Ask Me, Facebook dramas and chocolate

Well, it’s officially August for like four days now. How many of you are getting to go on vacation? You know the thing about having babies is that they suck your cheque book dry. So while I’m scoping out weekends in a super cheap hotel in Paris, Maurice is looking at me like how bout nooooooo. But the baby is way too cute for me to be mad.

So, you’ve been dying to know what the giveaway will be this month (just work with me here) and here it is:

This is the chocolate of all chocolate. Seriously.

This sweet goodie bag is from my absolutely favorite chocolatier Hotel Chocolat! I thought what better way to celebrate our final month of summer than with a Cool Summer bag of chocolates. Plus, who doesn’t like chocolate?!?! Ok, some people don’t but they’re just weird. My friend Cheyenne included. (You heard me Cheyenne!) Included in this bag are a selection of Summer Chocolates, A Strawberry Lick and a Tutti Fruitti Slab. Scrummy!

Remember, UK, Europe, Canada AND US entrants are welcome to participate, I’ll ship this international babeh!(Plus, US peeps, Hotel Chocolat is coming to the States and this goodie bag made their ship list!) For those of you new to Ask Me, you’re like…omg Mesina, I NEED that chocolate, like wtf do I do to get it?! I’m glad you asked. Just click here to see what this Ask Me thing is all about and please note: You do not have to have a blog to enter. For those of you with blogs, you’ll get your blog button (If you have one) and a mention with link to your blog if your question is featured. This helps get your blog out there a little bit more (not that my blog is going to get you a million readers, if it does please email me. That would be awesome.) So, let’s get to our first question of the month shall we?

Angelia from Amelioration asked: Recently, I post something on my FaceBook page that was, I will admit, rather vague.  The post referred to my teenager and her drama-queen-ness.  Unfortunately, my sister-in-law saw the post and assumed that I was referring to her mother, my mother-in-law.  She called me-screaming,yelling and cursing.  This has caused possibly irreparable damage to my relationship with her and has caused more family drama than I know what to do with.  What advice would you have for me and for other readers using social networking sites regarding choice of verbiage? This is why, you should never let your family on your Facebook profile! EVER! Ok, that’s probably totally unreasonable I know. This is such a difficult issue to tackle, because it comes with quite a grey area right? I know some people who totally avoid adding family, others who have gone in and made a second profile for ”just friends” and some who just stay the hell off Facebook altogether. But for us Networking junkies, there is no stay the hell off Facebook, Twitter, or god forbid MySpace. (eww.)

The thing is, you can’t control how people are going to take stuff on these sites. How someone comes over in a typed message can easily be misread, so when it doubt be specific. But if things are left wide open to interpretation and someone is going to make things an issue and pretend they knew exactly what you meant there let them kick and scream. If they aren’t going to listen to your explanation, or attempt to find one, they are the ones with the issue. I’d block them, no two ways about it. (Yup even family) You can argue that blocking will create more of a problem – and it might – but then again so could leaving someone to rip apart every damn thing you said.

It sounded to me (from your post) that your Sis-in-law already had it out for you anyway. She was just looking for an excuse to blow up and create drama, if it hadn’t been Facebook, it would have been something else. If she wants to play mind reader, there’s nothing you can do to stop her. Families are awesome eh?

Don’t let the bastards get you down. Leave other people to create their own drama. If you give into it, then nobody knows who’s side to be on. If you let them throw their tantrum, in the end they’ll be all alone throwing a tantrum. Those who give a shit will ask your side – those who don’t ask don’t deserve your time anyway.

Isn’t it crappy that we can’t all be grown up about Facebook?

Are you looking at my lady bits?

Don’t you dread it? The day the letter comes through the post or that phone call happens that says it’s time to make an appointment to see your gynecologist.

I mean there’s so much freakin’ drama involved.

All you ladies know the drama I’m talking about, I know you do. Because I don’t care how much YOU don’t care, I know you care. Just flat out tell me this isn’t how it goes down. You know this is how it goes down.

It’s two hours before your appointment time and you are running around like you’re prepping for a marathon. Your man is like what’s up? What’s all the panic about? You’re like I have an appointment with the gynecologist this morning. He’s all….Ah, what time is that? You’re like in like two hours. He’s suddenly got that dumbstruck look on his face that he always gets when he doesn’t actually understand what the hell you just said. He says Um, why are you rushing around then? You give that long blink, the one that telepathically says to him I totally don’t have time for this, but now I HAVE to explain. Like I said, I have a GY-NE-COL-OGIST APPOINTMENT. Now he’s like…Yeah, and? There is now a need for that deep breath you take before you give the fastest, most detailed explanation possible to make him understand that he clearly does not understand.  

I have to take a shower, shave, buff, lotion, make sure my lady bits are presentable, drag out that one pair of underwear that makes my ass look hot, wear those jeans that make my legs look skinny, but not the ones that ride up my butt crack cos I need room in my lady bits today and then do my hair and make up which is so going to take me at least half an hour. So clearly I need to be rushing around because that’s going to take a while.

After like putting all this shit together in his head, your man is like whoa time out. He’s just realised, he’s never actually met your gynecologist and umm, the shirt that you’ve laid out on the bed to wear is that one shirt that makes your boobs look smokin’ and actually you haven’t worn that shirt for him in like a year.  So now your man is like

SHIT.

And you’re like

Um, NO.

Except that you are over explaining how much you are NOT attracted your gynecologist in any way shape or form and your guy is thinking that must be one of those times when you’re saying stuff you actually don’t mean again. Which is really fucking annoying actually because to be fair, when you want him to link stuff together he never does, but when you are being upfront he is totally making shit up. So you’re like this is not like when I say I don’t really want much for my birthday and you actually listen and get me something crappy and then I sulk for a month because I didn’t really mean what I said. Jeezus.

So while you are in the shower attempting to recall your best topiary skills on your lady region, your man is outside the shower with this concerned tone in his voice asking you so what does he actually do to you during these exams? Now you totally need to reassure him that there is nothing at all perverted about these appointments, so you’re like well I have to take off everything on the bottom half of me and like he gets out these ENORMOUS salad tongs and actually that jelly they use is freaking cold  and then he shoves…Now you realise your man is walking out hearing the words enormous salad tongs because honestly, he’s still recovering from the whole you had a baby down there experience. I mean he just got the sexy back about your entire lady region and you’ve just gone and killed it all over again. Plus with all this having to explain shit to him while you preformed artistic miracles on your whoo-ha you’ve just cut yourself twice. Awesome. Soap stings on cuts doesn’t it? Who the hell said you didn’t sing in the shower?

Now you scramble to get the rest of yourself looking good, while your man is lurking around the house popping in and out of the bedroom imagining that the ugly man doctor is actually not ugly at all and is totally going to swoon you during your mysterious lady check up shit. While all you can think about is making sure everything looks porn-tastic, with class (obviously) and seriously babe, I am not going to run off with the gynecologist, omg. By the time you are walking out the door, you think crap, it will have to do I’m gonna be late. Your man thinks

SHIT.

By the time you finally get there, with two coffee stains down your top and a beating red puffed out face from running, you stroll into the waiting room with like one or two other ladies who are now judging you but who also conveniently look perfectly groomed. Once you are actually called in, you take that massive deep breath before you lay down on the bed of doom and Que the stirrups of death.

You either have a doctor that makes you realise why you left your ex all those years ago because he too couldn’t stop making jokes at inappropriate moments, or a doctor with the world’s best poker face ever who makes this whole experience entirely uncomfortable by NOT talking.

Spread eagle and you’re sporting two shaving cuts, one patch of hair in the corner you missed shaving that you will notice later, an uneven trim because your man was distracting you in the shower with his you are not going to run off with the super sexy man doctor are you  fantasies and you smell like a mix of pheromones, soap, lotion and is that perfume? Of course you didn’t actually put perfume down there, that was a total accident. Uh huh, riiiight.

But you know what? It doesn’t actually matter. Because that jerkwad didn’t even notice all the effort you put into making your lady bits perfect. There was no Wow, great job! or even a single Whooo nice…out of that doctors mouth. Nope not a mutter of is that giorgio armani I smell?

One worried man, hours of stress, two cuts, a soap sting that hurt for ten fucking minutes and you’re not even the reason this jerk loves his job.

Asshole.

Ebay bargains? You tell me.

You know, I’m a chick who’s always down for a bargain. I love a good deal on most things and I hate parting with my hard earned cash for anything full price. So when Ebay first made it’s appearance and the whole world went like omg biggest Internet garage sell EVER! I was pretty much on that love train right along side everyone else.

Then people just took it too far and started selling stuff more expensive than the high street. Or crap from China and Hong Kong and now it’s just too much effort to scope out the bargains. The only reason I’m on Ebay these days, is to seek out unusual items, like stuff my Grandma might have owned, or see the odd Mom on there selling some good quality, nearly not drooled on items.

But um, Ebay? You seriously need to come up with a security check system to limit the freaks on there.

Have you seen some of the shit on Ebay lately?! I think it’s always been there, but honestly wow. Just wow. You know I’m all into the weird and wonderful, but some of these listings are just insane.

Haunted. Apparently.

I wasn’t even aware of the Haunted Doll problem the world is facing. If you are in need of a haunted doll, there’s plenty on Ebay. There’s even a haunted cabbage patch doll that sucks her thumb, if that brings back any childhood memories for you. There’s people listing these dolls saying things like she speaks to me and she will speak to you to. She can answer all your questions and has been known to play with the cat frequently. Um….have you taken your freaking meds?! You do realise that sounds insane right?!  There’s also people who seem to just happen to have a ton of haunted dolls, imagine that. See the problem is getting so epidemic that there’s haunted doll businesses popping up. Seriously.

This will bring you vampire powers and make you sexy. Duh.

But if haunted dolls aren’t your thing, how about a Vampire Sex Nympho Ancient Haunted Spirit Ring? All the extreme rare powers of vampire magic could be yours for currently £12.00. Unless someone needs to be beautiful and lusty more than you. Then again you could always bite them and prove you’re the better Vampire. On second hand, that might not be the best idea. The listing warns that only people serious about this magic should bid and that these spirits become very attatched to their owners, so she really wants to make sure it’s going to the right person. The right person translating to, the person who’s willing to pay the most money. Uh huh. Also vampires are real. Of course, Twilight fans knew that all along. Pfft.

Adopt him. He drinks little baby blood bottles, Type O preferably.

Speaking of Vampires, you know about those weird realistic dolls? The ones that people are reportedly buying and treating like real kids and taking them out for walks in strollers and dressing them up and stuff? Cos that’s normal. Now there’s a market for those people who happen to be Gothic and wanting their own realistic vampire baby doll. I mean who wouldn’t want one of those?!  Check out Regretsy to see his full Ebay listing. Oh it’s hilarious and really freaking creepy. Just looking at that doll gives me the willies. Especially since I’m still breastfeeding…..oh my god.

If you find yourself incredibly bored one day with nothing to do, just type in some weird words on Ebay and see what you come up with. From a girl who sold her Virginity to a man selling his soul there, I’m sure you’ll find something. I just can’t guarantee it will be a bargain.

Me? I’ll stick to just plain old Hippy Duck Tape on Ebay. Fixing crap with peace signs? Priceless.

You can't put a price on hippy duck tape you guys. Too awesome.

FYI show me your inner geek

I know you’ve got an inner geek lurking in there.

 I mean the fact that you all come back here each Saturday for your geek fix says it all really. It’s totally not a bad thing, but the first step to help is actually admitting you’ve got a problem. After that it’s all about embracing your inner geek and learning to live with it. To be honest, it can really come in handy sometimes having that inner geek in you. Like when your Mother in law won’t shut up for five minutes and you can blast a whole bunch of useless information totally randomly and leave her standing in your dust baffled. It would be so awesome, you’d want a photo of her face to frame by your bedside so you could sleep knowing you did that. How freaking cool would that be eh?!

So to start you off in your 12 step program and your new mission to baffle idiotic Mother in laws (or if you actually like your Mother in law, then you could totally impress her with your cool geekiness) I bring you today’s FYI Saturday, crap you never wanted to know. Because you need your geek fix and I’m just the woman to bring it to you. You can send me flowers and chocolates later.

So FYI

Peladophobia is the irrational fear of baldness. So how many men do you think are running around with this phobia? I mean, it has to be mostly men right? What would really suck is if you had this phobia and then actually went bald. So technically, you’d be your own worst nightmare and probably live in constant fear of…..um…yourself. At least if you had this phobia and your other half went bald you could like divorce him or something. Not that ruining a marriage is fun, but you can’t run away from yourself people! It’s not possible.Although you could become a drag queen and totally buy a wig to hide it. That might work out. It might also get you a fab date, but I’m not making any promises. Plus, just think of how sexy you’d be in your new life as a drag queen….hawt.

Justin Timberlake’s half-eaten french toast sold for $3,154 dollars. Well, at least the owner of the french toast also got the fork he used, the plate it was on and the extra syrup. But wtf?! I don’t even know why it would occur to anyone to actually buy a half-eaten celebrity french toast but whatever. Do you know what I could do with that money instead?! MAKE MY OWN DAMN FRENCH TOAST! What the freaking hell is someone going to do with it anyway? Eat it? Ewww. And could someone please explain how the hell they shipped it to them? Was this like a collection only sale or something? Well I guess they get the fork and the plate too, but knowing my luck I’d pay that amount of money and one of the kids would break it. Kids make it impossible to have that amount of money to blow on useless crap. Someone could have told me prior to having them. Dammit.

 In Georgia, donkeys may not be kept in bathtubs. This really is a heads up to all you Georgian criminals out there keeping your donkey’s in the bathtub. It’s illegal. It’s only a matter of time before the cops catch you, please hand yourselves into the police station and end your life of crime now. Your donkey really doesn’t need a bath, these laws are there to protect them. Do the right thing, I beg you, before a donkey starts smelling like bubble bath. And please put your Ass outside before you leave for the police station. Jeezus some people.

Worms reportedly taste like bacon. For the record, I have not tested this one out! Although I did attempt to interview some fish, but I didn’t get anywhere with that. I blame the lack of lakes here. So I’m pretty much having to take this at face value. If anyone has any childhood traumas of their brothers force feeding them worms, could you email me and tell me if they taste like bacon? Do you have to cook em up first? Cos I always imagined they’d taste like dirt, so now I’m intrigued. Just not intrigued enough to actually eat a worm. Damn, I need a bacon sandwich now.

Diet Pepsi was originally called Patio Diet Cola. Ok, who the freaking hell was the head of advertising then?! And what drunk bastards sat around and agreed that was the coolest name ever?! I don’t even get that…Patio Diet Cola… what the hell is that? Cola to drink on your patio? EH?! It doesn’t even make sense. This was back in 1963 and it was re-introduced as Diet Pepsi in 1964. I bet they fired the dude in advertising and got someone normal in. Someone who wasn’t secretly drinking Coca-Cola. Someone who at least graduated elementary school. Patio Diet Cola…seriously.

So there you have it, your life enriched by useless information to stump your Mother in law. I accept all forms of payment in chocolates and flowers. FYI, I like both dark and milk chocolate and roses are my favorite. If your kids ate your paycheck, then some cheap gas station flowers will be fine. Just not any Patio Diet Cola please…

WTF?! IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE YOU GUYS! Plus, that can design is a sin.

On a side note…. Coca Cola heard about my worm fact.

It's not really bacon is it? Let's be honest Coca-Cola.

Ninja Mouse

Some body’s been screwing with my cosmic alignment.

I mean, there is no way this shit happens to other people.

It started with the freaking garbage men and ended with me hyperventilating. So when I say started with the garbage men, you know this is gonna end bad don’t you?

Some environmentalist freaks decided that in our neighborhood, we should have two garbage bins – recycling and non recycling. Which is pretty cool in theory, except that what bin gets collected alternates each week. That totally works when the garbage men actually empty out the bins. Yeah. They sorta of ”forgot” our bin one week. (I smell a conspiracy) So for two weeks I had to put up with excess garbage at my house – so I had like four extra bags outside when the idiots showed up to finally empty it out again. Until I remembered that actually, there was one last bag in the garage that needed to be taken and since it’s all their fault they are so gonna take it.

That’s when all this went really bad.

The next thing I know, a teenage girl is screaming her head off and I’m shouting that it’s not me that stinks it’s just a stupid garbage bag and could she please chill the hell out so I can focus on taking out all my emotional problems on the garbage men.

It’s not the smell, it’s a mouse! Great. He had jumped off the rubbish bag I had in my hands, having been all stealthed on it.

So after assaulting the garbage men with my last bag of rubbish and it’s actually your fault I have all this crap and uh no we are not freaking hillbilly’s whatever…I walk back in praying that the mouse has run out the front door. Apparently, he’s just run behind the curtain by the front door. Shit. So now, I have to look all big and brave in front of my kids, cos I’m the adult here (seriously who the hell gave me that job?). I pull the curtain back and see…. nothing. See? He’s gone. Let’s all move on now. I give the curtain a little shake to prove it and

that little ninja bastard jumped straight on top of my head! MY HEAD!

Can you fucking believe this?! That twat, climbed up the curtain, ambushed me and launched himself onto the floor laughing, only to run back behind the freaking curtain again!

So of course I screamed like a total wussy and ran so fast into my living room that I bashed my arm on the door running in. So now my fuckin’ arm hurts thanks a lot you little ninja twit as well as now being scarred for L-I-F-E. After like 15 minutes of me hyperventilating, I came up with a plan to get that karate chopping fur ball out of the house, which involved a mop and an ironing board – hey don’t judge me, you try thinking straight during the aftershock of a ninja ambush and it was all the shit I had handy… anyways….I decided to set up a road block to force him out the front door (Que ironing board) and use the mop to pull back the curtain with since there was no freaking way I was going too close to that again.

While setting this all up my daughter says Mom that is totally not gonna work, I mean there’s a massive gap on the end of that ironing board where he can just run out, omg. And I was like shut-up, who the hell is the adult here huh?  And that was when she said you know what, I don’t even know anymore. So I was all set to prove her wrong and show her who had the awesome planning skills here. After pulling back the curtain you know what?

That little jerk ran straight through that goddamn gap and into my living room and then I don’t even know where.

I am never going to live this down. Since my cosmic alignment is already  screwed beyond hope, I put Maurice in charge of catching the ninja mouse cos I obviously don’t need anymore bad Karma. I must have been a cat in my previous life.

I bet that little bastard is stealthed somewhere in the house. Breathe Mesina…just breathe.