We women gettin’ shit done this Valentine’s Day!


Oh, we women! We women love to talk. We talk, and we talk, and we talk some more. We talk about meaningful intellectual stuff, sure. But we also talk shit. We talk shit about our kids. We talk shit about our husbands. And, let’s be honest, we talk shit about each other. It’s a total shit storm of laughter and gossipy fun when we women get together.

I was out the other day with some friends (no really, it’s true) and it was a total bitchfest.  We bitched about our barbaric offspring, our spoon-fed husbands, the toxic state of our house, our cottage-cheese asses, our “sea food” diets, and our ever-increasing dependency on coffee and wine to numb it all away. As women, we take mental notes, we compare, we silently judge, we mask our envy and we share our opinions.

We also offer extremely helpful advice to one another. Because we women have an answer for everything. We suggest trendy parenting books. We pass around the number of a good house cleaner. We share exercise regimes. Diet tips. We clink our glasses together, all in the name of wine with a splash of whine.  You name it, we solve it. But the one thing we don’t have answers for? Our bloody husbands. We bitch. We commiserate. We empathize. We nod in the unfortunate familiarity of it all. But we can’t really offer any advice because turns out there’s no  golden “Man”ual.

We get all wobbly kneed and blindsided by the sparkly diamond ring. And poof, just like that, we marry our Prince Charming… Only to discover that underneath that princely charm lies a Neanderthal child who can’t take care of themselves.

Now listen, I don’t want to be dissin’ on your man, or mine for that matter. Big J is a good man. He is loyal.  He works hard. He smells good. And he puts up with my crazy. But sometimes I fear that Big J is a toddler trapped inside a grown man’s body. Because, like my children, he has an impressively lengthy list of things that drive me bat-shit crazy.

So based on my years of marriage and intimate bitchfests, I’ve made a list of “R U F-ing Kidding Me?” Husband Moments. But I’ll give credit where credit is due… these are not all about Big J (although some are!).

THE TOILET SEAT
A fairly large percentage of men are totally and utterly incapable of putting the lid down. Period.
SOLUTION: Find a picture of your mother, his mother-in-law, and tape it to the rim of the toilet, and write “Nice balls!”… WhoaHaHa! I guarantee you, he’ll learn to pee sitting down… unless your mom looks like Christie Brinkley, in which case you have no case!

FACIAL HAIR IN SINK
They need to shave. Fine. I get it.  But is it really so hard to run the water and do a quick rince for 5 seconds after?!
SOLUTION: It’ll take some time, but collect that speckled shit into a ziplock bag. During dinner when he asks you to “pass the pepper”, whip out your baggie and sprinkle that shit on his food. He’ll start rinsing.

INABILITY TO HEAR BABY CRYING AT NIGHT
Why we women are stereotyped as “high maintenance” I’ll never know. We are workhorses! ‘Sleeping Beauty’ should have been a man… and there certainly wouldn’t have been any Kiss of Love comin’ from we women.
SOLUTION: One word… Taser! Zzz…

LAUNDRY BIN
Dirty clothes go in the bin. Like, is it really that hard to grasp? Even a donkey could figure this one out.
SOLUTION: Clearly, they need incentive. I’ve invented a laundry “Bin For Him”. I’m bringing laundry and porn together. Load for a load!

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SPORTS
I swear man’s brain is literally split down the middle… or nearly, with 51% porn, 49% sports. I truly believe they have a genetic predisposition to ignore all else that life has to offer.
SOLUTION: This won’t be an easy one to crack. But maybe this time it’s about marrying sports with porn. During the game, get out your little pink duster, strip down to your sexies, step into some heels, and do a little dusting around the TV.  If he doesn’t reciprocate, he is either having an affair or gay. In which case, your marriage just got, well, more interesting.

TOOTHPASTE ATROCITY
Crikey… No need to explain. I’m just going to post a picture of the fuckery I awaken to every morning.

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SOLUTION: I honestly don’t have one. Although the one thing that Melania Trump said that proved to me she just might have an IQ higher than a pigeon is when she said the secret to a good marriage is separate bathrooms. Word up, Melania!

DOESN’T KNOW WHERE ANYTHING IS:
“Ummm… you live here too, right?”, says almost every wife.  ‘Cause if after all this time, he’s still asking where the toilet paper is kept, then we women should be really worried about what’s on our towels. ‘Cause I’m thinking those markings ain’t from no mascara, yo!
SOLUTION: Just leave! Go! Book yourselves into a hotel, a spa, a brothel. Anywhere. Let him figure that shit out on his own. It’s time he pulled up his big boy pants. Hopefully AFTER wiping… and with toilet paper!

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EMPTY CONTAINERS
They put empty milk cartons back in the fridge, empty cereal boxes in the pantry, ice cream, condiments. You name it!
SOLUTION: Empty all their beers out (or better yet, drink them), and restock their case or the fridge with empties. Most effective if done on game night. He’ll get the point… fast!

They say you can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make him drink. Or in the case of we women… you can make a man your husband, but you cannot make him think.  Well, I disagree. While our Dear Husbands may never be as awesome and flawless as we women *cough*, I have total faith that they are indeed “trainable”. What’s more, my Solutions don’t only benefit we women, but our husbands too. You see, as a husband, if you’d only stop doing the things on the “R U F-ing Kidding Me?” list, your chances of getting laid increase substantially.

And, well, with Valentine’s Day right around the corner, I just thought I’d help a bro’ out…

You’re welcome.

Cheers,

Red Whino

There’s no Wine in Patience… or is there?


When it came to writing this week’s blog post, my brain was giving me the silent treatment. Generally, my ideas on what to write about stem from the asshole things my kids (or husband) have done, or from fake news I see on my social media feeds… both usually recipes for some good laughs.

Only this week, some serendipitous shit happened at my house. Normally, on any given day that ends in ‘y’, my house is like a game of War-Craft.  Only this week, my Beasts were actually quite civilized. Like, there were no patches of hair missing from any given scalp. No one took a direct shit on the floor and walked through it. No one poured maple syrup over their head. No one shoved cat food down our vents. It was a good week. So yes, what I’m saying is that I secretly hope my kids give me just a wee snippet of their true asshole colours, because otherwise I don’t have a blog to piss on.

As for social media, with the recent events brought on by that 70 year old DicToddler, social media has now become a platform for the world to voice their political fears. Fine. But because I try to steer clear of politics on this blog, social media has given me no lemons from which to make proverbial lemonade.

Until finally, what should appear in my inbox?! An article about *cough * “How to be more patient with your kids”.  No really… I couldn’t even make this shit up if I tried! Et Voilà, a blog post was born.

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So here are the tips on how to be more patient with your kids. And, of course, my deep thoughts on them.

Treat your kids like house guests

Would you yell at your guest to put their shoes away? By treating your kids like house guests, this will keep the peace and everyone will be more likely to get along.

OK.  So here’s the thing… if my house guests behaved anything like my children, I’d throw their asses out at “Hello”. That said, I expect very little when it comes to house guests. Because, like us, they tend to be grief-stricken parents in need of a lobotomy. I must say though, I am quite the hostess with the mostess when it comes to entertaining. Upon arrival, I graciously offer our house guests an iWarned U Package. Inside, our house guests will find a Hazmat suit to protect against the toxicity of my house, plastic grocery bags to wear over their feet as booties, cotton balls to shove up their nostrils to mask the smell, earplugs, 2 Valium and an unlimited supply of wine to render them into a much-needed coma.

Get enough rest

“If you aren’t getting enough sleep, you will be crabby.  Try getting 7 hours of sleep tonight and see what a difference it makes.  (Maybe even aim for 8 hours!)”

In theory, this sounds like sage advice… only in practice it’s fluffy BS.  Because sleep and children are about as compatible as wine and decision-making. I’m three kids deep, and still haven’t found the Holy Grail of Sleep. Until I do, it’s a whine for a wine. Big J and I enjoy a couple of romantic shots of wine, and we’re off to bed like two drunk peas in a pod. Now that’s compatibility for ya’!

Don’t argue with your children

“Make a rule and stick to it and there will be no arguing necessary because it won’t get them anywhere.  Instead, try being empathetic towards them.”

I too try not to argue with my kids. Instead, I simply ignore them. You see, I’m no child psychologist, but the evidence is pretty clear that children lack in the brain department. Since having kids, I believe “blow your brains out” has a whole new meaning to it. Here’s my theory: basically kids have runny noses from birth. And when they sneeze, a massive thick yellow worm of mucus exits from their nose, sticking to their lips, and dangles mid-air from their chin. They then promptly smear it horizontally across their face with their Neanderthal hands.  I am now convinced that when they sneeze, they are literally blowing their brains out, cell by cell. It’s the only explanation! So I agree, it’s not fair to argue with someone who has the IQ of a squirrel.

Be prepared

“The root of impatient behavior is always the same: you are unprepared… Causing you to lose your temper. Being prepared stops this.”

News flash!!! You can organize yourself until the cows come home, but that doesn’t guarantee the kids will go along with the plan. Simply putting socks on a toddler requires a PhD in Fuckery. So just STOP!  Really,  just stop. Stop wasting your imaginary time preparing for your imaginary well-behaved children. It’s a little game I play with myself called “Who F’ing Cares? Not Me”. Seriously, if you can’t beat ’em… join ’em!

Drink more water and eat better

“Yes, it is true.  You are what you eat. Also if you don’t drink water,  you aren’t going to be as happy.”

Well, when I’m not hiding in the pantry shoving Oreo’s down my throat, I tend to eat the leftovers that I scraped off the floor. So if I am what I eat, that makes me the family dog.  But I do agree with her about the importance of drinking more to stay happy. She means water, I mean wine. Po-tay-to… Po-tah-to!

Take a break

“After you lose your temper, it can take 1/2 an hour to calm back down. Have your whole family spend time reading in their bedrooms for 30 minutes until everyone feels better.”

Really, it just get better and better, non? If I were to shut my Beasts in their bedrooms alone for more than one minute, it’d turn into a scene from Lord of the Flies. And I’m almost positive they’d make me Roger! Pray/Prey!  I know I keep going back to the Valium and wine, but it really is like taking a break… a long, well-deserved cognitive brain-numbing break. Plus, the kids love it… they call it the “Mommy Is a Rock” game.

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Listen. Reality is, there is no shortage of tips and resources when it comes to parenting. But at the end of the day, it comes down to parenting the way that works best for YOU. Kids are little people who are simply doing the best they can… You’re all they have. Remember, you don’t want rush something that you want to last forever. So yes, try to be patient. Be kind. Be understanding. Parenting is one of the hardest and least rewarding jobs ever. So if you do lose your patience (and you will!), forgive yourself for being, well, human. And rather than wanting to blow your own brains out, take a minute and go stand outside… ’cause you are outstanding. You really really are, Mamas!

Cheers,

Red Whino

P.S. If you don’t want to take my asshole parenting advice (I beg you, please don’t!), here’s the article.

http://kidsactivitiesblog.com/81196/how-to-be-more-patient-with-your-kids

A toast to my fellow Whinos…


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It’s like Y2K all over again! Only this time I’m not face down in a plate of nachos after having drown myself in a few pitchers of beer… I’m also not stockpiling canned foods in my pantry. I don’t have 18 generator systems on standby. And this time round, if my computer spontaneously combusts, it’s only because I’m a complete tool when it comes to technology.

What am I talking about? This morning my blog hit 20,000 viewers!!! And some of you are even coming back for dirty seconds… and thirds! Oh, I know in the grand bloggin’ scheme of things, this number is peanuts. But to be honest, when I started this blog just over a month ago, I thought my Mama would be my one and only fan… and that’s purely out of obligation! So I’m thrilled, if maybe a little worried… as this proves there are people out there who share my questionable sense of humour.

And while most of you are too shy (or probably just don’t care) to actually sign up as a follower, I get it. I’m your dirty little secret. I’m totally fine being your shame blog. I’ll take whatever action I can get!

All that said, I’d love to hear your thoughts on my blog… Too raunchy? Just about right Anything you’re itching for me to whine about?

Lastly, thank you all for your support. I love writing my blog… if only ’cause it lets me get away from my precious bundles of joy for even an hour. It also gives me an excuse to wine – as if I needed one!

Feel free to share the whine! Tweet me. FaceBook me. Spread me like a cool high school disease. Fear not, my privacy is about as sacred to me as it is to those Kardashians. And ironically my name also happens to start with a ‘K’.

Happy weekend my bloggin’ Whinos!

Cheers,

Red Whino