10 Steps To A “Safe Selfie”

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I avoid being in any pictures at any and all costs. I never take “selfies” and to be honest, I don’t like to see other people’s “selfies.” There is a dangerous trend spreading across the globe where people are putting themselves in harm’s way to click the perfect “selfie.” As a mother of three I would like to start a campaign know as “Safe Selfies.” Below are some tips and tricks to practice while taking “selfies” to ensure that they are safe, secure, and in good taste.

1. Avoid the “Naughty Selfie” at all times: This is a firm tip to practice. You don’t want to look like a horses ass while showing too much titty. Keep your clothes on and no one will nag you about your indiscretions in the future.

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2. Avoid the Dr. Seuss “selfie”: Do not selfie with a fox. Do not selfie in a box. Be sure to check both here and there; your selfie could end up EVERYWHERE!

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3. Avoid high altitude “selfies.”: Perhaps it’s because the air is thinner, or you’re an idiot, but a “selfie” on the railing on a bridge or the rooftop of a building spells disaster.

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4. Never “selfie” while drinking: It always seems like a great idea to take out the phone and click away while hanging out and drinking with friends. Instagram and Snapchat will tell a much different, more scandalous story the next day. You thought you looked hot, but hot you was not!

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5. Duck-face “selfies” are done!: Please avoid the duck-face “selfie” at all costs. I am currently working with the state legislature to make this type of “selfie” a ticketable offense for animal cruelty.

Duck-Face
6. Animal “selfies” are so not this season: Stay away from bears, bison, bucks, bees, beavers, bats, bulldogs, baboons, and bobcats. To be safe, avoid taking a “selfie” with any member of the animal kingdom that isn’t vaccinated and micro-chipped.

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7. Avoid the arrestable “selfie”: It is not wise to take a “selfie” with guns, ammo, knives, weapons, money, drugs, or bomb making materials. If you are unaware of what self-incrimination is, shoot me an email and I will send you some information, and the contact of a good lawyer I know.

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8. Funeral “selfies”: This type of selfie is usually in poor taste, especially if you also get an image of the casket or urn. Some people may wonder why you are shooting a peace sign next to Grandma’s casket with a stern look on your face.

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9. DWS (Driving while selfie-ing): PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, stop taking selfies while driving in cars. I promise that this will end in catastrophe. You may have caught a glimpse of yourself in the side view mirror and thought, “Damn, I am looking smoking hot today,” but I beg of you, keep the phone off and away from you while driving. You will definitely look smoking hot when you plow into a tree and your car bursts into flames.

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10. DO NOT EVER take a bathroom selfie: I repeat, NEVER EVER take a bathroom selfie. You may have seen yourself in the bathroom mirror and thought, “Wow, this is the perfect lighting for a dick pic.” I guarantee you that it is not the perfect lighting, and further more, shame on you. Put your penis back in your pants and go straight to time-out. But the real danger of the bathroom selfie is simple, you may unintentionally snap the picture with the toilet in the background and low and behold, the toilet is overrun with a gang of feces.

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So if you must “selfie” please do it with care. Use the brains in your head, and keep the duck bill off your lips. I am not opposed to saving memories, I am simply trying to spread awareness about the great cause that is near and dear to my heart. So be smart and practice safe selfies!

 

Meredith is a work-from-home mother of three who writes about the inappropriate side of marriage and motherhood on her blog at That’s Inappropriate Follow her on Facebook and Twitter.

20 Tips To Becoming A Superhero To Your Spouse

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It seems that there are superheroes everywhere you turn. New summer movies will be gracing the big screens any day now, and comic book television dramas are sure to be on the fall primetime lineup. I have sat through hours of Batman, Ironman, the Flash, Superman, Spiderman, and most recently Daredevil. I am at a loss to say the least. Don’t get me wrong, I like a good action flick as much as the next guy, but I just don’t get superheroes.

What is it about superheroes that make our husbands want to secretly be these men? Why do they dream about a meteor falling from the sky, causing intergalactic gel to ooze into the water system, thus giving them secret powers that they can use to fight crime???? I guess I am no fun. I don’t see the point in watching a movie or television series where people have magical powers. If you want me to watch a show with you, create a character that was hit by a bolt of lightning and woke up without her  saggy tits, cellulite on her ass, and the absence of cross-continental baggage under her eyes. That show I will watch! 

So men, let me tell you what will make you a Superhero to your significant other:

1. Scrub the toilet. The entire toilet, including the shit stains.

2. Wash the dishes….with soap.

3. Give the kids a bath….with soap.

4. Cook dinner, or get take-out. Either way she didn’t have to cook, so you win.

5. Take us shopping and smile the entire time. Don’t ask if the item is on sale.

6. Wake up at night with the kids….especially if someone pissed the bed. Don’t pretend you can’t hear them. The dead can hear them.

7. Hold your farts. If it is a dire emergency, pass gas next to the children, not your wife. 

8. Don’t fart while in bed, and don’t even think about pulling the covers up over her head.

9. When we agree that a holiday or special occasion does not require gifts, get her one anyway. She wants a gift. She always wants a gift.

10. Snuggle up next to your wife while in bed and cuddle with no expectation of sex. Like legitimately no expectation of sex. 

11. Don’t’ push your junk on her back and tell her you have a gift for her. It’s not really a gift. She has seen it before.

12. Vacuum, mop, wash the windows, repeat.

13. Ask her if she wants a mustache ride without expecting anything in return.

14. Get a babysitter without telling her and take her to dinner. 

15. Wash the laundry, and put it away. Let me clarify, put it in the correct drawer. Don’t put your son’s underwear in your wife’s drawer.

16. Load the dishwasher, and then empty the dishwasher without being asked. I bet she drops to her knees later that evening.

17. Text her a sweet message during the day. Something like, “Babe, I can’t wait to get home and do a load of whites.” 

18. Take the kids……ANYWHERE. For an extended period of time. 

19. Bring her chocolate…….ANYTHING.

20. Bring her wine……..ANY KIND.

So as you can see, it is pretty simple to become a superhero. Your spouse will most definitely think that you can leap tall buildings in a single bound if you follow these 20 tips. They will call you the man of steel, or whatever ridiculous name you want them to scream while in the bedroom. These 20 tips are proven panty dropper’s, so get started today.

*This message is endorsed and sponsored by every woman on the planet

 

Pantyliners, Aisle 7

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I normally do all of the shopping for our household. This past weekend was Mother’s Day so I asked my husband if he would go to the store to pick up a few things. Around noon, I sent him to the store for a total of 5 items. One of the items on the list was pantyliners. After giving birth to three children, I need the type of protection that said pantyliner provides. It is not a fun topic to discuss, but it is my lot in life to pee when I sneeze, laugh, jump, trip, fall, high-five, the list goes on and on. 

I was very specific with the type of pantyliner and brand that I wanted him to buy. I am a creature of habit, so I like to purchase the same product when I get great results. Pantyliners are a product that need to work…EVERY. TIME. My husband sent me a text, stating that he could not find the brand that I wanted. I told him where they were located in the store, and asked him to ask someone if he couldn’t find them. I knew that when I told him to ask someone, that he wouldn’t. My guess is that he figured if he asked an associate they would naturally assume that the pantyliners were for him. I mean what other logical thought would the associate have. A man in the feminine hygiene aisle, he must be shopping for his own personal use.

10 minutes later, he texted back stating that they really don’t have them and he sent me a picture of the brands that they did have. I looked over the selection and asked him to pick up the box of Always brand pantyliners and check to see if they were un-scented. He spent another five minutes reading the box. My guess is that he ran from the feminine care aisle and attempted to hide in the corner of the store. We have been married for over 12 years. He has watched me give birth three times, and yet he is embarrassed to buy a feminine care product. He finally texted me back stating that he didn’t think they were scented. Below is our short and sweet text conversation:

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I couldn’t help but have a little fun with my husband. I mean seriously, it is not that big a deal. I wasn’t asking him to go up to a woman in the aisle and ask her for a detailed personal review on the pantyliner. I just wanted him to get the right one.  He apparently didn’t think my joke was funny. I still laugh when I see the picture that I took of our text conversation. Life is too short to be embarrassed over pantyliners and personal hygiene products. I can safely say that I wouldn’t have a problem going to the store to buy him jock itch cream. He did come home with a pack of pantyliners, so it was a successful venture. I am safe to sneeze, thanks to my husband.

My Mother’s Day Wish

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I don’t want flowers.

Please don’t buy me a gift.

What do I want this year, several hours of quiet bliss.

 

Don’t knock on my door.

Don’t utter my name.

If a problem arises, call Daddy, he’s game.

 

I want to shower in silence.

I want to take a long nap.

I don’t want to see your fingers under the door while taking a crap.

 

Don’t tell me you’re hungry.

Don’t whimper or whine.

It’s Mother’s day rug rats, pass the wine while I dine.

 

The kitchen is closed.

No cooking today.

But I do want to binge watch episodes of Grey’s.

 

No cleaning or laundry.

No dishes will I do.

You crayon gobblers’ better think twice before throwing a coup.

 

I want to relax and read a book.

Eat a meal without sharing.

I’m sorry if this seems a bit uncaring.

 

Daddy, this goes for you too.

So tonight at bedtime…

I’ll take a pass on the screw.

 

I want to fall asleep untouched.

Please, no orifice invasion.

No groping or humping, I’m immune to persuasion.

 

Mommy needs a break.

But please don’t be sad.

The sperm donor’s here, you call him Dad.

An Open Letter to Taylor Swift

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Let me begin by saying that I do in fact understand that I am a 34-year-old mother of 3. I am also a huge Taylor Swift fan. I have several friends who have given me grief for being such a “Swifty,” but I simply do not care. Here is my open letter to Taylor Swift, explaining why I am head over heels in love with her.

Dear Taylor Swift,

You are adorable. Sometimes I pretend to be your beautiful, fancy older sister who gets to jet set with you all over the globe. You are remarkable. I am in awe of your song writing talents and ability to engineer social media. You are undoubtedly a genius. I am impressed with your musical talents, but also your business and marketing skills. You have become a very accomplished individual at a very young age. Being a mother, I am grateful to you as an artist and competent role model. My children all adore your music and I am happy that they can listen to it. Your music videos are all safe for their eyes, and you have given back to the community that has supported you over and over again.

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It seems like critics are always waiting for the other shoe to drop with you. They are waiting for you to “Lose it” or get photographed doing illegal or immoral things. To them I say, “Haters gonna hate,” to you I say, “Shake it Off.” You are a smart business woman, who I am thrilled to have my daughter look up to. You have found a way to make a huge impact while remaining grounded and sane. I applaud your efforts and I wish you the best. I know you will continue to succeed going quintuple platinum on your next three albums. I hope you are happy and find satisfaction with your craft.

I find your music infectious and I can never sit still when listening to your sick beats. I find myself mopping the floors to your energetic tunes. Your lyrics send a message of hope and inspiration, as well as power to know it is safe to be yourself. You have cornered the market on threenagers, teenagers, and thirty-somethings. I look forward to your 1989 tour, and I will see you in October.

Sincerely,

Crazy Mother of 3 Super Fan

P.S. My husband also loves you and uses the 1989 album as his workout mix 😉

 

 

Sunshine

www.thatsinappropriate.net

 

The Day Mommy Lost Her SH#T

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One of my biggest parenting fears has always been that I will royally screw up my kids. They are relatively defenseless, and I have always been concerned with sending them straight to the therapist couch. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200 dollars. About a month ago, I had the kind of day my kids will definitely, at some point, relive in a therapist’s office.

Spring break was upon our household like the Bubonic plaque. Kids were crawling all over the place and I had 14 days worth of maximum security lock up to look forward to. I work from home which has as many benefits as drawbacks. One major drawback being, I can’t get my work done when my kids are home. I tried to find camps to send them to, but that ship had sailed.

The week started out with the common daily issues we all face in our households. There was a ton of screaming, crying, fist fighting, food throwing, running, and tattle telling. I was doing my best to keep it together. I was stressed with work, the demands of the three tiny hemorrhoids, and I was getting ready to have my second surgery for the year. I was not in the best state of mind to say the least.photo (17)

It was day seven of the break. That morning I got a letter in the mail from my home owners associations stating that we had violated our deed restrictions and owed a $100 fine. I was livid. I had been battling with these Napoleonic retirees for months and I was done. I loaded everyone into the car and drove to the management office to pay my association fees and address my recent violation. I jumped out of the van to discover that the office was closed. My blood began to boil. I automatically texted my husband a list of obscenities that I could not blurt out in front of the kids. I boldly and feverishly texted that I was on the verge of throat punching someone and buckled myself back into my seat. 

On the drive home the kids continued to fight over who was going to watch what when we got home. One kid hit another kid with a book in the backseat and I swung around screaming, “If I have to pull this van over you will not be happy!” My idle threat fell on deaf ears as I continued home with the miniature tyrants screaming that they wanted to swim. I tried to text my husband to calm me down but he was in a meeting and couldn’t respond.

We entered the house and I ran into my office to check my voice-mails. Just as I had dialed a number I heard two of my kids screaming and crying as though they were being mauled by a grizzly bear. I ran from the office to find them fighting over a stuffed penguin.

At that moment I lost my SH#T. I couldn’t take another second of the screaming and fighting. I grabbed the stuffed penguin and said, “If you’re going to fight over it, you’re going to lose it!” I then proceeded to make the penguin a double amputee by ripping his arms off. I stuffed him in the garbage can and looked back at my kids. They stood there, in silence, mortified that I had maimed the penguin from Madagascar. I shoved his mangled body in the trash can and smacked his beaten head with the lid. He had made his way into an early grave. I stood there in shock, I was now a stuffed animal murderer. 

The kids took one look at me and were off like a bat out of hell and ran for their rooms. I followed, screaming hysterically about their constant fighting, and continued my rant for about five more minutes. Nothing in my path was safe. I slammed chairs, threw toys, clothing, and shoes.  As I walked past a mirror in the living room I caught a glimpse of myself and I stopped. I looked like a crazy lunatic.

I needed to find my SH#T and put it back together. I went to the bathroom and cried for a few minutes. I then walked back out to the living room and sat all of the kids on the couch. I apologized, I cried, they cried, and we all hugged. My son looked at me and quietly asked if he could have his penguin back. I explained that he was now in a better place and he said, “No, he is in a trash can.” I tried not to laugh, but I did. My oldest chimed in with, “Yeah buddy, it’s gone. Mom went crazy on that penguin.” 

It is most definitely a day that I won’t forget. It was one of my worst parenting moments, but it taught me a very specific lesson. I simply can’t do it all. I can’t take care of three kids, work from home, take care of the house, and keep any kind of sanity. I called my boss that evening and asked her for a week off so that I could properly do my most vital job, be a Mom.

So the reason I am talking about my worst parenting moment, is to let you know that it too shall pass. I know that my limits are real and must be acknowledged. We all fall, it’s what happens next that matters most.

5 Ways To De-Stress your Daily Household Routine

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​I am a type A person with a primal need for completion.  I find routines to be soothing and peaceful, but one thing always gets me….the house work never ends. The laundry, the dishes, the floors, they always need attention. I have tried and tried to find ways to feel like I am one step ahead, but that one step always ends with me in some type of bodily fluid, or dog excrement. With that in mind, I have created a list of 5 ways to De-stress your daily Household routine.

1. Wear Fuzzy Socks: I live in Florida so most of the time it is flip-flop weather. However, when I am in my house I wear fuzzy socks. Why would I do that you ask, its simple. I spray my fuzzy socks with some Mr. Clean and I skate mop the floors during the day. It is a great work out and it gets those unsightly blemishes up off the floor in a flash.

2. Window Decals: Have you ever used those cute holiday inspired window decals? They have them for every holiday and seasonal theme. If you keep them up all year-long, you can’t see how dirty the windows are. I have also found that if I do venture out and clean the sliding doors, people run into them, which is most definitely a hazard. So keep your Easter bunny decals up until the 4th of July and then go crazy with Halloween. Pumpkins for everyone :)

3. Crock Pot-it: The best kitchen invention ever is the crock pot. I will crock pot cook anything. Want chicken for dinner, DONE! Want a roast, DONE! Want a cake, DONE! There is a recipe for pretty much anything you can think of. I would have never guessed that owing a crock pot would be a highlight in my life, but I am one proud crock potting Momma.

4. Toy Bin Organization: I love to have everything in its place. I have several pieces of furniture from IKEA that house various sized bins to organize the kids toys. Each bin is used to house a different type of toy. One bin for hot wheels, one for action figures, one for toy food and kitchen play items, you get the picture. That beautiful site lasted about 30 seconds. The first time I asked the kids to pick up the play room they put all of toys away in the wrong bins. I was horrified, until I realized that there were in fact no toys on the floor and the room was cleaned up. So I have learned to let it slide. There may be a piece of three-week old pizza in a bin, but one of the kids will wise up at some point and eat it.

5. Bathroom hack:  Now that all three of my kids shower on their own, I have designated that they will be the ones to clean the bathroom. How do I get them to do that you ask? It’s simple, I send them in with one bottle of 2 in 1 shampoo and conditioner and a bottle of body wash and I tell them to go crazy. “Wash your body and hair first, then clean the walls, floor, and door.” I am not really concerned that they are cleaning the shower with body wash, they would be dumping it down the drain if I didn’t give them specific instructions, so at least it is going to good use. Next they get out of the shower and mop the floor up with their towels. They always forget to shut the door or the curtain all the way, so there is ample water on the floor. Once they use the towel to mop it up we have a nice shiny bathroom floor.

So in the end, I have learned to live with the daily grind of household chores and relaxed a bit on the ideal outcome. We live in our house, it is not a model home, it will not be perfect. If I want the house to be perfectly clean and smelling fresh, I will have to find someplace to send my three kids and husband. So I have decided to keep the lived in-house and stress less about the “lived in” look.

Sunshine

thatsinappropriate.net

@thatsinapropro

 

DIY -Y -Baby New Lyrics to a Classic Tune

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colourhammer

The past year of my life has been consumed with DIY projects and improvements on our home. It has been rewarding and also eye opening. I never would have guessed that I would want to spend so much money on a home, making it my own. This morning as I was making coffee in my bathroom for the 10th day in a row, the tune to “Ice Ice Baby” was jamming in my head. The lyrics were a bit different. Check them out.

“DIY-Y-Baby”

Yo, Home Reno, let’s kick it!

DIY-Y-Baby, DIY-Y-Baby

All right stop, put down that hammer and listen

DIY is back with a brand new addition

Projects, grab a hold of me tightly

Working like a dog, daily and nightly

Will it ever stop? Yo, I don’t know

Turn on the lights, damn there’s no glow!

To the extreme I rock a tool belt like a mad-man

Picking paint colors and formulating a sweet plan

Sandpaper, go slow go with the grain

I’m dropping knowledge on you with my home-reno super brain

Deadly, watch the saw blades carefully

Do it yourself and you’ll save on carpentry

Love it or list it, that show don’t play

I get sweet ideas, but my husbands gotta pay

If there was a problem, yo I’ll solve it

Check out this book, its got a ton of cool projects

DIY-Y-Baby, DIY-Y-Baby

DIY-Y-Baby, DIY-Y-Baby

Now that this project is jumping

Got my coffee brewing, pumpin in the bathroom

Want toast? Plug it in, in the living-room

Kitchen’s closed fool, off limits please don’t assume

Check your paint cans, I detect some bad fumes

I go crazy when I hear the power tools

And a nail gun, with a souped up big boom

I’m on a roll, it’s time to go to Home Depot

Rollin’ in my minivan

With the trunk propped, so the lumber don’t jam

The cashier on standby, waving “Do you need a tie?”

Did I stop? No, I just drove by

Cautiously, super slow to the next stop

I busted a left still need oil for the butcherblock

Sadly, Bed Bath and Beyond was closed

So I continued to 41, snowbird avenue

DIY-Y-Baby, Projects making me crazy

DIY-Y-Baby, Projects making me crazy

If there was a problem, yo I’ll solve it

Check out this book, its got a ton of cool projects

So if you love DIY and are brave enough to try, God bless and good luck. I am just about at the end of my rope. My only saving grace was this tune in my head this morning as I brewed a pot of bathroom coffee, know around here as “A cup of John.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Can Your Vagina Play The Flute?

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barbie and ken

 

 
Are you friends with any couples on Facebook that feel it necessary to show the world how much they love each other?  Constantly sending each other love letters for the world to read.  Well, my husband and I are friends with THOSE people. Let’s call them Barbie and Ken. Barbie and Ken can make you feel inadequate about your relationship in a mere nanosecond.

 
We first met Barbie and Ken about 7 years ago. When I first encountered Barbie I was amazed and astonished by her tale. She was a single mother of three who met a man who fell desperately in love with her.  They soon married and had two beautiful children of their own; increasing their family size to seven, yes I said SEVEN.

 

I slowly learned the details of their relationship and was dumbfounded. I asked one day, “What did you cook for dinner last night?” Her reply, “My husband made spaghetti.” I quickly questioned, “Ken cooks?”  I proceeded to ask, “Has he always cooked?” Her reply, “Yes, he cooks, cleans, grocery shops, and drops the kids off in the mornings.” My mind was racing. What the hell was this woman saying? Her husband cooks meals, cleans toilets and showers, and handles the kids. How can this be happening? There are men on this planet that know what a toilet brush is for? There are men with brains in their heads that sit on their shoulders and not just in the crotch of their pants? No, it isn’t true. It can’t be.

 

 
Where did this man learn to buy more than beer and toilet paper from the grocery store?  How can this be true? He must be a genetic mutation of sorts. My husband would sit in a pile of shit swarming with flies if I would allow it. What on earth could this woman possibly be doing to get her husband to do these things? My disbelief was unnerving, dare I say alarming.

 

 
She continued to captivate me with stories of the daily tasks that he performs. The final straw broke when she informed me that he coupon-ed! Holy hell, the man clips coupons! It was at that point that the light went on; as though I had been seeing only in black and white for my entire life. Barbie must be some type of sexual savant. Her vagina must be MAGICAL. Perhaps it plays the flute. Her vagina must beckon him like a siren, singing sweet musical notes that fascinate him and force him to coupon until his fingers bleed.

 

 

What other possible explanations could there be. Her vagina, I thought, must be like looking directly into the sun. Glowing and bursting until you can bear no more. When she lays in wait for him and slowly opens her thighs, does her vagina release a tractor beam pulling him in like the Star Ship Enterprise?  Beaming him up into inter-galactic ecstasy?

 

I must know how she became the Pied Piper of Pudenda (AKA Private Parts).  Did she take lessons? Was her mother a Madam? Was she secretly a stripper that worked her way through college? I sat there at a loss for words. I didn’t even know how to finish the conversation. I was enamored with Barbie.

 

I myself do all of the cooking, cleaning, and scrubbing of the shit stained toilets,  I even mow the fucking lawn. I sat there sadly thinking the only thought I could. My vagina must be BROKEN. There are no musical notes making their way out of my barren hole. I am the opposite of a musician. I am the equivalent of the worst cast off in American Idol history. My poor husband has suffered through years of tone-deaf intercourse. This is obviously why my husband refuses to help out around the house. I have blamed him for years, when in reality it is my damaged, crippled Va-Jay Jay.

 
It is now my life’s goal to teach my vagina to play the magical flute. At some point I will rule over my husband and watch while he washes shit stained underware and scrubs burnt pots and pans. I will have my revenge. I will become a concert flautist! My vagina will reign supreme.

Welcome To Time Out

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timeout

“Welcome To Time Out”

Mom Version of Taylor Swifts “Welcome to New York”

I find that I sing this tune very frequently in my home. Please feel free to sing along while you send your sweet child to time-out.

 

Welcome to your room, Mom slams the door

Crying, flailing limbs, tears and so much more

Everybody listens as you scream and roar

Searching for a wooden spoon, Mom counts to four

And she says

Welcome to Time-Out

Its been waiting for you

Welcome to Time-Out

Welcome to Time-Out

You’re stuck now child

Feel free to cry and stomp your feet, feet

Ten minutes more

Cuz I can’t stand your shreeeeeeek, shreeeeeek

Welcome to Time-Out

Its been waiting for you

Welcome to Time-Out

Welcome to Time-Out

When you first threw your cup and bowl on the floor

Took your spoon and fork, ran and slammed the door

Everybody here knows you’ve been before

Because you want what you want

Boy oh boy bad choice and more

Welcome to Time-Out

Its been waiting for you

Welcome to Time-Out

Welcome to Time-Out

You’re stuck now child

Feel free to cry and stomp your feet, feet

Ten minutes more

Cuz I can’t stand your shreeeeeeek, shreeeeeek

It doesn’t matter if you can carry a tune or not. Sing loud and proud!!

 

Sunshine

http://thatsinappropriate.net/

@thatsinapropro