Scott: OH SHIT. THERE HE IS!

Scott clapped. Scott’s family nervous laughed.

Bob: YOU NEED TO WRITE ABOUT ME AND OUR FAMILY MORE! We got an aunt showing her titties, we got a grandma shitting her pants…

Me: Goddammit.

Emily: Is this your real cousin?

Me: Yes, our dads are brothers.

It’s funny you say I need to write about you more, Bob. Because I have. I’ve written about our family.

And you wonder why I am the way I am.

A reprise blog post from four years ago. Believe me, my side of the family has gotten worse since then.

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“In my 88 years on earth, I have never seen someone so blessed by a family like ours. I have never seen a family so loved by each other. I am so lucky to have each and every one of you.” — Grandma, Christmas 2013.

Don’t let Grandma fool you. Oh, she knows.

Everyone has a “crazy aunt” they have to put up with on Christmas. I have a “crazy family.” I’m not kidding you – this is how they act all the time with or without alcohol. I feel I must apologize in advance for their raunchy and inappropriate use of words in front of the kids. It’s not my style to fill my blog with profanity but I will make an exception for the family Christmas.

What that poor helpless fly on the wall heard in a neighborhood clubhouse:

Me: Scott, is it messed up if my Grandma called me last week to see how much beer you and I can drink for the party? That’s sweet. She wanted to make sure she buys enough. — Scott: Your family has some serious issues.

“There’s a 45 second over/under on when Grandma will start crying during her blessing. You in?”

“Is Grandma’s seat shit proof?”

“Why are we waiting to say Grace? — They went to get some liquor first.”

“Grandma, look at this picture of Emma’s deer she shot! — Oh, look at that. She shot that? Now, will the deer recover?”

“So Zach took a bite of my side dish in the car and spit it out. Then one of the kids tried it and spit it out. My dad said it tastes like something from the Middle East. I hope the rest of the family likes it.”

“So then the asshole neighbor decided to call animal patrol on us. I’m sorry but you’re going to have to hold me back from getting drunk, picking up every piece of dog shit in my yard and making a pile on their front porch. — Hey, did you know your grandmother did that once? Left a bag of shit with a note that said “your dog is shitting in my lawn.”

“AH! Who’s rubbing my shoulder? I hope you don’t have jizz on your hands!”

“Are we going to play spin the bottle? — No, we are going to play spin Grandma.”

“Go give your Grandmother a kiss. — Let’s get wet, Grandma!”

“Wait, why is Grandma giving my unborn baby a gift? Does she think she’ll be dead next year? — Just shove the gift up your vag.”

“Oh, this is going way too slow. Someone help that kid open that shit.”

“What’d you get? — Great. Fuck you.”

“I think my mom just farted. — Maybe it was a queef. — What does a queef even smell like? — Like a flower. Like a deflowering. They don’t stink at all.”

“Hey, show Julie that picture of my mom pissing herself.”

“Don’t put your ballsack in my face! Jesus Christ!”

“Hold on. Stop opening presents. Grandma is going to the bathroom. — Is someone going to go help her wipe? Tom, go help your mother wipe her ass.”

“I think Grandma grabbed a tampon out of her purse on the way to the bathroom.”

“Ok! Open your presents! — Let’s see how good Grandma’s gaydar is working.”

“I’m trying to grab his ballsack! Hold on, maybe I got the head. Have you seen his ballsack? I’m telling you, he mooned me once and they’re HUGE, like just hanging down like some sort of animal. He has the biggest ballsack I’ve ever seen. You should check them out sometime.”

“I’m pretty sure your husband just tongued Grandma.”

“Hey! There is nothing wrong with my ass! — Except it’s hairy.”

“That’s my wife’s seat but you can go ahead and sit here. You’re way hotter than her. — I’m your cousin, Bob.”

“I got an Oklahoma Joe’s gift card. You want to steal it, then come and get it. It’s in my pants.”

“Oh my gosh! It’s a flesh light! What’s a flesh light? It’s a vagina in a tube! Show grandma! (Grandma looks at it) Room starts chanting – TRY! IT! ON! TRY! IT! ON!”

“He just slapped the vagina. Is that his signature move?”

“Kate sure is pretty. But if she doesn’t like you, she has that “eat shit and die” face nailed down.”

“Where is the damn macaroni and cheese? What do you mean she didn’t make it? What kind of sister are you to tell her not to bring it? This is the only reason we invite her!”

“How’s the baby brewing? He’s growing good! Did you know it’s a boy? I have a dick growing inside me!”

“So you can still have lots of sex right now while pregnant. But towards the end, you’ll have to cut him off. But hey, at least there is still anal.”

“Did you just grab him? — Yeah, I did. And there is nothing there. Same with his crotch, I grabbed that too.”

“I don’t want a baby that’s naked.”

“I don’t know where it went but I just spit out my food.”

“Go fill this up with half vodka. — You didn’t even say please. — I already took “care of you” earlier. I don’t have to say please.”

“Most gay guys are good looking, like models. You are definitely not gay.”

“Did you say I’m about to clear this section out? There aren’t even deviled eggs here!”

“Oh, hey. I am trying to teach your daughter how to poop in here.”

“He’s the only nephew I can mess with. — Yeah, you took a bath with him once too.”

“Nice necklace. You wearing anal beads around your neck these days?”

______________

Wait, don’t go! Find me on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram.

And don’t forget to buy my book, “But Did You Die?”

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Wieners take a lot of practice.

“You’re getting piss all over the place!”

Good afternoon.

Have you ever tried to control a penis while it’s peeing?

“I’m not stopping the stream. You better get some control.”

You need to ever so lightly press down on the penis so it makes the straight – straight-ish – stream into the toilet.

“Jesus, what are you doing?! You can’t reach in between my legs and grab it from underneath! That’s my sack!”

It takes practice.

“A grip?! What do you mean a grip?”

It takes precision. Ask any boy in potty-training.

“Your hands are ice cold. Don’t hit the crutches or I might fall.”

A penis doesn’t need toilet paper. A couple shakes will do.

“STOP LASSO’ING! It’s not a Goddamn rodeo. What the hell is wrong with you?! I swear to God, if I fall…”

Pull up the underwear.

“Don’t tuck it down! I’m not a baby!”

Pull up the pants, put the toilet seat down, and flush.

“Move. Move. Just leave the toilet alone. Do this later. I. can’t. move. I need you to help me move.”

Slowly, hobble back to bed and go to sleep.

“Wake up. I think I need to poop. I’ve been holding it, hoping it will go away. I don’t think a plate will work. Get me a bowl.”

And that’s the cue to take the penis to the hospital for back pain. If you can’t sit, that calls for a Godsend nurse – saving us all in the name of medicine.

I can help the penis but I cannot help the butthole.

______________

Wait, don’t go! Find me on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram.

And don’t forget to buy my book, “But Did You Die?”

pepper2017

This isn’t the blog post I thought it would be.

This is a quick blog post today. I knew I would write about Scott working out with me – I just didn’t think he would end up with a back injury from the first warm-up move. 

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Me: Scott, I’m so excited you’re going to work out with me at Fusion! Burn with your boy!

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Scott: I’m going to get my ass kicked, aren’t I?

Me: Are you scared of two women?

Scott: Yes.

Me: Hm.

I flashback to yesterday’s workout.

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Me: You’ll be fine.

Scott and I walked into Fusion. Men filled the lobby. They looked terrified.

Shauna: Hey, girl! Is this going to be a blog post?

Me: I already started taking video.

Scott found a familiar face, our friend, Erin.

Me: Hi, Erin!

Erin: Hey! I’m so glad you two came! You boys scared?

Scott: Yes.

Me: Scott, let’s get our spot. It looks crowded already.

Scott and I walked in the studio.

Me: Looks like only the middle is available.

Scott: I don’t want to be in the middle! Everyone is staring at us!

Me: THAT’S WHAT I SAY TOO! I hate the middle. I feel like everyone is watching me. We’ll be ok. These guys don’t know what they’re doing either.

Scott and I put our mats down. Scott stretched while I put my sweatshirt and purse away. The class started.

Shauna: Welcome to Burn with Your Boy! I’m Shauna. Guys – I’m going to make you sweat. Let’s go.

Shauna led the class into the first move.

Shauna: Hook, hook. Squat. Hook! Good!

I looked over at Scott.

Scott: I don’t know what I’m doing!

Me: I don’t either. Just move.

Shauna: And 5 – 4 – 3 – 2 – and one.

Shauna moved to the next move.

Scott walked out.

What the. Maybe he has to pee. 

I finished the next set of moves and walked in the lobby.

Me: What happened? Too tough after one move!?

I laughed.

Scott stood completely still in the hallway.

Scott: My back went out. I can’t move.

Me: WHAT?! Do you need me to take you to the hospital?

Scott: My back was already sore before we got here. I heard it pop. It’s not as bad as last time but it’s bad.

Me: Here, I’ll get my stuff.

Scott: No, finish your workout. Maybe if I walk around it will be better. I can’t bend past this.

Scott tried to bend his waist.

Me: Well, maybe you can walk at JC Penney?

Scott: I’m going to try that. Go. Go workout. What time will it be done?

Me: 11:15. Are you sure? I don’t have to do this.

Scott: Just let me walk.

Me: Ok, text me if you need me.

I went back and finished the class. I left immediately and called Scott.

Me: Where are you?

Scott: Truck. I barely made it.

Me: You should have texted me! Did you walk at JC Penney?

Scott: Yeah for two minutes then I almost passed out.

Me: Jesus, Scott! I’m almost at the truck. Bye.

I opened the passenger door. Scott was flat on his back.

Me: Scott, do you need to go to the hospital? Or maybe we can get you into a doctor instead of ER.

Scott: Just take me home. They’ll only give me painkillers. It needs to heal on its own.

Me: Ok, let’s go home.

Scott: I’m sorry. I really want to do that class with you.

Me: I really wanted to write a blog post about this. It would have been hilarious.

Scott: Are you kidding me?

Me: You’re always gold, Scott. It’s not that kind of blog post, I guess.

I successfully drove him home without slamming on the brakes, helped him move slowly out of the car, and got him into the house. Moving from the truck to our house took 20 minutes. We finally got him to the couch. He is trying to get up to pee but he’s restricted to flat on his back.

I’m getting him a pee cup now.

Hoping tomorrow is better. A better Scott and a better blog post.

______________

Wait, don’t go! Find me on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram.

And don’t forget to buy my book, “But Did You Die?”

pepper2017

Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals.

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Emma: Awesome. So our neighbors and family will be getting THIS in their mailboxes?

Me: We are not a normal family, Emma. Always remember this.

Emma: Did you show dad?

Me: No. He won’t care.

Emma: Did you show Kate?

Me: You know what? I don’t care what Kate thinks at this point because Kate won’t smile for a family picture. I will not let her ruin the family Christmas picture. We’ll ruin it together.

Emma: This is so embarrassing.

Me: This is the best Christmas card yet, Emma.

Merry Christmas!

With love, The Burtons

Scott, Julie, Emma, and Kate

Stella, Belle, and Penny (not pictured)

If you would like a real card – please email me your address at Jbugbytes@gmail.com 

______________

Wait, don’t go! Find me on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram.

And don’t forget to buy my book, “But Did You Die?”

A Thanksgiving planner.

Day 16.

16 consecutive days of writing.

It’s not over yet.

Day 23 is Thanksgiving in the United States.

Day 23 requires planning. Day 23 brings out the foodies, the NFL fans, the Pilgrim lovers, the shoppers, and any person that hates their job and wants a long weekend off. Day 23 sends the masses to a place on the internet known as Pinterest.

I am a fan of Pinterest. I use it a lot for dinner ideas. I use it for school parties. I use it to plan a rehearsal dinner I’m hosting the Saturday after Thanksgiving (Day 25, that’s another post).

I’m also quick to call bullshit on Pinterest.

A Thanksgiving Planner

Two weeks before

  • Plan a menu.
  • Select dishes and serving ware.
  • Tell yourself to stop stuffing your butterball ass with leftover Halloween candy. Jesus, get ahold of yourself.
  • Wash the sheets and towels for your house guests. Prepare the beds and bathroom for their stay. Say a prayer to sweet baby Jesus. “Dear baby Jesus, please don’t let the kids and pets urinate, defecate, puke, spit, let a runny nose run, slash someone’s leg with a butter knife, or let blood splatter on the fresh sheets and towels. I cannot do any more laundry. Thank you and amen.”

One week before

  • Get organized with lists. Make a grocery list and arrange the ingredients by location in the store.
  • Make a seating chart and place cards.
  • Prepare the kitchen. Clean out the pantry and fridge to make room for groceries and leftover dishes.
  • Clean your house. If desired, decorate.
  • Tell the kids you will send them to their room if they continue to whine about the kids table.
  • Throw out the seating chart because someone wrote  “is poop,” “is a butthead,” “pees her pants,” and “mommy is mean” on all the place cards.
  • Convince your kids that you weren’t trying to kill them with a barbecue sauce that expired last winter.
  • Or the ranch dressing from 2015. Good God, what is in here.
  • Don’t bother cleaning. You’re still a week out. Have you seen what kids can do in seven days? They urinate, defecate, puke, spit, let a runny nose run, slash someone’s leg with a butter knife and let blood splatter. They are walking crumbs. They pick their nose and wipe it on the walls. Oh, I went there. I went there because you’d be a fool to clean a week out.
  • Hide the evidence of Halloween decor. And the Halloween bags of candy. We already discussed this last week, butterball.

The Monday before

  • Purchase all nonperishable groceries.
  • If frozen, defrost the turkey.
  • Panic. You have a storm of people arriving from all over the country and you haven’t done shit. Snap at your spouse and scream he hasn’t done shit. Scream at the kids for not picking up a shoe. Apologize to your child for blowing up. Flip off your kid behind her back when she says, “it’s just a shoe, Cinderella’s evil stepmother.”
  • Give your spouse a grocery list and regret this decision as soon as he pulls out of the driveway.
  • Send your spouse back to the grocery store when he says he forgot the green beans, fried onions, cranberry sauce, corn, milk, and juice for the kids. But he did get in his beer run. 

The Tuesday before

  • Make pie dough.
  • Make cranberry sauce.
  • Cut the bread for stuffing into cubes.
  • Order a pie from the local bakery.
  • Check to make sure you have boxed mashed potatoes.
  • Scream at the family for eating all the groceries. Ask them if they can please stop eating for two days. Now you have to go to the store again.
  • Sit and pour yourself a glass of merlot. Rip open a slice of Kraft American cheese and cut the bread. It’s a wine, bread, and cheese dinner kind of night. You’ve worked hard this week.
  • Tell the kids it’s a cereal night. 
  • Realize you’re only two days into the week and laugh at yourself.
  • Might as well finish the bottle of merlot because you don’t want that turning into vinegar two nights from now.
  • Tell yourself you should be a damn scientist for remembering wine turns into vinegar because you’re drunk now.

The Wednesday before

  • Chop veggies. Place in bowls of water in the fridge.
  • Shop for remaining groceries that spoil easily.
  • Prepare any side dishes that can be made ahead.
  • If you’re making a fresh turkey, pick it up from the market.
  • Make a list in your head of all the crap you have to do while laying in bed watching the Hallmark Channel’s Christmas movies. You have a monster headache.
  • Scream at the kids to stop fighting. They’re out of school now.
  • Feel the lightening pain shoot through your head after screaming.
  • Get your ass out of bed.
  • Pick up some pre-made sides from the grocery store. 
  • Navigate through swarms of people with your shopping cart. Contemplate running into their heels with your cart. Remind yourself how much you hate people.
  • Walk down the grocery aisle and wonder if you could shoot a turkey if you were a pilgrim.
  • Wonder if the pilgrims had guns.
  • Wonder if the pilgrims strangled turkeys.
  • Tell yourself, no, that’s what the Native Americans were for.
  • Wonder if Native Americans celebrate Thanksgiving. God, the pilgrims and white folks were assholes.
  • Make a mental note to browse the history channel’s website because you completely forgot what we’re celebrating.
  • Pick up the pie from the bakery you called in.

Thanksgiving

  • Remove turkey from the fridge in the morning and let come to room temperature.
  • Make the stuffing.
  • For dinner at 5 p.m., put turkey in at noon.
  • Reheat cranberry sauce.
  • Mash the potatoes.
  • Make appetizers.
  • Chill wine and cocktails.
  • Have a fabulous time.
  • Wonder if everyone is going to get massive diarrhea after eating a turkey thawing at room temperature.
  • Chill wine and cocktails – that shit was chilled last week. Cross that bitch off your list.
  • Heat up all the appetizers and sides you bought pre-made. Keep an eye out for the side-eyes. I see you, KAREN. 
  • Wonder who the hell eats cranberry sauce.
  • Yell at your spouse for watching football and not helping with cooking. Explain to him that this is 2017 – get his ass up and help. God damn.
  • Apologize to Grandma for the profanities but if any generation is going to break this sexist chain of Thanksgiving customs, it’s yours.
  • Pour yourself a glass of wine because there’s too many people in your kitchen. And now Grandma is giving you a side-eye.
  • Tell the kids no one gets pie unless they stay at the kids table. Separate your daughters because one is stabbing the other with a fork. 
  • Take a picture of your plate. Add it to Instagram once everyone says “amen.” Hashtag Thanksgiving dinner. Hashtag thankful. Hashtag family. Hashtag blessed.
  • Have a fabulous time. Thanksgiving is over until next year.

______________

Wait, don’t go! Find me on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram.

And don’t forget to buy my book, “But Did You Die?”

pepper2017

 

Wordless Wednesday.

People

 

blake

JG3JG2JG

JG-2

______________

Wait, don’t go! Find me on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram.

And don’t forget to buy my book, “But Did You Die?”

pepper2017

The carpet repair guy just got his own blog post.

Me: Thank you so much for getting me in today! My husband is putting away the dogs. You can come in.

Carpet Repair Guy (Oh, let’s just call him Mike): You’re welcome. So a cat problem, huh?

Mike put an old towel down on the rug and stomped his wet shoes.

Me: Yes, our cat is scratching the carpet upstairs. She likes to scratch the corner of the doors. There’s about 4 or 5 spots. I’ll show you.

Mike: Lead the way.

I took Mike upstairs.

Me: Ok, so here. Here. Here. And in my daughter’s room, two spots there. We have leftover carpet in the basement.

Mike: Yep. Easy fix. I’ll get my things from my truck. Shouldn’t be more than an hour.

I led Mike to the entry. I waited at the door while Mike got his things and entered the house again. He stomped his feet.

Mike: And where is the extra carpet?

Me: It’s in the basement. Follow me. Here it is. You can cut it wherever, we’re only using it for scraps.

Mike cut a square out.

Me: Oh, that’s it?

Mike: Do you have more spots that appeared since I left?

Me: No.

Mike: Then that’s it.

Me: Oh, ok.

I guided Mike back up two flights of stairs. Mike huffed at the top.

Mike: Wow, you must have some calves of steel.

Me: I actually don’t come up here a lot. The master is on the main level. The kids have the loft and bedrooms to themselves.

Mike: Aren’t you out of breath? Man, I should probably start up smoking. So when I quit smoking it will feel like I can breathe again.

I laughed. Mike didn’t laugh.

Me: Oh.

Mike: Are you going to stand here and watch? Or do you want to learn how to do this?

Me: I am concerned the cat will do this again, so yes, I want to see.

Mike: It’s not hard if you’re particular. I’ll show you. You’ll need a glue gun. These two different types of shears. Right now I’m trying to figure out which direction your carpet was laid down. It’s going this way, right?

Me: Yeah, that looks right.

Mike laughed.

Mike: What am I doing asking you? You’ve never done this.

Me: Oh. Right. Yeah.

Me: Do you have any suggestions on getting a cat to stop scratching the carpet? I bought cat posts and cat nip and I have….

Mike looked up at me and stared.

Mike: Why would I tell you the answer to that.

Me: Oh! Right.

I nervous laughed.

Mike looked back down at his work.

Mike: Actually, what I found is that cats and dogs usually want something. If you figure out what the cat wants, she’ll stop.

Me: To sharpen her claws?

Mike: Does she use the posts?

Me: Yes.

Mike: Then she wants something else. If I had to guess she wants in this bedroom and this bathroom. She’s trying to dig her way in. Leave the doors open.

Me: Leave the doors open? I’ve been keeping them shut this whole time, thinking she won’t scratch if there’s a door there.

Mike looked up and stared at me.

Me: Oh. Ok, I get it.

Mike: You really don’t come up here, do you? You keep picking up everything.

Me: Yeah, my kids are gross. I have a friend that warned me about building a house with the master on the main. I’ll never come upstairs and it will be disgusting. She was not kidding.

Mike ignored me. He continued to work then stood up.

Mike: Hm. Well the cat must like this kid.

Me: That’s my daughter. This is Emma’s room. Yeah, for whatever reason, the cat hasn’t destroyed Emma’s carpet.

Mike looked at me.

Me: Maybe because she never shuts her door.

We walked to Kate’s room.

Mike: Whoa! This cat really got to this kid. It’s all the way to the wood trim of the door. And the original carpet installer tucked the tape. I hate it when they do that. It’s a lazy practice. They learned how to install carpet from big daddy, Billy Bob, and get set it their ways.

Me: Oh, uh huh.

Mike: Big daddy, Billy Bob, telling them what to do.

Mike stared at me.

Me: OH! A joke! I get it. I get it.

I laughed.

Me: We haven’t declawed the cat. I don’t think many vets do that anymore.

Mike: It’s cruelty to animals. I’m not a cat person but it’s a cruel thing to do to your cat. I saw an x-ray of a cat’s declawed paw. The paw was all turned in and deformed. Immediate arthritis. A horrible practice. People just need to figure out what the cat wants.

Me: Right. I grew up with declawed cat. I guess this cat is lucky.

Mike: This cat wants freedom.

Me: Yes. Freedom. Leave the doors open.

Mike finished the carpet. I went downstairs. Mike followed.

Mike: Do your neighbors have a chicken coop or something? A barn? Is that a house? No, it’s not a house. No roof.

Me: Uh, I’m not really sure what that is. I’ve actually never noticed that. Wait, where?

Scott yelled from his office.

Scott: Yes! It’s a barn. My wife’s an idiot.

Mike: You’ve never noticed a barn in your backyard?

Me: Uhhh, I…don’t…pay attention.

Mike: To your backyard?! With these huge windows?

Me: I’m not observant, I guess. My mind starts wandering….and whatever. Here’s your check. Thank you so much.

Mike: No, thank you. Here’s my card.

Mike walked to the entry. He picked up his used towel.

Me: Oh, wait! Is this your wallet?

Mike: I wouldn’t carry a crappy wallet like that.

Mike peeked into Scott’s office.

Mike: Did he hear me? I said “I WOULDN’T CARRY A CRAPPY WALLET LIKE THAT.”

I laughed and showed Mike out.

Me: SCOTT. That guy was hilarious. He had this dry humor. He would make jokes but it would take me a little bit to realize he’s joking. I felt really dumb and really smart at the same time. I think he liked that it took me a little bit to realize he was making jokes. I’m totally going to use this guy again. Oh! He said to leave the doors open. Penny is trying to get in the rooms.

Scott: Really?

Me: I guess we can try it. Unless that was more dry humor and I just opened the floodgates for her to scratch fresh carpet? He’s probably laughing in his car right now because he just got his own blog post.

______________

Wait, don’t go! Find me on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram.

And don’t forget to buy my book, “But Did You Die?”

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Oh Emma, Oh Kate.

Oh Emma, Oh Kate is a series of funny things my kids say. Emma is 11 and Kate is 8. 

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Me: Why are you so evil?

Kate: Must be genetic, MOM.

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Me: You jealous I saw Bruno Mars in Atlanta?

Kate: You jealous I saw Bruno Mars in Kansas City and he said, “Hey, Kansas Citaaaaayy!”

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Me: Were you guys hot or cold last night?

Emma: Hot.

Kate: Hot and cold.

Me: How can you be hot and cold?

Kate: I got hot but then I just put one leg outside the blankets.

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I chaperoned one of Kate’s field trips. It was at the Mahaffie Stagecoach Stop, a working farm where kids learn about 1860s Kansas and the trails to the west.

Employee: What did the kids do for fun on the Oregon trails? Remember they had to walk the whole way to Oregon.

Boy: Play on their iPads.

Employee: No, they couldn’t do that because they didn’t have….anyone?

Kate: WIFI!

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At Mahaffie Stagecoach Stop.

Employee: Welcome to the California Trail! You read in the newspaper that someone found a little bit of gold in the Sutter River in California! 2,000 miles away, a 4-month trip! Would you give up your home and drag your family to California for a tiny bit of gold?

Class: No!

Kate: YES!

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Me: Let’s go to the pumpkin patch!

Kate: I want to bring a friend with us.

Me: I’m your friend.

Kate: No, you’re my mom.

Me: Your friend too.

Kate: No, my mom.

Me: And friend.

Kate: No.

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I picked up Kate from school.

Me: Where did you get gum? Did your teacher let you have some?

Kate: My friend gave it to me at the end the day. Because, you know, it’s the end of the day and I’m outta here so the teacher can’t tell me no.

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Stella put her head on my chest while I was laying on the couch.

Kate: I think she wants milk.

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Me: Take a shower!

Emma: Nah, ponytail day tomorrow.

Kate: Good one, Emma! Ponytail day.

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Me: See, Kate? That’s it. The eye doctor is the easiest doctor you’ll see. No needles.

Eye doctor: Yep! Easy!

Kate: Hair cutter doctor is easy too.

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Kate: What are you doing?

Me: Watching our Uber Eats guy drive on the map.

Kate: What?

Me: You can see his car. Look.

Kate: No, I’m not a stalker like you.

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Me: Any other questions before you babysit Ethan?

Emma: So when he goes to bed, do I just sit in the corner of his room and watch him sleep?

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Me: Hey, do you two have any floss in your bathrooms? Can I borrow some?

Emma: I’m out.

Kate: No floss in my bathroom either.

Me: So what have you been flossing with?

Emma:

Kate: I have one string left for me tonight.

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Me: Your teacher gave you such a good report at conferences, Kate! You’re the kid that is friends with everyone!

Emma: Pssh. She’s not like that at home. She’s evil here.

Kate: One time I saw Emma’s name on a test and I crossed her name out.

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I took Kate out to eat at a restaurant while Scott and Emma hunted.

Me: You want guac, don’t you?

Kate: How did you know what I was thinking?

Me: I’m your mom and I always know what you’re thinking.

Kate: What am I thinking now?

Me: You’re thinking I don’t know what you’re thinking.

Kate: WRONG. I’m thinking of Eric Hosmer eating a taco. (KC Royals first baseman)

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Emma: Which celebrity do I look like?

Me: Probably anyone that looks like me.

Kate: I know! You know that one actress…she’s in that one movie…Oh! Yes! I remember! POOP!

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Emma: Who was your first concert, dad?

Scott: Smashing Pumpkins.

Emma: Play them.

Scott put on Smashing Pumpkins in the car.

Kate: WASTE OF MONEY!

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I put on Snoop Dogg. I start singing and dancing in the car.

Me: “Drop it like it’s hot….Drop it like it’s hot. When the pigs try to get at you…Park it like it’s hot…park it like it’s hot.”

Emma: Gross, mom. This sound so old.

Kate: You’re dying mom, face it.

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Me: Ok, looks like one of you will take your cousin Ben for Christmas. And one of you will take Lucy.

Kate: I CALL LUCY! I like her style of stealing Ben’s toys away on FaceTime.

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Me: Did you brush your teeth?

Emma: Yes, we both did.

Me: Floss?

Kate Who does that?

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Me: Hey, Emma? Can you pour me a little bit more wine?

Emma: Sure. Hey, wait, how do I open this?

Me: It’s already opened. Just pull the cork with your hands.

Emma: It’s not working!

Kate: Got it.

Kate walked over to Emma. Put the cork in her mouth and yanked. And then poured the wine.

Kate: You don’t pour a lot of wine in a glass, Emma. Just like a few inches. And there we go. Ready to serve!

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Wait, don’t go! Find me on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram

And don’t forget to buy my book, “But Did You Die?”

pepper2017

Life isn’t fair.

 Life isn’t fair. 

That was my original post for today.

My original post was about me reading books my whole life. Authors are my heroes. They pull me in with words, like magic. They keep me up at night and I never want to let them go. I wonder what kind of world lives in their heads. Other than a few local authors, I’ve never met my favorite authors.

Scott reads one damn book since college and a few days later, by coincidence, he meets the author. 

Scott rolled through the library’s book drop, returned the book, headed to the airport, arrived in Florida, sat through a few sales meetings, showed up for the inspirational speaker tonight and Robert O’Neill walks out.

Robert O’Neill is the author of the book Scott read.

Scott met the man who killed Osama bin Laden.

IMG_1211.jpg

The Operator: Firing the Shots that Killed Osama bin Laden and My Years as a SEAL Team Warrior by Robert O’Neill.

And that was where my blog post was supposed to end. Scott reads a book – he meets the author. I read 1,000 books – I meet two authors. Life isn’t fair, in my egocentric point of view.

But sometimes my blog is its own creature. It weaves through my life, repeating itself, giving me lessons and sometimes, even a theme shows up. My day – my blog post – decided it wasn’t over.

I heard the words life isn’t fair one more time today.

I asked Emma and Kate if they knew who Osama bin Laden was.

Kate: Nope.

Emma: Maybe. His name sounds familiar.

Me: Osama bin Laden was the guy that planned 9/11. He was a terrorist. He was the reason why two planes hit the Twin Towers in New York and another plane hit the Pentagon and another plane crashed in a field. Osama bin Laden was killed in 2011.

Emma: He was?

Kate: GOOD.

Me: I believe an American woman found where he was hiding but a group of men on the SEALS team went in to kill him. Daddy met the guy who shot Osama bin Laden. Here’s the picture daddy sent. His name is Robert O’Neill.

Emma: So wait, that guy with dad – is he good or bad?

Kate: He’s a good guy, Emma.

Emma: But shouldn’t he be in trouble for killing a person? Shouldn’t he be in jail?

Kate: Pssh, no. That Osama guy needs to be dead.

Me: He didn’t get in trouble because he had orders from President Obama to kill Osama bin Laden. He was doing his job, a very dangerous job. The President wanted Osama bin Laden dead because he was still a big threat to America.

Emma: Ohhh. Ok.

Kate: All those people died on the airplanes. Still not fair.

Me: No, it’s not fair. But Robert O’Neill probably saved others before Osama bin Laden got to them.

Kate: And now he’s got his arm around daddy.

____________

Wait, don’t go! Find me on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram

And don’t forget to buy my book, “But Did You Die?”

pepper2017

 

 

The after-fire commentary by Emma and Kate.

Day 11.

Over a third of the way done.

If you’re just now joining me, I am writing every day for the month of November. It’s called NaBloPoMo – National Blog Posting Month. I am a part of a writing group that calls it Nano Poplano because peppers sound better.

All you need to know is that I’m posting every day. I don’t plan the posts. I sit down when I figure out what I’m going to write about and I write.

Two days ago, I wrote about a 9-1-1 call I made. My toaster caught on fire. [If only the firefighters didn’t call me gluten free]

It’s the most popular post during this writing challenge so far. Writing a story like that is easy to me because the story wrote itself. If you re-read about that day, the only people that didn’t make an appearance were my children. My daughters, Emma and Kate, were at school at the time.

They’re making their appearance now.

The after-fire commentary by Emma and Kate Burton:

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Emma: Wake up, mom!

Me: Hey, boo. Will you turn on my coffeemaker? All you have to do is flip it on, I already set it up last night.

Emma: Yeah. Hopefully you didn’t screw that up and it catches fire too.

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Kate: So what happened when you dialed 9-1-1?

Me: Well, they ask what kind of emergency it is.

Kate: (high-pitched voice) Um, hi! My name is Julie Burton. And um, I, like, totally set my toaster on fire. I am a horrible cook. (laughs). Can a firefighter save me?

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Kate: I told my class you set our house on fire with a toaster.

Emma: I told all my friends too!

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Me: I wish you girls were here to see the firetruck. Here’s a picture.

Emma: No, mom. So embarrassing. The smoke alarms didn’t even go off.

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Emma: Can I have Eggos?

Me: Uh, no toaster.

Emma: Toast?

Me: What about bread and butter?

Emma: That is so disgusting. Who sets a toaster on fire?

Me: I didn’t do it on purpose! I’ll put a toaster on my birthday list.

Emma: Here, just buy one today and that’ll be my gift. Don’t make us wait that long for Eggos.

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Kate: Does dad know you called 9-1-1?

Me: Yes. I called and told him what happened. Why wouldn’t he?

Kate: I don’t know. Sounds like something you would tell us not to tell dad.

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Kate: I’m going to make biscuits for breakfast. Is that ok?

Me: Sure.

Kate: Don’t worry. I won’t burn the house down like you.

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Kate: Hey, Emma! Remember when mom set the house on fire with a toaster and the firefighters showed up without a smoke alarm?

____________

Wait, don’t go! Find me on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram

And don’t forget to buy my book, “But Did You Die?”

pepper2017