A Side of Rice

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

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I Admit It; I Have a Weed Problem

On May 14, on our way out to my youngest son’s birthday dinner (what…you thought I would cook?),  I noticed our landscaping had gotten a bit out of control. I had my son stand next to the offending weed, and promptly posted the picture to Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook, acknowledging my lack of (any) gardening prowess:


After I posted the picture, two different Facebook friends who don’t know each other and live over 1,400 miles apart posted the exact same meme to my wall, just a little over an hour apart:

Julie Meme

Merrie Meme

Well, all I have to say for myself is … #Truth …and #Lazy…perhaps even #We’reNeverFreakin’Home…and if I’m really honest, #OurHOACanSuckIt.

gardending today

Just kidding, HOA! Please don’t send me another violation notice — we’ve moved the trash cans and polished the copper roof. We’ll get to the lawn soon, I promise! Or right after baseball tournament season. So just step off, already.

This isn’t the first time my landscaping has gotten out of control. But what really gripes me is that my little patch of tulips don’t even bother blooming any more and go right to the pathetic looking stage. They might as well be weeds, too:


And I obviously can’t control things, because to the left of our front door is this burgeoning thistle forest:


And only 10 days after the first photo, the giant thistle to the right of our front door continues to mock me by growing at an alarming rate:


I also have a kid-who-needs-his-hair-cut problem. But one suburban disaster at a time, thank you.

One of my Facebook friends responded to the post of my beanstalk with the following:

John comment

Ha ha —  very funny. Yes, it’s a huge thistle and yes it probably would produce at least a vat of soup. As if I ever have an interest in cooking anything, however.

Or weeding, for that matter.

Hi. My name is Becky. And as long as I have kids playing sports, I’m gonna have a weed problem.


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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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In the Weeds

In April of this year, Maryland Governor Martin (Puff Daddy) O’Malley signed a bill decriminalizing marijuana. There’s been continued talk of legalization.

While the hippy hoarde that bathes in patchouli and follows Phish around all summer is busy rejoicing, there is an even more interested contingent. The marijuana entrepreneur.

If the experience in Denver has been any indication, legalizing pot will bring new (taxable!) revenue to the city and help it transform:

So in light of the fact that kids’ baseball gloves, lacrosse sticks, football pads, and basketball shoes are not free and require replacement every damn season, I’ve been looking for a way to increase our income a bit. And I’m not interested in any hair-brained ‘decrease your spending’ options that involve giving up the essentials like my mani/pedis, the housekeeper, and bi-weekly therapeutic massages. Or cutting back on eating out. Or not purchasing all the bling iron-on I need to make my spirit wear, once I purchase all the damn baseball gloves, lacrosse sticks, football pads, and basketball shoes:

Youth football - bling it!

Youth football – bling it!

This whole decriminalizing marijuana thing has me intrigued. So, I’m cautiously testing out my own weed production. I’ve been able to grow this in my flower boxes on the deck:

Perhaps these "flowers" will 'bud' soon. See what I did there?

Perhaps these “flowers” will ‘bud’ soon. See what I did there?

And don’t you love how well this baby is growing, though it really doesn’t look like most of the marijuana pictures I seen. Perhaps this is a rare variety and it will make me twice the money:

Off to a good start. Only 24,000 miles to go until it hits the clouds.

Jack! I found your bean stalk.

And this new patch by the front door:

They look like pot plants right?

I don’t even remember planting seeds for this – what a total profit product!

Which I’ve cleverly hidden behind the bushes, that are also camouflaging a  mature weed crop.

It looks like more weed than bush. #TeenBoyProblems

It looks like more weed than bush.

Unfortunately, my husband tells me this isn’t the kind of ‘weed’ that people will pay money to smoke. It’s more like the kind of weed we pay money to get rid of.  And as homeowners, should be quite embarrassed by.

And that really killed my entrepreneurial buzz.


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Me vs. the Mower

Today, I decided to tackle our back yard. By tackle, I mean nothing as glamorous or suburban-tastic as meeting with an architect to plan our exciting new outdoor patio/friend entertaining space. Or planting gobs of flowers to embellish our home’s rear view. No, I mean roll out the mower and tackle the hayfield that is our back yard.

Our kids’ weekend baseball games leave us precious little time to maintain our not-much-bigger-than-a-postage-stamp sized yard. But when I saw that our dog – if she was green – would be nearly imperceptible given the current height of the grass, I knew it was time to stop folding laundry/loading the dishwasher/searching for a job and really do some work around the house.

So you know that scene from the movie Mr. Mom where he discovers the vacuum cleaner? That’s what it was like when I opened the garage door to wrestle the lawn mower out and get to the task at hand.

And based on what happened next, here’s some lawn maintenance wisdom I’ll impart upon you:

  • You won’t see the wiffle ball bat in grass (as high as ours was) until it is too late
  • Trees can not move and get out of your way. And evergreens with low hanging branches will scratch the crap out of you, in some sort of “that’s what you get for chopping us down in December to be used as your indoor ugly decoration holders” solidarity action
  • Wet grass is harder to mow than dry grass
  • Wet grass clogs the blades and makes the motor cut out
  • You will have to turn the mower on its side and scoop out the grass clogging the blades
  • Your hand will turn green from the wet grass lumps you are scooping out of the underbelly of the mower
  • No amount of dish soap will get the green stain off your hand; your manicure will be ruined
  • You will burn more calories than an Olympic marathoner in your attempt to restart the mower once the blades are free of grass clogs
  • You will give up trying to restart the mower 15 minutes later and push it into the garage as fast as possible because it has started raining again
  • You will tell the neighbors that you are experimenting with the hottest thing in home ownership – lawn designs by mowing

And finally, you won’t see all the dog poop in the yard to clean up before you start, but you will smell the dog poop you missed, that ended up on your shoes. Later on after you have walked on your carpets.

Mower: 1 Me: 0


DIY is Not a Couples Activity

All those DIY shows on TV would like you to believe that happy couples paint, nail, hammer and redecorate in near-perfect harmony. Especially when you have 1) unlimited funds, and 2) a host like that stud muffin of a home DYI-er Mike Holmes.

Couple Painting

(c) iofoto - and NOT the Rices

It’s total BS. Quite frankly, couples DIY-ing only leads to

  1. snide commentary about your partner’s spackling skills being akin to the splatter, dripping and smudges of a Jackson Pollak masterpiece (though your work is worth millions less),
  2. a raging 3 week argument over whether “Silver Bells” or “Stonemist” is the right color for the upstairs guest bath,
  3. a nuclear meltdown in the light fixtures section of Lowe’s when you can’t decide between brushed nickel and plain nickel finish, and – finally –
  4. therapy sessions that cost you more than your plans for a finished basement complete with jumbo-tron screen, massage-o’-lounger seating for 25, and a bar with beer AND margaritas on tap.

So my husband (Mr. I-don’t-want-to-fix-anything) and I (Mrs. No-shit-sherlock-I-feel-the-same-way-about-housework-and-making-dinner-every-night) decided that the best thing to do was call a professional handyman service to avoid the rants and snarling that would undoubtedly overtake two normally civil and happy individuals who are thrust into the vortex of home improvement projects.

When I got home after the first day of work, the butler’s pantry was painted (a mere 5 years after we put the primer on) and the 6 shelves that had been collecting dust between my washer and dryer for the past year were now hung in the family room, and the boys’ bedrooms. Upstairs, I was giddy as I moved the collection of trophies from the floor, closet, and dirty laundry pile to their new home on the expertly hung shelves.

I stepped back and for a moment had a gush of pride as I surveyed the trophies and ribbons that my 8 year old Alex and 7 year old Nick have already collected for soccer, basketball and football. And suddenly I realized that a happy couple was the catalyst for this DIY project.

It was a happy couple….
who had two kids….
that won the trophies….
that made it possible for this DIY project in the first place.