Terms of Endearment

Some husbands have such sweet nicknames for the love of their life. I always feel like the most "special" woman in the world when Dubelicious calls me by mine ~ "Crazy Bitch". Occasionally he switches it up and calls me "Lazy Bitch" though. That's not quite as cute.

People usually think we're making this up. That is until I call him and his ringtone is the chorus of Buckcherry's "Crazy Bitch".

It Was An Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Paul Frank Bikini

Well my swimsuit order finally arrived yesterday. You might remember I ordered this:

I ordered it in a size 10 and a size 12, so I could try them both and make up my mind.

Instead of the 10 I got this:

It's a size 6 girls. It has the right label on the package, but the wrong item in the package. I don't think this is going to work very well.

Of course the 12 is too big through the tummy area and my cup runneth over up top, so I am not holding out alot of hope that the 10 will work once it gets here either.

Stalking Isn't Always A Bad Thing...

Did you know that I stalked my husband? It's true. I met Dubelicious and thought he was cute and snarky and sweet all at once. I was smitten from the first time he made fun of me for my nerdish tendencies.

I am a very motivated person and when I find something I want, I am going to get it. I posted up every day for a about a year and a half "studying" on a bench that was strategically placed between the football field and the cafeteria.

There was no avoiding me. A man has to eat after football practice. About 1 semester in, I discovered he had a a major crush on my new room-mate. This would deter many a woman, but not me. I am not a quitter.

I did what any motivated woman would do. I lied. I would tell him that Val should be home any minute and let him hang out in our dorm room*. We would hang out for hours at a time listening to Bob Marley, watching movies, studying and becoming best friends.

The rest as they say is history. While stalking may not work for most people, it worked for me.

*C-Diddy is reading over my shoulder and just laughed out loud at this.

Prevent Domestic Violence - Send Your Spouse on Vacation

Big Daddy Dub Dub is in New Mexico spending the better part of the week at a resort because he needed a break from work and the joys of opening his new office. He was polite and asked me to come with him even though he knew I couldn't go.

Four nights at a resort outside of Santa Fe -$400.
Preventing a murder/suicide - Priceless.

Not real sure who was going to be the murderer in the deal, but the odds weren't looking good for either one of us.

I got his room on Priceline and if you've never tried their name your own price deal, you really should. The only downside is that the rooms are completely nonrefundable. This worked out well for him since HIS MOM and AUNT decided to come stay with ME this weekend.

They are heading home tomorrow. Mar-Dub is going to Camp tomorrow, and it will just be C-Diddy and I hanging for the rest of the week. I have grand plans to order a pizza and see how long the two of us can live off of it without cooking or doing any dishes. I am also planning on blowing $10 at Redbox and see how many movies we can watch before our minds turn into mush.

Proof Positive

Lest you think I just make this stuff up:

Too Stupid For The Dry Cleaners

We may have to ban ourselves from the dry cleaners for a while. I had two overstuffed bags this week and it would seem that a sneaky little washcloth might have crept its way into the bag. Dubelicious has given me much grief this evening since he brought the clothes in and found it folded neatly over a hanger in its own bag.

Did you know they only charge $1.50 for dry cleaning a washcloth? A bargain I tell you. Once he was done giving me shit about what an idiot I was, he realized half of the clothes were missing.

Then he about had a panic attack because he had about $5000 worth of custom clothes missing. I know it sounds really snooty and what not, but the man has 32 inch thighs and a 38 inch waste. You can't buy that off the rack.

What was truly scary was the way he made a list for me of exactly what was missing in about 30 seconds flat. I am talking 9 shirts and 3 pairs of pants identified down the color/stripe/collar combination here. He is such a clothes whore.

Then he made me find out what time the cleaners opened and gather all of the receipts from the bags as well as print out the charge from the cleaners on the credit card so we had our "evidence".

About an hour later we walked outside and the other half of the clothes were hanging on the hook where they belong. Jackass only grabbed half of the clothes and never thought he could have possibly been the source of the missing clothes.

Swim Suits are Evil!

I used to be little. Then I got big. Now I am somewhere in the middle. I have managed to avoid buying a swimsuit for the last year and a half, but I have to do it since we are taking my daughter to Great Wolf Lodge for her birthday.

With much fear and loathing I went to Nordstrom to try stuff on . I'm usually too cheap for Nordstrom, but I need all the help money can buy with this purchase.

Can anyone tell me why they light the mall with the lights that make my pasty white skin glow in the dark? Wouldn't they sell more clothes if you actually looked good in them? I'm just asking.

About 5 minutes in after being blinded by the light and in absolute awe of the hail damage, I was convinced that the Duggars have swimsuit shopping down. Now I am neither conservative or modest, but they are onto something with women keeping covered between their elbows and knees.

I am not a quitter and so I kept trying and trying. Of course they didn't have anything in the right sizes, but I think I have settled on a combo that will cover most of what needs to be hidden for the good of society and not have me looking like I am going to splash day at the convent. Here is what I have ordered:




Cross your fingers for me that it will actually look OK when it is all said and done. I'm not holding out alot of hope since the swimsuit model's boobs are much closer to her shoulders than her elbows.

Good Thing I Don't Drink Coffee

I always find loose change in the kitchen, so I keep a coffee can in the pantry with change in it. Unfortunately, I also keep a coffee can of coffee in the pantry. This morning in my haste to clean up before the cleaning people get here (I know it is so wrong) I dropped my change in the coffee can with the coffee. Good thing I don't drink coffee.

Change has been removed and put in the proper receptacle. I'm an ass. I should have seen it coming. What's worse is that I have done nothing to keep this from happening again. That would be too much work.

We'll keep this our little secret and not tell Big Chocolate. I don't want to have to buy a new can of coffee. It would cost me all of my change I've saved up.

House Full of Kidlets

I always wanted to have the house where everyone wanted to hang out. It seems I may have outdone myself. Both best friends spent the night last night. I'm pretty sure that at one point I was curled up in the corner rocking myself and whispering "Shut the Fuck Up", but that could have just been a nightmare.

Hip Hop's parents picked her up this morning. I dropped Stink Bug off at his house at noon. I get home and the freaking doorbell rings with a kid saying "Hey Miss Half Assed Housewife! Can I come play?"

On the upside, I'm dangerously close to having the laundry done and I have big plans for a cheap dinner at Tin Star tonight. Kids Eat Free on Sundays and I have a coupon for a free queso that I got from being on their email list. Oh yeah, don't forget $3.95 Margaritas too.

All of this followed by a marathon of True Blood, Hung, and Entourage. I have such an exciting life. Not.

PS. If you like Tin Star even a little, sign up for their email list. I got a coupon for a free taco plate right off the bat and have gotten several decent coupons since.

The Car Gods Are Laughing

My husband's car has 140,000 miles on it. Last weekend we spent $300 on brakes and ordered the parts for work on the suspension. That was supposed to cost about $2000. Not thrilled about spending the money, but hey it's cheaper than a new car. We were planning on taking the car in today to get that taken care of.

Last night as my husband is driving in the fast lane on the Tollway, he calls me wondering why people are honking at him and flipping him off as they pass him. He's going 85, and people are just blowing past him. Then he realizes, you guessed it, his speedometer is broken too. That will be at least another $800.

To add insult to injury my check engine light came on today. I am telling myself I just need to tighten the gas cap and it will be alright. My baby only has 110,000 miles on it, so it's as good as new.

I'm renting Confessions of a Shopaholic, taking a vicodin and going to bed now. I need a hug.

This Post Will Self-Destruct in Seven Days

My Mom reads my blog, so there's some stuff I have to keep to myself. Luckily for all of us she is on a 10 day cruise in Europe right now so I think I'm safe for a few days. Mom, if you found the Internet somewhere, I am warning you skip the rest of this post. You'll be scarred for life and so will I.

If you really know me or Dubelicious in real life, you never heard it from me. Now that I am all disclaimed, here we go.

A couple of weeks ago we got new cell phones. I know it sounds boring right. It pretty much was until Big Daddy Dub Dub took an Ambien and Benedryl one night and then decided to start playing with his phone in bed while I'm in the family room watching TV.

He decides it would be a good idea to send me a "Let's Get It On" sext by sending me a picture of Big Chocolate - the appendage that is. He sends his sext and in a couple of minutes gets a reply back of "Fuck Off" or some such and is pretty sure he sent the sext to the wrong person.

His drugged up mind at this point goes into freak out mode. He drops the dirty bomb on his phone and deletes his entire texting history. I guess he thought this would reverse time. He wakes up the next morning and hopes it was all a bad dream, but it's not. There in his saved pictures is the picture of Big Chocolate in all its glory.

Fast forward a few days. He pulls me aside at the bar and asks if I got the picture and told him to Fuck Off. Nope not me buddy. He's asked everyone he usually texts if they got it in error. Nobody will 'fess up, but they all say they want to see now.

We brainstorm for a bit and the only rational explanation I can come up with is that he sent it to our neighbor (who is also a client) who's name starts with the same three letters as mine. He's too chickenshit to ask her though so I have to.

She denies having spied the man candy too, but wishes she had along with everyone else who has heard this story. What is up with people? I know my husband wears a size 16 shoe and all, but damn. They do have porn you know.

Needless to say, to this day we do not know who got the sext. At this point none of the options left are good. Hopefully time will tell and this will be one of the great mysteries in life that is revealed.

Serves Me Right

I am always yelling at my kids not to run in the house. Well yesterday I decided it would be a good time to show them that I'm not just blowing smoke out my ass. You really can fall and hurt yourself.

Now, I'm not talking about the casual slip and fall. Oh no. When I do something like this I do it big. As I was rounding the corner for home - I mean the phone (in my socks on the hardwood floor), both of my feet flew out from under me. Though I still don't understand the physics behind the situation, my entire body ended up perfectly horizontal about 3 1/2 feet above the ground.

I would love to have video of this as there is no other time in the history of ever that you will find my happy feet that high off the ground. This was some special effects Karate Kid looking business. If only I had kicked the asshole in the chest and landed on one leg looking like nothing had happened.Unfortunately gravity kicked in and I slammed down to the ground on my left side.

I yell "Fuck" at the top of my lungs which would get the attention of most kids, but I apparently use it so much it doesn't even phase mine anymore. Not until I yell "Help" does anyone know anything is amiss. They ask if I am alright and once I tell them I'll be OK they proceed to point and laugh and probably call me all sorts of names.

Twenty four hours later, I feel like an ass and the whole left side of my body including my teeth hurt. Moral of the story - Don't run in the fucking house!

Kiss My Grits

I would say "Kiss My Ass", but it seems to have gotten a little lumpy on me over the years. Now that I think about it I should probably be the "Ass and A Half Housewife" instead of the "Half Assed Housewife", but it doesn't have quite the same ring to it.

I've tried diet and exercise,but that's no fun. Now I have decided the best approach is to fill in the dimples. To that end dinner tonight is Shrimp & Grits. Don't you just love how I made the mental circle there?

Now if your not from The South (1) you might not know what a grit is, and (2) this probably sounds freaking disgusting. First off its "grits" not a grit. They are ground corn or hominy.

I know, I know. It still sounds gross, but if you boil them until they are thick like malt-o-meal and add either lots of butter and sugar or lots of butter and cheese, you have sinful deliciousness staring you down.

Throw some shrimp into the cheesy grits and bake and you have a meal that is good enough to make you "Slap yo Momma-in-Law". My MIL is about 6'1" and built like a linebacker, so that's saying something.

The recipe I use is pretty darn good, but if you ever find yourself on Bourbon Street in New Orleans, I beg you to go to Desire Oyster Bar in the Royal Sonesta Hotel and order Shrimp & Grits. They are so good that I would trade all the alcohol on Bourbon Street for an order of them . And I like alcohol.

PS, If you were born after the 70's that is Flo from the TV show Alice in the picture. She said "Kiss My Grits" all the time. It is NOT ME!

Family Portrait

Since living in this house gives me so much material, I thought I would share some photos of the family. A visual will likely help bring some of my stories to life.

This is Dubelicious, AKA Big Daddy Dub Dub in a cheezy PR shot. Just imagine him saying "Oh Shit this is the Lady's Room".

This is C-Diddy. He is 11 1/2 going on 75. This is what happens when he goes out alone with Big Daddy Dub Dub for a night on the town. He looks so much better in this picture than he did after our 3 hour trip to camp.

This is Mar-Dub. She is 10. Don't be led astray by the picture. She is the manipulative one.

This is the Half Assed Housewife making iced tea.

Obama Mania Has Gone Too Far

I was watching TV last night and was blessed with the Chia Obama commercial. I'm a capitalist and all that so I shouldn't hate, but Obama with a Fro that Grows is too much.

It doesn't even look like him. It looks like random black dude with a mole under his nose and green afro. Are you supposed to pick it out and edge it up or what? When it grows out too much are you supposed to take it to the barbershop for a bald fade? Throw a pick in it and say to hell with it? I think not. No self respecting black man is going to let his fro grow and become unkempt.

If you're having as slow a night as I am, click the link and sing Ch-Ch-Chia to yourself "As the Fro Grows." Hey that sounds like a soap opera. If they can sell Chia Obama, surely I can start my own daytime drama featuring it as my main character.

Random Facts

Here are some random facts about me. Some of them will take their own future posts to fully elaborate.

1. My husband thinks I have a hamster running on a wheel in my head.

2. He's right, but I also have a little guy that runs laps around the track up there too. When they both get going at the same time (see picture) the world is in big, big trouble.

3. While sitting at restaurants, I often wonder how much of a given item they go through in a day. Doesn't anyone else wonder how many pancakes they go through at IHOP on a Saturday morning? Wonder is probably an understatement. It's more of an obsessive curiosity. I usually have to count tables, average the number of people per and the amount per person and then do the math. Once I guestimate how many times they turn the table and do the math one more time I'm OK and can go on with my meal in peace.

4. I get people mixed up. All it takes is one slight connection and the two become one. Ben Affleck and Ben Stiller, Sam Jackson and Lawrence Fishburn, Rick James and James Brown.

5. I killed the Godfather of Soul. A mix up between Rick James and James Brown lead me to vehemently proclaim that the Godfather was in fact dead and my husband didn't know wth he was talking about. Unfortunately for me (and the Godfather of Soul) he dropped dead round about the time we were having that debate. My Bad!

6. I had a 'fro in second grade. There are pictures to prove it. Thank God they didn't have digital cameras in the 80's.

7. I road the short bus to Kindergarten. Apparently they couldn't handle me all day. I wonder why?

8. I had to wear braces, glasses and a back brace all at the same time in Jr. High and part of High School. Though I didn't appreciate it at the time. It solidified my ability to not give a damn what other people think about me. For that I will always be grateful.

Happy Birthday To Me

It's been a great day so far. I had breakfast in bed. Mar-Dub got up early and brought me a Diet Dr. Pepper. When I got hungry, I had to get off my ass and get my own Frosted Flakes, but I ate them in bed damn it.

I hopped on the scale this morning and it lied to me! That bad boy posted up 141 instead of the usual 145. I'll have to thank my husband for rolling it back. When it racks up higher tomorrow, I'll remind myself that muscle weighs more than fat, so I must be going in the right direction.

The library emailed me and told me that my copy of the new Janet Evanovich book came in today. I picked it up and took the kids to the pool for a couple of hours so I could read.

In watching the MJ coverage today, I heard the phrase, "Quiet as its kept" twice. I love that expression. I may be the only white person in the history of ever to use that one. I'm probably the only white person that has Ghostface Killah on her Ipod, so I'm not sure what that's worth.

I heard Sarah Palin explain that she wouldn't have to deal with all of the ethics investigations if she were President because she would have "The Department of Law" to protect her.

I don't have to cook dinner. I'm guessing we will be eating leftovers and I'll still have to clean the kitchen before it is all said and done, but I am focusing on the positive.

$30 Southwesst Airlines Flights

This deal is good today and tomorrow only. Flights from $30 per leg. From Dallas you can get to New Orleans for $60 also NY and LA for $90 one way.

Fine Print:

Fares do not include federal excise tax of $3.60 per takeoff and landing, airport-assessed passenger facility charges (PFC) of up to $9, and government-imposed September 11th Security Fee of up to $5 one-way.
Purchase by July 8, 2009, 11:59 pm Pacific Standard Time.
Travel September 9 through November 18, 2009.
Travel valid every day except Fridays & Sundays.

Free Coupon for Starbucks Icecream Pint

Starbucks is offering 800 free pint coupons on their Facebook page at the top of each hour today.
Sign into your facebook account, then click here to get to their share app. When it asks you to share the ice cream with a friend put your info in there. It says it's ok to share with yourself btw. I logged in right at 10AM and didn't have any trouble getting 1 of the 800.

~Cheesy Freebie and Coupon Pimping Half-Assed Housewife

"You know I'm Pinky in this relationship"

"We're Pinky and the Brain. We're Pinky and the Brain. One is a genius the others insane."

Last night we made a more or less last minute decision to go to Kaboom Town in Addison. This is decidedly the best July 4th (scratch that July 3rd) fireworks display in the Metroplex. We drove down there not knowing what to expect. We had no beer, water, chairs, blankets or anything. It was the two of us and my Handi-tag for quick and easy parking.

We get down there and snag some super primo handicapped parking. At this part we are literally in the center of Addison Circle. The geographical reference will help those that know the area laugh their asses off at us later I promise.

We get out of the car and Big Chocolate asks if I want to walk to the restaurants down on Belt-Line (at least 2 miles away for the record). I give him that look that can only be translated as "Fuck That". So we decide to get pizza by the slice about 100 yards from the car.

We are in line with about 800 other people in the pizza joint and the bitch in front of me decides to throw a fit because she can't order a "custom pizza". She then proceeds to order the slices I have been eyeing and ask the guy behind the counter if he would consider the cheese pizza vegetarian. WTF lady. For all those who are wondering cheese pizza is in fact vegetarian but not vegan.

Then we get a text from a friend saying they are at a hangar party at the Addison airport which is more or less right across the road. We decide to go and start to muse over whether we should unpark the car or walk. Dubs suggests we take the car, but I don't want to lose our primo parking spot, so I suggest we try to walk it since he wanted to walk to the other end of the moon earlier.

Off we go. Keep in mind we don't know exactly where we are going at the airport and they tend to be rather large places even the small ones. About 2/3 of a mile in I suggest we turn around since we still don't know where we are going and my mobility impaired hips are starting to scream mean nasty words at me. This is at the corner of Addison Road and wherever.

"Awe hell naw. We are committed now!" Damn he never gives in.

At this point I convince him it might be a good idea to at least use the navigation on the cell phone to make sure we are walking the right way down Addison Road. Of course we weren't. We turn back around, going the right way.

Nav tells us we have to turn right on Lindbergh and walk all the fucking way to Midway and then have to go north again.

At about a mile and a half in he looks at me like he wants to kill me and reminds me that it was my idea to walk. I remind him that I am the Pinky in this relationship and he is supposed to save me from myself when I have a stupid idea. He keeps walking and occasionally cussing. All I can really do is laugh because this is so us.

About 2 1/2 miles in we pass a group of cops on the side of the road who look at us kind of crazy. It's like they knew we were going the wrong way or something. I seriously considered asking them to save me since domestic violence was in my very near future.

We finally make it to the airport entrance we are supposed to be at and the hangar we are going to turns out to only be the 23rd hangar we pass. We get there tell everyone what we did. Everyone laughs and points and laughs some more. We sit on the back of our friends pick up and drink because it is and has been fucking hot for along time and we are beat.

We have a great time watching the fireworks. Once everything is over we pile in the truck with my husband who is 6'4" and 275 pounds, his friend "Felonious" who's larger, and another dude in the back with me and my 85 pound friend who drank at least a whole bottle of wine all by herself.

We then get stuck in the gridlock for another couple of hours with my friend in a continuous loop of the same 5 questions over and over and over.

A great evening all the way around. A Seinfeld Episode, but a great evening none the less. I can't wait until next year.

A Damn Shame

At lunch today, Dubelicious is sending a text and asks me how do you spell "misspell"? I respond, "I got nothing". We had to go with can't spell instead so we weren't too embarrassed.

We have about $300,000 worth of education between the two of us. No we didn't pay for most of it. We had an ass-load of scholarships for grad school. My parents killed themselves to pay for my undergrad since I am not as athletically inclined as Big Chocolate.

In my defense I have taken 2 English classes and that was because they made me. Big Daddy Dub Dub on the other hand majored in English and managed to have a surprisingly respectable finish to law school.

As an aside. I used 3 names for him all by myself today. Damn I am creative.

Secret confession time ~ Spell check had to fix six words other than "misspell" which I now know has a double s.

Who knew a name would be so popular?

Apparently there are a couple of other "Half-Assed Housewifes" out there. I've apparently pissed off one of them. Sorry.

We both started our blogs in May and who knows from there. I set mine up towards the beginning of May and can say I had know idea she was out there... Technically she posted first because I'm lazy and it took me a couple of weeks to catch fire (literally unfortunately).

Needless to say if you would like to check her blog out it is thehalfassedhousewife.blogspot.com as opposed to halfassedhousewife.blogspot.com. Upon further googling it looks like there is a 3rd Half-Assed Housewife out there who beat us both to the punch. You can find her at catanddave.com. It looks like she started in April 2009. I think her blog is the best of all three fwiw. It's so professional looking with video and everything!

Surely there is enough room in the blogosphere for 3 Half-Assed Housewives to get along.

PS: Since I am being accused of stealing "Mr. Half-Assed" (gee how could I have possibly come up with that one on my own??) he will henceforth be referred to as Dubelicious or Big Chocolate.

PSS: Spell check lit this post up like a roman candle.