Betrayed Cat Video

You will want to mute the music down below in the right hand column before you watch this... This had me peeing in my pants- seriously. After two kids, it happens easily.

"How would she like her big pimp then?"

Enjoy.

FUNNIEST KITTIES Cat Betrayed His Crazy Girlfriend..Funny video @ Yahoo! Video

MUTEMATH

Do you know this band? No? Then shame on you. Go to Itunes now and download a few songs- better yet, just download all their albums because you're going to anyway... Their 2006 self titled debut album is a sure fire winner. You will not be disappointed. Then you might want to dive a little deeper to experience "Flesh and Bones Electric Fun" which takes the composition of a live album to a whole new level. Love it Love it Love it!! Their newly released "Armistice" delivers just as well. Be sure to visit their website and take a look at the video for "BackFire". It's beyond! These.Guys.Are.Just.So.Brilliant.

And so there's a story behind all of this-and I will warn you, I don't prefer it but I have no choice but to do a little name dropping here. It's not often that I find myself in these situations.

Several years ago, I had the privilege of meeting a young woman by the name of YoMary. She also went by the nickname, JoJo which is what I chose to call her because I couldn’t quite mimic the sound it took to say her name as beautifully as she did. I can't even begin to tell you the amount of positive energy this beautiful girl radiates. She is simply magnetic and we became fast friends. JoJo is (or was- I haven’t spoken to her in a while) the nanny to a certain Mr. McGraw and Mrs. Hill. (It's important to note here that she does not reveal her employers identity easily- mostly until well after she gets to know someone. She has the utmost respect for that family and those girls and they are indeed lucky to have her).

About a year after I met her, I received a phone call from a woman named Gay. She was calling to invite me to a surprise birthday party for JoJo at La Paz in Green Hills. I gladly accepted and thanked her for the invitation. A couple of weeks later, I arrived at the party a little early and was met by the only other person there- her name was Sandra. We talked and laughed, traded funny stories about JoJo and gushed about how much we loved her. Other guests began to arrive and I finally met Gay, the friendly voice that called me. I met JoJo’s sister (who was just as vibrant and fun) and her husband and a slew of other really cool, sort of eclectic, painfully beautiful people. I almost felt like I didn’t belong, but that was certainly a result of my own insecurities, not from any of their doings.

At the table I was seated next to JoJo and across from her sister’s husband. When it was time for JoJo to open gifts, I was assigned the dubious honor of discarding the wrapping paper. Gay handed her the first gift, “This is from Tim and Faith” she said. I nearly threw up but managed to compose myself and act like I hear those names in random conversations everyday. She began opening the gift and started handing me the paper. JoJo giggled and asked Gay if one of the girls had wrapped it. Gay laughed as well and said, “No, actually, I think Tim did”. GULP. I resisted the urge to put some of that paper in my purse as a psycho keepsake but I do recall sort of um, sniffing it before I threw it away. Yeah, I know- I just have this thing with smells… What?

The party began to wind down and I found myself engaged in a rather lengthy conversation with JoJo's sister's husband- the gentleman that had been introduced to me earlier as Roy. I thought that he might be in a band of some sort, so our conversation turned to music. He told me the name of his band and I remember feeling a little embarrassed because I hadn’t heard of them. I made a mental note to look them up when I got home- but unfortunately for me, I never did. The party ended as did our conversation and I took some time to say goodbye to JoJo. There were three others that I wanted to say goodbye to, because I had actually had significant interaction with them each.

So I said goodbye to Gay- Faith Hill’s best friend.

Then to Sandra- Faith’s manager.

And then to Roy- who I would later discover was none other than Roy Mitchell-Cardenas, bassist for MuteMath. And as Cher would say..."If I could turn back time".

It was only years later, when the soundtrack to Twilight was released and the song “Spotlight” was included, that the bell went off. I saw the name of the band- MuteMath and was quickly taken back to that night at La Paz and to the super nice guy that I had the chance to talk with. And so began the getting to know you portion of my now very solidified relationship with their music. I’ve been a very vocal and loyal fan ever since.

This past summer I found myself, along with Kyle and the kids in Jason’s Deli, sitting in one of the booths. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed four guys slipping quietly into the booth in front of us. I looked up- then studied them closer. It was MuteMath, the entire band was right there, in all their glory. I could have reached out and pulled Paul Meany’s ear but thought that might be a little aggressive. But the truth was, I was frozen and completely star struck. I've been in Nashville nearly 9 years now and I've come a long way since JoJo's party- I don't get starstruck that easy. I was also overcome with insecurity and that's not easy to admit. Not only was I about 40 pounds heavier from giving birth to Riley earlier in the year, but I was dressed frumpy and sitting there with my family. I felt like such a mom; which in most situations is the title I'm most proud of. But you know- I felt like a MOM- like how you used to think of your mom when you thought you were the coolest person alive. It’s like I didn’t feel cool enough to love their music as much as I do. Because they are the epidemy of cool and I only used to be. So I never said anything. I didn’t approach them and to this day, I regret it. I wanted to say to Roy- “hey remember me? I was the schmuck at JoJo’s party who was living under a rock and hadn’t yet discovered the sheer joy that is your music.” But I ducked out of Jason’s Deli as fast as my flabby thighs and mom shoes would take me.

So Roy- rock on, brother, and I’ll keep spreading the love. You guys give new meaning to music and I’m very appreciative of your creative mark on this world.

http://www.mutemath.com/
http://www.roymitchellcardenas.blogspot.com/

It's Just What I Do

Sticking my foot in my mouth- at this point in my life, I am damn good at it. If there was an award for most awkward moments ever in the history of history, I would win hands down- or feet down- every single time. I am the grand poo bah of inappropriateness- the vice prez of verbal mishaps- the big wig of blunders. The funny thing is- is that I've always thought that I was a very socially and self aware person. But somehow- conversations and circumstances converge and there I am in the middle of it- making a complete ass of myself. It's just what I do.

Back during my party days at Clemson, my friends and I would frequent a bar appropriately named "Flashbacks". I guess after that much alcohol in a span of 4 years, flashbacks and herpes are about the only two things that ever really stay with you. So there was always this guy there, sitting behind the bar. Everyone called him Bean. I knew nothing about this man except for the fact that he was there- always sitting in the same spot- drinking, laughing and just being a really fun and jovial guy. One night the bar closed and a group of us were sloshing about around the entrance and out walks Bean. He was stumbling and fumbling and I- in my best Miss Teen South Carolina voice- yell "Look at your drunk ass, can't even walk". My friend took a gigantic gulp of air and grabs my arm- twists me around and proceeds to tell me that Bean was not drunk. He was severely injured in a car accident some years ago. He was crippled. I will pause here to allow you to take a moment.






Now that you've absorbed that horrific scenario, I will say that I'm not entirely sure he heard me. Still- the thought of that moment prompts the vomit reflex- even to this day. But oh, don't you worry, there is more.

Not too long ago, Kyle and I went to look at homes in a new subdivision out in Nolensville. We turned into this cookie cutter clutter of homes, each one built to only "slightly" look like the other and immediately noticed this random white farm house stuck smack in the middle. It was just weird and very out of place. Despite the eerie Amityville vibe the house gave, we were moderately interested in finding out more about the neighborhood and decided to visit the model home. It was a Sunday afternoon, so we had the model lady all to ourselves. We took extra time to look around being sure to ask the appropriate questions and she was very accommodating. She laughed at our jokes, she played with our kids and she knew her stuff. She was specifically knowledgeable of the land, how it was acquired and the process of it's development. I saw a window and decided to ask in my most real housewife of Atlanta voice- "What's with the creepy old white house stuck in the middle?" To which our new friend responds, "Oh, that's my house. My husband and I have lived there for 8 years " Oh, did I say creepy? I meant charming. Eh Ehhmmmm... we'll be going now....

This is of course not to mention other times like when I screamed a very graphic sexually suggestive sentence to my new boyfriend, Kyle, on the staircase of his mother's house. Only to realize that his entire family, whom I had only met hours before, heard every word. Or the many times I have been with Kyle as we have checked out in a Kroger, Best Buy, or Pier One and an item rings up LESS than the original listed price. For some reason I feel this is a good time to work on my Karma and I instinctively decide to tell the clerk. As a result, Kyle shoots a glare toward me that would make Marilyn Manson piss in his pants. What? Is honesty not always the best policy?

I've done the "When are you due" thing only to be told "I'm not pregnant"... several times. I've forgotten friends alibi's when I'm supposed to be covering for them. And I've made plenty of faux pas in regards to the "does my butt look fat in these pants?" question. Your butt looks fine but what about your cankles?

Trust me, if there is a situation where toes are required to tickle the tonsils, I've been there and done that and I have mastered them all. Try not to be jealous.

Writing It Down- A series of memories and musings that you'll just have to endure

I have to admit- I'm feeling a little Carrie Bradshaw"ish" at the moment. As I write this I am cuddled in a blanket (my grandmother's no less-how's that for flair?) sitting outside on our bedroom balcony; drinking wine and enjoying our amazing view of downtown. Truthfully I am freezing my ass off but the cold air has kind of kick started the creative flow... and lately I've needed something! So... sorry for the lack of posts lately. Thanks for checking back.

This is what does it.

This is what fuels the torrid love affair I have between residing in City OR Suburbs...

Pro's and Con's? Yes, I did that. There are 22 pros to living in the city. There are 22 pros to leaving it. So obviously that was an hour of my life I'd like to have back... But the reality is- Is that I love living in the city. *LOVE IT*- looooove it- like how you love a pair of super unnecessarily expensive shoes or how you love that one really great picture of your butt that you kind of want to put on your Facebook profile but don't because you'd still be "that" girl. ehh ehmmm..... But in all seriousness, the city represents an extreme amount of growth in my life. For me, this city is a personal accomplishment.

No, Nashville is not New York- it's not Chicago. It doesn't have quite the allure of granduer that other larger cities can boast. And that's ok- it's a big city with a small town feel (which is probably the most overused cliche' ever when describing Nashville but it's very true, nonetheless). There is a pulse among the avenues that feed the fires of love, appreciation and respect for all things music. You can feel it. I miss having music in my everyday life; maybe more than I even know myself. But just being close to it fills some kind of void and it's comforting, you know? There's something about having that right at your fingertips- walking out your front door and it being right in front of you. It's just a different view of the world. This view feels aesthetically alive and emphatically established. And in some crazy twisted metaphor-that's the same thing I continue to search for within myself.

So we've been looking at houses in the suburbs. Obviously there's the "getting more house for our money" argument. And I will say-it is becoming a strong argument at that. Then, there's the school situation which is turning out to the be the front-runner. What parent doesn't want their child in the best schools possible? There's the land and the smell! OH, the smell! The smell of the city and the smell of... well, anywhere but the city- is like night and day. I miss the smell of grass. I miss seeing stars. Forget the big dipper- the only thing I see is the orange glow of the Hustler Hollywood Adult Store sign. Which by the way, I can't tell you how many times we have driven by those very revealing store front windows and Tyson takes quick notice. Lately I have had to explain that... "No, baby, none of your friends will be wearing that on Halloween." Sheesh. Oh and dead things on the side of the road- I miss that too.....

But then- there it is again. The buzz of the metropolis- People are celebrating- they are congregating- merriment in groups. The static of the interstate- People are moving- they have a destination - a purpose. It's addictive and being out here right now is reminding me to remember it. So as a promise to myself to never again rely on my low-performing memory cells for any sort of nostalgia, this is me "writing it down".

There will be more to follow....

Thanks for letting me ramble.

"Tysonisms"- Because 4 year olds are really effing funny!

Yesterday Tyson and I were in the car when the subject of his Birthday came up.

"Tyson," I said. "Your birthday is next month. You're going to be a big boy; you'll be five years old!"

He smiled a little, "Does that mean I'm going to be old enough?" he asked.

"Old enough to do what, honey?"

He looked at me as if I had just asked the most ridiculous question.

"Old enough to do the things that you have to be old enough to do"...

Sweet Dreams, Little Man

Bedtime with Tyson has always been a pretty pleasant experience. Sometime around four months of age, Kyle and I really began to focus on creating a routine and a set schedule for him. A large part of that focus was on bedtime or more specifically, getting him to the point where he could soothe himself to sleep. It wasn't always easy. Not going to your child after he has cried for nearly an hour was harder than pregnancy, labor and delivery put together! But, alas, we were successful and to this day and for this reason (although not the only one, I can assure you), bedtime is a welcomed event.

But the fact that it has always been blissfully easy doesn't mean that it isn't often, um... timely. I try not to complain about this part simply because I have learned that the longer something takes when it comes to my children, the better (except, of course, for things like illness, surgery, graduation, or jail). Because time is all we have, and in the grand scheme of things, sadly, we do not have a lot of it.

Over the last couple of years, schedule has quietly taken a backseat to routine and now our little OCD angel has a few requirements before he commits to slumber. It is quite a tedious process. It's a ritual of this and a certain way of that. I am probably to blame for most if it but I get it. I get the need to have things in a particular order. It's comfortable and he is his mother's child.

So tonight, as I finally closed the door to our little man's room, I had a fleeting moment of "Geez, I'm glad that's over." Then this realization pummeled me- like a swift little kick in the heart. And then my moment turned into "I'm really going to miss this one day." Consequently, a huge lump begins to form in my throat- very similar to what's happening to me right now- and I knew that I must write this down. Gratefully, I ackowledge that have been blessed with alot of wonderful attributes but a reliable memory is not one of them. For when the day comes that I no longer have a child to tuck in... (lump getting bigger....), I need to have something to help me remember.

After his mandatory "5 more minutes of play", we begin the process of picking out his bedtime stories. It used to be "story", but somewhere along the way, one more was added as standard protocol and I'm still not sure how he managed that one. I choose to remain involved in this process so that I can enforce my self-imposed rule of 3 vetos. For example- I rule out anything that is Christmasy because reading a Christmas story in any other month besides December kind of freaks me out and is just totally unnatural. Once a decision has been made, we make our way into my bedroom where I take an additional 15 minutes to fold the permanent pile of clothes on our bed. Wait, no. I've probably only done that once. Most of the time I just throw them in the closet. But I digress... We crawl into bed where Tyson has to decide what book he wants to hear first. The bigger one usually wins out and off we go. The second book is typically smaller and shorter in text. For this book, he prefers for me to "do silly"- which is code for substituting the original words for crazy, sometimes questionable, less appropriate words. For this book, I have found it increasingly difficult to stay creative and I'm losing my audience! His tolerance for silly has doubled and now "penis breath" or "boogernoodle" just doesn't turn the giggle box over anymore. As a result, the second book takes about as long as the first which completly nullifies the "one long story, one short one" rule I implemented sometime ago. This has lead me to believe that my son is officially smarter than me and he knows it.
From here, he asks to play a game he refers to as "the game where we talk about what we love about", which is us taking turns saying what we love most about the other. I tell him that I love when he is a sweet boy and doesn't fuss. Or I love when he helps take care of his sister. He responds with things like, "I love it when you take me fun places..." or "I love it when you make good snacks for me to eat..." 99% of the time, I have to stop him mid-sentence because I think my heart will just explode.

Once he has had his fill of this, we head to the bathroom. Here I tell him he must pee and he does so by very carefully unrolling his pajama pants and underwear down to his ankles and sitting on the toilet like a girl. This baffles me and goes against everything that is beneficial about having a penis in the bathroom. So even peeing takes forever! Then we wash his hands and brush his teeth. Then he has to have a drink of water- then one more, oh and then "just one more, mommy...", he says. "I've never been this thirsty in my whole big life".

Next, he has to go give his Daddy "one more hug"- so all the way downstairs he goes. He slowly maneuvers each step as if it's the first time he's ever set foot on a staircase. He hugs his daddy and eventually finds his way back up the stairs at a speed that can only be explained as sloth-like. If I allow myself to watch this, I feel impatience boiling up from deep dark places. So I choose to take this moment to knock out a few of my own bedtime rituals. Once I hear him fumbling around in his room again, I head back to find that undoubtedly he has built something that he is insanely proud of and must not only explain, but also show me how it works. Of course, this explanation is on the fly so the amount of "um's" sandwiched in between every other word is nothing short of mind blowing. Knowing that these are the moments that can render future issues if not handled with proper attention, I smile politely and listen as if he were explaining the cure for cancer. Who knows, maybe one day he'll do just that...

Eventually, I am forced to cut in and restart the bedtime engine. Now I turn out the light, always being sure that the fan remains on, and his next move is to "kiss Lightening". For this, he climbs on top of his table and kisses a framed picture of Lightening McQueen from Cars. Now he must show me how far he can jump. He prepares me for what he calls "the best jump ever" and sails through the air like the little monkey he is. I clap, give him a high five and say appeasingly, "that WAS the best one ever"... The pride is almost pouring from his ears. Next he must plug in his Thomas humidifier/nightlight and he reminds me every night that this is something I am not allowed to do.

Now we are at the point where his skin begins to actually touch linen and what a glorious moment it is. If I have not already put socks on him, he will remind me to do this here. Now I am searching for socks because they are never where they should be. Once socks are located and placed on his sweet little feet, I tuck him in. We turn on his music (this is from the mobile that used to hang over his crib) and find his baby. This baby (a stuffed lamb) has also been with him from infancy and is still totally irreplaceable. Many times, the damn thing is lost in the madness that is his room and I have to go on a baby hunt. Once the search and rescue is over, he proceeds to ask for a lullaby. This is a new one he has added only recently. But I oblige and sing a short little ditty. With this, he appears somewhat satisfied and I can now begin to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Then he says "Mommy, we're gonna have a great day tomorrow!" He gives me a thumbs up and the cuteness is utterly blinding. "We ARE going to have a great day tomorrow!" I assure him. Then lots of kisses, lots of "good nights" and "I love you's". I begin to walk towards the door. He sits up and I take my usual place under the frame.

"Mommy"
"Yes, Tyson."
"Um..................."
"What is it sweetie"
"Um....um.....um........"
"Tyson, what do you need, it's late"
"Um..........................................................."
"Tyson............"
"One more hug and kiss"

He smiles brightly and holds his arms wide open. Admittedly, I am a little frustrated but how can I not give in? I walk over and squeeze him tight, all the while reminding myself that all too soon there will come a time where I will be the one begging for one more... So I squeeze him tighter.

I head back to the door.

"I love you buddy. Sweet dreams", I say.
"You have sweet dreams too, Mommy", he whispers back.

He pulls the covers closer and rolls over to his right side. Victory! I close the door, listen for a few more seconds to be sure that he will not call me again before I make it downstairs. I hear nothing but that sweet, soothing, familiar music that I have heard for almost five years now. Then, silence. My little warrior has given in and all is right with the world.

It never ends

I don't understand why the paparazzi can't leave my family alone. I mean, follow me all you want but can't they leave my unsuspecting love ones out of the firestorm?



We're not a circus show, you know. We just want to be treated like normal people!!!!!!!!!!

And In The Category Of...

"How to quickly piss off your HOA"



The Winner is....

And no, this is not the brainchild of a woman- this is a single guy who lives right behind us. We always thought he was a little off... But now it has been confirmed.

My children have been firmly instructed to stay away.

Just a little something to brighten your day....

I received this uplifting little message from a someone going door to door in my neighborhood recently. I mean, really? WTF???

There is so much I could but will not say.

"Tysonisms"- Because 4 year olds are really effing funny...

The other night, I was dressing Tyson after his shower with Daddy and instinctivly smelled his hair... (I am a fan of sniffing my kids, alot. It's pretty bizarre, actually).

I said, "Wow, Tyson your hair smells really great."
To which he replied, "Thanks Mommy"... he then leans over and sniffs at my head... "You smell really normal."

Awwww... Love it's heart...

JACKED!

So the ol' Brown family had a little excitement the other night. Unfortunately it's not the kind anyone wants. We were robbed.

Yes, like R-O-B-B-E-D. Some jackass came into our home and helped him or herself to a couple of our finer electronic devices.

this is where our TV used to sit...

this is where my work computer sat... so sweet and innocent

At first we were really sad...

And then we got fighting mad...

Now a few days have passed and Tyson seems to be adjusting well..

Not too long ago, this was the scene one Sunday morning...

Kyle's truck was stolen. But fortunatley we got that back.

Currently this is our home- in Downtown Nashville. Maybe there are certain other residents in Downtown Nashville that are not interested in keeping us as neighbors. Well, we get the point.

It's time to move on anyway- time to surrender ourselves gracefully to Surburbia. We have fought it for years but now the day is close at hand...

After all- when you see your 4 year old playing in his front and back yard at the same time...

You really begin questioning your priorities.

Proof!

...that fat kids do indeed love cake...

In case you were seriously wondering...

BEL-FRY [bel-free] n: Slang. head; mind: "a belfry full of curious notions". OR "my daughter has a gigantic belfry".

Credit goes to GEORGE for introducing me to this word. I will forever be grateful.