Arlo Guthrie, Will You be my Valentine?

arlo.collage.2It’s nearly Happy Single’s Awareness Day! I can’t wait. Ok, fine. My genuineness might be in question. I hate Valentine’s Day since I ain’t got nobody. But this year, I have a date. I get to spend Valentine’s Day with my Daddio and moody 17 year old daughter. Yay! My dad is dragging Mini-Me and me to an Arlo Guthrie concert. Actually, I’ll enjoy it, so it’s Mini-Me who might be the one kicking and screaming.

Alice’s Restaurant” and “The Motorcycle Song” are brilliant! Why doesn’t Mini-Me like Arlo? Have you listened to his songs, kid? Mini-Me won’t give peace a chance. She is convinced she is going to have the worst night in her life.

My Valentine’s date, Daddio (who is going to share all his stories of growing up as a hippy despite becoming an adult at the very end of the hippy era, but he “is a hippy, dammit”), is delusional that a moody 17 year old teenager is looking forward to this concert. And I get to watch grumpy and sulking Mini-Me roll her eyes and then needle me because Granddad’s “all weird and stuff. Why does he have to always talk about history?! Geez, Mom! Why do I have to listen to it?!? It stresses me out!” Yep, it’s going to be a grand ole time. 

Ok. Whatevs. This is not about you Mini-Me. Back to what I was saying . . .

Truly, Arlo Guthrie is an inspiration to me. I believe his music is the wellspring for my sense of humor. Have you listened to his songs? Sorry, already asked that. You hear one of his songs and you know there’s a kernel of truth but you also know it’s a big, fat, whopper of a lie. Yep, I totes relate to that.

I’m a fantastic storyteller, like Arlo. Right y’all? Seriously, answer me. I’M A FANTASTIC STORYTELLER, RIGHT!?! But, my stories might be exaggerated. Slightly. Okay, a whole frickin’ bunch. Why would anyone want to listen to a story unless it’s been edited to entice a deep belly laugh for all to share? Unless you’re Arlo Guthrie, of course.

I mean, if my blog is ever converted to a book, I think it’d have to be fiction. I’d hate to have a nonfiction bestseller that ends up on Oprah’s Book Club and then she’d interview me and then my book would sell 10 bazillion more copies and then someone (I’m sure it’d be my kids because we all know they’re snots) would spill the beans and tell the world that my book is only partly true and is mostly lies and embellishments to make me look better and then I’d be disgraced on all the talk shows but after a few months Oprah would interview me again and tell me how much she loves me but is disappointed but it’s still a good book but I owe her an apology. I’M SORRY OPRAH! I am so, so, sorry Oprah and then she’d hug me. Move over Gayle! I’m Oprah’s new BFF.

Yes, everything I write is true, but it’s twisted ever so slightly, like Arlo. Why can’t I rewrite my family history so that is slightly more exciting than it actually is? Is this wrong? We’re all crazy. I mean really. My entire family is C-R-A-Z-Y, cra-cra-crazy. At least if I add humor, all y’all (yes that’s a perfectly acceptable Southern colloquialism so get over it) might think my story is not true because if it were true, you’d think “Lord, I pray for this person and her family. They are in serious need of your divine intervention. They probably all need to be locked up somewhere. Please, sweet baby Jesus, keep this family far away from me!”

Anyway . . .

Daddio says Arlo’s music is political commentary denouncing “the establishment” in a highly charged point in American history. I just think Arlo is über smart and funny and simply wants to make people laugh. Sure he might be making a political statement but I think that’s just a surprising side benefit. I think Arlo just wants to amuse himself and anyone else who’ll listen to him. Daddio has yet to hear my thoughts on Arlo other than I really like his music. I’m sure I’ll be told that I’m too young to appreciate the 60s and I’m just an ignorant kid despite being nearly 40. Well, I was born in the 70s so maybe he’s right, or will be right, if he actually does say this. I don’t like it when he’s right so I’ll probably pout and sulk like the teenager. Then Daddio will feel perturbed and make a back-handed comment that will make me madder and Mini-Me will join in because she likes ganging up on mom. I’ll then ground her and then Daddio will ground me for being unreasonable with Mini-me. And the cycle continues.

It’s going to be a great Valentine’s date. Yep. It sure is.

I know you wish you were my Valentine’s date. Please contain your jealously. Really, it makes you look desperate and it’s annoying me.


Keep Calm and Slap Cupid.

It’s rough being single on Valentine’s Day, but it’s doubly rough being a single parent on Valentine’s. You know you won’t get any Valentine’s gifts except maybe a glitter-and-glue laden, doily cutout, heart covered, chore coupon book from your snot-nosed kid. Of course, you lovingly accept it, knowing good and well, your precious munchkin is not going to do jack squat to fulfill those chores and empty that book. You hug them and kiss them and tell them how happy it makes you to have them as your Valentine. [Excuse me a moment, I just vomited in my mouth a little while typing that.] Undoubtedly you love your kids and you really are grateful to have them but they are NOT what you picture when you think of being someone’s Valentine. They are blissfully unaware that they are the reason you choose NOT to date and have no other options for Valentine’s. How could they comprehend that mommy would rather be doing her sexy dance while putting on make up and getting ready for a hot date with the guy who flirts with her at the gym. He makes mommy feel special, not frumpy or taken for granted. Ah, my sweet children, bless your little ignorant hearts.

So, in honor of all of you SINGLE PARENTS OUT THERE, here’s my Valentine’s gift to you: I’m going to hunt down Cupid and take him out. I’m going to knock him from his fluffy white perch and impale him on his own arrow. Don’t worry though, I’m going to do this behind the shed so the kiddos won’t see the gore. But if you should happen to wander behind the shed, it’ll look like a scene from The Walking Dead. And not just any normal zombie killing scene, it’d be any scene with Darryl. Darryl was just gross and ruthless and sociopathic. You know, perfect for taking out zombies and Cupid.

You’re welcome. HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!

Slap Cupid

You can make your own poster at

She’s So Lucky. I’m So Lucky.

So, my friend, Ashli, has a very successful foodie blog. She’s fantastic at it. She lives in Texas. I live in South Carolina. I love reading her restaurant reviews even though they don’t apply to me. Yo, need to know where to find some good eats in Houston or Dallas? I can tell ya despite never stepping a foot into any of my recommendations. Thanks Ashli, I am taking all the creds.

Ashli and I’ve known each other for years. By that I mean we were step-cousins as kids. Now were ex-step cousins but current Facebook friends and mutual Twitter followers. I always thought she was über cool. She was pretty and popular and confident and I was awkward. Basically, nothing’s changed. She’s a couple of years older than me, but, darn it, that snot looks way younger. She oozes coolness and hotness. And she’s so, so sweet. She’s the epitome of the perfect woman.

Make sure you check out Ashli’s foodie blog, Almost VeggiesAlmost Veggies

Like I said, Ashli is a successful foodie blogger and gaining more followers by the nano-second. Ashli thought she’d branch out and start a new website for all things haute couture: Maybe she was drinking that day because she sent me a message and asked me to be a contributor to Oh Ashli, you had me at hello. You had me at hello!

“Of course I will but I am so plain Jane. No haute couture here. You’ve read my blog and know that I just recently learned of eyebrow pencils.” She didn’t care. “Just send me what you want,” she said.

I think it was 3 years before I sent Ashli anything. Ok, I’m exaggerating but was a good month and a half. I felt so guilty because I sent her nothing to contribute as promised. I thought I had to focus on restaurant reviews or write about a makeup tricks my teen daughters taught me. Finally, I felt inspired to write a normal blog post, meaning something I thought was funny enough for, you know, mommy-ish and pointless. I wrote the post in record time but could not publish on No, I owed a contribution to Ashli.

Surely Ashli would reject it. It was all about being lazy and ice cream and my adventures in manipulating my kids. To my surprise, she did publish it! And you know what else? She made a special section just for me! I’m a contributor for the “Lucky Life” Section of! Please visit and read my first article “Lazy Saturday“.

Read about my Lazy Saturday on
Lazy Saturday

She's So Lucky