I threw up in your sink...you never knew that?!

My mother and I were talking about how she used to play Barbies with me and my sisters when we were really little. My mother used to play this ditsy Barbie whose name was Whitney, and her trademark move was that she would sit down in a chair and get stuck in it. This KILLED my sisters and I. I remember laughing so hard EVERY time she did it. Like it never got old. I also had half a brain back then. I would laugh at a brick wall. 

So during this conversation, I asked my mom what I would do when we played Barbies, as I forgot because I was soooo young. This is how she responded:

"You just stripped them. You loved taking their clothes off. Lucy and Sally would love changing their clothes all the time, but you just stripped the Barbies."

and then:

"And you would try and cut their hair off. Like all of it."

I can just see myself now. "Mom, these Barbies don't look like GI Joes. Where are the goddamned scissors!?!? We need to straighten these girls out, they have way too much time on their hands, what, with going to the beach all the time and going shopping. They need to learn some moral fiber Mom. JUS SAYIN." 

I guess this is about the same time I cut my own hair. I aimlessly cut it and then asked my mom if it was okay if I cut it. She said no, then I was all like...Oh. Then she saw the chunk of hair I had in my hand. JOKE'S ON YOU MOM, I ALREADY CUT IT!

I swear, it's the effect that the Barbies have on you as a young girl. I totally blame them. It's like, "Stop smiling at me, you dumb blonde."

Sally threw a surprise party for Franklin last weekend, and there was one problem: She bought way too much alcohol. Of course, this really isn't a problem at all. 

So they were cleaning up after everyone left, and there was about six bottles of wine left, and a full 30 rack and a half of bud light. As my dad was putting all of this by the door for Sally to take, I would tell him what any 23 year old alcohol loving girl would say. 

"Dad, just put that up in my room."

"Actually...put it under my pillow with the rest."

And then when he would walk the opposite way, I would correct him and say "Dad, my room is that way...where are you going?"

Oh well. This is what happens when you leave your "To Do" list just laying around anywhere:

Haha, mom is such a good sport. 

Song: The Civil Wars "Poison & Wine"

Cheers,

Jenny

jargos and over preparing

Okay. So.

It's been a while, and I know for a FACT that there is a lot of catching up to do. The thing is, I don't really know where I left off. So I guess I'll just start with the most important thing.

My dad bought a pair of JARGOS this past weekend. I feel like this is a problem. For those of you who do not know what Jargos are, I will tell you. They are a pair of jean cargo shorts. I don't want to be mean here, but Jargos are something to definitely make fun of. Here is a picture of my dad's new jargos:

Now, I know that everyone has their own style. And believe me, my dad has a complete style of his own. (fyi, he wears jean shorts, socks up to his knees, white sneakers, and a VISOR to top it off.) I keep wanting to say that "I'm not here to make fun," but honestly...how could I not. What I really wanted to get a picture of was my dad actually WEARING these jargos and doing a Captain Morgan stance. Like he oddly always does.

Jus sayin.

I guess I should switch it over to another family member. Sally.

Last week I took Schroeder and Sally on a nature walk in Pratt Farm. You know, just something fun to do with your friends. So Shroeder and I go prepared, with a light jacket and some hardcore sneakers. Sally comes with some fashionable boots and a HUGE purse filled with a camera and a bag of Bugles. Mind you, we are NOT going camping for a week, nor are we trying to survive the Alaskan woods. We are taking a walk around the woods in the armpit of Middleboro.

So everything is going fine until we are simply walking down a path and Schroeder and I hear a crinkling behind us. It's not some kind of animal, it is Sally digging into her purse and snacking on her Bugles. After we relentlessly make fun of her, she starts to bark out about how "If we got lost, look who the prepared one is." Yes. There she is. The 6 year old who brought snacks to a 45 minute long hike through a Middleboro farm.

This is the same girl that was disgruntled about how I had to work tonight, so I couldn't go to the beach with her today. This is what she told me. "Everyone should be on vacation because I'M on vacation." This is what I hate about teachers. They bitch and moan every single day about their job, but I think they are forgetting ONE huge thing. Um, are you aware of the fact that you have a shit load of days off? Including but not limited to Thanksgiving, Christmas, ummmm......that whole 3 months....what do you call it...SUMMER?!, flag day, president's day, columbus day, easter, halloween, martin luther king day, the day you need to get a haircut, april vacation, february vacation, did I mention flag day? Oh but no, complain away.

Which is prominently why when we went to lunch, Schroeder, Sally, and I, she busted out a FOLDER of her plans for something coming up. If Sally was planning a TEA PARTY for a bunch of stuffed animals, she would have a folder full of papers with what kind of music they'll play and what kind of plastic scones they would eat. I mean, MY GOD, is there anything you DON'T write a list for? "I'm going to make a list about the list I'm going to make later on today." And the thing that gets me every time is the fact that she KNOWS Schroeder and I make fun of her for all of this shit that she does on a daily basis. Yet she continues to say, "Hey, look at my folders." I'm sorry to say, sister, that the only legitimate reason for you to be carrying around plastic folders in your purse is if you were either an FBI agent or a college student.

-Jenny