Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Oh my F-ing G!

It's snowing again. It's freezing again. It's winter again.


The first day of spring was two days ago.


God clearly hates us.


What did we do?


We're Minnesotans. We're harmless. We go to bed early and take our vitamins. "Minnesota Nice" wouldn't exist without us!


WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN US, LORD????????????


I don't want much. I just want to un-clench my butt cheeks and wear the cute bomber jacket I got last fall that I could only wear for five minutes because winter wouldn't wait it's turn! And now winter is overstaying it's welcome like the narcissistic ass that it is, and I'm gonna blow a nut!


We have to do something. We're smart people. Winter is taking advantage of us and we don't have to put up with it anymore. It's very co-dependent, you guys and we live in the rehab capitol of the world. Folks come from all over to heal in Minnesota.


Let's show them why!


The twelve steps work here too.


Off we go:


1.) Admitted we were powerless over winter and that our lives had become unmanageable.
2.) Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. (For me, it's my bomber jacket. You guys can put your own thing here).
3.) Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood him. (It's not really God's fault that winter won't leave. That was my cold butt cheeks talking...and the cunning and baffling evil that is winter.)
4.) Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves. (For instance, I let my roots grow too long. I think I was punishing myself because I thought I deserved it after being in an unhealthy relationship with winter.)
5.) Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs. (See step 4...I kind of multi-tasked there.)
6.) Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character. (Decided I could do something about my roots if I wanted to.)
7.) Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings. (I made an appointment for an all-over color with foils. Just take my lead here, people.)
8.) Made a list of all the people we had harmed and became willing to make amends to them all. (Maybe you offended a bunch of strangers by going to Target in sweat pants...your winter-weight pair :@, maybe you stopped shoveling that elderly lady's walk, maybe you stopped sitting next to the other hockey moms at the last few games because you got tired of pretending you had anything in common with them and it started to feel like high school fakeness, and once again, you were the bitch - or something.)
9.) Made direct amends to such people whenever possible except when to do so would injure them or others. (Yeah, do what you can here. Hockey moms are exempt. YES, I'M MAKING THE RULES!)
10.) Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it. (I haven't even stepped out of the house yet and I already have to make an amend for what I wrote in 8.)
11.) Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood him, praying only for the knowledge of his will for us and the power to carry that out. (Just checked in and God's will for me today is to shop online for the perfect spring boots. Yay!)
12.) Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to others (done) and practice these principals in all our affairs.


Watch out, winter, we're detaching with love!


Okay, good luck everybody. And if you get the urge to shove that ice-scraper where it doesn't belong, call your sponsor. (That would be me...so comment to your sponsor.)


Peace.


Copyright © Lynda Crotty Radio, Inc

Monday, March 21, 2011

What the hell just happened?

I freaked my son out yesterday... kinda like this kid.

There were no donkeys involved. I did the freaking out all by myself, and completely by accident.

Kind of.

We were at the local park taking his and his brother's go-kart out for a spin. While one would whiz around, the other would walk with me and we'd chat about life...hockey, gum, how stupid Justin Bieber is, hockey...

So while my youngest was taking a turn on the go-kart, my oldest got a sudden case of the hiccups. Which is when his clever mom decided to take the opportunity, mid-sentence, to do the old BOO! trick.

But instead of making his hiccups go away, it made his right foot slam down onto my left foot so hard that I saw stars.

It went like this:

HICCUP

BOO!

AH!

OW! WHAT'D YOU DO THAT FOR?

I DON'T KNOW. GUESS IT WAS MY INSTINCT WHEN YOU SCARED THE CRAP OUT OF ME.

He's a logical guy for 10 years old. 

And the boo trick bites.

Next time I'll go with bitters and a lime. 

(My son's reaction to my hiccup "remedy" reminded me of this classic video of the guy who pretends to electrocute himself, then gets a banana in the face, which I found by Googling "guy pretends to electrocute self, gets banana in face". You can Google anything. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=do7InNH9wx4)

Copyright © Lynda Crotty Radio, Inc

Monday, March 14, 2011

The pack is back!

Psyche, Greenbay fans. I'm not talking about your beloved "Pack".

I'm talking about the "Fanny Pack". Which you may be excited about too...although you're probably still sporting the original model. (Oh, snap.)

But this season's fanny pack (stage left) is not your 80's nylon version, or some crap your mom would get at a travel show. (No, mom. I never used that pleather thing from the Ramada Inn. I even tried to give it to a homeless guy once, but he didn't want it either.)

The NEW fanny pack, however, is the biz-est!

I will totally rock this look. (Not the nips under a sheer top. I've had 3 kids.) But I will definitely wear an actual, awesome purse on a belt.

That thing is darling AND practical...just like me!

And it's the answer to my purse-prayers.

See, my back has been killing me lately and I'm sure it's from lugging around this messenger bag that I love. But I've gotten so uncomfortable that yesterday I wished some cool solution would reveal itself...and voila! (No, that voodoo from The Secret doesn't work, but the Gods of Fashion and Function do...overnight!)

Thank you, Fanny Pack Fairies!!!

Okay, everyone. You'd better go get yours before I buy all the cute ones.

Otherwise, my mom has an attic-full of hot pink packs from Princess Cruise Lines.

Mint.

Copyright © Lynda Crotty Radio, Inc

In all seriousness















Thought this was lovely: 
http://abcnews.go.com/gma/your3words/video/your-three-words-prayers-for japan13131474&tab=9482931&section=1206828

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

What reeks?

No, not Sidney Crosby...but I'lll bet his hockey bag does.

So do my sons' hockey bags.

So does the truck I haul them around in.

Here's how I knows:

I went to get my oil changed today at my favey fave mechanic shop up the street.

The guys there are salt-of-the-earth. Total grease monkeys with big hearts and filthy hands.

I adore them.

They take really good care of me and I trust them implicitly. So when they tell me my truck smells like ass, I believe them. The thing is, they told me by not telling me. That's how bad it was.

Here's how I learned the truth:

They changed my oil and when they were through, they pulled the truck up to the front door of the service station like the brute-gentlemen they are : ) But when I got in, the window was open. Not a big deal except that it was freezing outside. I was like "Hm. That's weird." So I shut the window and BAM!

The stench hit me like the butt end of a stick to the olafactories.

HURL!

I never park my truck in my garage so my boys' hockey gear can't really thaw out unless I drag it into the house for an overnight drying and prayer vigil for my basement's recovery.

But both their seasons ended this weekend and I haven't taken their equipment out of my truck since. I guess that toasty hour in the mechanics garage was all those evil spores needed to wake up and insult even the most masculine of senses. (And these guys go around smelling like Slim Jim's and dirt all day long. If it was too much for them, it was bad.)

Mind you, my oldest son's bag is filled with only one season of hockey heinousness, but my youngest son's bag is filled with goalie equipment that has been handed down from season to season, kid to kid, and like my brother astutely remarked, "Eew it's like an all-body-bowling-shoe!" Yeah. Hand-me-down ass is even worse than regular ass.

I was so embarrassed I wanted to die. But I was also feeling slightly faint because of my own retching and convulsing. So I unwisely drove home instead of apologizing to the shop guys, who I'm sure have forgotten how cute my dimples are, and will now only see cartoon stink squiggles every time they look at me.

: (

I'm glad it's almost baseball season.

Copyright © Lynda Crotty Radio, Inc


Thursday, March 3, 2011

Is it just me?

Or if Benicio Del Toro and Nick Nolte's mug shot had a baby, would it be Muammar Gaddafi?









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Copyright © Lynda Crotty Radio, Inc

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

James Franco is cooler than you

I mean, clearly.

Look at that James Dean-meets-I'm-sitting-on-a-tac smolder.

Dreamy.

But what I really love about James Franco is that he totally blew off Hollywood the other night.

He was supposed to host the Oscars with Anne Hathaway...and he did, but he didn't enjoy one second of it.

Mind you, I don't think it's cool for someone to take a job and then phone it in...from Bongville (sounds like he was kinda stoney), but the fact that he is sooooo over LA makes me giddy.

And why is he over LA? Oh, nothin'. He's just a student at Yale.

BAM! Cooler than everyone in stupid Hollywood.

And cooler than everyone on the planet for that matter because he could absolutely be in-with-the-in-crowd but he chooses not to be because he has a huge brain and can see that those robots drool.

He even ditched his own Oscar party because it was a school night.

Yes!

What would he have to talk about with those lemmings, anyway? They would think 'cold fusion' was the name of a band. And in an effort to remain cutting edge, they would scramble to buy the t-shirt online...or make their assistant do it, and when the assistant failed because the band and their t-shirt didn't exist, the assistant would be fired, even though they had four kids and a wooden leg.

Nice.

Not James Franco. He probably doesn't have an assistant. He probably doesn't even have a day planner. He probably just keeps everything tucked away in the microfiche of his huge, hot brain.

Yes, it could all be an act and I'm falling for it, but I don't care. At least he has the smarts to ACT like LA sucks it.

Good enough for me.

Cooler than me...or I...and you too.

Bye

Copyright © Lynda Crotty Radio, Inc