A Side of Rice

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


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My Mom Interest Survey

At the beginning of each school  year, my kids have to fill out forms with answers to a bunch of questions so that the teachers will know who the potential trouble-makers are have a sense of the personalities in their classroom.

My youngest started 8th grade this year and filled out the form. He showed it to me and you can certainly understand why I was looking for an eraser after reading it:

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In case you can’t read it, the second of the two common activities he does when he gets home is watch YouTube. Just another check mark in the #ParentingWin column, folks.

I did have to admit, though…it is Nick. 100%.

It also got me thinking. How would I fill out a form like this today? So I typed up a copy of the same questions, printed it out, and started writing in my answers.

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Hard to read? Here, let me make it easier for you to get a peek into my psychosis psyche.

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What this really tells you about me is:

  • I keep telling myself every day “50 is the new 40”
  • I think this election has been a shit show, and out of 350 million people, I can’t believe these two yahoos are the best candidates we have to put forward
  • I’m a snob about the tequila I drink
  • I must have skipped the chapter on parent/teacher conferences in What to Expect When You’re Expecting
  • I read too much People magazine
  • At best, my taste in movies is questionable and relatively non-Oscar worthy
  • I shouldn’t be in charge of the music playlist at a kids’ dance
  • I am deluded into thinking “perfect” wives cook, clean, and do laundry
  • I fully acknowledge my husband didn’t get the perfect wife (but you shouldn’t feel too bad for him — because I’m so awesome in spite of not cooking, cleaning, and doing laundry. And humble. I’m very humble.)
  • And finally, I think karma needs to step up its game against people with no/a very questionable moral compass

I’m looking at you Trump, Hillary, and  fuzz-out .

 

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Change I Can Live With

If you’re an uncool mom like me, you don’t love/like/care about/know any of today’s one-hit wonders in the pop music world. To me, all of them are inter-changeable without any distinguishing features. Or much talent.

I became interested in music in the late-70s and 80s, and my tastes morphed as I grew up:

  • in middle school, it was classic rock icons like Zeppelin, The Doors, The Rolling Stones, AC/DC, The Beatles and others so that my street cred with the older kids I was trying to impress would be boosted
  • in high school, I swooned over bad-boy rock bands in shiny pleather pants, ripped t-shirts, too much faux zebra print, more eyeliner than Maybelline or CoverGirl could keep in stock, with hair that kept AquaNet rolling in cash
  • in college, it was punk rock/new wave, with faves like The Clash, The Cure, The Go Gos, The Tubes, INXS, Blondie, and Devo.
  • in my post-college 20s, I donned flannel so show my solidarity for grunge rock as I chased local bands and shook my head until I strained my neck muscles, to tunes from Nirvana, Soundgarden, Stone Temple Pilots, Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains and the like.

Much like my teen years in general, my musical tastes were all over the place. The one place they didn’t veer toward was pop. They have never veered toward pop.

So when some singer named Iggy

or was it Shakira…Lorde…Taylor…Demi…Salena…Ariana…Kei$ha…Katey…Meghan…Miley — I just can’t tell them apart

got all pissed that the only reason she seems to be getting attention is for the plastic surgery she’s having, I did get interested in pop music. But, Iggy, since you’re bitching about the attention you are getting for plastic surgery, I figured I would address your concerns. Not in the totally cool way that many bloggers more creative than myself write those “Dear Obnoxious Celebrity” letters, but in the STFU you whiny, questionably talented, overpaid ass sort of way. So here goes…

Iggy was quoted during an interview in which she opened up about having plastic surgery. Aside from the incredibly deep and insightful “We’re all doing it anyway” argument, she also said this:

 

So Iggy, this is what you think of people who criticize you for having plastic surgery? I agree with you – why should you be criticized for having plastic surgery when you could be criticized for…say…being totally dismissive of the opportunity to do good for others with a small portion of your ridiculously over-stuffed bank account.

But when it comes to what women — regular, everyday women — would change with $10 million in their account tomorrow…well let me give you some insight into what this woman would change.

  • I would change my employment status: that’s right bitches, PEACE OUT to working for the man full time. Except…I like what I do, who I work for, and the people I work with. So even though my husband would spend the rest of his life unemployed, eating Cheese-Its, and shouting at the xBox that he “did so press button A and his wide receiver should have run the out route and not the in route,” his wife could not. And changing my employment status would lead to…
  • Changing my commute to work: after giving my current employer time to find a replacement for me, I would then do volunteer work locally. You see, I spend 4 hours each day commuting to work, between the stop-and-go drive to the Metro station, parking and walking to the platform, the Metro ride to downtown, and then walking to my office. And I get to do it all in reverse to head home. So changing my commute to something local would give me four glorious hours back in each weekday. I wouldn’t even need a facelift because I’d be smiling so much. And all that time saved would…
  • Change the amount of time I have to volunteer in my community. I’ve always been a big believer in pay-it-forward. Even when I was laid off a few years ago, I continued to use my money to make treats and goodies for my son’s baseball team that Summer and I took tons of photos to share with the parents. I volunteered to help manage the Facebook page of our baseball league and started pages for individual teams my sons played on. I volunteered at the local center for the arts. I did pro bono work, helping a nonprofit develop a sponsorship program. I did all this while looking for a job – and looking for a job can be a full time job! The layoff meant our family had a big reduction in income and it necessitated I give up things, including (but not limited to) mani/pedis, fancy haircuts/colorings, and a gym membership. But I know the pay-it-forward approach makes me beautiful from the inside out. And how people see my personality has always been more important than how they see me physically.12804622_1160320587326262_675410197340451188_n
  • I would change my attitude about having to make dinner: Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? I would still hate making dinner. But, with $10 million at least I would feel less guilty about eating out all the time.

Oh, who the fuck am I kidding, I never feel guilty about eating out.

But one thing I wouldn’t change about myself? I wouldn’t begin liking the vacuous, self-absorbed individuals who are looking for empathy about the struggles with being scrutinized because they have so much disposable income that they use it for plastic surgery to improve themselves.

And that’s a lack of change I can live with.

 

 


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My 2016 Resolutions

Here’s my list of resolutions for the coming year. There are 16 in honor of the year 2016. And I’m going to own all these bitches.

  1. I resolve to find out why our HOA thinks building a basketball court in our neighborhood will attract the ‘wrong element’. Because — quite frankly — every time I pass the penis spray-painted on the sidewalk outside my home when I walk the dogs, I’m reminded that some of the ‘elements’ already in this neighborhood are wrong. Perhaps if the little fuckers had a basketball court, they’d have more time for slam dunking and less time for vandalism.
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    Maybe it’s just me, but a basketball court would leave neighborhood kids with less time to craft their pornographic spray-painting skills

  2. I resolve to only drink margaritas made with Patrón. Even if my husband barks about the cost (“$50 for one fucking bottle? That’s got to be a damn misprint.”). Because for whatever reason, many  a $15 margaritas made with the good stuff (almost) never gives me a headache the next day.                          .
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    I’ve done lots of research on this – hangovers are almost non-existent when you drink the top shelf shit.

  3. I resolve to not watch Bridget Jones’ Diary every time it comes on a movie channel. Even though it does clear the family room of boys who only want to watch NFL and NCAA football, MLB baseball, NCAA softball, NBA and NCAA basketball, NHL hockey, and SportsCenter. The following movies also clear the room: Hope Floats, Mean Girls, Magic Mike, and The Devil Wears Prada because they are all chick flicks. And even the dude comedies: Dodgeball: An Underdog Story, Role Models, Old School, 21 and 22 Jump Street, and (embarrassingly enough) Get Him to the Greek elicit a “how many damn times can you watch this movie?” inquiry, followed by a quick exodus. Another go-to for room-clearing is any of the Dateline, 20/20, 48 Hours Mystery re-runs on Investigation Discovery. If I resolve to do this, I don’t know how the hell any of the clean clothes will get folded.
  4. I resolve to fold and put away my clothes the minute they are out of the dryer. Which is in complete conflict with resolution #3, because if I’m doing mindless chores, I need some mindless entertainment. Regardless of available mindless entertainment, I really should be motivated — because grabbing a pair of fresh, folded underwear out of a drawer is much easier than digging it out of a basket of clean clothes I can’t see because it is so damn dark at 5:30am.
  5. I resolve to pay less money to the owners of Proctor and Gamble for cotton and cardboard. Though — truthfully — at age 49, Mother Nature may be taking care of that for me.
  6. I resolve to take and post on Facebook fewer covert photos (with snotty commentary) of the freaks I encounter on my Metro rides to and from work.  I mean, if you can’t say something nice, post it on Snapchat, so it doesn’t live forever and there is less of a chance you’ll be sued. Am I right?
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    Barefoot on the Metro. #SmellsLikeTeenFeet

  7. I resolve to try and figure out why Keeping Up With the Kardashians is so popular and makes Ryan Seacrest ass-loads of money. And why Keeping Up With the Rices wouldn’t even generate a sponsorship from Febreze (though — trust me when I tell you — Febreze would be interested if they had to ride in the car that hauls around the Rice boys’ football gear every Summer and Fall).
    Football gear in the van

    Smells like teen spirit funk

  8. I resolve to spend less time at urgent care for possible teenage broken bones. I hope my boys will comply. Because if not, I may have to kick their asses.
  9. I resolve to not schedule doctor’s appointments when my kids have games. Otherwise I might miss a melee when a parent from the other team goes after a parent from our team in the stands that results in a holiday tournament game being cancelled in the middle of the 3rd quarter. True fucking story that I had to hear about second hand (damn it) when it happened to my oldest son’s middle school basketball team. M.I.D.D.L.E. school, people.
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    If you can’t do either, just stay the fuck home.

  10. I resolve to have more alone time with my husband. Don’t we all resolve to do this each year, attempting to find couple time amidst going to work, kids’ sports, community obligations, chores, events, yard work, volunteer activities, etc? If someone can share the secret to doing this, I’m all ears. And my husband sends his thanks in advance.
  11. I resolve to let our dogs know: a) they don’t rule this house, b) the humans are in control, and c) that we won’t succumb to their every demand. I’ll let you know how that works out for us.

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  12. I resolve to try and explain again to my son Nick why he should not raise his middle finger every time he gets the urge. And I’ll try not to find it funny or post the evidence of him doing it on Facebook and Instagram, further cementing another year without a win in the Parent of the Year competition for me.

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  13. I resolve to try not to raise my middle finger every time I get the urge. However, it might be easier for me to abolish the word ‘fuck’ from my vocabulary. On second thought, fuck that.
  14. I resolve to spend more time making dinner and less time baking desserts. Well, let’s not kid ourselves. My family would be eating Chef Boyardee and cereal for dinner if it was up to me to nuke  order  actually make it.
  15. I resolve to not to fall for any more of those click-bait links. Except the quizzes…because I must know what type of unicorn fart I smell like, what Downton Abbey character I am most likely to marry, and what vegetable best personifies my sexual prowess. And I don’t want to miss the important stories about the 17 horribly aged celebrities, the top 10 creepiest family photos, the 30 awkward child stars who are now incredibly hot, the 16 awesome celebrity prom pictures, those 19 incredible movie mistakes, 12 celebrities I didn’t know went to Ivy League schools, the 36 incredible photos that will make my stomach drop, 13 kids with enough money to retire at age 18, and the rare photos that reveal the lives of men ruined by the Kardashians. (All real click-bait headlines!)
  16. I resolve to let you know next New Year’s Eve which of these resolutions I was able to keep. You should resolve not to hold your breath waiting for me to succeed at any of them.

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