Pop Culture · Ridiculousness

I Don’t Want to Do March Madness? K?

Without fail, I get an e-mail like this for whichever company I am working for: march madness sucks

As soon as I get this e-mail, I instinctively put my head down as if the teacher is going to call on me. With the exception of soccer (or football as my wonderful friends across the pond call it, your welcome), I don’t give 2 shits about basketball. Filling out brackets would only result in me looking like a complete moron.

I let my husband and sons know of this pickle I was in.

“I’ll help you fill them out.” My oldest announced.

“Yeah but how much does this even cost?” I asked.

“I don’t know, $5 or $10 bucks.”

I didn’t say anything but in my head I was thinking, ‘I’m  not giving $5 to some stupid game when that $5 would buy a perfectly good grande vanilla latte at Starbucks.’

Honest to God, here would be my bracket as I know nothing of basketball:


Why isn’t it all filled out? Because I got bored and this is pointless. I do think Colonel Sanders would have won though.


Ridiculousness · Super Hot Mess

Style Watch: To Catch a Predator Meets Duck Dynasty

As many of you may or may not know, I am certain my car drove over an ancient Indian burial ground at some point over the past month. In the past 2 weeks, here is the small fortune I have dropped. Some of it is my fault and some is  because my car has over 230,000 miles on it:

  • Paid $463 to Tire Discounters because I virtually had no breaks left.
  • Return trip to Tire Discounters $64 gone.
  • Lock my keys in my car. Called AAA only to discover my husband had not renewed it- $88 to renew.
  • $125 fine for not having my tags. Thanks Officer Doesn’t Have Anything Better to do.
  • $59 fee for tags so Officer Doesn’t Have Anything Better to Do doesn’t pull me over again.

At lunch today I finally admitted I needed oil in my car or it was going to blow up. I was pleased to learn NTB was 1 mile away so I headed there after work hoping I could get in for an oil change.

Mr. Too Many Tats explained it would be an hour and that I would have to come back tomorrow if I wanted it faster.

“So do you think I can make it about 16 miles to home without my car blowing up?”

I know nothing about cars and quiet frankly, I don’t want to learn. Like my budget, I just want to shove it to someone and say “Will you just do it?” Learning about cars holds about the same amount of fascination for me as learning how Scotch tape is made.

“Lemme check your dip stick and we’ll see.”

Outside I popped the hood and he pulled on the stick thingy and cleaned it off. This seemed counterproductive as I thought we were checking for oil. He rinsed and repeated.

“There is zero oil on the stick.” He proclaimed.

“Eww, that’s bad isn’t it?” I asked, scrunching my nose.

“Yeah, I would go to an auto store and get a quart.”

Not wanting to waste a cent on something as boring as oil I asked what I thought to be a logical question.

“But surely I can get home without my car blowing up right? I just hate to put oil in it if you are going to put oil in tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t risk it, just get a quart and you’ll be fine.”

Reluctantly, I turned my car around and headed for an Auto Zone I saw a mile back.

As I turned into the parking lot, I saw a very old woman out of the corner of my eye, wearing an Auto Zone uniform.

‘Well how about that?’ I thought. I had never seen an old lady working at an auto store. Normally if it’s a woman, she looks like an ugly version of Justin Bieber. I decided we would call her Marge.

I walked in and waited my turn at the front desk. When it was my turn, I announced, “I have no oil, I need a quart. Can someone please put it in my car?”

“You have no oil?” The Clerk asked speculatively.

“Well the guy at NSB, NRB…no NTB up the street said there is zero oil on the stick and while I do probably have 1 and a half quarts, I need another quart.

Just then I see Marge limping around the corner. And this is why I cannot be trusted with my vision. Marge was actually Dan and Dan painfully took away 10 minutes of my life I will never get back.

“Dan, can you help this young lady. She doesn’t have any oil.”

In true creepy, old man fashion, Dan starred at me in an effort to silently chastise me for the lack of upkeep on my car.

Dan’s “look” that he was going for was To Catch a Predator meets Duck Dynasty with a sprinkling of I did way too many drugs after Vietnam.

Dan wore glasses like these:

amber glasses

He wore a camo cap over unkept curly salt and pepper hair that fell to his shoulders. His Auto Zone issued red polo was untucked and fell over oil stained khakis.

When he came to, he announced, “I need 2 quarts of oil!”

“But I’m getting an oil change tomorrow. 2 really isn’t necessary.”

I think the original Clerk understood what I was saying. Dan wasn’t going to have it.

Clearly ignoring me he reiterated, “Give me 2 bottles.”

He picked them up and started towards the door.

“We aren’t ever going to let this happen again, are we?” He admonished.

“Yeah, I know. I’m just really bad with car maintenance.”

“Every Saturday!” he exclaimed while throwing up an index finger layered with sores, “every Saturday you need to check your oil. I check my van every Saturday!”

‘Of coarse you have a van, probably with tinted windows’, I thought.

I would not be checking my oil every Saturday as I don’t even know where I’m looking on the stick.

“I went ahead and popped the hood for you.” I said as if this was a valid contribution to topping off my oil.

“You know how to open this?” He asked.

“Yes,” I lied. “You just put your hand under the hood and push up,” I said as I put my hand under, pushed up and nothing happened. My frustration level was increasing by the minute. I didn’t want a hands on experience. I didn’t want to learn this for myself so I could do it on my own, I just want someone to do it. It was 6:30 now and I was hangry.

“Hmm, that’s funny, it’s not opening.” I said as if I never have this problem.

He immediately got down on his knees and peered through the grill while putting his nasty ass index finger under the hood.

“I see it,” he said jiggling something. Suddenly it opened.

He poured 1 quart in and checked the stick. Apparently this did not return the results he was looking for because he immediately opened the second bottle, giving me absolutely no voice in the matter. I bit my lip since each quart was just $3.99 and I just needed to be done.

$8.58 later I was out of there thanking Dan and the other Clerk for “all of their help.”

Really, I’m not trying to anger a medicine doctor or an ancient tribe or voodoo-this-or -that but I really have to ask, “when will my car troubles go away for a while?”

Would a priest be open to exercising the Toyota Corolla demons?



Saw a Lovely Quote…

I wanted to share with you all a lovely quote I just read. It’s a quote I hope that justifies my past year: Stars cannot shine without darkness.

Isn’t that wonderful?

Pop Culture · Ridiculousness

Hoverboards-Cool or Doushie?

I can’t even remember how the topic was brought  up, but I think it was with  Ben’s Bitter Blog. This past weekend at my nightmare motel, I saw more hoverboards than I care to see. Shocking, but it was the kids that were clearly not athletes that felt the need to own and operate a hoverboard.

Admittedly, I was intrigued at first. Hell, my only frame of reference was Back to the Future-II. By the way, do you know that the “future” they were portraying was 2015? I wish the hoverboards would have come about but the real ones that don’t touch the ground.

Now hoverboards are annoying and I want to see their owners fall off. There was one kid who rode it into the pool area despite drenched floors. There was another kid rolling right into the elevator with his. At Kenwood mall there was an adult just rollin’ right out like this was just normal.

Is this our last ditch effort to become THE LAZIEST generation of all time? How does it get any worse then something doing our walking for us? I just sat there for a few minutes pondering what is lazier. The only thing I could come up with is if we found a way to have something sleep for us, while we are doing absolutely nothing. Did I just blow your mind?

So in my mind hoverboards are the Ed Hardy shirts and Blue Tooths of this decade. I loathe both in epic ways. So what are your thoughts? Is this the transportation of the douche and the douchebagette (female version of douche in case you weren’t aware)?


Pop Culture · Ridiculousness · Super Hot Mess

Travel Log- Day 3- My Issues With Hampton Inn, Covington, Ky

This morning I lost my shit. I was done. Done with with the shit hole motel we were assigned to, done with the ridiculous soccer schedule and done with the jacked up road system that is Southern Cincinnati.

P’s game this morning was at 8 am. Now, he had a game at 7:15 last night so we had roughly a 12 hour window between games to do things like sleep and eat. Oh wait, no…11 hours because the moron that scheduled these games didn’t take into account daylight savings time.

  1. Last night I had washed P’s uniform in the sink.

“Why not take it to the washer and dryer on site like every motel/hotel has had since 1990, Hot Mess?”

Well folks, it’s because our motel was so ghetto-tastic that they didn’t have an f’ing washing machine/dryer on site. I get that they want to give you the whole experience of Kentucky and living by the Ohio river for a few nights but if they think for one second  I am taking my son’s uniform down to the Ohio river and washing it, they’ve got another thing coming.

After washing his uniform in the sink with the Tide Pods I had brought to use in a WASHING MACHINE, I rung out the uniform and hung it up to dry for 6 hours. 6 hours later itwas still damp so I had to use the hair dryer that was connected to the wall to dry it. This became a challenge considering 3 other people had to use the restroom and 1/2 of the time it was to shit.


2. Liquor City

I cannot get over that there is literally a liquor store in the parking lot. What the hell was Paris Hilton thinking when she chose this land……oh….now I get it. Well that makes sense:

hot mess road trip

I actually saw the liquor store as a perk except for the occasional hobo in the parking lot. All I wanted was a good Cab and didn’t want any trouble.

3. Possessed coffee maker

Yesterday morning  I fished through the 3 foil packets only to discover they were all decaf. I heard the Housekeeper in the hall so I approached her for regular. This decaf thing was pretty cruel. She was helping an older Gentleman who heard my question. He went back into his room, 610 and returned 15 seconds later with his regular coffee packets. I thanked him and returned to my room.

I began making my coffee. All went well until I grabbed the completed cup and was burnt by a sudden burst of air that caused hot water to splash on my arm. I’m not Mc Donalds and the hot pickle incident but I did rip the machine out of the wall and took the little ass hole down to the front desk. Normally this would be the point in time they would offer me a complimentary dinner, breakfast or free wifi but seeing we were in a hovel, the front desk clerk had NOTHING to offer me. She simply took it and said she would get me a new one.

4. Half cleaned room

I think I’m a pretty good hotel guest. I tip all the time, clean up after myself and make sure everything is picked up so my room can be cleaned properly. After returning to our room after the first soccer game, I hit the restroom in our room. I deduced that our room had been cleaned as we had fresh towels, the trash was removed and they did the following tacky thing with our shower curtain:

hampton inn bathroom

I walked into the room afterwards and found the bed completely unmade. What the hell? Not only are we paying $75 more than what this room is worth but now what do I do? If I go out to the Housekeeper who’s making $7.35 an hour and declare, “You didn’t make my bed. You need to get back in my room and make it,” I am going to feel like one of those bitches in The Help. I wondered how many other people didn’t have their bed made. I’m guessing the carpet wasn’t swept either.

Because she did hook me up with extra toiletries that I had requested (my hair requires a TON of shampoo) I decided to not say anything and just make it myself.


5. Bathroom odor

Starting last night, our bathroom began to smell as if someone was on their period. I’m not on mine and no other female as visited our room except the cleaning lady. I was not going to dig through the trash can either to confirm this theory. There was nothing we could do. My youngest, C, declared this morning while wrinkling his nose, “Mom, what is that smell?” I couldn’t wound him for life and tell him what I thought it smelled like. I just had to empathize with him and count the hours down till we were gone.

6. The icing on the cake

I went on Trip Advisor this evening to see if other had had similar experiences or if I was just being a brat. I was horrified to find the following review:

bed bugs at hampton inn


Family · Pop Culture · Ridiculousness

Travel Log Day 2- 1 pm to 7 pm Build a Bear (aka places grown men should not work)

Against my better judgement, I promised my youngest I would take him to Build a Bear at Kenwood Mall in Cincinnati. By now we had 2 teenage girls in our group who were bored as hell so I asked them if they wanted to come along for the journey. They practically attacked me.

We piled into the SUV around 3 and headed North. 20 minutes later we were pulling into the Kenwood Mall and so was the entire population East of the Mississippi. I told the girls I would meet them in 45 minutes outside the Pottery Barn Kids. C and I checked the directory to find not only were we on the right level but we really weren’t that far.

15 minutes into walking we were confident that we clearly missed Build a Bear. Turns out the map was NOT to scale and we just hadn’t gotten there yet. We checked another directory in the wing to confirm this. 5 minutes later we were walking over the threshold of Build a Bear.

I’ve always had a thought about Build a Bear and it is this: What adult man applies AND works at Build a Bear? Build a Bear corporate, that’s fine, I get it. But when you are wearing an apron, with an Easter bunny rabbit in a nylon backpack, while dragging around a wiener dog on roller skates, that signals a mental problem.

“Can I help you?” Ken doll says without blinking, eyeing my youngest.

I push C behind me as a form of protection. “Oh, we are just trying to figure out what bear to buy. We’re good.”

“Ok, well my name is Ken. Lemme’ know if you need anything.” He says, eyeing my child like a sweater he wants, emphasizing the word need.

Then the cult magic of Build a Bear happens.

“Do you want a smell to put in your bear?” The bear maker asks, splaying her hand out to what looks to be miniature soaps.

“Nope, we’re good. I’ll just use perfume.”

After a minute, Bear Maker asks C what his name is and if we’ve ever been to Build a Bear.

“Do you want a voice for your bear?” She asks.

‘esus Christ, we just want the f-ing bear.’

C picks out a Boba Fett costume costing more than the bear. For Christmas he received a $10 gift card and I had “bear bucks” that were to expire 3.15.16 allowing this trip to be a little cheaper. He attempted to rally me for a $12 light saber in which I immediately put the squash on.

“Would you like to purchase a nylon backpack or just use the cub condo?” The teenage girl at the wrap desk asked.

“How much is the backpack?” I asked.

“$5 dollars.”

“C, you want a backpack?” I was willing to get this for him as he would be adorable with a bear hanging off his back.

“No. I just want the cub condo.” He said as if he was reaffirming his lunch selection.

“You qualify for a $10 gift card for only $5. Would you like that?”

“No thank you.” I said politely. I was officially loosing my shit inside.

Once out of Pedophile’s paradise and ready to head back to the our car I saw a unicorn. Not an actual unicorn but a type of person I’ve only seen 3 other times in my life- a midget.

She was walking along with her friends, completely animated. She had a super long weave and I really felt like the weave wore her and wasn’t proportionate to her body type. Then again, I really shouldn’t judge.

After we met with the girls and got in the car, one of the girls began to rattle off things she can’t stand. I don’t know how we got on the topic.

“I can’t stand clowns, sporks or cockroaches.” She announces as if she was telling us what extra curricular activities she participates in.

“What? Sporks?” I ask her, giggling at the randomness.

“Yeah, I was once hurt by a spork and have hated them ever since.”

“Well…what if you had a clown, using a spork to each cockroaches?” I said slowly so they could process the epically awesome concept I had just thought of.

“Yeah, no. On their own they are awful.”

“True,” I concurred.


Travel Log Day 2- Hours 3 a.m. to 1 p.m.

Travel log day 1 can be found at Travel Log Day 1- Everything is Gonna Be Ok

“Can you please give me ear plugs? I’ve been up since like 2 and couldn’t get back to sleep cause of dad snoring.” P said while shaking me awake.

It was 3 a.m. and technically this was what time I woke up today. My husband snores like a 400 lb gorilla and there was no way in hell we would be in a hotel room together without ear plugs. I’ve gone out of my way in the past to obtain ear plugs when I had forgot them on vacation.

We headed down to breakfast at 7:20 since we had to leave at 8 for an ETA of 8:50 on the soccer fields. My children started the day off with an amazingly healthy breakfast consisting of a bowl of fruit loops and 3 sausage patties. C differed slightly and selected fruit loops and a Belgium waffle.

The fields were 30 minutes away and I had the honor of driving to them since my husband “isn’t good with directions.”

We arrived at the nicest fields I’ve ever seen, complete with a brick parking lot. Soccer moms were everywhere, dressed in their Sperry rain boots clutching their Dooney and Burke bags. To my delight, the field was turf, no mud. Additionally, there were football stadium stands. My ass was numb before the game even began. It was around 60 and partly sunny so for once, we weren’t uncomfortable.

The game took FOREVER. We anticipated a loss and that is what happened. 2 to 1. I wasn’t really upset because my son was guest playing.

1/2 way back or 15 minutes into the drive my son asks, “Dad, you got my backpack, right?”

“I don’t have it.”

“Yes you do, I gave it to you to hold.”

Because this area wasn’t already enough of a delight to drive in, I was forced to find a side street to turn around on and go back to get his stupid backpack. By luck, I chose a street that resembled this one:

hot mess trip to soccer
Lombard in San Francisco

Even the homes were candy colored and resembled the Victorian homes of San Francisco. No one had drive ways and the width of the street was only condensed by everyone parking their Porsches and Audis on the sides. I wanted to scream. Mercy came when we got to a few new builds that actually had driveways that I could turn around in.

Once back on the field there was no backpack. We had P’s teammate in the car and he decided he would look at his phone when they returned from backpack looking. He then announced he received a text 20 minutes earlier, to tell P that he had his backpack.

When we returned to our room it was lunchtime. I saw a restaurant I would love to try-Bouquet. Seeing that 5 boys and 3 fathers would be attending this lunch, my Steel Magnolia-esque restaurant would be voted out. The day before my oldest declared they needed to eat wings for both lunch and dinner each day, I succumbed to this truth and found a local pub called Cock and Bull.

Because we brought a small orphanage in to eat, our food was taking extra long. I was bored and decided to entertain myself by checking out a few of the cute shops on main street of Covington. I asked my friend’s daughter, E who is 14 if she wanted to come. We were the only females and just wanted to take a breather from the soccer talk.

I saw a tattoo sign and decided to have some fun. I sent the following picture to E’s mother. E was scheduled to go to Build a Bear with C and I: tattoo parlor Her reaction was not what I wanted so I sent the following text:
Anyway, no reaction.

That was 3am to 1pm. The day gets shittier..


Pop Culture · Ridiculousness

Travel Log Day 1- Everything is Gonna Be Ok

Hot Mess Hits the Road This will tell you about our planned trip to Cincinnati and why.

So at 12:30, the family was in the SUV bound for Cincinnati, actually Covington, Ky for a weekend soccer tournament. I had plans to fire up the ole’ laptop and get some work done while my husband drove us but I quickly realized I was needed in other areas for our journey.

My husband was at the wheel and I would like to describe his driving style. My husband feels that if he is in the passing lane and he is 3′ behind you, you are to move. Immediately. When most people don’t abide by this, he rides their ass, going 80 mph. This makes me absolutely batty, causing me to feel the necessity to watch the road as if I were the driver. We continued to go between 80 and 90 the entire way there, riding someone’s ass 3/4 of the time. When I brought this up, his response was:

“You wanna drive?”

‘No ass hole, I just want to get there alive.’ Was my first thought.

“I just don’t want to rear end someone.”

The bridge from Cincinnati to Kentucky was a disaster. Cars were merging everywhere. I didn’t even know there were that many people in Kentucky to cause this issue. My sons did not realize this was stressful for both mom and dad and continued to chatter about absolutely nothing. It hit a fever pitch when my husband firmly said,

“GUYS! Can you stop chattering for like 2 minutes? Just 2 minutes. JESUS!” This exchange was occurring while I’m looking down into the Ohio River thinking, ‘One false move and we swim with the fishes.’

Thankfully, our ghetto-tastic Hampton Inn was immediately the first exit, once off the bridge. A gabillion other hotels, either the same cost or lower and we pick this hovel? Just as we turned in, I suddenly realized why this hotel was selected for soccer tournaments:

hot mess road trip

‘Everything is gonna be ok,’ I thought. ‘Everything is gonna be ok.’ Do you see what is literally in our parking lot? Fun fact: according to my husband, at one point, Cincinnati was dry. Covington, Ky took this as an opportunity to offer what the city would not. Even as we turned on to our street, there was this liquor superstore that seemed to be as big as a Best Buy

From a Trip Advisor review, the views of the Ohio River are “just lovely” from one side of the Hampton Inn. When my husband checked in, I asked that he request a top floor, preferably over looking this majestic scene.

Ohio RiverApparently this review was written by a Hampton Inn employee as the view is more reminiscent of a crime scene or the backdrop of Silence of the Lambs. I already saw a hobo and his dog hanging out right when I walked to the window to check out the “lovely view.” Thank God I didn’t waste $10 using The Sandwich Trick to get this view. I would have gone back downstairs and asked for it back.

So now I’m up here alone because I sent the boys out with another father for wings and boys time. I don’t like wings and I can only take so much soccer talk.

My room is a complete shit hole but of coarse I knew that going in because I did research. Hampton Inn fools you thinking they have remodeled by showing the one place they did remodel:

Hampton Inn Covington, Ky

The rooms haven’t been touched since probably 1998. Here is our piss color room:

our room at hampton inn

I asked for 2 queen beds so our sons would not wake up feeling like they were 80 from the sofa bed. Of coarse that is too modern for this hotel as they only offer a King with a sofa or 2 doubles.

The hotel is almost full because apparently this is the hotel de choix for not only the soccer tournament but a girl’s basketball team and a local Mary Kay convention.

So alas, I am going to get my shoes and walk over to Liquor City. I hope they have wine and not Boones Farm wine. If they don’t have wine, I’ll have to go to the superstore a 1/2 mile away.

P.S. C is hoping to see Colonel Sanders while in Kentucky. I told him it’s a definite possibility.





Soooo is this a person’s car or are they saying they are a dominitrix?


Morons. I would not put this on my car, especially on a red car. Let’s be real here.


Hot Mess Hits the Road

Get ready you guys! In less than 24 hours, we will be off to Cincinnati. Home of the Reds, Bengals, WKRP and the finest purveyor of vibrators, Pure Romance.

We are driving there for a huge soccer tournament. P was invited to play with an older team because he’s that good (you have to say it like Will Ferrell in Stepbrothers).

Only stories can come out of this weekend. I theorize this on the basis of several facts:

  • It is to pour all day Saturday and all day Sunday. We have absolutely no shelter.
  • A road trip for a few hours with children is definitely interesting.
  • For an entire weekend, the entire Hampton Inn will be overtaken by prepubescent boys.
  • In addition to the entire Hampton Inn looking more like Lord of the Flys, we are getting connecting rooms with another parent and son.
  • There were about 20 other hotels that could have been selected at the same rate and cooler. Instead, images of the rooms show what look to be a Value City Furniture Showroom.
  • P’s game on Sunday is at 8 but really it’s at 7 since we have the time change that morning.
  • He has 1 uniform and 4 games. You do the math. I get to fight over the 1 to 2 washing machines on site with 100 other soccer moms. Bring it bitches, I’ve got my Tide Pods ready.

So get ready for a fun filled weekend. I’ll take pictures and post them on Twitter.

Good night to all!