This list does not include all of the wonderful things I would do for charity and the needs of humanity. That’s just a given.

 1) I’ll buy an island for luxury vacations and private parties. On second thought, no private parties; what fun would it be if I owned my own island and couldn’t show it off to people who were obviously not invited? I will call it Barrelassin’ Isle.

2) Buy Miley Cyrus some pants. Every time I see her lately, she’s wearing her underwear. 
3) Buy Bethenny Frankel’s friendship. She already owns all the alcohol. Besides, I’m going to need it for all the parties I’m going to throw on Barrelassin’ Isle.
4) Travel the globe with V.I.P. passes to all the 80’s hair bands’ concerts. Kind of like a groupie, except I won’t have to sleep with any of them. I will be the one with all the money, so they’ll have to have tickets to my after party.
5) Launch my very own Parachute Pants line…well…just because I could.
Enjoy, Barrelassers 🙂 $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$


The next time someone tells you, “ain’t nobody got time for dat!” call bullshit. I have been up since 7:15 a.m.- I have filled my belly, had a very lengthy telephone conversation with my Barerlassin’ bestie, I have greeted a man with a truckload of gravel for my driveway and watched him unload it, I have had several other shorter phone conversations…

I have taken photos of the gravel and shared them. I have loaded the dishwasher. I have read the same, HILARIOUS story twice just for the laugh, and now this…somehow I found the time to sign into my email account with the sole purpose of sending my husband an attachment he wanted me to send him, saw an article on my homepage about Jennifer Aniston cutting her hair and felt the need to see it. Not only did I click on the link- I sat through a thirty second ad and waited for a video of  a woman explaining all of Jennifer’s hair phases through the years before revealing to me that I would have to go to another website to see the photo of the new cut! I was so pissed! I sat through all of that for her to send me on a wild goose chase just see Jennifer Aniston’s new haircut! What kind of fool does this lady think I am?

Well, I’ll tell ya what kind of fool I am- I actually took the time to type in another web address in order to take a look. I searched the site until I found it, too! Imagine my surprise when I didn’t really see a big difference. I mean, yeah, it’s shorter- but it’s not really a look I haven’t seen on her before. For all I know it could have been an old picture. Maybe it was old- I would have to find out. There’s only one way to do that, and that’s to Google Jennifer Aniston’s new hair cut. So I did. I see tons of pictures, all looking basically the same as one time or another. Don’t get me wrong, I like the haircut. I think it’s cute. It’s one that I have been considering myself, but don’t know how well equipped I am for drastic change. Maybe we’ll see.

Basically what I’ve learned about time management today is that you can find the time to get important things done if you really want to. Like going to great lengths to seek out Jennifer Aniston’s hair and taking time to blog about it. All you have to do is keep Bethenny Frankel on pause for two hours and THEN realize you still haven’t made it around to sending your husband that attachment! Oh crap! I got way off track! I gotta go!

Enjoy, Barrelassers 🙂
P.S. Sorry- I don’t have time to upload a pic of the new hair, you’ll have to find time for that yourselves!


So here we are- I, along with my two besties, barrelassin’ Amy and barrelassin’ April are turning forty very soon. Amy in November, myself in January and April in February, and we’re planning a big celebration together in January! I recently made the decision to stop stressing over the number and embrace it; find a way to look forward to it for my own sanity.

 I’ve been lucky enough to do many things I’ve enjoyed throughout my life, but there’s a lot I haven’t done, and I’m tricking forty. Forty is now working for me! I’m not simply making a bucket list. I’m challenging myself to a bucket list; a bucket list of things to accomplish in my first year of forty. Perhaps I’m not very realistic with the items on my list, but they’re certainly not going to happen if I just give up, settle, or simply accept that I will never do these things. I want to make a real effort before it’s too late. I would like to avoid looking back later in life with regrets that I cannot do anything about. I hope to accomplish certain things while I’m still young enough to enjoy them. And to get myself warmed up for the challenge, I’m starting now by working on myself a little, to make sure I look great the day of my party! That will be my  pre- forty warm up. Then on to the list.

I am using forty to my advantage from here on out…I hope. So here’s hoping, against all hope, that I don’t lose hope.

                                                         At forty I will…

1) Fly on a plane for the first time 
2) Visit California for the first time
3) Try Seafood and add some to my diet 
4) Get my mom to Hawaii- her dream vacation 
5) Add a closet to my bedroom  
6) Swim with Dolphins 
7) Finish the laundry room 
8) Read at least two classic novels
9) Be more successful in a career
10) Finish dental work in to order smile
with more confidence 😀
11) Sing Happy Birthday out loud with
everyone else instead of lip synchronizing
12) Get more organized with paper
13) Write into Shark Tank with my great
ideas, even though I have no money or
clue how to come up with prototypes
14) Take a class; any class
15) Practice more patience 
16) Pay off a debt
17) Give the kids more space.
Let them at fail at something in order
to learn how to succeed.
18) Volunteer- make a difference
19) Attempt to cook my way through
one of Bethenny Frankel’s books
20) Stop and actually smell the roses.
For real. Really smell the roses.
More than once.


Finally got around to watching ‘Bethenny’ on DVR today. I love that Jenni Pulos has a rap about poo, but that was just one of the many things the show brought to the forefront of my mind today. Watching, it seemed like I had an opinion on just about EVERYTHING!

First, go, Bethenny for calling out the doctor making comments on your usage of Botox. I don’t feel like Botox is something I could do, but that doesn’t mean I never will. Of course I will need to make a lot more money to afford such luxuries, but I’m currently on the fence about the Botox usage, so it’s okay that I’m too poor to try it out.

Next- I apparently missed the recent story in the news about the family having the police called to Applebee’s because they had rowdy children. Get the hell over it. I have seen some mean ass, rotten children, and I have been annoyed by them at times, but when I see this, I  mostly feel sorry for the parents. No doubt because I’ve been there, done that! I understand what the majority of those parents are feeling. Utter humiliation! And everyone doesn’t give birth to perfect and laid back children. There are a lot of different factors that make up a rowdy child, and most of the time, it’s not bad parenting. I can’t give you scientific numbers, but my expertise is in rotten-ass children. Three of them to be exact.

I know when my first son was two years old I thought I’d never make it out alive. Taking off through the stores, going wild, me chasing after him, crying and screaming at the top of his lungs if I made him stay in the buggy- you name it. And to be perfectly honest, I was terrified. I was humiliated, but had no idea how I was expected to react. I knew I was going to try to catch him and try to calm him, but I was also concerned about the public around me and what the hell they must be thinking. I assumed if I swatted his bottom, someone would either accuse me of abuse or at the very least make evil comments to me. When, in hindsight, most people were probably wondering why in the hell I didn’t beat his ass or at least be more stern when scolding him.

I remember thinking when someone told me there was no such thing as the terrible twos and it would get worse when he was three, this was where I knew better, because it couldn’t possibly get any worse. Boy was I ever wrong! It seemed like he reached terrible twos x ten the very day he turned three.

The second son came along and when he was two, that gave me a four year old and a two year old to chase. And the second one was way more high-strung! He was literally “Code Adam” and “Code Red” in two different stores in the same week. If you’re not familiar with the codes- those are codes for a lost child and they put the entire store on lock down, with an employee at every exit so that no one can exit the store with the child. I feel the need to mention that he was found under a clothes rack in one instance and in the second…well, let’s just say I was more than a little embarrassed when I turned a corner frantically searching for my son and saw him laughing hysterically and running, darting in and out of clothes racks, from side to side…with store employees chasing behind him. He was a fast little booger. No. That wasn’t exhausting or humiliating. No. Not at all. And let’s not forget, I still had the shopping to do after these dreadful workouts.

 The fact was that I simply could not chase two children at one time if they were going in different directions. I had to make a choice every ten seconds and usually  tried to grab whoever was closest or in the most danger of getting taken by a stranger- but at the same time, their antics pretty much made them kidnapper proof since kidnappers don’t want children who aren’t afraid of anything and would have no problem kicking them in the balls just for fun. It wasn’t quite over, either. That same week, my same loving, adorable two year old who had coded two stores that week, also ate Mothballs and had to sit at the local Fire Department for a while throwing up in a pan. Before you judge me- I didn’t leave the Mothballs where my children could easily reach them. No, I did worse. When he discovered a Mothball under a couch cushion that I had overlooked after having the furniture stored while in the process of moving and actually brought it to me and showed it to me saying,” Look, Mommy, I have a Dinosaur Egg ” I nodded my head sweetly to him responding with, “yes, very cool, sweetie!” as I talked to a visitor knowing that he did, in fact, have Dinosaur Egg candy. It wasn’t until he walked back over to us moments later with pieces of it broken up and running down his chin in his drool with a disgusted look on his face, that I could smell it and instantly knew what had happened. Visit over! The Fire Department was very close by, thank GOD! This same child that week- and when I say “that week” I mean in five days time- also took a trip to the Emergency Room to get five staples in the back of his head after taking advantage of the fact that I had stepped outside to hold the flashlight for their father who was working on the car and decided to try and turn a flip on on the clothes rod in the closet and fell and hit his head on the corner of a box. That was a really rough week, but he’s seventeen now and has shown no signs of slowing down. The difference is- I’ve grown accustomed to it and I’m much calmer when he injures himself, because I always expect it.

The point is- it truly does take a village to raise one child, so the next time you see a woman with spit up or already chewed up food on her clothes, leaving her purse in the buggy in order to chase her rotten ass kids in different directions…give her the sympathy smile and nod to let her know she’s not a horrible mother and it would be perfectly acceptable to sit down in the floor and cry if she needs to. And pray for their safe return home and that she is able to at least get hamburger meat and Macaroni in the buggy before giving up and going home.

By the way- by the time my third child came along, a beautiful daughter, I no longer gave two shits what other people in the store were thinking. I didn’t care if I looked like a crazy woman. I had to catch those damn kids no matter what other people thought and I loved their rotten asses.

Enjoy, Barrelassers 🙂