Ask The Mouthy Mommy: Love Edition

"No one will ever love you as much as your mother did. And her love for you completely fucked you up, let's face it."- Walter T. Pratt

With Valentine's Day quickly approaching, love is in the air and I feel that like Hallmark and Russell Stover, I should take the opportunity to cash in on it. Today I will be answering love related questions submitted by my readers. I can't promise that my responses will be helpful because I personally hate Valentine's Day, love, public displays of affections and anything that relates to sharing feelings with someone other than my shrink, but as always I will push through my emotional ineptness and try to help to the best of my abilities.


"When someone says,"I love you," what they really mean is, "I love the way I feel when anyone expresses an interest in me, in this case, you." -Walter T. Pratt


*Mouthy Mommy,
How do you get a guy to make the leap from live in boy friend to let's get engaged?
-Megan, 26, FL

Well Megan, this one's going to take a lot on your part considering he's already getting the "milk" for free. I find that in cases such as this you have two options 1) give him an ultimatum and hope that he doesn't decide to call your bluff, (because let's face it your not willing to pay his half of the rent if he chooses to dip instead of marry you) or 2) and probably your best bet, get pregnant. Nothing says marry me or else like an unplanned addition to the family. Option two will also ensure that you will always have someone to love you, even long after Mr. Wonderful has taken off because he resents you for duping him. Let me know how it works out.-MM

*Mouthy Mommy,
Is it appropriate to start dating your OB after he's delivered two of your kids and you're still married?-Brittany, 26, FL

Brittany,
While I am a big fan of being faithful to your husband, I do feel that a free meal with a successful man is never a bad idea. After all, 60% of marriages end in divorce these days so it's smart to keep you options open. The big problem I see with this date is that the man is an OB. It is never a good idea to date someone who knows more than you do about anything and this is especially true when it comes to your privates. Take a moment and think about all the times your husband has tried to correct you. Now imagine if one of those times he was right and it pertained to your vagina. Not cool! I say stick with just your hubby for now. Maybe you'll luck out one day and find yourself a cute pediatrician. Now think of how much money that would save you.
-MM

*Mouthy Mommy,
How do you know when love is true love and not just infatuation?
-Pete, 39, FL

Petey, Petey, Petey...
This is not as tough as you think it is. Anytime you're caught contemplating whether you are in love or just infatuated I want you to ask yourself these 4 questions.

1) Are you still attracted to her in the morning, stink breath and all?
2) Do you two pass gas freely around each other? Is it awkward?
3) Can either of you enter the bathroom while the other is making and brush your teeth or have a conversation?
4) Think of the most annoying thing about the person you are with. Can you live with that forever?

If the answers are all yes then you're in love...Infatuation only allows for perfection. Love is about noticing the flaws in someone and deciding that even with those flaws you couldn't do any better. So run out and scream it from the roof tops. "You're in love with your momma!" She's a lucky gal, Pete and I wish you both well. - MM

*Mouthy Mommy,

Is it OK to go on a vacation without your spouse? I really want to take a cruise, but my husband gets ill every time he's on a ship and refuses to go on any more. -Claudia, Fl

Claudia, I didn't realize having your husband tag along while you're trying to have some "me" time was a vacation. It's almost a rule in the Mouthy Mommy household that vacations be taken spouse free. Tell me, what is so relaxing about having to deal with your spouse on a getaway. Shit, if he's going you might as well take your boss and kids too. There's nothing like being with the same people that make you crazy at home in a exotic location. Yea, that sounds like fun! Here's what you should do, get yourself a ticket for the next cruise you can find, book yourself an on ship spa day, pack a good book and toss your phone over board the second you leave the dock. Never feel guilty about taking time to do the things that make you happy in life. Trust me; vacation time is best served alone. I promise you'll enjoy it.-MM

*Mouthy Mommy,

What should I get you for Valentine's Day? -Steve, Your Husband

Steve, Do me a favor and refrain from buying me another chocolate arrangement set in a heart shaped cardboard box. I know you mean well, but there are only so many shitty pieces of candy I can eat in one life time and I think last year put me at my max. Since you always refuse to buy me a nanny, maid and most recently orphan, I am just going to ask that you get me something that will not require dusting, feeding or watering. Actually, it may be best if you just give me the cash you were going to spend and I'll put it towards the cruise I decided to take after answering Claudia's question. Just in case you were wondering- no, you are not invited to come with me. Love ya!- MM

I hope this was helpful, because it sure was a lot of fun. Have a great Valentine's Day, and remember, "No matter how much you think you know someone or trust someone, know this: Between you and everyone else on this planet there is a dark, infinite chasm that can never be crossed."-Walter T. Pratt On that note; have a lovely weekend! I'll see you next week. XOXOX

4 Steps To Keeping Your Dignity In The Great Beyond

"Here's what happens when you die: The blood stops flowing into your brain, and you have a few last flickering thoughts, then you stop thinking all together. The synapses in your brain stop firing, and your personality and thoughts cease to exist. Your body decays. Grubs and boll weevils burrow into your head. Worms crawl in and out of your eye sockets. Maggots feed on your brain. Oh, wait. I'm getting it all wrong. Actually you go to a country club-type place and hang out with Jesus, Mark Twain, and all your long-lost relatives. What was I thinking?" -Walter T. Pratt

Well, now that we know what happens physically when you die it's time to talk about what your no good relatives are going to be doing after they've had a moment to celebrate your passing. If you have children or are a person who prepares for the inevitable, chances are you have purchased life insurance and wrote out a will. Your beneficiary is set and you have specified who gets your "Pretty Kitty" plate collection and those baseball cards (in terrible condition) that you have been hording since you were a small child. But as for all the day to day nonsense, the furniture, clothing and whatnot's, someone or many someones will be entering your place of residence to rifle through it and you can rest assured that they will be carting away anything that isn't nailed down. I guess when you think about it in the grand scheme of things it doesn't seem like a big deal, because after all, you are dead. Right?

I get why some of you may feel that way. In fact, I at one point felt that way too. That was until I had to clean out my mother's house and ran into a few things that no child should ever have to see. It was a real eye opener and it occurred to me then that EVERYONE has stuff tucked away in closets and drawers that they are not particularly proud of. Things that even in death, are majorly embarrassing and will no doubt, tarnish their legacy. But what can you do to keep this from happening? Funny you should ask, because as always, I had a few ideas.

4 Steps To Keeping Your Dignity In The Great Beyond.

Step 1- Get yourself a bag or box of a specific color
This is as easy as it sounds. Look at the things you own that need to be chucked after your departure and buy something to keep them in. I say pick a color so that the buddy you pick in step two, can identify it easily.

NOTE: Shoe boxes tend to blend with the scenery and will need to be spruced up or decoupaged. You need it to scream "Here I am! Burn me!"


Step 2-Use the "Buddy System"
Figure out who the one person is that you trust to dispose of your smut. It can be a cousin or sibling. I personally have chosen my best friend, The Perpetual Bridesmaid. Not only is she a kook like me, but she's also very discrete. Which is exactly what you'll need for this task.

Note: Your "Buddy" should be someone off balance and trust worthy. You need this someone to retrieve the colored bag of filth from your secrete hiding place and do so without being compelled to tell anyone what's inside or meet you at the pearly gates due to shock.

Step 3-Make a game plan

Though when and how you will expire is a mystery, your buddy must always be ready. Make Sure they know the three "W's"; when to pick up the stuff, where it is, and what to say to the greedy family members who will no doubt, want a piece of what's in the bag.

Note: Keep the plan simple and straight forward. Your buddy is throwing out a bag of dildo's not accepting a case for Mission Impossible.

Step 4-Figure out what is bag/box worthy and waste no time putting them away
Anything that cannot be openly displayed on a coffee table when your mother's around belongs is this special place. This includes, but is not limited to:

~Dirty Magazines (Especially those that contain tranny midgets and farm animals)

~Sex toys (No one wants to handle your "personal massager" collection. We all know what they are really used for. It's gross...Put it in the bag!)

~Old journals ( This strictly depends on content. If you wrote a nice memoir by all means leave it accessible. However, if you are anything like the Mouthy Mommy and have chosen to write a graphic novel about your life, for reasons unbeknownst to even you, it's best that you rip out the gory stuff or scrap the entire book. Remember, even if your family thinks you're a whore, they don't need the evidence spelled out in your own handwriting.)

~Drugs or Paraphernalia(Though you started doing drugs to ease the pain your family has caused you, it's none of their business how you choose to self medicate to get through the day. Hide your stash or risk leaving a legacy that says you're a junkie. It may not be true, but those nut jobs you're related to will need something to blame for your demise and I can guarantee it won't be themselves.)

~Photos or video of you naked, in drag, or copulating ( Yikes! If you have this stuff save your buddy the trouble and burn it now. You guys are close, that's why you chose him/her, but there's a limit and pictures of you getting "it on" in drag is it...Trust me on this one.)

** All embarrassing material must go to the bag ASAP. It may be taken out, used or reviewed, but always returned promptly when finished.

Note: There may be things that are not linked to your sexual deviance that belong in this bag. Since I only own the latter, I can't think of any examples, but please feel free to leave some in the comment section if you can.


Once you have your bag in order and your "Buddy" on standby, your bucket is ready to be kicked. I can't promise that it will all work out according to plan. Who knows, maybe your buddy will die with or before you. Or worse, they could get Alzheimer's and forget where you hid your stash. I wouldn't waste time worrying about that much though. You've got bigger problems. Including how hard it's going to be for you to get into heaven. God sees all you know, even what's in the bag.

The Mouthy Mommy Goes To The Gun Show...

In an attempt to earn some extra cash this holiday season and give my family all the useless crap they want but do not need, the Mouthy Mommy decided to take a weekend job. Unfortunately for me, it was a gig at the West Palm Beach Gun Show. Fortunately for you, it was a complete disaster and left me with much to write about.







Let me start by setting the scene...When I pulled into the parking lot of the gun show, I was overwhelmed by the sight of Ford and Chevy pickups adorned with the always classy, Truck Nutz. For those of you who are unfamiliar with "Truck Nutz" they are plastic testicles that attach to the undercarriage of your vehicle. In Redneck Land they are considered an automotive improvement, like window tint or a sound system. As I exited my car and walked slowly to the front gate, I could see a massive amount of men waiting in line to purchase tickets (That's right, tickets to the gun show). 90% of them were all business in the front and party in the back. Meaning, the mullet ratio was off the charts. The only quality that was more abundant in these men than mullet haircuts, was obesity and camo covered Wrangler jeans. Which is probably why my attire of skinny jeans, white long sleeve shirt and pink scarf had me sticking out like a turd in a punch bowl (I actually heard someone say that while I was there). As I tried to contain my laughter, I picked up the pace and made it to the front doors where I had the privilege of being the only woman vendor waiting to enter the expo center. I looked around at the guys that I would be working beside and realized that between the 20 of them, there wasn't one full set of teeth. Not even if you put them all together in one mouth. It was outstanding and I knew right then, that I would be learning a lot on this job.
I just wasn't sure at that moment, what it would be.

The inside of the show was as exciting as the outside. The tables were full of high powered assault rifles, giant knives, WWII memorabilia (complete with all the Nazi garb a young skin head could dream of) and tasers as far as the eye could see. In an attempt to keep the show a family affair, there were also a few booths set up with cheap, pink camo clothing and chintzy kids toys complete with choking hazards, made only in the USA. My favorite item of the day was the lipstick mace. Printed in bold red letters on the front of the package were the words "Never be date raped again!" Which got me thinking, is date rape that much of an epidemic in Redneck Land? Are woman repeatedly having this problem? Holy shit! If I was date raped more than once, I don't know about you, but I think I'd forgo the mace and become a shut in instead. Finding Mr. Right just doesn't seem worth the emotional scaring.

After taking a quick moment to evaluate my surroundings, I sat down at my booth and began the longest 8 hours of my life. I wasn't there to sell anything. I was just there to babysit a small batch of fliers, provided by the pawn shop I was representing. None of the patrons noticed I was there and I was left to sit alone. Well, kind of alone. I had 3 lovely vendors sharing space with me and because we shared space they felt we should also share conversation. I didn't necessarily feel the same way. I was hoping to do my time, make some cash and forget that places like this hell hole, ever existed. Making friends was the last thing I felt like doing, but I forced a polite smile anyway when I was greeted by Humpty Dumpty, the scope salesman on the left of me. After all, it wasn't his fault my invisibility cloak was malfunctioning. Humpty, was bald and egg shaped. He was also very eager to let loose about his theories on global warming. That's when I learned my first bit of redneck knowledge. According to Mr. Dumpty there is no such thing as global warming. It's just a fancy word that scientist use to make money. Ice bergs are not melting and there is a huge abundance of Polar Bears that hang out in Canada, all we have to do is spread them out and they will no longer be on the endangered list. I'm not sure how this conversation began or where he got his facts, all I know is that seconds after I said "hello," Humpty took me on a magical journey through stupid land and I haven't been the same since.

Upset with the fact I would never be able to get back that 20 minutes of my life, I walked outside for a smoke. It was at this time that I passed two men having a conversation. I'm not sure what they were talking about, but I do know that one of them felt that the gun show was, and I quote, "Mind bottling!"

On my walk back from my smoke break, I passed some interesting art work. One blatantly racist piece, was a photograph of President Obama shinning Sarah Palin's shoes. Even though I found it offense, it seemed to be a real crowd pleaser. I actually saw children under the age of ten, pointing and laughing at it. This proving my theory, that stupidity is genetic and possibly contagious.

Though the entire weekend left me feeling like there should be a law against allowing any of these people to reproduce, operate a firearm or teach school age children, I did find one person there that wasn't half bad. The NRA was kind enough to provide a Sara Palin impersonator and I was lucky enough to get a picture with her. I personally think the real Sara is an idiot, but in the gun world she is as popular as baby Jesus and Budweiser. They absolutely love her and they can't wait for her to run for office in 2012. (If you want to know if the world will end in 2012, elect that woman into office and I promise Armageddon will follow.) Anyway, Patsy the fake Sarah allowed me to hold a big gun in the photo. I'm not sure what kind it was, but I did learn that it is A) illegal to take a picture with a gun if your finger's on the trigger and B) the Palin look alike does not like it pointed at her face. She says it's because she didn't want it to look like I was shooting her lipstick off. I think she was missing that it was exactly the look I was going for. All jokes aside,Patsy was a nice lady and I'm saying that genuinely. Not just because I gave her the link to my website.

It was amazing how much she looked like the Governor. If you want to check out her website( and trust me it's worth a look) you can find her at http://www.sarahpalinimpersonator.com/ .

So, though the gun show was a complete waste of my time, it did teach me a few things. 1) That I will do pretty much anything to make a few bucks and 2) that I have no business working a gun show...EVER. I also learned why I should never own a gun. Until there is proof that gun ownership doesn't cause retardation, I'll stick to finding other ways to protect myself. Maybe I'll start toting a bow and arrow or better yet I'll strap on my tinfoil helmet and will the Canadian Polar Bears to guard me... Damn it! Looks like stupidity is contagious. Somebody get me a gun!

Dear Santa and/or Baby Jesus...

Dear Santa and/or Baby Jesus,

I'm not really sure if either one of you exist, but just in case I feel it's best to cover all my bases and address both of you. Hell, if you see the Easter Bunny hanging around, feel free to pass this on to him too. I'm not picky and truthfully, you'll need all the help you can get.

I am aware that I've been a bit naughty this year. I have repeatedly neglected my housework, I torture and poke fun at my husband to improve the comedic value of my blogs and I've taken the Lord's name in vain so many times, that my son is starting to think that his name is Jesus Christ. Also, I may have called a Dollar rent-a-car customer service woman a few names that are illegal in some states. But please, before you judge me for that one, you may want to check your naughty list for her too. I'm not sure what her real name is, but I assume her last name is Face and her first starts with a "C".

Listen, I'm not perfect. I screw up a lot, but I do good things too. I always leave a penny in that little dish at the gas station (if I have one). I make sure my family is fed and clean (most of the time). And most importantly, I bring the gift of laughter twice a week to a bunch of crazies, for zero money(this is 100% true). So if you think about it, all the good I do for others cancels out all that naughty crap I do to others.

Now, to the point of this letter. I have a few wishes/wants/needs this Christmas and it would be nice if one of you could come through for me this year.

*I know I asked for this last year, but a nanny and a house keeper is always number one on my list. I understand that placing two live humans under the tree is an unorthodox request to fill, but honestly, there are plenty of people waiting in front of The Home Depot for a job. It would be a gift for all involved. (Just so you know, there is a Home Depot a few blocks from my house. It would take zero effort for you to swing by there before you stuff your fat ass through the window, Santa.. Sorry, I don't have a chimney and I'm not leaving the front door unlocked in Broward County. You'll figure it out. )

*I would like you to stop all Facebook users from using slang in their status updates. I'm on there a lot and reading sentences with the words "cuz", "minez", "wuz", and "dat" is about to earn me a permanent spot on the naughty list next year for committing a hate crime.

*If it's not to much trouble I could really use some free time. An hour a day would be great. Locking myself in the bathroom and pretending to take a dump for alone time is hardly my idea of relaxing. Have you ever tried using a toilet as a computer desk? It's terrible. Plus, I think my kid and husband are on to me. The kid incessantly bangs on the door the entire time and my husband has started messing with the wifi when I'm in there. I'm not going to lie; they both really suck. I need the time.

* My final request is a toughy. I would really like to be famous. I know I'm kind of a big deal with the crazies, but I'm looking to branch out. I'm thinking a reality show or a book deal. Or how about the Mouthy Mommy on ice? I can't skate for shit, but I'm a fast learner and people seem to love that ice skating bologna. Look at how well Sesame Street is doing with it. Maybe we can get Oscar the Grouch to play me. Whatever, I'm not going to tell you how to do your job... Just see what you can do.

Well, I know that with only a few weeks before the "big day", you guys have a lot of work to do. So get on it and don't let me down again. There is really very little keeping me from doing a swan dive off the roof these days and it's likely that one more disappointment may push me over the edge. Keep that in the back of your mind when you feel like cutting corners.


Sincerely,
The Mouthy Mommy



P.S
Scotch and pot will be left out in lieu of cookies and milk. Santa, I know it's your favorite. You reeked of both when we visited you at the mall last week.



Boys, there is no need to fight! You can all get me a gift.....

A Homeless Doll $95..Homeless Doll Story Book Bio $14.95..A New Mouthy Mommy Invention...Priceless

American Girls Mission Statement
Every story has a star.
Each American Girl is not only the star of a historical six-book series, but also a shining example for girls today. Lessons of love, friendship, courage, compassion, and tolerance are at the heart of every American Girl story.




In an attempt to cash in on our financial crisis and unemployment woes, American Girl is proudly bring a new girl into their clan of time period misfits. Her name is Gwen Thompson. She is blond, homeless, and dressed in a hippie inspired white dress and flip-flop sandals. (how appropriate) Her story is an unfortunate tale of a young girl who is abandoned by her deadbeat father and is forced to live in a car with her mother. A mother who because of her minimum wage salary and ex-husband's inability to pay child support, is unable to provide for her. The saddest part of the whole story is that American girl is expecting you to shell out $95 bucks for this homeless gypsy.


To cover their ass, American Girl released a statement stating that this doll will help "teach children compassion and tolerance." Sure it will. You just have to find a kid stupid enough to pick the homeless girl over the other more fun, less depressing girls. My guess is that the only people who would really want to buy Gwen are the people who's lives resemble hers so painfully...The problem is, if your kid needs this doll to relate to, chances are you can't afford to buy it. That is why I'm introducing a homeless doll that is not only affordable on any budget, but is a lot of fun too.

Here is Homeless Hannah...........

Hannah's Story

Hannah is a happy kid who loves her mom and wishes she knew her father. After her mother lost her job as a data processor because of methamphetamine use, they lost their house and were forced to live behind the local 7-11 store. When the Department of Child Protective Services found out about this, Hannah was moved to a home for girls until her mother cleaned up her act. After a year in the girls home, Hannah's mother was sober and ready to remarry a construction foreman she met in rehab. He had a nice house and Hannah was allowed to move back home. Life was super once again.

Hannah's story is one of hope and triumph. It is sure to give your homeless child the will to go on and the knowledge that sometimes living in a car is just a speed bump in the road of life.

How to create your own Homeless Hannah

Hannah is really two things in one; a fun arts and crafts project and a doll.
She is constructed out of products that I found lying around the house, but you can also find these things in dumpsters, fast food restaurants, the center console of your car and at the homeless shelter. She is easy to put together. Just follow the simple directions and she'll be joining your family in no time!

Here is a photo of all the things you'll need to create Hannah and her dream house.

Tape, pink Sharpie(for lips), a second Sharpie for the eyes, string (for hair), scissors (to cut out Hannah's outfits and home furnishings), glue (to attach hair) , a plastic spoon (the body), and any magazines you can find (for fashions and home furnishings).



To construct the dream house simply flip over your begging sign and glue the home furnishing photos to it. Because Hannah is basically two dimensional, you can just lean her against the home to make her look like she's inside.

**Here you can see Hannah getting ready for bed..Sleep tight Hannah!

Hannah's outfits are cut out of fashion magazines and taped to her spoon handle body. There is no end to her fashion possibilities.Especially if you hit up a nice neighborhood on recycling day.

For you green homeless moms out there, you'll be happy to know that Hannah is 100% recyclable and reusable. No spoon to eat those beans you heated on your cars radiator? Hannah can help! Strip off all Hannah's glamorous accessories and use her as an eating utensil. With her the possibilities are endless. Get cracking on yours today. Christmas is right around the corner!

I'll show you a REAL DESPERATE HOUSEWIFE !

Hey Bravo! Hey ABC! Look over here! Mouthy Mommy fans you could learn something too, so pay attention.
I would like everyone to put their listening caps on and focus. I am going to start by giving a short vocabulary lesson.

Websters Dictionary defines these terms as follows:

Real-
•being or occurring in fact or actuality; having verified existence; not illusory.
Desperate-
•despairing: arising from or marked by despair or loss of hope.
Housewife-
•a wife who manages a household while her husband earns the family income.

**Now let's take a look at how Bravo and ABC define them.

Real-
• Any thing that contains a pulse and is capable of drawing in TV viewers.
Desperate-
• A term that describes someone who wants to be famous so badly that they will air their dirty laundry for all the world to see, regardless of how stupid, self absorbed, or arrogant it makes them look.
Housewife-
• A rich, middle aged, working woman.

As you can plainly see, there is a difference between the two sets of definitions. It's not that I don't enjoy watching a few episodes of Desperate Housewives and The Real Housewives of Who Gives a Sh#$ when I get the chance, because I do. I just feel that the titles are misleading and nothing more than a bait and switch. When I tell someone I'm a housewife, I don't want them comparing me to those women. I say call the show what it is, Middle Aged Woman Having Sex, Fighting and Seeking Fame. Don't name it after the people who watch it. It would have been like naming Star Trek, Geeky Virgins Living in Their Mother's Basement. See what I'm saying now? It's stupid!
Alright, enough ranting. It's time for me to put up or shut up; and you know what I'm choosing. I would like to give you a glimpse into a day in the life of a real desperate housewife. Though it is not as exciting as a bunch of Botoxed crypt keepers marching around in high priced couture and fighting over whose fashion line will bomb first or who gets to rape the pool boy; I feel the truly desperate real housewives deserve their 15 minutes too.

My day as a housewife.- by Jennie Nadler Milechman

I woke up this morning at 7 am. The baby was screaming in his room and my husband was already out the door for the day. I pulled the covers over my head and ignored the baby until his screams turned into sobs. I consider it my version of hitting the snooze button on the alarm clock. When I could no longer take the crying, I threw my feet on the floor and stumbled around looking for my robe. To my dismay, I found the robe balled up under my sleeping mutt. Feeling as though someone in my house should be allowed the luxury of sleeping in, I left her to snooze and marched across my house in my usual summer bed time attire; granny panties and a tattered tank-top. As I shuffled through the house I could see the morning sun glaring in through the open blinds. I know what you must be thinking... "Are you not worried about the neighbors seeing you through the window half naked?" And the answer is; who cares! As a general rule I try to never make friends or even casually associate with my neighbors. Neighbors are nosey, they always want to borrow crap and the only reason they want to hang out with you is so that they can see what the inside of your house looks like. I say F-em. Now let's get back to the story... I grabbed my snot covered kid from behind the gate in his doorway and placed him on my hip. His diaper was dry enough to last him at least one more hour, so I tossed him on the couch and let him watch cartoons, while I sprinted into the kitchen to fetch a cup of coffee. As I sat sipping my Folgers and jotting down a list of house work that I needed to finish before my husband came home, I spotted my pool geezer. Real housewives don't have sexy gardeners and young Latin pool boys. I have a 40 year old toothless workhorse mow my lawn and my Pool geezer is pushing 65. Pool geezer always shows up to my house shirtless. On this day the sunlight was reflecting off the sweat beading in his chest hair, and his cotton gym pants hung loosely on his hips, exposing just enough butt crack to make me want to jam my list writing pencil into my eye sockets. Seeing him working out in the yard, looking so unattractive, made me realize that it was time to throw on my valour track suit and get my day started.

Now dressed, I decided to challenge myself and surf the web for grocery bargains. After spotting that my local grocer was having a buy one get one extravaganza, it was time to dress my munchkin and do a little food shopping. It turns out that munchkin was ripe and in need of more than just a wardrobe change, which would have been fine except I had run out of baby wipes. I shuffled into the bathroom and grabbed a wet washcloth. I did this while calling loudly to him "Don't move or you'll fall off the changing table." Lucky for me he obeyed. Once he was clean we ran to the store and stocked up on condiments and minute rice. Oh, how I love buy one get one.There's nothing like buying double the crap you don't eat because half of it is free. Anyway, when we got back home and unloaded the groceries, it was time for lunch. I nuked a hot dog and chopped it into a million bite sized pieces. Good TV or not, there would be no choking deaths on my watch, I can promise you that.

With lunch time over and death free, it was time for a nap. As usual, I fell asleep before my kid and I'm guessing he was out a few minutes later. We both awoke at 4 pm, which left me just enough time to toss in a few loads of wash and sweep the dog hair off the floor before my husband arrived home. The most important part of being a housewife is creating the illusion that you are busy and working on the house all day long for your husband. That's why I always wait to finish up my work until he walks through the door. Then when he starts whining about how hard his day was I can combat it with "I know what you mean. I had so much going on I didn't get my work finished until just now. What a day!" NEVER, mention the nap. NEVER! I'm starting to think a TV show would screw me, because it will out my secrets..hmm...I guess this story will too. Oh wait, my husband doesn't read my blog and he hates reality TV. Crisis averted, back to the story.

When my hard working, bread winning husband enters our home for the night, it's time for dinner. Lucky for him Frosted Flakes were buy one get one. This housewife doesn't cook but maybe Bravo or ABC can cast me a friend that does. No matter what trash I feed my husband, I always make sure my kid has a nutritious meal. Mainly because he's not old enough to make the choice for himself to treat his body like a dumpster. I figure while I'm responsible for his well being, the least I can do is make sure he eats healthy. When dinner is done we have a little family time. We watch TV together, read books to the kid, play some kid games and sometimes play outside in the back yard. We stay away from the front yard. Neighbors like to use small children as conversation starters. Like I said before, I'm not interested. Look at how being neighborly screwed the Desperate Housewives. No thank you!

After family play time, it's time for the munchkin to get a bath. Because I have such a long day with him, baths are my husband's job. I use that time to smoke cigarettes and chat on the phone with my childless friends that live much more exciting lives than me. When bath time is over, I toss my kiddo into my bed for a night time movie. He watches quietly for an hour and a half and I get some quiet time with my husband. I mean "quiet time" literally. My husband and I keep talking to a minimum during that time. We find it helps to take a breather before we start dumping our day on one another. Also, it prevents our kid from hearing us argue. Trust me, there's nothing worse than hearing your two-year-old mimic your potty mouth.

When the movie ends, I round up my kid and put him to bed. I read him a short story and tuck him in while my husband flips through the channels on the big screen. Bed time is always my gig and that's fine with me. It's quicker than bath time. With munchkin drifting off into dreamland my husband and I rehash our day and watch a little cable programming. When 10 pm rolls around, we stumble to bed and debate on whether or not to "do it." Not always wins and we shut our eyes for the night, only to wake up the next morning and do it all again.

**So, What do you think? I tried to make it reality TV and instead it turned out like a short story. Can't teach an old housewife new tricks I guess. Just in case though, I want ABC and Bravo to know that my contact info can be found on the Mouthy Mavens Facebook page. Not that I want to pigeonhole myself, any of the other cable stations will do. In fact, I may just have someone follow me around with a camcorder and post it all on you tube. You never know what a real desperate housewife will do...