Sweet Dreams are Made of…Something I Have No Access to!

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I have always had funky dreams. In color. Bright vivid color.

I had a recurring Freddie Krueger dream from the ages of 15 to about 35 where he was chasing me up an oil rig (which RIGHT there tells you something is wrong, because I’m afraid of standing on a step ladder with only 2 steps), and right when he’s about to grab me with his shiny metal knife fingers, I turn to him and say: “I love you, Freddie” and he disappears until the next time I have the dream.

I’m sure a dreamologist would have a field day with me, but I would be afraid they would commit me to a hospital of no return if I shared too much.

The other night, I wasn’t feeling great, took a few Motrin and went to bed. I started talking in my haze again, which just delights the husband. So much, I’m pretty sure he puts down whatever he’s reading and stares at me, silently giggling while I spout off about whatever.

So that night, I was POSITIVE that our plecostomus, (nicknamed Plucky) was making “NUM NUM” noises while licking the algae from the tank. He likes to do it full on stuck to the front of the aquarium so you can see his tongue thing moving all over. The tank is about 10 feet from the bed, and I started giggling like a loon in my sleep because he was so into the lickage. I wake myself up half-way from my laughing and I hear Jeff say (in an “aww, that’s my crazy ass wife” tone”: “Whatcha laughing at sweetie?” I tell him, then fall back to sleep.

The Pluckster in his "King of the Tank" pose (ignore the poop)

The Pluckster in his “King of the Tank” pose (ignore the poop)

I had a total of 426.5 dreams that night, and the following were the highlights:

1. Gary Coleman and I were playing chicken in a pool with Will Smith and Philip Seymour Hoffman (Arnold was on MY shoulders).

2. I was attacked by the rhesus monkey from the movie “Outbreak” but since I had 13 bananas in my pocket I distracted him and ran away.

3. We won 18 billion dollars in the Powerball and when I was waving the ticket and screaming: “OH YEAH, WE’RE RICH BITCHES!” a gust of wind took the ticket and two days later some 19 year old frat boy claimed the money.

4. I was a featured clarinet soloist for a John Williams movie, and right when I went to play the reed broke into my lip and I had to get it removed at the hospital.  I was not asked back.

5. I sat down on an oatmeal pie and was stuck to my couch for 2 hours and had to call the police to unstick me.

6. I flew to Scotland with my mom and took her to dinner. We forgot our wallets and they threw us into Loch Ness for not paying.

The rest of my dreams are just too crazy to write down.


I Gave Birth to a Clown…


Not the disturbing “IT” clown, or the creepy “Poltergeist” puppet clown that have both individually scarred me for life, but a regular old, fun-loving actual clown. A 4.5 year old clown with no way of controlling his random spaz movements, or about 99.999% of what comes out of his mouth.

And I love it.

Our twins are definitely representative of my husband and I. Andy is loud, a ham, thrives on attention and making people laugh, is creative, quirky, and breaks almost everything he touches.

Like me.

Tyler, on the other hand, is a serious little monkey. He needs to know how everything works, and likes to pull things apart, then put them back together, then pull them apart, then put them back together, ad nauseam. He is quietly funny, likes to be alone in a room of people, and likes to imagine.

Like my husband.

Of course when either one of them is acting like a jerkhead, we like to say the child got that from the other parent. Who doesn’t do that?

So, the clown, my Ando Bonando:Andy the Clown

He likes to break into random dancing like Elaine on Seinfeld, and there’s nothing he won’t dance to. He does the “worm” standing up, then falls onto the floor, does a handstandand just stays like that for a few minutes. I call it Abstract Breakdancing. He bursts into Imagine Dragon’s “Radioactive” while banging on the piano, and loves the beginning of Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance”.  He likes to talk to adults, and he says the most awesome things.

Today, he was talking about his teacher, Ms. Stacey.

Andy: I think Ms. Stacey is engaged. ( I didn’t think he knew that word)

Me: No, she’s married, honey.

Andy: (eyes wide) To the MUFFIN MAN????

Me: (likes to go with it) The one on Drury Lane?

Andy: Well, there is only one muffin man, mom

’tis true, I know of no other muffin man.

He’s also very blunt, crude, and kinda gross.

We were at the McDonald’s play area the other day, and he and Tyler were playing with a little girl they just met. (They call girls “girdle”)

Andy says LOUDLY:

“I smell farts. I can taste them in my mouth! Hey, girdle, are you farting???”

I died for a minute.

He is in love with “Shrek the Musical” and screams at anyone that will look at him: “WHAT ARE YOU DOIN’ IN MY SWAMP?!”

He wants toys and costumes that don’t exist and if he had his way, he’d be wearing a Doctor Doom costume and carrying around a 4 foot Buzz Lightyear toy that will clean his room for him.

I hope he’s always this carefree, although not too much in school.

I don’t want to have a permanent chair in the principal’s office.

Words and Phrases That I Hate…

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You know how there are some things people say that make you cringe? I have a few of those. They are either not actual words or they invoke a feeling of oogieness I cannot shake.

Please to enjoy the following:

1. Irregardless – YES, I know it’s in the dictionary, but it says it’s nonstandard, which is a nice way of saying: “OMG, we totally know it’s not a word, but since people keep saying it all the damn time, we’re just gonna stick it in here.”

Regardless means: “Without regard”, sticking the “ir” on it, makes it a double negative and I ain’t got no time for that.

2. Preggers – The most bass-ackward way of saying pregnant. It makes me want to rip off the ear lobes of the person who says it and then sew them back on upside down.

3. Fester – This word brings to mind an image of unhealed, moist, infected wounds and bald Uncles.

4. Feces – I know it’s the technical term, but for some reason “poop” is just way less gross. Say it with me: Fee – Sees

5. Bosom – I’m pretty sure it’s because I used to watch “Bosom Buddies” and called it “BOZE-EM” and my mom made fun of me. Plus just look at it for a minute, it just looks weird.

6. Broad – I hate it when men call women a “broad”. I want to yell: “Hey, great-great grandpa, 1914 called, and they want you back!”

7. Maggot – *full body shiver*

8. “Cheaper to Keep Her” – Nothing says love more!

9. “Old Ball and Chain” – See #8

10. “It is what it is”: It has to be what it is, or it would be what it isn’t, and that would blow everyone’s minds.

11. “Could care less” – Now, if you could care less, that means you still care a little. If you don’t care at all, and have no more caring about it to do, then you couldn’t care less.

There are more words and phrases that irritate me, but in keeping with my G – PG13 rated rants, I will refrain.

This broad’s outta here.


I Might Be the Real-Life Sarah Connor…(without the muscles)


I think my youngest (by 20 seconds) child is from the future. Bear with me here, it will become clear.

He has been extremely irritating today, and I KNOW it’s on purpose. He wants to break me. He wants to see me crack.

Today my oldest gave him a doll action figure of Captain Jack Sparrow, not as cute as The Depp, but he will do.

Twin B asked me about 5,708 times today what the name of the doll action figure was. It went something like this:

Twin: What’s he’s name? (spelling is correct)

Me: Captain Jack Sparrow

Twin: (waves toy in his hand) This guy?

Me: Yes, that guy is Captain Jack Sparrow.

Twin: Ohhh, ok. It’s Jack Bruce Wayne.

Me: Um, no, it’s Jack Sparrow.

Twin: (waves toy in hand) This guy?

Me: YES, that guy, right there, IN YOUR HAND, is Captain Jack Sparrow.

3 minutes go by

Twin: What’s he’s name?

Round 2

10 minutes later Round 3

By Round 456, I started telling him the doll’s action figure’s name was Captain Bumblebee Bubblehead (which is HILARIOUS to hear people say) it occurred to me that he is an evil genius, a mastermind, if you will.

I am obviously going to do something seriously important soon, something WORLD CHANGING, and he was sent here, from the future, to break me. He may not be the Terminator, but he’s definitely the Terrorizer.

I hear him talking to himself at night, and it’s often a strange babble. I’m positive he’s communicating with his cronies from the future telling them all the things he did to me that day to make me crazy.

Mr. Who, guffawed at that suggestion, and assured me that my child is just a 4 year old child that likes to torture his mom, you know, like most 4 year olds.

Good theory, Mr. Who, but we will see who’s guffawing when I save the world.

If he’s lucky I will make him a minion.

Weirdest Death Threat, Ever…

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Just to ease your mind right off the bat, the death threat was NOT to me. Most death threats directed towards me are probably from behind someone else’s steering wheel.

A friend of Mr. Who and mine came over the other night, and as we were generally chit chatting, he mentioned that after 12 years of having to work with the Worst Coworker in the History of Coworkers, the Worst Coworker was being moved laterally, horizontally, and possibly Hokey-Pokied into another department within the next 30 days.

Said friend, we will call him Ray Finkle for story purposes, told us this while gleefully rubbing his hands like Mr. Miyagi getting ready to HEATMELD Ralph Macchio’s leg back together. (Does anyone else do the Flamingo Kick when they’re alone? Oh, no? Yeah, me either…)

Now, I’m a bit vague on the details, the when, the why, the where, the how, but Ray Finkle told us that the Worst Coworker made a death threat to Ray and some others in their office. And I cannot wrap my mind around the improvisational intricacy of it.

It’s possible the Worst Coworker had thought this out long beforehand, eagerly awaiting the right moment to lay the Worst Coworker Smackdown on Ray Finkle, but if not, this was on the fly, and…well, I’ll just tell you.

Worst Coworker said:

“You better hope I don’t get a diagnosis of cancer with only 30 days left to live or you will have a shorter life span than me.”

That’s a seriously elaborate death threat right there. Like, he not only mentions possibly dying from cancer himself , but he’s planning on taking a few Good Coworkers down beforehand.

That’s kind of evil. Or ingenious. I’m not sure which. I just know that in the event I would ever make a death threat to someone, it would be more in the form of : “Oh, yeah? Well, I hope you get…uh…eaten by something…uh…large…and hungry, yeah!…with teeth the size of my leg, yeah, so TAKE THAT!”

I’m hardcore.



So the moral of the story is: always have a really awesome death threat at your disposable. Just try not to wish cancer on yourself doing so.

I Regressed to a Small Child in the Middle of the Night

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So, there I was, snuggled under the covers, in my usual left-side-fetal-position, head resting delicately on my silken pillow, hands pressed together under my left cheek, lips parted slightly…I was the epitome of Sleeping Beauty.

Eh, who am I kidding? I was tangled up in the sheets (of which I had hogged and with them somehow only covering my left arm and right leg), spread-eagle face up, head between two pillows, mouth opened wide, and with drool…lots of drool. Like more drool than the Who Twins combined in their first year.

I woke up to a strange sound – probably my gasping snores from apparently trying to suffocate myself in the pillow sandwich – and in my half alerted state became fearful.

You see, my left leg was hanging off the bed.  Panicking, I slowly, painstakingly, and deliberately moved my left leg back on the bed.

Because we all know that the thing under the bed cannot grab you if your leg is on the bed.

These are the rules.

Now that my limb was safe from the “under the bed monster”, I looked up and what I saw scared the BeJesus out of me…and we all know how hard it is for the BeJesus to come out. My ceiling fan shadow, in the glow of the baby monitor, took on the shape of a ginormous tarantula/Mothra hybrid and was directly over top of me.

(And, no, I didn’t eat Ben & Jerry’s last night)

When I realized what the shadow was I smiled in relief, but it was brief, as the fish took yet ANOTHER opportunity to have a fish fight and the sloshing of water made my stomach feel like I was going down the world’s fastest rollercoaster with no seatbelts.

This is not my night, because then I notice a strange shadow in the hallway. It moved slightly back and forth. In my astigmatismic haze I could not make out the shape, but it seemed to have noticed me.

I did what any self preservationist would do, and slowly covered my face with the sheet. Because if you can’t see IT, then IT can’t see you.

These are the rules.

(It wasn’t until morning did I remember that I put an oscillating fan in the hallway. A big, scary CarrieLouWho eating monster fan.)

But still, because of the rules I was still safe from anything that might have thought I tasted like chicken.

CarrieLouWho – protein choice of monsters everywhere!



WOW, There IS an APP for That!

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So, I have decided to get with the 20th century and get me an iPhone.

(wait, what? It’s the 21st century? Man, it’s worse than I thought!) 

Nothing fancy, just the cheapest (read : free) one Verizon had at the store. So I am now the proud owner of an iPhone 4.


Not a GEICO caveman either, but one of the grunty kinds.

I now have personal understanding to the woes of AutoCorrect.  I always wondered why people didn’t just check before sending until I sent my son a text that said: “He drunken chicken Rudolph” instead of “Hey, dinner’s ready!” (and yes, I text him from the 1st floor because I’m old and creaky).

The Verizon guy was quick to inform me that it wasn’t actually a “phone” per se, but rather a little teeny, tiny laptop. Translation: you can’t always make calls or texts when you absolutely need to, but you CAN play Candy Crush.

(Priorities, people! I need my damn CANDY!)

I immediately take my teeny, tiny computer home and find every app I already have on my laptop and download it. While doing so, I was taken away into the app abyss with the millions of possibilities of things to add to my phone. I couldn’t believe what I found. Here’s a list of MUST HAVE apps that you didn’t know you needed!

1.  “Haircaster” will give you the weather conditions of the day, such as humidity and temperature so you know if you’re going to have a good hair day, bad hair day, or a CarrieLouWho hair day which consists of sweaty bangs in the front, and a rat’s nest in the back.

2. “Run and Pee” tells you the best time during a movie to take a potty break. I could have used this during any one of the Lord of the Rings movies.

3. Did you hear a knock and no one is there? Does the hair on the back of your neck stand up when you walk by that creepy picture of your great-great-great-great Aunt Esmerelda? You need “Ghost Radar” (Legacy or Classic) to detect paranormal readings around you. Don’t be fooled by gimmicky apps, though, because this one is the best.

4. Are you a new parent, and cannot figure out why your baby is crying NOW? Download “Cry Translator” for help. (Because every baby has the same cry, donchaknow?)

Now this last app I’m going to share with you was found by typing in a bunch of random things to see if I got a bite, so please to enjoy:

5. “Ace Ear Hair Plucking Salon – Princess kids games for boys and girls”, guaranteed great ear hair plucking practice for the kiddoes when they retire.

I’m almost giddy with the choices.

There really IS an app for everything.




Older Entries


The Good Things Black People Do, Give and Receive All Over The World

Humanity Death Watch

The Future Is Funny


I Have No Filter!

Dear Crazy Kids,

(A note from Mom)

Greg Gotti

The writings of an American somebody


prattles on the pathos of parenting

Jenny Kanevsky


Pick Any Two

Because moms can do anything, but not everything.

Love Marriage Worms

and other absurdities

Storytime with John

Pull up and listen...I've got a funny one for ya...

From diapers and tutus to meetings and boardrooms

Trying to keep my sanity one blog post at a time

Perpetually Irritated

Barely Containing My Inner Indignance

Sparkly Shoes and Sweat Drops

Motherhood, Mental Health, Moving Your Body

Overthinking my teaching

The mathematics I encounter in classrooms

established 1975

stories to read while pooping


"I don't know so well what I think until I see what I say; then I have to say it again." -Flannery O'Connor

Journeys of the Fabulist

Adventures With Family. (Making it up as I go along.)

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