Monday, June 9, 2014

Blog Tour Party Time


     A few weeks ago, I was invited by two special blogger friends to participate in a blog tour. It's a little bit like a game of tag but more fun than sweating outside in the school yard. The point of this blog tour is to learn a little bit about the blogger and then hop over to meet the bloggers she has picked as some favorites. Sort of like exploring Disney's Epcot where you stroll from country to country and sample the cocktails---I mean FOOD.

     The two lovely ladies who I tagged me on this blog tour are Vikki Clafin of Laugh Lines and Sharon Greenthal of Empty House Full Mind. I met Vikki a year ago while writing on a book project together and was blown away by her sense of humor. We're both mid lifers who view the world through the same funny lense, which is why her blog posts resonate so deeply with me. I felt a connection to Vikki as soon as I met her on the inter webs and hope one day we'll be able to connect IRL. Whenever we DO meet, the first thing I'm going to do is give this lady a BIG hug!

     Sharon is another mid lifer I connected with last year and she's one of my biggest mentors. Although  her main focus in writing is on empty nesting. parenting and marriage, she also delves into social issues and politics on her blog. Sharon is one of the busiest women I know---aside from writing her own blog, she is the co-founder of Midlife Boulevard and manages a busy Facebook page for midlife women. She writes for numerous sites and was recently a guest on the Katy Couric show. I'm so proud of all the things she has accomplished in her writing career and honored to be considered her friend.

     There are instructions for this blog tour, and they are as follows:

1.  Thank the blogger who tagged you and tell us a little bit about her.

2.  Answer four questions about your writing process.

3.  Tag three of your favorite bloggers and tell us a little bit about them.

QUESTIONS:

1.  What am I working on?  I'm working on the final edits of my book, "Who Stole My Spandex? Midlife Musings From A Middle-Aged MILF." If you want to know more about it, you can check out my author age at: www.marciakesterdoyle.com. Aside from posting on my own blog site weekly, I also write for four different sites---The Huffington Post, In The Powder Room, Humor Outcasts and What The Flicka.  What else am I working on? Teaching my 18 year old to lift the lid and pee in the toilet, not on the bathroom tiles.

2.  How does my work differ from others of its genre?  When I first started blogging, I wrote mainly about menopause. After several months, I realized how I was limiting myself and decided I needed to expand my reach by writing on a wide variety of topics. Although the middle age years are still my main focus, my odd comedy tends to resonate with most people and I'm thrilled to say I have a wide demographic of readers ranging in ages 18-88. How cool is that? But what makes my writing unique from other blogs out there is my warped humor. No one else talks about rhino thongs, kumbaya singing possums around a campfire or cornhole playing yard gnomes.

3.  Why do I write what I do? When I first started writing many moons ago, I wrote poetry and fiction, but I had to go into my dark place in order to produce anything decent. Dwelling in a cave is not much fun, and a few years ago I decided to branch out into comedy. This was the perfect move for me because humor comes naturally to me since I live in a nuthouse where no topic is sacred and the wine flows freely.

4.  How does your writing process work?  This goes back to the wine. My husband and I like nothing better than to sit in our backyard garden oasis on a Saturday night and brainstorm over a bottle (or three) of wine. This is where the singing possums and dancing gnomes come in. The problem is that the following morning I can barely read my scrawled notes, and what I CAN read is strange material from my alter ego. Hello, Ms. Pinot Grigio, Mistress of Wacky World.

     There are SO MANY blogs out there that I love, but here is a handful I read on a regular basis:

1. Sarah Almond of The Sadder But Wiser Girl is one of my best friends in the blogosphere. We share the same warped sense of humor and laugh late into the night about stupid stuff like ear wax casseroles and crap pockets. Sarah is my go-to girl and one of the funniest people I know. If you want a good belly laugh, be sure to visit her hilarious blog.

2.  Kristi Campbell writes over at Finding Ninee and is by far one of the most prolific writers in the blogosphere. What's cool about her blog is the illustrations she draws to accompany her posts. They leave me in stitches because I can relate to EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM. Kristi is a special needs mom to a beautiful little boy named Tucker. As much as I love her sense of humor, it's her poignant posts that leave a lump in my throat and make me want to reach through the computer screen to hug her. She is one of the kindest, most compassionate women out there and I just love her to bits. Do yourself a favor and read this awesome lady's blog.

3.  Crystal Ponti of Mommifried is one of my absolute favorite ladies in the blogosphere. She's also one of the busiest. This mom of five writes an entertaining blog with funny posts, delicious food recipes and advice for mothers. Crystal is also a social media guru and the founder of Blue Lobster Book Company. I signed on with Crystal because she is incredibly organized and has the best PR skills of anyone I've ever met in the publishing business. The success of her book, Mother Of All Meltdowns, convinced me that she was the best person to represent my book. She has the patience of a saint because I'm constantly badgering her with questions and she handles everything like the pro that she is. Our relationship has extended beyond the business side of publishing and I consider Crystal a true friend. Please check out her blog, and if you have a manuscript you're interested in publishing, this is the woman for you!
 
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Friday, June 6, 2014

Advice From A Menopausal Mother

   
     Everyone comes to me for advice. Do I look like Dr. Phil?  I speak my mind but I don't get paid for it. Nor do I have a television show where minions bring me champagne and jars of Nutella in the green room. What I DO have is a husband who wakes me at 2:00 a.m. to show me his penguin imitation and older children who've mysteriously lost their hearing since the age of sixteen.

     For those of you who believe I have some counseling credibility, you probably forgot to take your meds this morning. But here's some advice that you might find useful:

HAPPY MARRIAGE:

*Communication is key to a healthy relationship. Share your deepest thoughts and concerns, even if this means discussing the pros and cons of owning a bidet.

*Be willing to work together as a team---preferably in matching Snuggies---when it comes to parenting, work, household duties or running together in a strap-on kitty relay race.

*Learn to respect each other's individuality. Your husband should appreciate your ability to devour an entire blueberry pie in five minutes….with your hands tied behind your back. And your wife should honor your ability to suck jello shots out of an ice cube tray….also with you hands tied behind your back.

*Be willing to make sacrifices for one another.
  "Honey, I sold my tickets to the hockey game to attend your romance novel book club meeting tonight."
  "Oh no! I just canceled that meeting to beer bumper bowling with you!"

*Argue less. Just admit you're wrong no matter what you're fighting about….then secretly sign your spouse up for every 800 number promotion on TV.

*Laugh more. Find the humor in every situation and learn to laugh it off, no matter how bad it is.
  "Hon, I just lost my wallet with all 25 credit cards inside it. The good news is that the cards were already maxed out and I spent my last ten dollars on a plastic owl weather vane." 

CHILDREN:

 Imagine being a juggler walking on the tight rope at the circus and tossing six balls in the air without dropping one. Welcome to parenthood!

Learn to be more flexible, patient and fair with your children. Tell them every day how proud you are of them and that you love them.

Expect years of multitasking and lack of sleep until your little winged gargoyles fly the coop….which may not be until they're thirty. During this time period of your life, there will be plenty of days when you'll understand why some animals eat their young. Smile---you and our partner are in this together.

MONEY: 

Live for the moment and stop wasting time stressing over your finances. While it's important to tuck away some extra cash for a nest egg, beware of the vultures who might swoop down any minute and snatch those eggs. If that happens, you can always get a second job at a chicken hatchery to count REAL nest eggs.

GRAND-PARENTING: 

You're going to feel older than the dirt in King Tut's tomb when the first grandchild arrives. You might also spend an inordinate amount of time recalling your youth when you were faster, thinner and could ride the mechanical bull for a full eight seconds.

Teach your grandchildren life's important lessons (such as the best place to hide their chocolate stash from mom) and embrace the grand-parenting years. This is the only time you'll get to witness karma in action.

HEALTH:

 Eat well and exercise regularly. Learn to love kale, even if this means buying more air fresheners for your bathroom. Monitor your cholesterol levels and become familiar with triglycerides. *Is it just me or does that name sound like a punk rock band? "The Triglycerides are performing tonight at Club Blood Pressure."

 RETIREMENT:

 Once you hit the golden years, you get to look forward to early bird specials at the diner, discounts on movie theatre tickets and free catheter sample packs. Throw your calendars out the window and hop on the party train to Flatulentville where everything is a gas.

     Hopefully if you take my advice, your life will run a little bit smoother. Just remember to laugh when your spouse maxes out the credit cards on pajama jeans and potty wizards ordered from an 800 number in Podunk Poland.



****NEWS FLASH**** Guess who is a new HUFFINGTON POST blogger?! This girl! You can read my debut post here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/marcia-kester-doyle-/empty-nest-_b_5378063.html

I also have my weekly post up over Humor Outcasts which you can read here: http://humoroutcasts.com/2014/queen-of-klutz/
   
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Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Wacky Wednesday Writers Guest Post By: Pen Paper Pad

    My multi-talented WWW guest today is the amazing T.A. Woods, who blogs at Pen Paper Pad  and is also a featured writer at Lefty Pop. I met T.A. through a Facebook writer's group and was thrilled to find a kindred spirit who loves and appreciates good poetry as much as I do. I was blown away by T.A's poetry----to the point of getting chills the first time I watched a Vlog of her reading one of her beautiful poems.


     T.A. is also known for her sharp witted humor and is a wealth of knowledge when it comes to the mechanics of writing. She has a big heart and shares the laughter by sprinkling her humor all over social media for the rest of us to enjoy.

     It is such a pleasure to have this talented lady on my site today. Please welcome T.A. with lots of hugs and comment love!




Bachelorette parties age as we do

A haiku to give you a sneak peak:

Parties remind me
Hangovers can kill old ass
Send gingers and naps

This past weekend, my friends and I celebrated one of our best friend’s upcoming nuptials. It was a wonderful weekend, and exactly what we all needed. As I sit here and think about what happened this past weekend and what happened when I was in my 20s at bachelorette parties, I see some distinct differences.

When I was in my 20s and we’d throw bachelorette parties:

Goal: Get as inhumanely wasted as possible. We’re talking one-eyed open, maybe wearing someone else’s clothes by the end of the night schwasted. And here’s how:

Step One: Give the girl a sash and a crown. She’s the princess for the night and everyone should know. Plus there might be a way to get some free drinks out of the deal.

Step One A: Start off by drinking. You are broke, so you probably only have very cheap beer and liquor. It’s ok. It’ll mix well with the swill you’re going to have when you get the watered down drinks at the bar.

Step Two: Give the girl a large penis thing, preferably a lollipop. Don’t worry if she drops it at some point. This is pretty much guaranteed. If you’re a real friend, you won’t let her pick it up. If you’re a friendemy- well, you do you boo boo. I won’t judge you—other than to give you the side-eye if you ever offer me food or drink.

Step Three: Dress like your vagina needs its own air conditioning. This could also help with more drinks. Also, your boobs probably need some air, too. Make sure you’re wearing enough clothing to cover a miniature Chihuahua, because modesty, people. Modesty. Oh and heels. Very tall heels that make you look like spindly leg gazelles---this can help with the drinks.

Step Four: No one is left behind, even the stupid one who gets too wasted and starts dancing on tables. Yank her intoxicated ass down, take a shot on the way out and trudge on.

Step Five: Bar crawl. You are in college, or still living in your college town. You’re going to find the main street that has all the bars on it. And you’re going to EVERY SINGLE ONE. You will loudly proclaim that you’re getting married. You will get free shots and drinks. You will dance like Ariel first learning how to walk on her new legs.

Step Five A: You will woo. You will woo so hard. All the woos.
“That cute guy just bought us shots,”
“WOO!”
“I fell down!”
“WOO!”
“I think I peed myself!”
“WOO!”

Step Six: Make it home. This will be the fuzziest portion of the night. This may involve losing shoes, sketchy cab rides or the friend arm-to-arm linked up, stumbling down the street like drunken sailors. You may pass out at the front of the door before making it inside. It still counts.

Step Seven: Wake up in the morning feeling refreshed. Recount all the great details, giggle a lot and have a lovely breakfast.
(Note: In my 20s, smart phones were a dream, Instagram hadn’t been born yet and YouTube hadn’t debuted. So all of this is from hazy memories.)
Now when you’re comfortably in your 30s and you may have some new things to consider like: kids, ex-husbands, terrible jobs and a sagging jawline, your priorities and steps change.

Here’s how it goes when you’re in your 30s+:

Goal: ESCAPE! Just get me outta here. Both last weekend’s and the party in two weeks are both a few hours away from home for a weekend. (Coincidence? Puh-leaze)

Step One: You have picked women (and sometimes men because it’s the 2000s people) who you hate the least to spend time with you. You’re going somewhere comfy, where you don’t necessarily have to wear high heels and your vagina will be covered. If you wear heels, fine, but that’s on you. The rest of us are in flip flops and sandals.

Step Two: Stock up on food, because we are at the point in life where comforts start on the stove. Throw in some healthy stuff so you won’t feel like a total glutton. Forget to eat the healthy stuff.

Step Three: Drink. You are older and have jobs now, so the drinks will be of better quality, mixed more in mind for tasting delicious rather than drunkenness. There will also be less drinks. We are going to drink like responsible, smart adults. We are not in our 20s anymore. No more wooing.

Step Four: Go to a bar…at 1 in the afternoon where we can listen to free music and then head back to the retreat before nightfall.

Step Four A: Have one friend who brings her badass Doctor Who flask to the bar and make sure she forgets to put it back in her purse. When she is reprimanded by the bar manager, make sure you all laugh at her and make fun. Make sure that friend is me. #Whovian #noshame #IcantbelieveImwritinghashtags

Step Five: Make a bunch of plans to do things…and then spend of your time reminiscing, eating delicious food and drinking. Because plans, schlans, you’re here to relax.

Step Six: Forget about Step Three…oddly enough you still will drink only half as much as you would have in your 20s.

Step Seven: Wake up the next morning feeling like you may have died in your sleep. You are in purgatory, and it lives in your brains and your tummy. Make sure there’s at least one friend who is annoyingly not hungover and also a morning person. Glare at her, or at least try to, but your eyes are so dry that you can’t really close them. Lay on the very comfy couch and moan and groan. Receive no sympathy. Eat comfort food like sausage gravy and biscuits. Drink it with the elixir of the hangover gods, ginger ale. Take a nap.

Step Seven A: Do all of this again, except embarrass yourself in some other way, because you guys booked this joint for the weekend because ESCAPE.

Since this is the updated version of the bachelorette party, there are pictures available. However, I will not post them, because I value my life. Let’s just say, there was a hot tub, a cowboy hat and cupcakes filled with bourbon. Cuz we know how to party.

What differences have you seen in bachelorette parties from your 20s to now? Let me know in the comments. I’m going to lay down now and rest up for round two. Feel free to say a few prayers for me to make it to July.



BIO:

Tamara Woods was raised (fairly happily) in West Virginia, where she began writing poetry at the age of 12. Her first poetry collection is available at http://sakura-publishing.com/product/the-shaping-of-an-angry-black-woman. She has previous experience as a newspaper journalist and uses that while she drops sardonic knowledge at LeftyPop. She has used her writing background to capture emotions and moments in time for anthologies, her blog PenPaperPad and writing articles as a full-time freelance writer. She is a hillbilly hermit in Honolulu living with her Mathmagician.


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Friday, May 30, 2014

10 Reasons Why I Love The Midlife Years

     I'm not afraid of aging. I've been looking forward to my retirement years since I was in my thirties juggling four children and working two, part-time jobs. While others bemoan the toll that aging takes on their bodies and their lifestyle, I'm pouring over travel sites and counting down the days until I can pull out of the driveway in a brand spanking new RV.
   
     Rather than focusing on the negative aspects of aging, consider the benefits of the midlife years:


1.  Selective Hearing:  This is a totally acceptable symptom of aging. You remain blissfully ignorant of your spouse's complaints over a dry meatloaf and the rap music blasting from your teenager's room. The only thing you can hear clearly is the ice cream truck.

2.  Weight Gain:  You're okay with a new wardrobe of elastic waistband clothing, even if it comes from  the maternity department…. and you know how to rock an animal print muumuu.

3.  Free Time:  You no longer have young children to shuttle from school to football to band practice. This allows you free time to explore using the Bedazzler on all your furniture now that you've discovered a passion for rhinestone studded sofa covers.

4.  Selective Memory:  You might struggle to remember certain things, but luckily you've forgotten the time you twerked at your cousin's wedding and blew out your knee.

5.  Bone Health:  Your bones might be a little more brittle, but that's okay…. as long as you're not planning on scaling Mount Everest on a Vespa. Just remember to take your calcium supplements.

6.  Fatigue:  Reverting to your kindergarten days by carrying a napping mat to work is completely acceptable at your age. No one will question your need for a midday siesta.

7.  Decreased Vision:  Everything is a little blurrier, which is a blessing since your reflection in the mirror resembles a Photoshopped selfie with nary a wrinkle in sight.

8.  Flatulence:  The fiber supplements you've been taking finally kick in.  If a little gas escapes in a public place, nobody thinks you're rude….especially if you're pushing a walker with tennis balls attached to the bottom.

9.  Car Upgrade:  Goodbye, mommy minivan. Hello, Lexus coupe.

10.  Better Sex:  Sex is stress free. You no longer have to worry about birth control or unexpected pregnancies, especially if you're a menopausal female or a man who has had a vasectomy. There's nothing more fun than sharing seats on the neuter mobile.


     The best part of being a midlifer is that retirement is just around the corner. Gas up the RV, slip into your animal print muumuu and enjoy the ride!




*****You can find more Meno Mama this week over at Humor Outcasts where I have a new post up:  http://humoroutcasts.com/2014/on-the-road-again-3/
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Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Wacky Wednesday Writers Guest Post By: Her Royal Thighness

     I just love, love, LOVE today's WWW guest, Parri Sontag of Her Royal Thighness! I was drawn to Parri's blog by its clever name and was immediately captivated by her humor. I was also fortunate enough to meet this funny lady at ERMA 2014. Parri was the very first person to welcome me to the convention. Believe it or not, I'm pretty shy at big gatherings but Parri walked right up, introduced herself and made me feel right at home. She's that kind of woman----bubbly, friendly and kind….and one of the funniest bloggers I have ever met!

     Parri was recently chosen as a BlogHer VOTY 2104 award winner and will be speaking at the BlogHer conference this year. I wish more than anything I could be there to hear her, because I just know she's going to have everyone in stitches (and probably peeing their pants).

     Please welcome this hilariously funny lady to Meno Mama's site today with lots of comment love!




The Man Who Knows His Way to My Heart

By Parri Sontag (Her Royal Thighness)

Last weekend my husband came into the bedroom at 8:30 a.m. to nudge me awake. He looked at me with his bedroom brown eyes in a way that told me he was feeling frisky. Reaching for me with that secret smile on his face, he knew exactly how to get me going on a Sunday morning.

“Parri,” he whispered. “There’s an estate sale on Craigslist.”
“An estate sale?” I sprung to life. “Where?” Suddenly I was as alert as if I’d had three venti espressos.
“Palmetto and Gomez.”
“Come on. Someone’s getting our deals!”

I hopped in the shower, scrubbed up and was out in two minutes flat. With no time to waste, I stuck my hair in a headband, grabbed a diet Dr. Pepper and raced out the door, ready for the thrill of the find.

We hadn’t been bargain hunting in a long time. When we lived in Michigan, we had a 2300-square-foot home with a full finished basement and a two-car garage. In Tampa we’ve downsized to a 1400-square-foot bungalow, with no basement, no garage and very little storage space.

My husband always complains that our shoebox-sized closets are booby-trapped – that he needs a hard hat to open the doors. The last thing on earth he wants is for me to bring more junk into the house. But this sale was his suggestion. So who was I to argue?

(I’d like to personally thank the A&E network, because on the day before, there was nothing on TV by Storage Wars, where people bid on abandoned storage units to see what valuables they find inside. The stars were aligned, and my husband caught the bug to hunt for treasure. Had it been a marathon of Hoarders, Sunday would have been a day when he made me pare down my totebag collection, while lecturing me that I’m one step away from saving my toenails in a coffee can.)

Anyway, once upon a time, Jim and I used to hit garage sales all the time, hunting for items that we’d turn around and list on ebay for a good-sized profit. There was the Davy Jones: My Life as a Monkee paperback that we bought for 10 cents and sold for fifty bucks and the Elvis Presley button that we bought for 50 cents and sold for $75. That was almost 20 years ago – back in the ebay heyday, before the site went public and became popular.

Today people check ebay before pricing things at their garage sales, so it’s gotten exceedingly hard to turn a profit. There’s so much competition, items don’t always bring the high prices they used to back in the days when there were lucrative bidding wars on a single Beatles bobblehead or BeeGees lunchbox.

Still, in the wake of closing our business last summer, any extra cash is a good thing, so we headed to the estate sale, with high hopes. We waited an hour for the door to open, figuring the family was running late, but a neighbor finally told us the sale had been the day before. Just my luck, after a seven-year moratorium on buying other people’s junk, my husband was finally in the mood for a bargain, and there was a misprint in the ad. Dejected and hope shattered, I got back in the car.

Knowing how disappointed I was, Jim swung by The Salvation Army on the way home. And as luck would have it, they were having a blowout sale. All furniture and electronics were 50 percent off, and the doors had just opened. I raced around and found an antique armoir for a song. There was a sold tag on it. Darn! Someone beat me to it.

In a frenzy, I went from armoirs to vanities to bookcases. Sold. Sold. Sold. My God, these people were fast. All that was left were some ugly pink velveteen couches from the eighties. I resigned myself to leaving empty-handed, when an employee told me there were a few more pieces outside in the lot. We headed out back, and I swear I heard an angel's choir sing as my eyes gazed on an Adirondack-style rocking chair just looking for a little TLC. It was bargain priced at $20 and screaming my name.

“I’ve always wanted a rocking chair,” I exclaimed, running to sit in it, before any other sale vultures tried to stake a claim.
“We don’t have a place for it,” my husband said.
“We’ll make a place. This chair is so comfortable. It’s like those $200 ones on the porch at Cracker Barrel. Oh my God, it fits my lower lumbar perfectly. I have to have this chair.”
“We already have a porch swing. We’re going to look like those houses with too much going on. Next thing I know, you’ll want a lawn flamingo … and gnomes.”

My husband quickly realized he was fighting a losing battle. I was already envisioning myself reading and rocking, while swilling back some lemonade in a scene right out of a Country Time commercial. And before I knew it, he discovered his butt fit perfectly in the chair, too, and we were squeezing that baby into the front seat and driving it home.

Jim spent the day sanding our new chair and repainting it a high gloss white to match our house trim. It looks brand spankin’ new!

So while I never did make it to an estate sale, I still walked away a winner …

Proving once again that my husband always knows how to rock my world!



BIO:
Parri Sontag is a middle-aged, weight-challenged semi-professional dieter with a passion for musical theater and a disposition for spontaneously bursting into song.  An award-winning journalist and marketing/communications professional, Parri’s hilarious new blog, Her Royal Thighness: Torn Between a Little Waist and a Little Debbie(www.RoyalThighness.com) consistently delivers side-splitting laughs as she weaves poignant messages into relatable and universal real-life experiences. Recently named a BlogHer Voice of the Year in the humor category, Parri is a recovering dodgeball target and Farmville addict, who has been mugged of her Halloween candy, ridiculed for hoarding totebags and accused of picking a fight with Santa.









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Friday, May 23, 2014

Fly On The Wall In A Wacky World

   Welcome to another wacky edition of Fly On The Wall group postings, hosted by Karen of Baking In A Tornado. 12 courageous bloggers have agreed to open their homes today for a sneak peek into their private lives. When it comes to the insane asylum I call home, I feel the need to post a disclaimer: WARNING! The following conversations may cause bleeding of the ears, hair loss and difficulty breathing.

     If you were a fly on the wall in my house this month, this is what you would have heard:


"I just plunged the toilet. Who wants to lick the black lollipop?"

"If you don't stop singing "Livin' la Vida Loca" in my ear while I'm trying to sleep, I'm going to smother you with my pillow."

"He has an intestine longer than I-95….which explains why his poop is the size of a nuclear sub."

"You told me this spray tan in a can stuff works. So how come I look like a patchwork quilt?"
"Didn't you read the directions? You're supposed to spray it from 6 feet away."
"How is that humanly possible? My arms aren't 6 feet long!"

"You have the memory cells of a gnat."

"I can't sleep with you and the pugs. You sound like dueling snorers."

"I'm not eating possum meatloaf. I know we're broke but we're not THAT broke!"

"I can't drink Celsius on road trips without making a ton of pit stops. That stuff goes straight from my mouth to my urethra."

"The family that gets pink eye together stays together."
"We have to….we've been quarantined."

"I feel so fat that I could tuck my feet into my butt and roll into the room."

"You know you've had too much to drink when you accidentally pour your cereal into the dog's bowl and add milk."

"Don't ever use menthol lube unless you want a campfire in your pants. My nether region feels like it has third degree burns."

"Why is our granddaughter locking herself in the dog crate?"
"Unless she starts barking or lifting her leg on the furniture, I'm cool with it."

The refrigerator is so packed that I'm afraid if I pull anything out, I'll cause a food-alanche. "

"When is the last time you washed the minivan? There are cobwebs all over the back."
"Leave them there. People will think I'm driving Spiderman's car."
"No, they'll just think you're a grumpy old man driving a dirty, outdated, mommy mobile."

"His gas clouds are so bad they singe my nose hairs."
"What do you expect from a kid who leaves the bathroom smelling like butt road kill?"

"You're going to tell your mother that I'm the one who came up with all that gross stuff in your last blog post, aren't you?"
"Of course. I don't want to shatter the illusion of being the perfect daughter. I'd rather she believe that all the grossness comes from the shallow end of your gene pool."
"At least mine doesn't empty out into the raw sewage plant."


     Congratulations! You survived another edition of Fly On The wall. Just be sure to check the shower drain tonight for hair clogs.



***WHERE YOU CAN FIND MORE MENOPAUSAL MOTHER FEATURES THIS WEEK:  "One Size Fits None" on the Erma Bombeck Writer's Workshop  http://humorwriters.org/2014/05/21/one-size-fits-none/
"Father's Day Fails" at Humor Outcasts  http://humoroutcasts.com/2014/fathers-day-fails/

PLEASE BE SURE TO VISIT THESE AWESOME BLOGGERS PARTICIPATING IN TODAY'S GROUP POSTING!

http://www.BakingInATornado.com                          Baking In A Tornado
http://www.therowdybaker.com                                  The Rowdy Baker
http://www.justalittlenutty.com/                                Just A Little Nutty
http://themomisodes.com                                          The Momisodes
http://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com/                          Spatulas on Parade
http://thesadderbutwisergirl.com                                   The Sadder But Wiser Girl
http://stacysewsandschools.blogspot.com/                     Stacy Sews and Schools
http://batteredhope.blogspot.com                                   Battered Hope
 http://www.someoneelsesgenius.com                      Someone Else’s Genius
 http://www.menopausalmom.com/                                 Menopausal Mother
http://dinoheromommy.com/                                 Dinosaur Superhero Mommy
http://sorrykidblog.com/                              Sorry kid, your Mom Doesn’t Play Well With Others
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Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Wacky Wednesday Writers Guest Post By: So Then Stories

     I feel incredibly fortunate to feature this popular humorist today on my site! Please welcome Darcy Perdu of So The Stories ! I've been a HUGE fan of Darcy's writing for a long time and was ridiculously excited to meet her at the Erma Bombeck Writers' Workshop 2014 conference in Dayton, Ohio last month. She's as sweet and funny in real life as she is on her blog and I just adore her! We had a great time connecting and I can't wait to meet up with her again at ERMA 2016.
     Darcy shares hilarious stories on her blog right out of the pages of her life that include some of her most embarrassing moments and outrageous blunders. I'm laughing WITH her, not AT her, when I read her posts because they're so relatable.
     This funny lady is a BlogHer Humor Voty award winner two years in a row, now. She is THAT GOOD! Please welcome Darcy to Meno Mama's site today with lots of comment love!



Smackdown: Old Biddies vs. Rowdy Moms
By Darcy Perdu

So then…we shriek with laughter, pounding our fists on the table, slapping our thighs – with tears rolling down our faces.
The diners at the tables near us turn to look, so we shush each other, giggling like schoolgirls.

It’s Mom’s Night Out and the four of us are lettin’ off steam, swillin’ cocktails, and skewering our husbands, our kids, and ourselves. No one’s safe from our mockery and teasing, including each other. We’re swapping stories, revealing embarrassing moments, and asking those awkward personal questions you can only ask your really close girlfriends.

We’re trying to be considerate of our fellow restaurant patrons, but we’re on a roll – chatting and laughing and -- yes, even squealing. Either we are downright HILARIOUS – or these cocktails are mighty potent!

Most people are engaged in their own conversations, but there’s one table of elderly diners who keep eyeing us. Every time a gust of laughter bellows from our table, the white-haired ladies look our way and their husbands frown in our direction.

We pull back to a dull roar, but then the stories start again and we’re chattering away like magpies.

As I’m gesticulating wildly to illustrate my story, a server approaches our table. I quickly sit on my hands.

(Just last week I was out to dinner with my Mom, friends, and kids at a lovely restaurant, where I told a similar story that required enthusiastic hand gestures. Just as a server walked by, my sudden arm movements smacked into his tray and shot his entrees and drinks in all directions!

I was mortified, of course, and rushed to help him. Everyone at our table was shocked and attending to the disaster throughout the aisle – except for my Mom who calmly continued eating her clam chowder while the server frantically wiped steak sauce from her shoe. Ain’t nobody gettin’ between my mama and her chowder.

When the manager rushed over, I apologized profusely, but he cut me off gracefully and said that the restaurant bears full responsibility and could they please comp my mother’s meal?

Hells yeah! We made sure that the server wasn’t in trouble (he wasn’t) -- and once all was cleaned up, we commenced eating -- and talking (albeit a bit more calmly than before).

Mom noted that the chowder was delicious.

My kids urged me to “Tell more stories! Tell more stories!” so we could upend more trays and get more meals comped.)

So you can see why I’m a bit nervous tonight that we’re making such a ruckus at this restaurant. I don’t want any more flying entrees – and I certainly don’t want any disgruntled customers complaining that we’re too noisy.

So we keep our voices low, eat some, drink some, laugh a little, drink some more, laugh a lot, and before you know it, we’re giggling and guffawing, chortling and snorting.

The four elder patrons keep looking over here. I just know we’re moments away from an intervention.

Finally they finish their meals and the men head for the front door, but the two older ladies approach our table!

My girlfriends and I freeze.

Here we are, mothers ourselves, about to be reprimanded by women who are the age of OUR mothers. I’m having flashbacks to my Catholic school days when the disapproving nuns would scold our rowdy behavior.

I immediately stammer, “I’m so sorry if we disrupted your dinner by being so loud!”

The taller lady says, “Not at all! We just came to say you girls look like you’re having a blast!”

“Yeah,” says the shorter one. “We kept wishing we were at YOUR table instead of with THOSE guys!” She points her thumb over her shoulder at the husbands picking up mints at the hostess stand.

We die laughing! “Then come sit with us!” we say. We scoot over in the booth to make room for them, but they laugh and say they have to go.

“We just wanted to say it was great to see you girls out having such a good time and so full of energy,” says the taller one. “Enjoy your night! You deserve it!” They smile and leave to join their husbands.

We take a moment of silence to let that sink in.

First of all, those old biddies are THE BOMB.

Second of all, I hope when I’m their age, I have the same joie de vivre and appreciation for fun and laughter and lettin’ loose -- instead of being an old stodgy judgmental curmudgeon!

And third of all, my girlfriends and I cherish that unspoken reminder to “Live, baby, live! Love, laugh, enjoy, go wild, be rowdy, have a frikkin’ BLAST – ‘cause it all goes by really fast.”

-- Darcy Perdu

(Ever get a little rowdy in a public place, laughing so hard with your friends or family? Any restaurant mishaps like the flying entrees? How about a time you thought someone might be judgmental but it all turned out great? Do tell!)



BIO
Darcy Perdu shares funny true tales about her awkward adventures, embarrassing kids, exasperating coworkers, and the ever-perplexing public at www.SoThenStories.com – then invites you to share your related stories. So the laughs keep snowballing – come join the fun! Darcy’s delighted to win a Humor VOTY Award from BlogHer in 2013 and 2014 – and hopes you’ll visit her blog to find out “what’s so damn funny?”

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