I found Chris on Facebook when she started leaving some seriously funny remarks on my blog status updates. I liked her immediately and hopped over to her blog. I've been laughing ever since because we are indeed kindred spirits in humor (and tequila). She also shares some snort-worthy memes on her Facebook page, which is a great way to start off the day with my coffee.
Chris has always been very sweet and supportive of my blog, and I'm thrilled that we will be appearing together in an upcoming book to be released later this fall (more info on this later!). Please welcome her to Meno Mama's site today with lots of comment love!
Mr. Smiley-Toy’s Moment in the Sun
My Mom always said kids are supposed to learn from their parent’s mistakes, so they can avoid making the same ones. Overall, I think I did a pretty decent job of finding new ways to fail on an epic level, but purely by accident. It’s not like I ever really listened to know which mistakes she’d already tried. Unless, of course, we’re talkin’ underwear drawers. THAT was a mistake I witnessed firsthand.
Mom was old school in her belief that the drawer for a person’s drawers was sacred. It was the one place an adult could hide anything they didn’t want their nosey kids to find. Which only goes to show how naive she could be, considering I’d found the mystery toy that lived under her undies, by the time I was 10.
This wasn’t your run-of-the-mill adult toy, but eight inches of neon green, squeaky, rubber peen with a giant smiley face on the...head - a gag gift from her Bridal Shower she’d been too afraid to throw out, for fear of some nocturnal critter ripping the bag open or a Trashman accidentally tearing it. She couldn’t face the possible horror of waking up to that “thing” on the curb in front of our house!
So the “toy” with its big smiley face, lived on in the corner of her dresser. Until the day she had new carpet installed.
Having made the decision to get new carpet in their bedroom, Mom and Dad had also decided to save the pulled muscles and bickering, by letting the guys laying it do all the heavy lifting. The only thing Mom had to do was stay outta the way, which was why I was there; to distract her.
Carpet Day found us in the kitchen, washing dishes and discussing the hotness factor of the young men crawling around at floor level. As I recall, the term eye candy came into play repeatedly, usually followed by loud giggles form both of us.
We were in the middle of a heated discussion on the pro’s of tight Levi’s on Carpet Layers, when we heard the man-giggles coming from the bedroom.
“Umm...excuse me, Ma’am.” The oldest of the crew popped his head into the kitchen. Judging by the way he was stuttering and stammering, face the color of a fully ripened Bing Cherry, this was not an errand he had volunteered for. “We’re getting ready to clear the bedroom and umm...were aaaaaa...wondering if ummm...Well - did you have anything in the aaaaaa...dresser you might want to ummm...take care of first?”
Apparently, as Mom had dug around for a comfy pair of hole-less knickers for the day, she’d inadvertently uncovered Mr. Smiley-Toy. When the men had started prepping the dresser to move, which included removing the drawers, the first thing they’d encountered was the little guy’s wide and raunchy smile, front and center.
Ash white does not even begin to describe the instant color of my Mom’s face! 25 years of hiding this thing for fear of what the neighbors would think, culminated in a walk of shame down her own hallway - a hallway lined with four young, hot guys, every last one purple faced and holding his breath in an effort not to openly laugh.
As Mom tried to nonchalantly haul-ass to her room and stuff the damn thing into her bra (because if they couldn’t see her carry it out, it didn’t exist), the house was silent. Right up until Mr. Smiley-Toy squeaked.
The hunky guys looked like weird Easter Island statues, with their eyes bugging out and mouths frozen in noiseless, Oh’s! You could’ve heard a pin drop - if it hadn’t been for my scream-laughing coming from the kitchen. We’re talking, cross-your-legs-doubled-over-crimson-faced-tears-rollin’-laughter that includes the ragged gulping of air in between ear-and-side-splitting bursts.
Nobody won that day. (Except Mr. Smiley-Toy, who finally got his moment in the Sun.) Operation Toy Removal was a complete and utter failure, I was busted for going through her dresser 15 years earlier and she was busted for thinking kids obeyed the rules when their parents weren’t around to enforce them.
Mom spent the rest of the day hiding in the living room with a vodka and Diet Coke and I was put in charge of any and all further communication with the Carpet Guys. And sworn to secrecy.
Chris Dean (aka pixiecd) writes at pixie.c.d.
(formerly Life Your Way!) where she shares acts of stupidity, life with adult Offspring, and the occasional useful bit of info on life with chronic illness. She lives in Indiana with her amazingly tolerant Hubby (who swears he doesn't mind putting up with her), their four adult-kids, and the
petting zoo of cats, dogs, chickens, Muscovy ducks, and geese she’s systematically managed to turn their home and yard into. When not writing, you can find her avoiding laundry on Twitter, Facebook, and Google+.