Keeping the sexy alive in your relationship.

 

 

Over on my You Tube channel – Mommy Nani Booboo Tube, I often answer questions from either you guys, or the Mom Pulse community.  Mom Pulse is a new You Tube network that I am a part of.  If you’re a mother who is interested in producing video content and would like to apply, click here.

If you’re one of my non-mom readers, just watch and enjoy.

 

 

Young Heidi Klum told me to use my tailbone.

 

3:30 am – REM:

The man with the fog machine ran past me leaving a trail of white.  I inhaled, and the mist massaged my lungs.  It was a nice three second break before resuming my search for my left shoe.  Which way should I go?  Left?  Right?  Straight ahead?  The deafening music made it hard to focus.  I couldn’t remember where I had already looked, and my right silver 5-inch stiletto kept whining for its partner, “Briiiiiidget!  Briiiiidget!  Come to us!”  I looked down, gave him one more “You’re on my last nerve” look, and limped toward the bar.

The sweaty bartender pointed to the long fashion runway and asked, “Shouldn’t you be getting ready, back there?”  I shot him an exasperated look and pointed to my bare left foot.  He handed me a smokey drink and said, “You better drink your fizzy and head back there.”

The liquid stung my throat… I giggled like Charlie in Willy Wonka’s factory, and lifted off the ground… I floated over to the backstage area behind the runway.

They were floating… all of them… those faces and bodies I had seen in my catalogues and on TV.  A few of them were hanging upside down from chains in the ceiling and laughing maniacally.  The rest were doing air somersaults to Journey’s Don’t Stop Believin’.  I floated in one spot, with my mouth agape until Heidi Klum floated horizontally up to my face.  It was Heidi Klum.  She looked like Heidi Klum. She was also clearly about thirteen years old. She said to the girl next to her, “Auf wiedersehen”, and handed me my left shoe.

“First time?”, she asked.

I nodded.

“Don’t worry. You look great.”

I looked down at my body, and realized she was right.

“Just remember to use your tailbone”, she said in her awesome accent.

*blink blink*

“You know, imagine there’s a broom coming out of your ass.  Your job is to move it from side to side and sweep the runway as your walking.”

I nodded again.

“And keep an eye on your shoes!  Fucking stilettos are the worst.  Now you better warm up.”  She pointed up to the ladies somersaulting to Journey.

I reached my arms up to join them, but apparently warm up time was over.  I heard a whistle blow, and a hockey player came skating toward me, picked me up, put a feather tiara on my head, and plopped me on the runway.

My heart was thumping in my ears as I stared out at hundreds of faces, and flashbulbs.

One step.   Another step.  One more step.

I heard a ripping sound… like velcro…

One step.

My arms started to look wrinkly.

One step.

All of a sudden I realized I was wearing Spanx – skin Spanx.  I was wearing an entire Spanx body suit of skin, and it was falling down.

I froze.

The skin suit fell to my ankles.

My abdomen unfurled like an accordion and my navel hit the runway with a loud and echoing thump.

Young Heidi Klum’s words echoed in my head.

“…use your tailbone…”

I  started swaying my hips…

slowly…

then I thought maybe I should walk too.

I heard Journey in my head.

I turned and started sashaying back toward the beginning of the runway.

I swept that baby.

I swept it with my imaginary ass broom…

and I swept it with my navel.

When I hit my spot at the top of the runway, I turned toward the audience, struck a pose, and gave them the best diva face I had ever made.

 

But no one was there.

 

***

 

Stupid unsupportive subconscious.

 

 

 

The altered friendship. Also, weirdos are my muse.

Rocky swung open his front door and inhaled the warm smell of home.  He removed his blue aviator goggles from atop his head and tossed it onto the coat rack.  He loved this time – the time when the sun was kissing the horizon.  The world outside was quieting, and he poured a snifter of brandy to help him play along.

He settled into his favorite soft chair and slowly munched on a fistful of nuts.  The brandy felt warm in his belly, but a glance at the clock stopped any relaxation in its tracks.  It was 7:04 pm.  He side-eyed the telephone, almost certain it would ring at 7:05 like it had for the past two nights in a row.

Rocky thought of his friend – his best friend in all the world.  He could not comprehend the turn their friendship was taking.  He felt blind sighted.  He felt like the universe was playing a huge practical joke on him.  Only no one was laughing.  If anything, he was scared.

His eyes darted toward the clock.  It still said 7:04.

He grabbed another fistful of nuts and wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead.

He chewed aggressively.

He tapped his foot.

He shook his head saying to himself, “Not tonight.  It’s not going to ring tonight.  It’s all over.  It was all just a bad dream.”

7:05

The ring made him jump.  He spilled his brandy on his arm.  He licked it off.

RING.

He tapped his foot.

RING.

He shook his head.

RING.

Before his left hand could stop it, his right hand picked up the phone and pressed it to his still shaking head.

 

Rocky: (eyes squeezed shut) Hello?

*silence*

Rocky knew it was him.  He knew it would be just like last night, and the night before.  His eyes darted to the window… to the door… to the kitchen.  The sound of his pulse in his ears was making him dizzy, but he couldn’t bring himself to hang up.

Rocky: (in a small voice) Hello.

Bullwinkle: (lowly) What are you wearing?

The end.

*****

Every now and then I write a post to cater to misguided googlers.  This fictional post is dedicated to the weirdo  who was brought to my blog by googling the phrase “dirty moose”.

Stop talking about a Zombie Apocalypse… So I can prepare for the Zombie Apocalypse.

 

 

Zombies are the new vampires…

except not as sexy…

or sparkly.

I usually get burned out quickly on whatever the latest fad or popular fantasy is.  I loved the show True Blood until everyone else loved the show True Blood.  I got burned out on the Twilight saga so fast that I couldn’t even bring myself to see it.  I’m so tired of hearing about the book Fifty Shades of Grey that I took that color out of my son’s crayon box.  Perhaps it’s because I’m afraid that if I do experience these things after all the tremendous hype, I’ll be disappointed.  Perhaps I have a need to not be like everyone else.  Perhaps it’s the rebel in me.  Perhaps I have an exaggerated fear of being brainwashed.

At this moment in time, I am sick of hearing about the Zombie Apocalypse, but not for my usual reasons.

Right now everyone should stop talking about it because

oh

my

God

you

are

freaking

me

the

fuck

out.

Have you people not heard of “creating your own reality”?  The laws of attraction could seriously bite us in the ass here.  I’m afraid that  all our forms of media are like one giant vision board, and that every time “zombie apocalypse” is trending online, a new herd of zombies is made.

People are chewing each other’s faces off in Miami.  A college student ate his roommate’s heart and brains in Maryland.  The Mayans have predicted the end of the world in 2012, and people are betting on zombies being the cause.

Can we please shut up about it?  It’s starting to incite panic.  Soon people will start walking around with guns and bows and arrows like they do on AMC.  Shooting lessons will triple in cost – let’s face it, you can’t just point and shoot in the general direction of a zombie.  It has to be the head, people. The prices on non perishable foods will sky rocket, and people will start hoarding water and buying horses.

Stop talking about it!

Let’s go back to vampires and things that sparkle.

That way my husband can finnish his plans for our underground shelter without paying too much for the materials.

That way I can buy a gun (which I never thought I’d do), and I can cleverly disguise it as switching parties and becoming a republican.

Let’s all pretend the world is a shiny happy place, and get phrases like “overabundance of money” or “glazed doughnuts” trending online.

Truly, if the media is really creating one giant vision board, let’s attract doughnuts…

lots and lots of doughnuts.

 

PS- If one of you buys this for me, I will save you a spot in our shelter.

It’s like I’m the chosen one. Also, the best baby carrot ever.

Remember a long time ago when I was complaining about the lucky people who get to see outlines of Jesus in their tree stumps, or Mary in their burnt toast?

Then, I found that magnificent thing in my potato bag.

Well clearly I’ve been chosen for something special, because yesterday I found this:

 

Best baby carrot ever.

 

I’m not sure why this keeps happening to me.  I have a hunch that I’m supposed to do something that will change society for the better.  I think it’s a coffee table book…

with pictures of dirty vegetables…

Don’t be jealous.

The Lord works in mysterious ways.