Game of War and Banana Smears

I just want to thank Kate Upton for stealing my husband from me.

Thanks to that damn commercial she did for the "Game of War" cell phone game, I haven't seen my husband's face in weeks. And all he talks about are alliances, battles and loyalty.

Pic Courtesy

I swear, he thinks this shit is real.

So this morning, the shit did get real- for him, when it comes to this game. I'll set the scene for you, before unleashing our conversation.

I had just woken Hubby up for the day, and was sitting on the bed, eating a banana beside him. He grabbed his phone, like he does the second he wakes up, and opened that damn game. I was trying to plan our day, but he was balls deep in his phone. I looked at his screen to see what he was reading that was so damn intense, and saw a long message (you can send messages in this game) with a drawing of a chick beside it.

Me: Who's the chick?
Hubby: (reading)
Me: Hello? Chick? Who is she? Chicks actually play this game?
Hubby: It's not a chick, it's a drawing of a chick.
Me: No shit, Sherlock. It's called an avatar. I might not play your nerd war game, but I know

If Only My Period Was a Super Power...

I'm normally not an overly sensitive person. It takes a lot to get my blood boiling or to incite anger from me.

Period Woman- My custom Super Hero
created by the Hero Machine.
This was too much fun!!!

Unless, of course, I'm PMSing or actually on my period. Then, a simple look can set me off on an angry onslaught of pure emotional babble.

So, how awesome is it that my monthly visitor has chosen its time to grace me with its presence when my kids are on Fall Break from school for a week, which also happens to be the same week I told Hubby I'd help him lose 5 pounds in a week (by fixing all of his meals and helping him with portion control) to get ready for his upcoming PT (physical training) test with waist measurement?

F*cking awesome, that's right.

In my defense (before I even get started, yes, that's how I roll), I think my family knows I'm highly sensitive and purposefully chooses that time to screw with me. I think it's a fun game of Mom's PMSing, How Close to Making Her Head Explode Can We Get?

Pretty damn close, that's for sure.

My kids aren't even the culprit this particular month- unless you count constantly asking me stupid questions from some poll app- seriously, I don't give a crap to think about whether I'd rather live with snakes under my bed or spiders on my ceiling, so stop asking (snakes... no, spiders... dammit! I've wasted too much brain power already...)

It's Hubby.

This morning's conversation is a prime example:

Me: You know I love rain, and yesterday it was awesome. Today, I really wish it wasn't raining.
Hubby: Why? You can live in rain.
Me: I understand I can, but I have stuff I need to do today.
Hubby: We lived in England for 3 years; you know how to do anything in rain that you could do

15 Years of Marriage, Summed Up in One Story

15 years ago today, Hubby and I said I do. In celebration of our anniversary, I shall tell y'all a short story that sums up our marriage perfectly.

Upon leaving our wedding reception to make the hour drive to our honeymoon hotel, Hubby and I sat in silence for about 5 minutes, probably partially in shock that we were finally a married couple.

Suddenly, Hubby farted a huge, long, loud fart.

I whipped my head toward him, in complete disbelief, as he had never farted in front of me before.

He simply stated, "Whew, thank god! I've been holding that in for hours. And don't look at me like that, there's nothing you can do now. We're married, and you are stuck with me." And he laughed a pretty hilarious, pretty evil, laugh.

15 years of marriage, and that story explains everything.

I do love that man, farts and all...

Click banner to head to Amazon!

If you enjoy Inklings, please take a second to just click the banner below. Each click = 1 vote, and you can vote once per 24 hours. I do happy dances when people vote!

WTF Wednesday: Yin/Yang Relationship at Its Finest

We are 21 days post Japan orders notification, and I'm quickly realizing 2 things:

1. The military seriously makes you work for an overseas assignment.
2. My husband has zero sense of humor during this entire process.

He printed out the checklist of things he has to do before he can actually get the paper copy of his orders, and it's a mile long. There are also starting dates on his checklist that date back to May 27, 2014.

Yeah, ummmm.... we weren't even notified we had orders until July 2nd, 2014. So, thanks for letting us know we should have started paperwork 6 weeks before we even knew we had paperwork to start (rolling eyes). 

Pic Courtesy

So, needless to say, we're having to do everything in double time, and for anyone who is a part of the military, you know the military does NOT work in double time.

Through all of this, I've been able to remain calm and collected, which is completely balanced out by my husband, who is freaking the hell out at every step. 

A few examples of Hubby's and my Yin/Yang thing we have going on:

• Last week, we were outside at midnight, watching an amazing thunderstorm rolling in. I was calm, with my arms out, just soaking in all that is an awesome thunderstorm. Hubby is chain smoking, going over what he has to do the next day, and looks at me and says, "Do you not even care that we have orders?" WTF? Of course I care. "Then why does it seem like you are so nonchalant about it?" Well, dear Hubby, there's nothing I can do at midnight about our move. So, I choose to live in the moment, basking in the upcoming thunderstorm, breathing, and putting the move aside until 8am the

The Peach Cobbler Troll

I have a pretty shocking confession for you all today...

I'm a Southern woman that doesn't know how to make cobbler.

Yeah, I know. Shocking. I'm pretty sure an investigation has now been launched to have my Southern Card revoked.

I grew up with a mom who made cobbler. I just never really developed a taste for it. I preferred a pie to cobbler; the spongy bread of a cobbler was just weird to me. So, I never had any desire to make cobbler when I grew up.

Pic Courtesy

I decided a few weekends ago to make cobbler with some peaches we had. I researched recipes online, found I had all of the ingredients, and made my first batch of peach cobbler.

It looked like ass. Almost black in color, but not burnt- explain that one to me. It was squishy, not spongy. It smelled good, and Hubby will try just about anything, so he dove in. Contrary to all of our beliefs, he said it actually tasted pretty damn good, it just wasn't pleasant at all to look at.

The Ginger was sick that night, so he only had 1 bite of cobbler and didn't eat anymore. We left the rest, along with his helping, in the fridge for the next day. That night, Hubby wanted a midnight snack, so not thinking, he finished off the cobbler.

The Ginger was devastated. He only got one bite.

So, Hubby promised The Ginger he'd make cobbler the following weekend.

As Hubby researched cobbler recipes, he printed one out he felt comfortable with. It was the same recipe I had used.

He immediately went back to the computer to find a new one. I laughed.

I knew something must have gone wrong when I had made the cobbler, as the recipe was 5 star rated with over 1000 reviews. No one else had noted that their cobbler looked like ass. I broke apart the recipe and

WTF Wednesday: Sweeping and Mopping Isn't Cleaning the House??

I'm one of those people who has to have a cleaning schedule. Why? So I make sure it gets done. I straighten my house each day, but as far as deeper cleaning is concerned, I need to know that Mondays I mop, Wednesdays I do the bathrooms, and so forth. My memory sucks sometimes, too.

But, according to Hubby, what I do each day doesn't constitute "cleaning the house."

Oh yes, I will definitely explain.

Here's a rough outline of my weekly cleaning schedule:

Monday- Straighten entire house (pick up big things, clear off counters/tables/flat spaces), sweep, vacuum and mop the floors.

Tuesday- Dust (though this usually gets done every other Tuesday).

Wednesday- Bathrooms

Thursday- Deeper cleaning of kitchen counters, bedroom, vacuum stairs (again, usually every other week on that one).

Friday- Touch up for the weekend.

Each day I do a general straightening, just so things don't pile up. On the weekends I relax, and as a result, come Monday morning again, our house looks like a hurricane hit

WTF Wednesday: #TheDigitalAge

Before we jump into this post, I need to ask everyone to do a favor for me. When you get a little more than halfway through the post, to the conversation between Hubby and I, read things like "#TheDigitalAge" as "hashtag The Digital Age" for me, so I don't have to type it all out. It makes it a hell of a lot funnier to read Hubby and I having a hashtag conversation (which is what we did), plus, it's been a hell of a week, so you're helping me out by not making me type everything so literally. ;)

Last week, The Ginger came down with strep. Exactly one week later, to the day, The Girl ends up with a fever and scratchy throat.

This, the week after Spring Break and the week after the week after Spring Break. I haven't had a moment to myself in going on 3 weeks now.

Alas, I digress.

Pic Courtesy

The Ginger loved having an extra 2 days added to his Spring Break.

The Girl is freaking out. She begged to go to school, fever and all.

When we finally explained to her why she couldn't go to school, she begged me to run by the school and pick up her schoolwork so she could do it while she was sick.

She has so much of me in her, it's not funny. I was the exact same way in school.

So after begging and pleading, I finally decided to call the school, talk to the front desk and see if The Girl's teachers could compile everything for me to pick up the next day (as The Girl would be out a minimum of 2 days).

This is the conversation with the office manager at my daughter's school, after I explained the situation:

Office Manager: Don't you have your Parent Portal log in? You can just check your daughter's

Story Time Sunday- Kool-Aid Shenanigans

Yes, Inklingers, it's time for another installment of Story Time Sunday. This week, we are venturing back to the days of Hubby and I, before kids, for what I like to call the

Kool-Aid Shenanigans.

I came home from my job at the mall one weekend to find Hubby and a new friend playing video games. (Keep in mind that I was 18, Hubby 20 at the time, and we had no kids.) I plopped my stuff down in the living room and gave him a hello kiss. He introduced me to his new friend, and I headed to the kitchen to find something to eat and drink.

Let me pause here for a moment. Hubby's friendships have always spawned between him and guys he works with. He always manages to find guys in his squadron with his same weird-ass sense of humor to hang out with- this one was no different. Apparently, it's also a Man Thing to have to impress your friends when you are around your friends and your old lady... which is what Hubby attempted to do this particular day.

As I flung open the refridgerator door, I heard from the living room, "Hey, woman, make me some Kool-Aid!"

Thinking there was a pitcher of Kool-Aid in the fridge (and yes, we were broke when we first got married, so we drank a LOT of Kool-Aid), I reached in to grab it, and to pour Hubby a glass. The fridge had no pitcher of Kool-Aid.

"We don't have any Kool-Aid made," I shouted back.
"I know we don't. Make some," Hubby replied.

Oh hell no. He didn't ask nicely. I popped my head out of the kitchen door.

"Ummm... no. Make your own damn Kool-Aid. I just worked. And, you didn't ask nicely," I stated.

Hubby started smiling- this was his tell. I knew, at this point, his goal was to impress his friend.

"But, you're the woman, and you need to make the man and his friend some Kool-Aid," he stated,

Helpful Rag Mags and Full Circles

Everything ends up coming full circle in my house one way or another. That's about the only intro there could possibly be for this post; it's one that just needs jumping into. I will set the stage, however.

Not us; Stock photo from NIAAA Publications

Hubby and I are in the kitchen making dinner, The Girl is on the sofa flipping through the latest US Weekly magazine, The Ginger is floating in and out of the room acting as Link from Legend of Zelda, fighting off bad guys with an imaginary sword. We have an open floor plan so the kitchen, living room and dining room are all one big room.

And yes, this all really went down a few days ago. I couldn't make this s*it up if I tried.

The Girl: Hey Mom, did you know that they are saying Justin Bieber is about to have a breakdown?
Me: Whatever. Justin Bieber couldn't have a breakdown if someone choreographed it for him.
The Girl: That's what this article says (holding up the US Weekly magazine).
Hubby: Seriously, nothing good comes from reading those magazines.
Me and The Girl (at the same time): Whatever.
Hubby: I'm serious. Can either one of you tell me the name of the Vice President?
The Girl: Some old white guy...
Me (scrunching up my nose): Umm.... Biden???
Hubby: Did you just ask me or are you telling me?

The (Useless) Teapot

Men and women are different. There is absolutely no arguing that. Just how different we are can sometimes be summed up in a single story.

Y'all know I love my bargain hunting. My trips to Goodwill usually occur once a week, and I'll (hopefully) find some good deals on things to help decorate my house. On a particularly good shopping day, I walked away with a chair for my living room, a cookbook stand, a slate lazy Susan for my kitchen island, a wooden wine rack, a huge coffee mug to fit all of my random samples of coffee... and a teapot.

This teapot...

I put everything into place, and when Hubby got home from work that afternoon, the following conversation went down about all of my findings:

Hubby: Sweet. I like the wine rack and the cookbook holder, but what is that?
Me: What is what?
Hubby: That (pointing at the teapot). Did we need a teapot? We have a Keurig if you want to heat water quickly for tea.
Me: Yeah, so?
Hubby: (picking the teapot up) Does it even work?
Me: Nope. You can't actually use it.
Hubby: WHAT? You bought a teapot that we can't even use?
Me: Yep.
Hubby: Why?
Me: For decoration. It adds a splash of color to the kitchen, so it ties the two rooms together (our

Quality Time for Couples (A He Said/She Said Post)

A few months ago, Hubby and I co-wrote a He Said/She Said post on the Top 6 Reasons for a No Questions Asked, Immediate Divorce.

It's that time again, Inklingers. Hubby and I have some things we need to sort through, and there's no better place to hash this out than my blog.

Today's battle argument debate is centered around Quality Time: What constitutes it, how is it best spent, and what doesn't qualify? As before, my answers will be first (no rebuttals this time), and then Hubby will have the floor.

Quality Time for Couples (Tatted Mom Style)

1. Cuddling on the Couch Watching an Emotional Movie. Nothing says love more than 'The Notebook', with all of its tears, hope and pure emotion. I could even go with a romantic comedy, like 'Crazy Stupid Love' so that Hubby and I are laughing together as well. Get a warm blanket to cuddle under, wrapped in each others arms, laughing and having our heartstrings tugged... a perfect evening! (And no, this has nothing to do with sitting around watching Ryan Gosling movies all night...) 
2. Working on a Puzzle Together. It builds our teamwork skills, we get to sit close to one another, help each other out with our particular puzzle areas, and just enjoy spending time together. I've mentioned before our competitive nature, so every once in a while you'll hear a 'Quit hogging all the red pieces' or 'Were you seriously just hiding that piece from me, Assmunch?' but it's all in the name of creating something as a couple. 
3. Shopping. Yes, to me, shopping can be considered quality time. Even if Hubby is accompanying me

Top 6 Reasons for No Questions Asked, Immediate Divorce (He Said/ She Said Style)

I married 'til death do us part'. I understand that being separated for the last almost 4 years may have some people thinking differently, but we're back together now, so that's the part everyone needs to focus on, okay? And the two of us have decided that we are never going through what we did the last 4 years ever again, so it will have to come down to 'til death do us part' if either one of us wants out of this marriage.

At least, I thought that until last night.

Courtesy of Best Normal Rockwell Art

Hubby did something that got me thinking. There should be some things that, if done, are automatic grounds for divorce in any state, any court of law, and in record time. They are unacceptable and shouldn't be tolerated just for the sake of marriage.

When I brought it to Hubby's attention, he decided he had his own list of things. So today Inklingers, is a special day. Today the post has been co-written by Hubby and I. You're getting some He Said/She Said ish here today, battle of the sexes, views from both standpoints. I'm even allowing rebuttals from the spouse after each reason for divorce; a way to redeem themselves or plead their case before the papers are drawn up.

So here it is, ladies first of course.

Top 3 Reasons for No Questions Asked, Immediate Divorce (Tatted Mom Style) (Hubby's rebuttal in italics.)

1. Inserting Finger into My Mouth While I'm Yawning. This is what Hubby did last night that got me thinking. The first yawn he ruined, fine. Cute, funny, we laughed. Then he turned around and did it again, when the rebound yawn came around. Not cool, Hubby, not cool. Then, with 2 yawns now ruined, and the second rebound yawn coming, he did it a third time. He laughed, I thought about grabbing a knife. When the third rebound yawn started coming on, I threw a temper tantrum and told him to leave the room so I could effing yawn. He laughed. I painfully yawned because I wasn't sure if he was going to figure out a way to stick his finger in my mouth and ruin that one. Grounds for divorce, immediately. In my defense, she's always yawning, and that shit's funny.
2. Dutch Ovens. Please tell me I don't have to explain these to you all... Okay, fine, I will. We're laying