Crass, Crude, and Raunchy: It's Not My Fault

First of all, I'm very pleased that I amuse my family with my willingness to talk about the crass, the crude, and the raunchy. Sometimes I find that I don't always use my filter.  I'd like to blame it on my husband, but let's face it:  I was like this way before I met him. Since I won't can't take responsibility for my lack of self-control regarding my smutty stories, I must find a culprit for my coarseness. 

This culprit was incredibly easy to find since I delve into it quite religiously and have for as long as I can remember.  No, no, no, I'm not talking about booze here people.  Believe me I do not need to imbibe to speak freely or filthy.  I'm talking about fiction.  You see - I've been reading since I left my mother's womb I can remember.  I was so pathetic in love with reading and literature that in elementary school (starting in 4th grade) my librarian would call me down when new books came in.  Why, you ask.  Oh, yeah, that's because I already read every book she had. Before you start making assumptions, let me state that this only included the genres I was interested in (science fiction, fantasy, historical fiction . . . You know - maybe I should've just written the only genre that I wasn't interested in: non-fiction). 
Well, anyway, that's how I remember it.   (I'll address how reading altered my reality and my memories in a later post.)

So, how did my reading influence my inability to discriminate appropriate conversational topics?  Sit and think about it for a minute:  when you are constantly deluged with information it becomes second nature to want to disuss it.  Not only do you want to discuss it, but also you are able to discuss it because you've lost a sense of reality.  Please don't get me wrong:  I'm not saying that I'm solely reading romance novels when all they do is talk about some handsome guy's quivering member.  Quite honestly, I don't even enjoy reading novels like that (okay, maybe I like them a little).  I'm just saying that when you read Are You There God, It's Me Margaret at the age of eight (maybe nine) you start to think it's okay to tell your dad you'll meet him in the car in a few minutes because you have to change your tampon. 

umm crooked what....... yIKEs

Last week we created a very special memory as a family... it was emotional, it was memorable, it was amazing.  If you want read about the details then visit http://kdrehmer.blogspot.com/2011/01/fire-still-burns-on-hill.html.  This here is the ridiculous story... the one that isn't full of sentiment but instead full of funny (well funny in my opinion...). 

If you read the link you know our grandfather passed away and that we hiked into the woods to his cabin spread his ashes and to share some special memories.  I am going to share one of my favorite comical moments of the day.  We are all standing by the fire... warming up and sharing stories.  My dad, the BOOMAN, suddenly tells us that Captain... otherwise known as Grandpa Rhodes... told him that when he came to the cabin in the summer time he would sunbath NAKED.  As soon as this came out of my dads mouth I started coughing, dry heaving... could not imagine this...did not want to envision this.

BUT DON'T WORRY.... Hollie thought this was HYSTERICAL.  She started to talk about how funny it would be if someone came upon the cabin and found him laying out naked.  She started to say that if you saw him sunbathing you would be able to determine if he had a crooked you know what..... and seeing how this apparently is one of her favorite topics of conversation she just loved throwing it in that day.  I was literally dying...crying with laughter.  She then continues to say that his you know who know what know had to be straight because he had a girl... Marijohn proved that his you know wasn't crooked.

I would like to know why my sister had to talk about my grandpas you know what that day... in fact anyday... why would she want to converse about such topics?  Talking about the curvature of anyones you know what is not something I want to talk about.  I sure don't want to think of my grandpa that way... I didn't want to read about Andy in that way.... does that make me a prude? maybe... am I ok with that... yuppers... but I will tell you what... I am grateful for Hollie and the things she talks about.  It makes me laugh, it calms me down when things are tense, it makes me happy when I am sad.

So we said goodbye to my grandpa that day... but apparently we also figured out some other things about him that day as well.

From Turkey Necks to Crooked Ding-Dongs

Skippy Reed (a.k.a our grandmother) is hysterical.  First of all, she actually wants and encourages her great grandchildren to call her Granny.  I don't know about you, but when I hear the word Granny, I think of that old Granny Clampett from the Beverly Hillbillies (and Granny Smith pies and Granny Smith apples). Secondly, if you met her you would totally assume she was your typical knit and crochet-loving grandma (because she is).  She quite frequently tells me how happy she is that at least someone in the family ended up like her (likes to knit, cook, bake, do basic womanly jobs from the '50s).  That's really where our similarities end.  Okay, not really.  As my sister mentioned in her previous post, Skippy also loves turtlenecks.  I hide my giraffe neck; she hides her turkey neck.  We also both can talk about crooked schlongs without blushing.  Seriously.  When I found out I was pregnant with Noah, my grandma was hoping for a girl.  Needless to say, when the ultrasound pic came back very definitely a boy, Skippy told me I better tell Andy to have his crooked twinkie fixed.  Apparently, crooked penises (penii? penes? - oddly I am unsure the plural form of penis) produce sons.  When I found out I was pregnant with Jonah, she definitely asked if Andy's kinky winky was straightened out yet because she was really ready for another angel in the family.  Lo and behold, the ultra sound pic came back yet again very definitely a male with his own little teenie weenie.  Clearly, I didn't fix Andy's twisted tally-whacker. 

My dad said he'd post a pic of the Skip, but since he hasn't, here she is:   

Gotta love her! 

Turkey Necks.... ohhh Skippy

I took grandma...aka Skippy Reed... to lunch on Saturday.  We are sitting at Tags when she starts to sing the praises of turtlenecks.   The sad thing is that she wasn't even aware of the turtleneck debate occuring here.  She spent a good five minutes telling me how and why they are the best thing ever created.  She then proceeds to tell me that if you have a Turkey Neck the only solution is a Turtle Neck.  I ask her what a turkey neck is... she tells me that when you get old all the skin gets loose on your neck and just hangs there... then she Gobbles at me.  I literally about fall out of my chair laughing.  I also tell her the she is the only person who has made me see the beauty of the turtleneck... so here it is TURTLE NECKS ARE GREAT FOR ALL OF THOSE WITH TURKEY NECKS!!!!

Now I would love to post a picture of my Skippy but she would kill me!!!!  Ehhhhhh oh well I'm going to do it anyhow... shhhh don't tell her.  No I can't I don't want the rath of her :)

Did you tell her probably a skull shirt?

So Hollie's daughter is already...at six... smart enough to know that turtlenecks are not fun!  I do find it funny though that Alina wanted to know what Abrielle was wearing.  I wonder what she would have said if Hollie replied with, "probably some shirt with skulls on it."  Alina probably would have freaked and Hollie would have been telling the truth.


Abrielle, at age 3, is obsessed with skulls.  She went to a festival down town this fall.  There was pages after pages of super cute things she could have had done for face paint.  She chose a full blown, total face covering skull.  A few weeks before Christmas, Jason and her were at Five Below.  He told her she could have a change purse to keep inside her bag... she chose a black one with white skulls on it.


He loves that she is obsessed with skulls.  He went to target and bought her a black Christmas stocking, with bright pink fur trim and a white and  hot pink skull on it.  She was so happy when she saw it she had to carry it around with her for days and take it and show her Grandma.


I love that she likes skulls too.  I don't think it is the skull obsession exactly but the fact that she is a girly girl and a tom boy all at once.  She refuses to wear clothes that don't match and will not leave the house if she doesn't think she looks cute... but she will role around in the mud in those cute clothes.  All she wanted for Christmas was a "slow and fast car".  A remote control car... that is all she talked about.


So Hollie the next time Alina wants to know what her fashionable three year old niece is rocking tell her the shirt she got for Christmas this year... three quarter length sleeves, small front button pocket, black shirt with a million little white skulls... let me know how she responds.

Fashion Sense(less)

I love picking out clothes for my daughter, Alina, to wear.  She has a closet (and dresser) full of clothes.  Not only does she have a ton of clothes, but also she has shoes I want on my feet: black boots, brown shoes, ballet flats.  I love them all.  Every night before she goes to bed, I pick out her clothes for the following day.  This has been our routine since she started Pre-K.  I think the routine is about to change.

Yesterday Morning
Alina (dressed and walking out of her room before leaving for school):  Mom, I don't think I can wear this.  (She takes both of her hands and points at her outfit.  She has on black leggings, a jean skirt, a black turtleneck -- yep, I make her wear them, too -- a plaid hot pink and black vest with fur at the top, and black knee-high suede boots.)

Me (completely loving how she looks):  Alina, oh my gosh you look adorable.  Why don't you think you can wear it?

Alina:  Ugh, Mom, this just is not my fashion sense.  I do not feel comfortable in this. (Yep, you guessed it tugging at her turtleneck.)

Me (completely affronted thinking that now even my six-years-old is getting on me about turtlenecks):  So, now what?  You don't want to wear turtlenecks either? 

Alina (confused):  Huh?  What are you talking about Mom?  Why are you so mad I don't want to wear it?

Me (embarrassed because I'm taking out my love of turtlenecks and other people hatin' on them out on her):  Sorry, Lina.  But you do look adorable and you don't have time to change. 

Alina:  Well, I wonder what Abrielle's wearing today.  (Yes, that would be Kristen's daughter, Abrielle, as in my funky fashionista of a sister who's not only President but also founder of the I Hate Turtlenecks Unless You're a Little Girl fan club. Great.)

Me:  I don't know.  I bet she has a turtleneck on.  (She might.  She's three.)

Alina:  Well, that's great, Mom.  She's three.  I'm six!

Me:  Okay, well you're not changing, and you need to go brush your teeth.

(while Alina is brushing her teeth) Me to Andy:  Can you believe Alina didn't want to wear the outfit I picked out?

Andy:  Why?  What did you pick out? 

Me:  Just leggings, a skirt, a turtleneck, and a vest with a furry hood.

Andy (laughing):  Haha, you said furry hood.

Welcome to my world. 

No Bakes.. The Booman and a Scheme Gone Bad

This story is soon to be a classic.  I will tell it every year to Abrielle and I am sure Hollie will tell her children and they will tell their children and so on and so on.

It all started on a cold morning a few weeks before Christmas.  I had stopped over to my parents house so that the princess could play with her cousins.  I was relaxing on the couch when Mr. Boo so kindly asked me what I planned on brining to Christmas Eve.  I informed him that I didn't think that far ahead.  He asked....noooo begged.... me to make him No Bake cookies.  "They are his favorite", he said.  "Hollie isn't making them this year and your mom won't. So you have to." FIIIIIIIIIIINE!!! I tell him but at the same time I describe to him that I HATE MAKING NO BAKES.  That didn't phase him.  He wanted  no bakes... it was Christmas.  I had to make them for him.

A few days later I was all geared up to do the grocery shopping for Christmas.  I find this awesome looking Eggnong Custard dessert that I wanted to try and make.......pffff I remembered I had to make no bakes.  I send Hollie a text just to make sure that she wasn't making them.  She text me back and informs me she is making some.  I say thank you!!  Dad told me I had to because you weren't.

Phone rings... It's Hollie.  She very kindly informs me that the Booman was at her house the night before BRAGGING about tricking me into making no bakes.  Come to find out he had my aunt making him no bakes, my sister making him no bakes and he thought that I would fall right into his little scheme.  Oh no buddy... he wasn't getting No Bakes from me!!!


A quote from the man himself:

Chris Rhodes

"Just ate the last no bake cookie boy were they good if kristen didn't give me up I might have been able to hoard a few oh well holiday over cookies are gone"

January 4 at 10:47am ·

Who needs a mini van when you can drive a tampon....

Now very quickly-- for clarification purposes only-- I never had a problem with the fact that Andy had a mini van.  That only came into play when you went on and on about his sex symbol status.  The way you talked about him and how other girls fawned over him... I though he had to be sporting a Porsche and carrying a fat bankroll.  You talked about him like he was a Rockstar.  But in reality.... he was rocking a mini van.

Now you must have forgotten that Jason took over that beautiful red mini van.  Sure he didn't go to the dealership and pick it out and yes it was a necessity for him to drive that lovely beastly van but Jason did become a mini van man for a bit.

But nothing compares to the Tampon that he drove after the mini van.  That lovely white Mercury Sable Wagon with the sweet rear facing seat in the back.  You don't know class until you rode in that back seat.... facing the drivers of other cars... acting like a ten year old making weird faces at them and driving them crazy.  Now the tampon did us proud for a couple of years... we piled that full and headed to Wine on Ice one year squeezing two people in that rear seat... I rode in that seat all the way to the lake and back when we went to see Hollie at the cottage they rented on the lack last summer.  Now the car itself was ridiculous but the fact that Jason named it The Tampon was unbelievable.  He literally acted as if that car was a child he birthed himself.  He religiously called it The Tampon.... to pretty much everyone.  I thought I would die when we finally had to get rid of it a month ago and people at Tags were like "Sorry you had to get rid of the Tampon.  What is Jason going to do without it?"  One time I accidentally backed into it (not a great driver...never claimed to be) and my trailer hitch put a whole in the Tampons bumper..... you would have thought that I put a whole right in Jason's heart.  He was devastated.  He told me I ruined the value of his car... I told him I didn't think a fifteen year old station wagon had much value.  When the car finally crapped the bed I think Jason may have shed a tear or two.  Now the Tampon is just a memory....

A Man and a Van

I never thought I'd be attracted to a van driving man, much less one who wore a shirt proclaiming to be The Minivan Man.  Better grab those kids and hide. 

I mean, come on, let's face it: men and vans don't exactly mesh, unless the guy's in his late thirties with three kids (preferably his) in tote.  Even then it's only okay if he had to borrow it from his wife because his car broke-down, was in the shop, had a flat tire, etc.  You get the point. 

So, imagine my distress when I finally saw what Andy (my husband by choice) drove.  No, it wasn't a car; it wasn't an SUV; it was (you guessed it) a van.  A red van.  Oh, the pain, the humiliation.  How was I going to explain this to my family?  To my sister? 

I hoped.  I prayed.  I asked the man above for help.  Please, oh, please, let him purchase something new.  Please, oh, please.  And then the phone call came.

"Hey, I'm going to be late coming over to your house.  I'm getting rid of the van and getting something new." 

Thank you, thank you, thank you!  I was so excited.  Maybe I could do this after all.  Maybe my sister would never find out Andy ever owned a van. Just maybe everything would be okay.  You see, I knew not only would I, but also Andy would be picked on.  Mercilessly.  Without reprise.  But everything was going to be just fine now.  No one would ever have to know.  

Then, I glimpsed him driving up the road.  Yep, you guessed it again, in a minivan. 

It must have truly been love.  But, hey, at least he owned a car (been there done that), right?

"Jinkies! My glasses! I can't see without my glasses!"

According to Wikipedia, Velma is "a highly intelligent woman with various interests." She was born with a "mystery book in her hand" and is the one who almost always figures out the mystery.(Guess there are worst people to be compared.) Oddly, in the newest episodes, she is dating Shaggy.  Can we say mystery van?  Odd, makes me think of the minivan man, but I will save that for the next post. 

The turtleneck war is coming to an end...

Very well Hol~~~ Rock the turtlenecks like it is your job!  Live it, love it, and embrace it! You keep that neck of yours warm and accessorize the heck out of it (although if there is anything I hate more than a turtleneck it is a turtleneck with a necklace over it...)!  I support you and your goal to spread the love of the turtleneck world wide.  From now you will be known strictly as VELMA!!  Next topic please =)

You Can Do It, Yes You Can

Four Reasons Why It IS Okay to Be a Turtleneck Wearer Like Me (this is for all you anti-turtleneck wearing haters out there . . . yeah, Kristen, I'm talking to YOU)

1. Warmth. I am constantly cold (used to be constantly hot . . . what happened there?). My thermostat is broken or set to frozen (not sure which). Those turtlenecks I wear help me stay a little bit warmer when it's chilly outside (I guess I should say inside because we all know I don't leave my house).

2. Can you say giraffe neck?  I can! I have an absurdly long neck. The pasty thing stands out (or up?) way too much. Those turtlenecks boost my self-esteem by minimizing that enormous thing! 

3. Accessorize (even my sister, the Queen of accessories, can agree to this). You can use a scarf or a long, dramatic necklace (just not both at the same time) to give that turtleneck a little flavor, so you don't end up looking like your mom. (Not you, Mom! I'd love to look like you. Just ask Kristen.)

4. You like them! Or in my case, you love them deep down in your soul.  Be true to who you are (even if that's a fashionless mom of three kids who dresses like she's forty instead of in her late twenties); if you like wearing 'em, sport 'em all ready.

Can't argue with that list. (Well, Kristen, you probably can.)

I have a confession too...

Turtlenecks make me nauseous.  I don't care if they are black, pink, white, brown, green...it doesn't matter.  A turtleneck used for layering does not work for me.  Don't get me wrong a cowl neck- LOVE IT! An occasional turtleneck sweater- FINE! But a daily need to rock a turtleneck-NOT SO MUCH!  This whole conversation stems from the day I realized that my sister is becoming my momma.  Just last month was Hollie's birthday.. she wanted a girls day... I was excited.  I hadn't spent a day with my mom and sister-- just the three of us in so long-- I honestly can't remember the last time.  The day begins with... well since Hollie loves talking about breastfeeding so much she won't mind me saying this... me having to drive Hollie from Kohls to the mall while she pumps in the car.  Not only do I have to drive her mini-van which in itself makes me want to cry, I have to play look out in the parking lot to make sure no one is watching her hook up her milking machine.  We make it to the mall without anyone getting a peep show... success number one!  We ate yummy lunch at Ruby Tuesdays where Hollie gets a good buzz from one single beverage...success number two!  We then meander down to BonTon and start doing one of my favorite things...scouring the bargain racks... all of a sudden my mom is on one side and my sister is on the other... they are both trying to get my attention because both of them had found a shirt they loved...YUP they were holding up the same shirt... success number three!  Don't get me wrong my mother dresses great and I often love what she is wearing but I would think that Hollie could wait until she was at least thirty to start wearing the same clothes my mom wears.  I then make a comment joking to Hollie about "hey Hol what's next- are you going to start a collection of turtlenecks in your closet too?"  This is when she informs me (I should have already known) that she already has a large collection.   That is when I ran and hid from the turtleneck monsters.. I was afraid they would try and convert me into one of them.  When we left the mall I rode home with my mom... Hollie rode home in her minivan... She called me a few minutes later to ask me to tell my mom that she stopped at Target and they had turtlenecks on sale for $5... she was buying some for herself and offered to scoop up some for my mom... MRRRRRT!!!! 

This is the only person in the world cute enough to rock a turtleneck!!

I Have a Confession

So, I have a confession to make, I really, honestly, truly love . . . (are you ready for it?) . . . turtlenecks.  Yes, that's right.  I've said it.  I'm twenty-eight years old and I love turtlenecks.  You see - I don't just like them, but I can't wait until the winter so it's okay for me to wear them again.  I think my sister will argue with me that it is never okay to wear a turtleneck, but I'm obsessed.  I have black ones (yes as in multiple black turtlenecks), white ones (again emphasis on the plural), a hot pink one, a pale pink one, a dark gray one, a light gray one, a cream one, a brown one, a purple one, a forest green one,  and the only reason I don't have any other colors is because I don't like any other colors on me.  Are you surprised that a girl (woman?) who wears turtlenecks would actually care about how colors look on her?  Well, I do.  I don't just love those turtlenecks because they keep me so much warmer during these cold days.  I love them because they make my giraffe neck so much less noticeable.  See - not only practical but fashionable!?!  What do you have to say about that (yeah, Kristen, I'm talking to you!). 

Yep, that's right.  Me in one of my turtlenecks.

Welcome to Our Blog :)

A tale of two sisters is just that - two sisters telling stories (hopefully no longer telling on each other, as I think we outgrew that a few days ago).  Real life, real funny (hopefully) stories.  The stories might be about our family (our scheming dad - a.k.a Booman), our kids, our jobs (wait, one of us doesn't have one), and just about anything else we feel like sharing.  We hope you enjoy it :)