The Momobile: Mini-bar Comes Standard

What’s shakin’ party people? I hope you enjoyed yesterday’s post from the incomparable Paige Kellerman as much as I did. I could read that gal all. day. long. And she makes it look so easy! One talented Mama right there.

Another lovely lady, Sarah from The Sadder But Wiser Girl, was in a bind this week, so a few of us helped her out by writing guest posts. Mine is an unusual departure from my normal silliness; it’s a mini-rant about education. Why mini? I didn’t want to frighten her readers. You guys are used to my crazy. You can check it out HERE.

Aaaaaand I stumbled across a hilarious new blog, The Official How To Blog. That link will take you to the About page, and I promise that you won’t be disappointed. You’ll also learn a whole bunch of new stuff, like how to read 50 Shades of Gray. I begged the woman behind the funny to let me contribute something and she was intimidated by my stature kind enough to relent. My previously published How to be a Bloghole is up there today. How fun!

I really do have a post for you today. Today’s tale is a direct result of my evening at the salon. You see, I have enough hair to blanket a small island in the Caribbean and thanks to my mother, it’s a shade of listless brown that resembles something you find in the toilet. As such, I highlight it. It takes FOREVER because it’s long and thick. I was there for 3 hours last night, in glorious pamper-me mode. My stylist cracks me up which makes the appointments even better. Wait, I think when she offered me wine, that’s what made it even better, but that’s not the point.

The point of this rambling is that when she told me a friend of hers hit the lottery for $1,000 a week for life (FOR LIFE!), we started musing about what we would do with the money…

Stylist: A rockin’ vacation every year! Play money! Pay off debts! Buy the car of my dreams!

Me: YES! One of those mini-vans with the automatic sliding doors, folding second row seating, and an entertainment center in the back for the kids!!!!!

Stylist: ………………

It’s not like I don’t know how lame I am. But the fact is, I’m a proud lame-o who spends an inordinate amount of time in my car, and I’m here to share my design of the perfect Momobile. Scoff if you must, but when Chrysler comes a’knock’in and wants to buy my design, I promise to share a portion of my fame and fortune with those who were supportive.**

** I am lying. You get nothing.

momobile

The following features are available in WhenCrazyMeetsExhaustion’s Momobile:

1. ALL doors will automatically open and close, but at different speeds. The standard slow-as-my-Grandma speed is a safety feature; however, if a Mama is pissed, there is a slam-that-shit function available.

2. The second row seats fold to make more room…and reveal a mini-bar stocked with juice boxes, fruit snacks, and vodka. Disclaimer: the vodka is for the driver, but not whilst she is driving. Duh.

3. A surround-sound audio and video system that simultaneously pumps out the kids tunes (my son is currently obsessed with The Rolling Stones’ album Exile on Main Street. I know.) and Mama’s music: Justin Timberlake. Okay, don’t judge. Put in whatever CD you want, hater.

4. Forget your umbrella? An extra diaper? Sippy cup? Have no fear: much like a hotel’s “Did you forget your toothbrush service,” this Momobile comes equipped with a glove box stuffed full of Mommy Essentials including diaper bag items, a fresh mascara, and breath mints.

5. Worried about gas mileage? Pollution? Don’t be. The Momobile runs on dirty diapers. Unlike your Diaper Genie, this system never needs refills, nor does the stench punch you in the face when you open the canister. The Momobile offers a seal that contains the stink, and an easy to maneuver lever that makes tossing out and filling up a cinch.

6. The review mirror doubles as a magnifying glass. What else is there to do but pluck during those 7-hour soccer tournaments?

7. The Bluetooth does not interrupt the music, unless it’s the kids’ music. Rather than cutting you off during your rendition of Sexy Back, the Bluetooth function lights up on the dash, flashes the person’s name and number, and gives you the option to ignore or answer. It also kindly informs the caller that you are harmonizing and should not be bothered.

8. The trunk/hatch/liftgate doubles as an extendable roof. Baseball games are played in the rain, and I’m done sweating my balls off sitting in the driver’s seat dying a slow carbon monoxide death.

9. There is always WiFi access in the Momobile. Always.

10. Much like Siri, only smarter, the Momobile comes standard with Yes Ma’am. Yes Ma’am will never tell a mother no, regardless of what is asked:

Add milk to my grocery list.

Yes, Ma’am!

Tell the kids to keep their hands to themselves.

Yes, Ma’am!

Does it look like I lost weight in my neck?

Yes, Ma’am!

The best part about this feature? Moms can customize the voice. George Clooney telling you yes? No problem. Adam Levine assuring you? Sure! Bradley Cooper’s fine ass agreeing with you? Oh yeeeeeeeah.

What other features would you add, Mamas?!

 




Inventions That Can Bite Me

I’m on the warpath today, friends. In the last 48 hours I have experienced such frustration with what most us of would consider “advancements” in technology, that I’m ready to throw in the techy towel.

Inventions

* Captcha. ENOUGH of this shit:

Capture

This is the actual size of the nonsense. Why don’t they just ask me to spell my name in Chinese?

I’m not a robot, I’m just not a human magnifying glass. And is it just me or is this fuzzy? Like so fuzzy that it feels like I’m drunk? I don’t mind a good buzz, but not when I’m trying to leave a snarky and hilarious comment on someone’s post that never shows up because I can’t tell if the friggin’ letter is an L or an I. Bite me, Captcha.

* NuvaRing. As I’ve already discussed why this supposedly fantastic medical advancement is a jerk, I won’t get into it again. Just please note that I have since lost the water weight; however, my Aunt Flo has apparently set up camp for the entire month of February. If March isn’t any different, you will all hear my head explode from your house.

* The liftgate on my car. In my best Chandler Bing voice: “Could you BE any slower?!” I should be grateful that I have a car with such a wonderful feature. But I’m not. I’d rather close that biatch myself than have to wait sixty seconds in the pouring rain making sure that the stroller, groceries, and playground toys don’t get in the way, preventing a proper latching. It also prohibits a good slam, and we all know that shopping with two toddlers sometimes calls for a good slam of the door.

* Pinterest: This one is only partially true: I love it because, much like crystal meth, Pinterest makes me believe I can accomplish the impossible; I hate it because, much like steroids, it leave me in a rage that I can’t do any of the fancy crap it advertises.

* Brazilian Bikini Wax: when Brazil has winters like western PA, we’ll talk about hair removal. Can you get with that, Gisele?

* Comcast’s On-Demand or any other cable company that offers instant access to certain shows. Let me be clear: I love the immediate gratification of clicking two buttons on my remote and turning my living room into a movie theater. It works for me. But for my kids? Absolutely not. There is no way to escape watching the same episode of Caillou 93 times because they know it’s there. I’ve tried pretending the remote control is broken, but they got all 1963 on me and turned on the TV by pressing the button on the TV. Show offs.

* Bluetooth. A safety feature or an attempt to interrupt my car concerts? The second I get into a Mumford and Sons harmony, someone calls and cuts me off. The call actually cuts off the music, not me, which means we’re all left listening to ME in an otherwise silent car. No one appreciates this. No one.

* My Brita Water Pitcher. Cousin of the Liftgate, the Brita Water Pitcher is one slow mofo. It takes forever for the water to filter down into the actual pitcher, and will oftentimes overflow upon first pour. My kid pees more than the reservoir holds, but if you’ve got 20 minutes to waste four times a day, sure, buy a Brita.

And finally…

* Walmart. The prices can’t be beat, yet small mom and pop shops are closing all over the place because of this monster. The result? I shop there and feel guilty. Like moms need anything else to feel guilty about. Sigh.

Okay, kids, gotta jump in the Liftgate car with Bluetooth enabled and head to Walmart for a replacement Brita filter pitcher. And hate myself.