A Side of Rice

Hopefully Humorous (and sometimes R-rated) Musings About Life

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We Don’t Need No Water

My husband is a quiet, unassuming guy. He has a funny bone, but doesn’t employ it nearly as much as his loud, vivacious, annoying, outspoken, untamed, outgoing and sometimes drunk Tequila loving wife does.

But every once and awhile, he still surprises me.

We had discovered a leak in a skylight in our bathroom, and had a repair company come out and take a look. They were scheduled to do an inspection at 8:00am Monday morning. When I didn’t hear anything from him, I texted this:

Like, how much fixing it is going to cost?

If it’s taking this long, it can’t be good news

And because he was probably taking his afternoon nap (really…getting up around 10:00am is so exhausting), he didn’t respond right away. But while I was suffering through another Metro train ride on my way home, this popped up:

on Fire? Um...

on Fire? Um…

Which was quickly followed by this:


Clever, you jackass.

Love that guy.


Listen to Rock Master Scott & the Dynamic Three rap out The Roof is on Fire and sing along with the lyrics below:

Let’s make some noise! (x 5)

Hey girls, B-boys
Superstar DJs – here we go!

Somebody say ‘Ho’ (Ho)
Say ‘Ho, Ho’ (Ho, Ho)
Now somebody, anybody, everybody scream (Scream)

Now throw your hands in the air
And wave ’em like you just don’t care
And if you’re not a square from Delaware
And you got on clean underwear
And your momma ain’t on welfare
Somebody say ‘Oh, yeah’ (Oh, yeah)
Oh, yeah! (Oh, yeah)

Well DJ’s spinning on the wheels of steel
Like it ain’t no thing, cause he is for real
He’s cuttin’ the jams with a wave of his hand
And it sounds so fresh it’ll make you stand
You hear the highs in your eyes, the bass in your face
This super DJ can rock the place
You hear bass, highs, tremblin’ tones
He can even cut the jams without the headphones

Well Stick Rick is rockin’ to the break of day
Makin’ all the fly girls that wanna give me a play
Now if your DJ rocks to the break of day
Let me hear you say ‘DJ’ (DJ)

We’re gonna rock to the break of day
Say ‘Keep on rockin’ it’ (Keep on rockin’ it)
Keep on rockin’ it (Keep on rockin’ it)
Come on y’all – Keep on rockin’ it (Keep on rockin’ it)


Uhn – Uhn, uhn, uhn

Now clap your hands and stomp your feet
While the DJ scratch to the funky beat
He’s makin’ you move until your body sweat
He’s even givin’ you more than you supposed to get
Now twist and turn and let your body burn
And show everybody what you just learned
Let’s all get together and form a crowd
While the DJ play it, nice and loud
Now everybody in the place to be
Let’s all get together, repeat after me
Say, ‘Rock the house’ (Rock the house)
Say, ‘Rock the house’ (Rock the house)
Everybody say, ‘Turn it out’ (Turn it out)
Come on – Turn it out (Turn it out)
I like it (I like it)
Come on – I love it (I love it)
Let me hear ya – I like it (I like it)
One more time – I love it (I love it)
Come on

Well I’m the master blaster, a man to see
Rockin’ the bass for everybody
If ya DJ rocks to the break of day
Somebody say ‘DJ’ (DJ)
We’re gonna rock it to the break of day
Say ‘Keep on rockin’ it’ (Keep on rockin’ it)
Keep on rockin’ it (Keep on rockin’ it)
Keep on rockin’ it (Keep on rockin’ it)
Keep on rockin’ it (Keep on rockin’ it)

Djs now, I’m coming strong
You better take my advice
Because it lasts this long
Is rocking the house
One job well done
For any DJ in this world to be someone
To make a fella say “Hoo” the girls get loose
The crowd wanted that?????????????
You wanna make some cash
Because it’s all about ?????
… no matter how much you spend

Now everybody in the place to be
Let’s all get together, repeat after me
Say, ‘Ho’ (Ho)
Say, ‘Ho, ho’ (Ho, ho)
Once again – I like it (I like it)
Come on – I love it (I love it)
One more time – I like it (I like it)
Come on – I love it (I love it) Ha!

All the fellas in the house if ya wanna break dance
Say, ‘Break dance’ (Break dance)
Say, ‘Break dance’ (Break dance)
Come on
Say, ‘Break – break, break, break’ (Break – break, break, break)
Cut it up DJ

This DJ cut different ways
So let me hear you cut it, DJ

Let’s make some noise (Ho)
Let’s make some noise – come on
The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire
(We don’t need no water, let the motherfucker burn)
(Burn, motherfucker, burn)
The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire
(We don’t need no water, let the motherfucker burn)
(Burn, motherfucker, burn)

The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire
Say ‘Ho’ (Ho)
Say ‘Ho’ (Ho)

Source: Songfacts, LLC

Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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The Adventures of Collar Crusher and Broken Boy

While it sounds like this is the latest offering from Disney channel, starring a line-up of soon-to-be-hot-messes, it’s not. Well, the hot messes part is on target, but this is the painfully non-Disney like story of my sons Alex and Nick. Who might as well be named ‘Jesus, you outweigh your brother by 70 pounds’, and ‘for fuck’s sake, we told you tackle football was a bad idea’.

Last Sunday, my husband’s brother invited us to watch the opening day of NFL football. Also invited were his other brother, and a few friends they had grown up with. It seemed like a relatively benign way to spend a Sunday. If you define benign as ‘ha ha, life’s about to mess with you’.

During the games, our boys decided to go outside and toss a football around. I do believe my husband’s instructions were something along the lines of “be careful.”  I was more to the point. “I am not interested in spending my Sunday afternoon or evening at the emergency room, so don’t be stupid.”

Turns out ‘careful’ and ‘don’t be stupid’ took a holiday.

At around 6:30pm, my husband jumped off the couch and headed to the patio door that led to the backyard. He grumbled something like “Nick isn’t getting up.”  My husband’s brother said “it looks like he may be hurt”, and went outside to help. I figured they had everything under control.

If you define control as ”oh shit, party’s over.

My husband came back inside about 5 minutes later and growled “get your shit, we’re leaving.” I quickly grabbed the container of cookies I had made, and headed toward the door, thanking my sister-in-law for the hospitality.

When I got to the car, one thing was clear. Karma was letting me know my little snark about not visiting emergency rooms was not going to be tolerated. Nick was completely silent, with his right shoulder very obviously slumped forward and his eyes closed. His brother Alex was sitting next to him — equally as silent — with tears running down his cheeks.

We stopped at an urgent care near our home. My husband dropped Nick and I off, and took Alex home to walk the dogs. And probably to chew on his ass a little more.

They took Nick back to the x-ray room right away. During the initial medical review, Nick heard the words ‘surgery’ and ‘pins’ and turned pale. He said, “I think I may throw up.”  His blood pressure dropped and they laid him down on the exam table. I kept my cool and told him everything was going to be ok.

Once he was stable, they got him ready for the x-ray. By this time, my husband had returned. And my cool had departed. Because this showed up on screen:

I'm no doctor, but that doesn't look right...

I’m no doctor, but…

Which I think made my face do one of these:

*Cue audible gasp of horror*

*Cue audible gasp of horror*

And my mouth made a very loud noise, something like “ooowwwweeewwwwughhhhhhhh!”  My husband shot me a “shut it!” look, because there was no point in freaking Nick out any more than necessary. So I sat there silently, with my hand over my mouth, as tears started to flow.

Turns out Alex had fallen on Nick after tackling him, and the ball was under Nick’s shoulder. Nick’s shoulder gave way to the pressure of being squeezed between the football and his brother. Nick’s collar bone was broken. Broken completely in half.

Because when the Rices do something, they don’t do it half-assed, bitches.

We were given a print out of the x-ray, a referral to an orthopedic surgeon for the next day, and prescription for Tylenol with codeine. Since our normal pharmacy was already closed, we went to the only 24 hour pharmacy in town. Yay – they were out of the prescription and wouldn’t be able to get any before Tuesday. But they told us we could try the next closest 24 hour pharmacy, which was about 45 minutes away.

Being the loving, caring parents we are, we said the hell with that bought liquid ibuprofen and Tylenol, doubling the recommended dose once we got him home.

The next morning, all four of us piled into the car and headed to the doctor’s office. It was pretty busy, but we were grateful they had been able to fit in our emergency appointment. Of course, the waiting is always the hardest part:

Nick looks like he's stoned, doesn't he?

Nick looks like he’s stoned, doesn’t he?

It’s the hardest part until you end up seeing the doctor and he examines you, touching your very injured shoulder in a sneak attack that makes you your son jump and yelp.

And the examination is the hardest part until the tech comes in and has to reset the bone, then put on the brace and sling, causing you, your oldest son, and (most importantly) the injured son to start crying. This episode of The Adventures of Collar Crusher and Broken Boy brought to you by Kleenex.

After all the drama of Sunday and Monday, this popped up on my Facebook feed Tuesday morning:

My ballers

My ballers

This memory reminded me that when times are good, my boys love and support one another. And this experience let me know that when things are tough, they will empathize with and definitely support one another.

When it comes to The Adventures of Collar Crusher and Broken Boy, Disney couldn’t have scripted a better ending to this episode.

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‘Teenage Safety’ Doesn’t Have to Be an Oxymoron

Today, my boys — and countless other kids — headed back to school. While I’m sure the Xbox will miss them terribly, it’s definitely time for them to re-engage their brains with something more taxing than figuring out whose turn it is to “kick some butt” at Madden15.

Yep, definitely time to get back to language arts and improving vocabulary.

But if the photo of them I took getting ready to head to the school bus is any indication, vocabulary is the least of our worries:

Did you wash your hands before you started annoying your brother?

Did you wash your hands before you started annoying your brother?

Our real worry might be that we need to reinforce what it means to behave in such a way that they come home safely each day. And by safely, I mean 1) in one piece, 2) with no notices from teachers of inappropriate behavior, 3) with no “where is your child’s homework?” messages, 3) as germ-free as possible, and 4) having not generated a call to me or their dad from anyone with the word ‘principal’, ‘counselor’, ‘police’, or ‘officer’ as part of a job title.

My young teenage boys tend to block out my voice — especially when the words “clean up”, “pick up”, “stop that”, “knock it off”, and “I better not have to tell you again” are used. But, I decided to review some important safety messages with them for the start of the school year anyway.

When it comes to…

  • Cell phone safety: You do not need your cell phone with you to function effectively as a 7th or 8th grader in middle school.
    • Yes, I know that your friends Jacob, Owen, Jake, Brett A, Brett B, Ben, Nick, Ty, and every other kid in your class gets to bring their cell phone to school because their parents are cool and I suck. But I need you to focus on school work when you are at school — not Snapchatting, Instagramming, Facebooking, and/or Tweeting.
    • Nice try, but you won’t need the calculator on your cell phone, because I forked out $25 for a scientific calculator for you to use in Algebra.
    • And you won’t need your cell phone to reach me in case of emergency. There is a phone in the principal’s office and the school bus drivers all have a cell phone. Besides, if I get a call from the principal’s office, it better be because you’re sick, or you’ve broken your leg, or you’ve just won the Nobel prize. You feelin’ me?
  • Food safety: You need energy, and food is your fuel. At lunch, food is for eating and will provide the fuel you need to be alert and stay focused in the afternoon. And just to be clear, food is not for:
    • throwing: the last thing I need is for you to use your PB&J sandwich as a projectile that accidentally lands on the nut-free table, jeopardizing any classmate with an allergy.
    • smashing: if you make a mess, you will be cleaning it, not the janitor. Same rules apply at home: substitute ‘your mom’ for ‘the janitor’.
    • trading: eat what ya brung (or in my kids’ cases – what ya bought).
    • taking pictures of and posting to social media: see cell phone safety above.
    • experimenting with: gross. Just gross.
    • teasing people with: see cell phone safety above with regard to phone calls from principals and/or counselors.
  • Germ safety: You are no longer a toddler shoving everything not nailed down into your mouth (with the exception of cheeseburgers and fries). This means your (most likely dirty) hands should be not touching everything within your ever-widening wing span. Here are some good rules for keeping germs where they belong, which — to be clear — is Not. On/In. You.
    • Those dispensers of soap in the bathroom: USE THEM.
    • Those dispensers of hand sanitizer located throughout the school: USE THEM.
    • Those boxes of tissues we send in at the request of your teachers: USE THEM.
    • Wet willies and spit balls: No. JUST NO.
    • Crayons, markers, and other writing instruments: OUT OF YOUR MOUTH. You never know who else has been gnawing on them, what’s at the bottom of the bookbag where they have been residing, or — heaven help us! — what they are made of.
    • Handling someone else’s cell phone: No. JUST NO.
    • Sharing drinks at lunch: No. JUST NO.
    • Coughing into the sleeve of your shirt and not into the face of your friend(s): YES! ALWAYS YES!

Have a safe school year boys. This will be great practice, because wait until you see the safety rules I’m working on for your next Summer vacation.

Ready for 7th grade -- and two thumbs up for moms safety rules.

Ready for 7th grade — and two thumbs up for moms safety rules.

Ready for 8th grade, but bummed their is no advanced course in Madden 15.

Ready for 8th grade, but bummed there is no elective for Advanced Madden15.

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From Now On, We’ll Use the Proper Slang

This Summer, my parents paid for a vacation for my siblings and our families. While it wasn’t exactly the beachy vacation of our dreams, it was great for all 16 of us to be together.

And 6 days was just enough time to enjoy each other’s company before we began to question parenting skills, spousal choices, and various personality quirks. There are only so many ‘party of 16’ dinners in a row that sane people kin can stand before the whole damn experience is ruined by way too much togetherness.

The kids had a great time on multiple afternoons at the pool. They enjoyed the slide and I was in the pool to capture video with my new iPhone6.

I was trying out the new slo-mo feature for the first time and caught the kids as they came down the tunnel on the slide and into the pool. I was able to do a screen grab for a photo of the fun…


My nephew Jonas comes down the slide and shows us that it’s always ok for fake gun play.


My niece Callie does the ‘hold the nose’ pose as she splashes down


My nephew Will shows nothing buy joy when he hits the water


My son Alex gets no style points for his splashdown

However, it was my son Nick who provided the best slo-mo and screen capture of a slide. Of course, I didn’t see it at full speed. But when I reviewed it in the slo-mo, this is what I saw…(wait for it…wait for it…)

And because my Parent of the Year Award is long overdue, I never miss an opportunity to make fun of myself and my parenting skills, I posted this to Facebook:

Nick on Slide

Facebook likes my many parenting triumphs fails.

One week later, our family gathered for the annual Cousins and Crabs feast. Over a pile of steaming, delicious hard crabs, my cousin Joe from Florida told me that his family had coined a new phrase. “We now call it ‘Nicking someone off’ whenever we see someone giving the finger”.

Which made me want to do this:

Hot damn...Best. Parent. EVER.

Hot damn…Best. Parent. EVER.

So, anyone who disagrees with my parenting style in the future…well I’m just going to Nick them off.

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Not the Caribbean

My parents are celebrating 50 years of marriage this year. About 2 years ago, my mom said to my three sisters and I:

“I’m thinking we should do something special as a family for our 50th wedding anniversary in 2015. Your dad I would like take all of you kids and the grandkids on a nice vacation. Someplace like the Caribbean or a cruise the week between Christmas and New Years.”

Which made us feel like:



Our kids (there are seven kids among the three of us who have them) were also very excited, because they had visions of Atlantis and Disney cruises dancing in their heads:

Swim with dolphins - hell to the yeah.

Swim with dolphins in Atlantis? Hell to the yeah.

Awesome waterslide on a Disney cruise? More hell to the yeah!

Awesome waterslide on a Disney cruise? Even more hell to the yeah!

Last year, a couple of us asked mom if plans for the trip were starting to gel since we would need to request time off from work for dipping our toes in the sand and soaking our livers in alcohol. And that’s when we got a huge shock:

“Girls…I’ve picked the location. Your dad and I are very excited — next July, we are going to the Boar’s Head Inn in Charlottesville, VA!”

Wait...what...I think I misheard you. Did you say Beach or Boar's? And you meant Virgin Islands, not Virginia, right?

Wait…what…I think I misheard you. Did you say Beach or Boar’s? And you meant Virgin Islands, not Virginia, right?

Each of my sisters and I had a similar reaction:

Me: I think I need a longer Q-tip because my ears think they heard we are not going anywhere beachy.

Me: “My ears must be fucking clogged, because I swear I just heard we are not going anywhere near a beach or copious amounts of rum drinks served by cabana boys husbands.”

Diane: I live in Canada...you are fucking with me about this July in the humid backwoods of Virginia, right?

Diane: “I live in Canada. You are fucking with me about this whole July in the humid backwoods of Virginia, and not a sunny beach in the dead of Winter, right?”

Nancy: "I don't have kids or a husband, but I do know a vacation buzz kill when I hear one."

Nancy: “I don’t have kids or a husband, but I do know a vacation buzz kill when I fucking hear one.”

Susan: "Are you kidding me with this? I already had my bikinis picked out."

Susan: “Are you fucking kidding me with this? I already had my bikinis picked out.”

So, we started a new mantra:


We explained to our kids that the destination their grandparents picked (and were paying for) didn’t have dolphin swims, water slides, and beaches. But we reassured them that a high-end, adult resort would be just as fun with none of those things golf, tennis, and a swimming pool.

Since my sisters and I have done such a good job of raising our kids, my teenage and pre-teen nieces reacted fine:

If I was on a beach I wouldn't care if I couldn't snapchat with my friends.

If I was on a beach I wouldn’t care if I couldn’t Snapchat with my friends. 

And my sons and nephews were calm about the change of plans:

No water slides and no dolphins? UGH!

No water slides and no dolphins? And probably no ESPN either. UGH!

I just don’t understand where our kids get this attitude from…

Sign up on my office at work.

Sign I put up on my office at work. A co-worker tried to make me feel better by pointing out how overrated sun, sand, and rum drinks really are.

OK…so maybe my sisters and I need to adjust our attitudes a bit. This place does have 3 pools. There is sand in the traps on the golf course. And I’m sure they will overcharge us for yummy rum drinks, just like they would on an island or a cruise ship.

So, even though it’s not the Caribbean…

This. This right here.

This. This right here.

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Yet Another Parenting Win

My organization supports the Take Your Child to Work day that many other companies participate in. The official day in 2015 was April 23. That happens to be a busy time of year for my organization, so we delayed it until school was out. We had the event in June.

My organization invites the two other organizations who lease space in our building to participate. We have a full day of activities and education for elementary, middle, and high school kids, with a focus on health professions.

I was excited about my kids participating. The most valuable thing they learned the last time they did this was damn, mom gets up so early every day so we can have an Xbox and all the cleats we need to play sports.

The day started at 6:00am. I normally leave the house at 6:00am, but I cut the boys some slack since this was the third official day of their Summer vacation. By 6:30am, my two groggy commute mates had stumbled to the car with the promise of me buying them a bagel from Panera on the way to the office. Of course, there was the mandatory bellyaching about who got to sit in the front seat, which was quickly squelched by my brilliant missive “Just get the fuck in the car and save your fighting for when all of my colleagues’ kids can enjoy it!”

The boys like taking the Metro. It’s fun to get a ticket, ride the train, and travel up and down via escalator. Because we got to the Metro station at a busy point in rush hour that morning, the car was packed. Nick had to sit on my lap, and Alex sat in a seat facing ours.

Nick has never suffered the heat well. And this Tuesday morning was going to be no exception. By the 5th stop, it was standing room only with no A/C. And we had about 11 more stops to go – all underground with even less fresh air.

The combination of crammed bodies, sitting on my lap, no A/C in our Metro car, the swaying motion of the train, and the (supposedly non-toxic) brake dust smell did Nick in just 2 stops later.

He blurted out, “I don’t feel good…” as we rolled into the station.  Which resulted in a panicked look from the passenger sitting on the seat next to us. I jumped up and told the boys we were getting off at this stop.

As we stood at the door waiting for the train to come to a stop, Nick began heaving a little bit. Passengers parted like the Red Sea. I threw my hand over his mouth and whispered “just don’t puke until we get off the train.”

To give Nick some credit, he did wait to fully puke until the doors opened. However, he started spitting up water as we stood on the train waiting for the doors to open. He spit up all over my hand that was over his mouth…and quite close (if not on) the poor woman who had not gotten out of our way fast enough. I sheepishly mumbled “sorry” as I shoved Nick off the train, making sure his brother followed us.

As Nick fell forward to the platform on all fours (quite the drama monkey, that one), he tossed the open bottle of water he had been carrying toward me. Well, technically, he tossed it all over me. I looked like I was the last place contestant in a Hooters wet t-shirt contest, who had also wet her pants.

Hot damn, Take Your Kid to Work Day is awesome so far.

17_times_rolling_your_eyes_was_totally_acceptable__16_It didn’t take long for Nick to feel better. We hopped another train that was less crowded and did have A/C. We made it to work with no further puking incidents. I dropped them off in the conference center, and went about my day. At lunch, I joined them in our large conference room, along with the other kids and their parents.

Made of moneyThey complained because the only lunch option was turkey sandwiches. I told them after the lunch presentation, I would take them out and get them some food. Because why eat a free lunch when you can spend your mom’s hard-earned Benjamin’s, am I right?

During the lunch session, we had a medical student, physician assistant, and a dentist talk to the kids a bit about careers in each of those respective fields. The PA asked the kids “what do you think I do all day?”

Nick shouted out: “Work!”

Then the medical student asked “any of you want to share why you want to be a doctor?”

Alex blurted out: “The money!”

Even though you might think that would officially put Take Your Kid to Work Day in the win column for me, that was not the crowing achievement.

That didn’t come until the staff photographer told me about the pictures taken during the event. After looking through the album, it was then — and only then — that I knew the day was a total win for the Rice boys and their mother.

Kids to work-5

Mom, we can’t ‘stomach’ another day of learning during Summer vacation. It hurts our ‘brains’!

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On Guns, Flags, and Hatred

One of my favorite bloggers, Wendi Aarons, recently challenged all of us via Facebook to write about the horrific events in Charleston, SC.


To raise awareness. To get conversations started. To make people think outside of their comfortable confines about what race, race relations, and hatred truly mean in ‘Merica today. And what we can do to start making some changes.

There are two things about this situation that disturb me. The first is guns. The second is the confederate flag. And I have (very) opinionated friends and family on both sides of the debate.

GUNS: As the hideous traffic I endure on my commute to work luck would have it that day, I was stuck in a no-go situation on my commute. I was behind this patriot, and his window sticker caught my attention.


License plate obscured by me so you won’t be able to look him up. Privacy AND gun rights protected. Yeehaw.

In case you can’t read his window sticker, here’s a zoomed in look:

I love a challenge

For real, dude?

Frankly, you can keep your semi-automatic assault weapon. Or your rifle. Or your handgun. I don’t want to take it from you. I have no intention of modifying the Second Amendment in any way.

And for the record, here’s what the amendment says:.

As ratified by the States and authenticated by Thomas Jefferson, then-Secretary of State:

A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.

So good luck with your militia. Or hunting down wildlife. Or target shooting. Or protecting yourself. Or whatever it is you would like to do with your weapon.

But please stop blaming the victims. For the love of all that is holy, stop blaming the victims:

NRA Board Member's comments about Charleston. SMDH.

NRA Board Member’s comments about Charleston. SMDH.

All I’m asking — all any of us are asking — is rethink the current regulations surrounding gun ownership and sales practices.

CONFEDERATE FLAG: My feelings on the flag are this: its legacy of hate trumps any BS about heritage. I think John Stewart said it best. So, all I have to say is “ditto”:

In the end, I’d like to think that my opinionated family and friends can come together and agree on this:
When individuals are being repeatedly slaughtered in the name of hate or because it’s easy to bring violence to innocents, we need to act.

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