LIKE A FINE WINE.......

Moving into the new house has offered me the opportunity (or should I say daunting, awful, time-consuming task) of sorting, organizing, and properly storing old photographs.

After careful review of the photographic documentation of our relationship, I think it is safe to safe that Officer Bob and Big Boca Bob have most definitely improved with age.

The "You're So Cute, Let's Hold Hands" Phase

 The "Effects Of College Living, Slightly Chunky" Phase

The "Got A Career, Got A House, Living Healthy" Phase

Father Time ain't got nuttin' on us, Officer Bob!

From the Mouths of Babes

I was recently asked to conduct a physical fitness course for humans of much shorter stature. I refuse to call them kids because for the most part, they are much more mature than I, and I would be insulting myself in doing so. And everything is obviously all about me. Duh.

The tinier versions of our species are perhaps the most adorable, affectionate, innocent, tell-ya-like-it-is, fun-to-hang-around-with tots that ever existed. For the most part, that is. I enjoy my role as babysitter, teacher, "best fwend", etc. because I never actually have to put on the dreaded "mother" hat when it comes to discipline, potty training, bedtime, eating vegetables, and so on. Therefore, in the eyes of a child, I am way cooler than all you Moms out there because I am simply not a Mom. For at least 10 more years that is.....just so there's no confusion regarding this.

Back to that "tell-ya-like-it-is" characteristic........During class, one of the little boys with piercing blue eyes dressed in his gangsta shorts and Air Jordans raises his hand to ask a question. I was confused as to what this question might be considering that all the farther I had gotten in my class introduction was "Hi.....my name is --"

I called upon the red-headed, fair-complected, albino child (trust me....this info will be important to know in the next few sentences) and he abruptly stated the following:

"HEY YOU! How come you are brown? You must go to the tanning place like my mom. I don't understand why being brown is so cool, lady! Dad says Mom thinks being brown means your prettier and she spends too much money turning brown and putting fake nails on. Do you think you're prettier just cuz your brown? Cuz I think white girls are just as pretty as brown girls."

The following were all options as responses to this young man:

#1. What the eff happened to diversity training in schools these days?! I'm Mexican you little shit. Let me guess.....you are an Irish ginger kid with no soul who spends his days drinking ale and harvesting potatoes. (sorry to my Irish friends....I tend to stereotype when I get angry)
#2. Brown? Really? You think I'm the color of poo? I'd like to think of it as more of a "bronze-ish-mocha"
#3. Go tell your fake brown Mama that she needs to have an important discussion with you regarding what NOT to say in public.
#4. I agree with ya kid! I know plenty of white girls that are just as pretty as the brown girls. BUT.....the "brown" girls are naturally better at housework and landscaping thus making them better housewives. SO THERE!

So....what exactly did I say to the kid?!

Nothing.

Why?

Because I lost bladder control laughing too hard, crossed my legs, and waddled to the potty room.

Suddenly all attention transferred from my poo-colored skin to my need for an adult diaper.

Keep laughing kids.....
Cuz this brown-skinned, diaper-wearing lady will soon become your run-till-you-puke fitness nightmare.

Fitness Corner with Bob

Contrary to popular belief, all twenty-four year old Hispanic, female, fitness managers with degrees in exercise physiology, who personal train and teach group aerobics in their spare time DO NOT enjoy being called out on various fitness-related tasks. If you couldn't guess from the very general description of the individual described in the previous sentence, I am talking about ME!

I have had a very poor tendency over the years to never back down from a dare or challenge especially when said challenge is proposed by a muscle head of a man who goes by the nickname "Gorilla Face" or "G-Face" for short. This is not a joke. I promise. If you are a visual person, please reference the picture below.

G-FACE CHALLENGE OF THE DAY?!.............5 HAND-STAND PUSH-UPS.



The egotistical self-centered male meat-head would indeed select an activity that is physically designed for the male body.  I called upon my extensive knowledge in the field to explain to the audience of young gentleman the muscular structure of the male upper body as opposed to the female upper body. In other words....."I ain't got no pipes, no guns, or no pythons!" I got a Mexican badunkadunk and tree trunks for thighs that deem me incapable of the "challenge of the day." However.....they were having none of it and demanded I attempt the dreaded hand-stand push-up.

I'm sure you are all waiting for some grand, triumphant victory story of how I successfully completed the hand-stand push-up and watched all the men weep in misery as they bowed to the superior gender.

Sorry girls......

First attempt at a hand-stand push-up?........Epic FAIL!  We'll just call it a hand-stand face-plant instead.

BUT.....you know me! If at first you don't succeed, try and try again. Well I tried and tried, dammit, and I will have you know that I COMPLETED the G-Face Challenge of the Day!

5 hand-stand push-ups? Check!

G-Face Challenge of the Day For Tomorrow?............Pee Standing Up.

Don't test me guys.

The First of Many Lasts

This weekend, I made the trek back to E-wood for Dancing Queen's very last grand finale ultimate supreme Senior Homecoming. This marks the very last time I will serve as hairstylist/makeup artist for a homecoming dance. Comments regarding Dancing Queen's maturity and grown-up glitz and glam look were most definitely made, but all I could think about was.....When did I become the shortest member of the family? Damn.

While burning my fingers with the curling iron and cussing at the thickness of this girl's gorgeous locks, I opted to bring up some very important questions.

Me: So.....what are you going to do when you graduate?

Dancing Queen: Ummm.....I don't know.

Me: Have you applied to any schools?

Dancing Queen: Ummmm.....no.

Me: Do you like (a particular teacher who shall remain unnamed)?

Dancing Queen: Ummmm.....no. She's a bitch.

This girl, ladies and gentleman, is the future of America. We are still working on that whole "life goals" thing. Right now the focus is more on the tight-pant wearing football hotties from the opposing team's sidelines. And this is the reason I love my sister whole-heartedly. She's cute, she's spunky, and she is in absolutely NO hurry to grow up! The world could really learn a thing or two from this chica.

I would now also like to thank Officer Bob for his creative photography skills.  The buzz of high school girls and mom's with cameras may have been less-than-entertaining for Officer Bob because when I retrieved my camera to approve the digital documentation of the day, this is what I got.

Officer Bob and Huracan have lost all future photographer privileges. I'm sure this is not exactly a disappointment for them.

Of the many unnecessary photos taken, I was able to save a few good ones for your viewing pleasure.

I realize this was not MY homecoming dance, but Officer Bob knows that anytime we share a day off and a camera is around, photos will be taken. I have to have visual proof that we actually do spend time together.

NOTE: This picture did not undergo any editing.
Huracan is actually that tall. His height scares people. This amuses me.

Start Diggin' My Grave Now.......

In exactly one month three extremely dumb, pumped-for-a-challenge,

mentally insane girls will do the following.......

RUN.

Jump through tires and run over balance beams.

RUN SOME MORE.

Jump over and crawl under police barricades.

(hopefully a hell of alot less than what is pictured here)

RUN SOME FREAKIN' MORE.

Crawl under a cargo net.

Jump over marine hurdles.

Navigate over/through a stack of cars.

(who comes up with this shit?!)

PICK MY DIGNITY UP OFF THE PAVEMENT OF NAVY PIER AND

ATTEMPT TO KEEP RUNNING..........

Complete a set of monkey bars

(a task I couldn't even do in grade school - ugh!)

RUN SOME BLEEPIN' MORE.

Climb the effin stairs of effin Soldier Field - Home of the effin enemy

 (what's that? up and down for an effin mile?! whose idea was this?!)

QUESTION MY SANITY.

RUN. RUN. RUN.

Jump over taxis.

Climb over a bus.

Jump over a 9 foot wall.

DIE.

It's been a great 24 years everyone!

At least I'm goin' out on top!

On top of a stretcher that is......rolling down Michigan Avenue......

At least I have two girls rollin' with me.

Please pray for us.

Dog For Sale ----- REAL Cheap!

#1. Gilbert is an awful interior decorator.

I've replaced 5 sets of blinds since Tuesday.

Note to Officer Bob: Roll up the blinds before leaving for work.

#2. Houdini may have been reincarnated into a 100 lb sneaky, too smart for his own good, lab/retriever mix.

Looks like an average window, right?

WRONG.....

it is the excape route of the small horse we call Gilbert.

I come home from work expecting to be picking up another broken set of kitchen blinds (enter curse word) when I'm surprised to find Gilbert has disappeared. After further investigation, it was discovered that Gilbert is not exactly a magician. He left evidence of his escape.

No worries....he was found.

DAMN.

Big Boys Play Dress Up Too!

Mark the date. This past Saturday. That beautiful summer/fall-ish day. Officer Bob and I officially moved in to Casa de Bob. It's been a long month of hard work, and there is PLENTY left to do, but I finally declared the house "livable" and we are here to stay. Good thing I have a loose definition of the term "livable". I am unable to do laundry or watch cable, but clean clothes and reality TV are apparently overrated. My priorities have been a little skewed throughout the renovation process. In fact....I sent Officer Bob to the cable company to get us set up today BEFORE hooking up the dryer. I don't care if he's the stinky kid at work as long as I am able to watch Teen Mom!

During the moving process, it was discovered that Officer Bob really had no idea the depth of his own closet. After pulling out what we thought was the last bit of clothing, Officer Bob stumbled upon this getup.
According to Grand Puba, this was the style "back in the day" when dinosaurs roamed the Earth and fire was yet to be discovered. Grand Puba may not be a fashion icon but I thought he was better then looking to Clint Eastwood as a role model. Apparently the "flasher" coat is called a duster, and both Officer Bob and I received a lesson in the proper styling of this unfortunate fashion mishap. Grand Puba shared stories of the "glory days" when he was able to chase and leap after the bad guy wearing his trusty duster. In my opinion, these so-called "bad guys" were most likely running in fear that Grand Puba would either A. Peddle a watch from his stash or B. Attempt to mount them horsey-style as this duster was specially designed for. It's a good thing Grand Puba spent his days working in law enforcement because he always had an escape from the fashion police.
I also have a theory regarding Officer Bob's career choice. After watching all the fun he was having playing dress up with his daddy, I am certain this was not the first time this has occurred. I have no doubt these two used to spend time playing cops and robbers forcing both of them into a lifetime working in the criminal justice system. Poor Gilbert was even roped into the fun serving as Officer Bob's trusty steed. Gilbert may be the size of a small horse, but I would not include "trusty" as being one of his strengths. Officer Bob's steed would soon leave at the first sign of a bacon-flavored treat.
There you have it folks....playing dress up is no longer a hobby for four year old girls or Victoria's Secret models. Big boys play dress up too! (Before you go getting all defensive, Officer Bob, the term "big" refers to your age and not your size.) I'm just not sure, however, that the cowboy-ridin' tough guys wore Puma tennis shoes. Maybe we can put some spurs on those puppies.

Side note: This is where my boys slept the first night at the house. I learned my place pretty quickly. Big-screen TV....Gilbert...then Big Boca Bob. I knew what I was getting into, and I am not surprised. At least I get my own shoe closet, right?

Hola. Me Llamo Dora.

I'm still adjusting to the fact that I now have friends with children old enough to talk, interact, and understand the basics of conversation. By "adjusting" I mean I get totally weirded out every time I am asked to actually hold a conversation with one of these miniature people. In my mind, they should still be spending their days eating, crying, pooping, and sleeping. OK....who am I kidding? That's how I spend my own days with the addition of working between the eating and crying. I have watched these little babies mature into real-life human beings each with a unique little personality that just astounds me. But the theme of this story is not about my growing sense of uneasiness every time I see these kids engaging in adult conversation. It is rather about the creative parenting techniques of my dear friends. I can only hope when I have children (in the very distant future) that I am able to respond quickly with ingenious methods of discipline and persuasion.

The following is a conversation held with my friend, Kelly, after she found difficulty persuading her daughter into putting on her big-girl panties and using the big-girl potty. I was sitting at my desk at work when the phone rang......

Me: Hey Kelly!

Kelly: Hi Dora!

Me: What?

Kelly: HIII DORA!

Me: What the hell are you talking about?

Kelly:(with frustration and emphasis) YOU'RE DORA, RIGHT?!

Me: Sure....whatever. (If you haven't guessed it by now, I'm not too quick on subtle hints. You've really got to spell things out for me.)

Kelly: Audrina will not put on her big-girl panties and use the big-girl potty, and I told her Dora does. I told Audrina I knew Dora, and I would call her so Dora could tell Audrina herself.

Me: Hi Audrina! Dora ALWAYS wears her big-girl panties and uses the big-girl potty so you better do what your Mom says.

Kelly: Dora, don't you speak SPANISH?!

Me: Oh yeah...crap. Audrina, you necesita to put on your nina grande panties and use the nina grande potty. (enter rolling laughter from Kelly and Audrina's grandma in the background)

Kelly: Thanks Dora! Audrina, say bye to Dora.

Audrina: Bye-bye Dowa.

I am now certain of two things:
1. My "rough" cameo appearance as a Nickelodeon cartoon character will NEVER cast me a role as a Dora impersonator.
2. I will most likely stick with the old "Put your big-girl panties on or you're going to your room without TV" tactic because this conversation was way too much work.

Kudos to you, Kelly, for your incredibly imaginative and effective parenting skills.

Note: Thanks to Kelly for supplying me with my Halloween costume idea this year. I will rock a Dora costume better than every other Mexican girl with a backpack. I mean...there is a striking resemblance right?