Please, Whatever You Do…Don’t Ask Him How Much A Candy Bar Cost in 1952



(Ironically, my father complains when my daughter texts all the way to school…if only he knew.)

Caolinn: Grandpa’s been complaining about a 20 cent increase in the price of a McMuffin for ten minutes.  Please send a rope.

Me: Snort

Caolinn: “It’s a twenty percent increase!  That’s INSANE!”

Me:That’s fabulous.

Caolinn: Glad you think so, because guess who’s gonna be late to school because of breakfast sandwich inflation?

Me: I’ll call the attendance office.

Caolinn: God, I can’t wait to hear that one.  “Reason for tardy? Depression-era sandwich rage.”

Cakes Shaped Like Genitalia Lack The Subtlety Our Family Craves


(In the midst of discovering the wonder that is a Starbucks chocolate cakepop.)

Me: “Oh, my, God, why is this so good!?”

Caolinn: (shrugs)

Me: “I’ve got it…it’s like the world’s most delicious Ding Dong in my mouth.”

Caolinn: *SNORT*

Me: “Shut up.”


**For my non-American friends…a “Ding Dong” is both a chocolate cupcake-like thing that will no doubt kill you slowly, and also one of the 4-million terms that America has invented for ‘penis’. Go USA!**

2014 Ends Exactly How It Began…And How It Went All Friggin’ Year.


While having a lovely holiday lunch with our entire family at one of Phoenix’s finest old restaurants…

Me: “Awwww…”

Caolinn: “What?”

Me: “I just looked over and you were just quietly looking at your brother and smiling so sweetly at him…it made me so happy to see you look at him like that.”

Liam: “Mom…she was smiling like that because she was kicking me under the table.”

Me: (facepalm)

Hello? CPS? Yes, There’s Been a Misunderstanding.

Well played, zoo...well, played.

Well played, zoo…well, played.

Mom: “Where are you meeting your friends?”

Me: “We’re going to Lola’s.”

Mom: “What is that?”

Me: “It’s that tapas bar on 7th.”

Caolinn: (stops texting for the first time in hours…) “What!?  Why would you go there!?  And why would you tell grandma you’re going there in front of me!?  That’s disgusting!”

Me: “Ummm…huh?”

Caolinn: “A topless bar!”

Me: “Tapas, Caol…TAPAS!”

Caolinn: “Oh…is that dirty?”

Me: “Not even a little.”

Let’s Hope That’s the Only Thing Exploding.



As I make chicken and rice for the dog…not because I’m an awesome dog mom that custom makes his food, but because we’re out of dog food, and I’m too tired to go to Target…

Caolinn: “What are you cooking him?”

Me: “Rice and chicken.”

Caolinn: “Rice!?  Can he eat rice!?”

Me: “Rice is one of the main ingredients in his normal food…and he’s a dog…dogs are supposed to survive on rodents and twigs, in the wild.”

Caolinn: “Won’t rice make him explode?”

Me: “He’s not a friggin’ seagull, Caol.”

Caolinn: “Are you sure?”

Me: “Am I sure that the dog isn’t a seagull?  Yes…I’m sure the dog isn’t a seagull.  Are you sure you’re in the gifted program?”

Caolinn: *eye roll* “I can’t wait to go to college.”

Me: “Make sure to major in zoology.  Lesson one…dogs don’t have wings.”

Caolinn: *sigh*


Crotch Candy…because it’s 8 whole months until Valentine’s Day.


I come to you, Ladies and Gentlemen, with a rare conundrum.  It isn’t often that two things that I greatly enjoy, come together in such a way, that the resulting offspring of the union is wholly unholy.  But today…someone has managed to offend both my love of candy and my deep abiding fondness for male genitalia.  (see below)


Just as I am sure that there is no such thing as a “posing pouch”, (Oh, shit, there is.) I am about 90% positive, and maybe I’m being hopeful here, that this product was never made to see the light of day.  I am assuming, and please, God, let me be correct, that this was created strictly as a novelty gift that would elicit a quick “HA!” before being shoved in a drawer, until such time as it was finally thrown away or re-gifted.

Let us analyze from both sides, shall we?

Speaking on behalf of women, I will say that never has any woman lamented that the thing that candy was lacking…was pubic hair.  If she wants to be in that area…she doesn’t need candy to persuade her.  Conversely, any woman who needs convincing to put her mouth anywhere NEAR your junk, isn’t going to be lured in with anything less than a box of Godiva and a guilt trip.

Lads, I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that, for the most part, you’re not down with this product either.  I somehow doubt that you’re fantasizing about displaying your manhood in a bunch of pastel sugar beads that remind your romantic partners of baby showers and Easter egg hunts (hang on a minute…there might be some valid arguments there, on both accounts).  Furthermore, I cannot imagine that any man, when considering a head in his nether-areas, wants the barrier between his tenderbits and a mouth, to be something that needs to be firmly bitten off.  Again, I’m making assumptions, but if I had a dick…I’d have a no biting policy.  A strict one.