Motherhood Uncensored

Be Careful What You Wish For

*I interrupt this post to send you here. The Environmental Working Group just released a study that notes high levels of BPA in almost all formulas. Forget worrying about plastic bottles. This is the real issue at hand!*

I reluctantly stopped to get gas before jumping on the freeway yesterday. I've learned quickly thanks to one long afternoon with two small children and only one teething cracker and a juice box in the Atlanta traffic that you must gas up prior to going anywhere, even if it's two miles home.

Screw snow storms. I need a survival kit for my ride home from the grocery store.

My only option to gas up between home to the highway is the "questionable persons" gas station, conveniently situated by two "Hot Sexy Naked Girlz" strip joints, meaning that on each occasion that I've stopped (I'm not kidding), I've seen some shady dudes pull up to a screeching halt while a scarily skinny and scantily clad dressed woman hops out, and runs across the street (or really, 6 lane road). That's pretty damn hard in a pair of clear plastic fuck-me platforms.

Clarification: It LOOKS pretty damn hard. I mean, I never ran across the street in my clear plastic fuck-me platforms, thank you very much.

Anyway, so I'm pumping gas, tapping my foot because as you know, that generally makes the gas come out quicker, and up pulls a truck behind my car with two thirty-something dudes, one shouting to me as he hopped out of his car pointing at my Mississippi tags.

"Hey baby! Are you from Mississippi? I never meet anyone from Mississippi around here. Because I'm from Mississippi! God I miss it? Don't you miss it? Hey, you here alone? Cause you know..."

Thanks for making me feel relevant, Mississippi, if only for one brief and very skeevy moment.

--

Free shit alert.

Farewell Mississippi: The Long Awaited Photo Tour of My-Town Mississippi (Yes. More Prizes. DUH!)

Congrats Ragtopday and Mommiebear2. Email me to claim your prize!

Alas, fair Magnolia state of sweaty days, mosquito filled nights, and nothing in between but bad barbeque and some weird things you call Sausage Balls (see below for a picture), I must leave you. It's been hot - and I mean the "not-so-sexy-but-more-like-stinkier-than-a-Pimento-Cheese-sandwich" kind of hot.

I've seen it all. Fried catfish on a bed of brown iceberg lettuce, anti-abortion activists lined up on the side of the road near my grocery store holding dead fetus dolls, and a lot of feathers and sequins. A LOT.

I've heard more. Country songs I'm quite sure should never leave the walls of a prison cell, y'alls that start and end a sentence, and pronunciations of common words that sound more foreign than my name in Japanese.

But, it hasn't been all bad. There was the job, the divorce, the graduating students, the huz, the baby, the column, and the blog fodder.

God, you sustained my blog for many a month.

So, I thank you and bid you adieu (that's goodbye in France, not "a shit"). May I never see your flat, unconventional, and backwards face ever again. (If you'd like to take a walk down memory lane, click here for all my Mississippi posts to date, including other great pics of my fair town).

Remember Ray Ray's?

My favorite lunch time stop. Yum Gizzards!

Mmmmm... It's a Sausage Ball!

Our neighbors.

Full price? No way. But shotgun clearance? YES PLEASE!

Ruth's Chris? Please. We have "Old Hick" - where drinks are served in Mason Jars!

It's the BEER TRAILER! The only place in town that carries Newcastle (read: any good beer that does not have a light version).

Just in case you were wondering, they cater!

It's a bar. They call it "THE BOW." Don't ask.

Yes. The infamous in-law shopping spree took place here:

And the breastfeeding wedding dress was bought here:

And look, mother-of-the-bride dresses!

But it's not all bad. Tennessee Williams was born here. Yes. In that actual house.

And here is the music building on campus. My home for 3 years. (And on the national historical registry).

And finally, you can't live in the South without a church that has it's own above the street crosswalk.

THE END. And now to the In-laws! The irony of all ironies. Instead of staring down a west nile infested mosquito, I'll get to see my MIL's face every damn morning.

Oh yes. And the stories will be good.

I promise.

--

So what's a photo montage if you can't commemorate it in a kick ass photo book from HP? Yeah. Not such a great one, I admit. I'm barely sentimental, but oh wouldn't I love to have a MissASSippi photo book to show my tens of dinner guests? Or perhaps a book full of tantrum photos? Or better, milestones that they don't have a spot for in the baby book.

And even if you're sentimental, these books are perfect. And for $24.99, I'm not quite sure what the hell you're waiting for.

Oh. You want a free one. Okay, so I have TWO free books to giveaway. And I'll pick two winners at random. Leave me a comment (one per person per day) and you'll get a free book.

And if you want to take your chances AND make sure you get one, then use this discount code. You get a whopping 20% off the books. I smell in-law gift (omg. Maybe I should do that? Compile all my fabulous photos of bras and shoes and ink walls).

One Last Stab from the Folks in MissAssippi

I went to deposit my savings check from my old Mississippi bank at my new PA bank the other day, and this is how they spelled my name:

KRISTON

Little do they know I could squash their whole entire state with my one ass cheek.

Or maybe they do...

And We Thought the Green House Effect Was a Bunch of Hooey

It's hotter than the devil's balls.

It's hotter than your virgin sister on her wedding day.

It's hotter than my ass in those skinny jeans that haven't seen the light of day since 2003.

It's hotter than the sex I had with Johnny Depp last night (gotta love preggo dreams).

Care to play along?

Leave me your "It's hotter than [you insert your saying]" as well as a blog (and url) that you think is sizzling hot. I've just gone through the Perfect Post awards list, and I'm hungry for more.

Oh, and if you're not reading Cool Mom Picks everyday, you're just plain silly. We give away about 2-3 free things a week and we have cool stuff all the time. Go NOW!

And When it Rains, it Pours... Water Ice, Cheese Steaks, and Ridiculously High Car Insurance

While I know a few of you get a chuckle out of my uncensored rants on kid leashes, sex talk, and other "unspeakables," you don't fool me. I know why you are here.

You can't believe I live in Mississippi and you can't believe how crazy it is.

Sure, I write rather entertaining posts on my mother's journey to China, how moms are really training to be secret agents, and parenting in general. But for the most part, I feel like people know me as the college professor suffering through her lonely days in the Deep South.

Sounds so dramatic. And yet, it's fairly accurate.

And while Mississippi certainly has its fair share of quirks, like misquitos, pimento cheese sandwiches (and yes, they taste as bad as they sound), and some really bad hairdos, I have to admit that its been pretty good to me.

I mean, I started a college undergraduate program, wrote a book, met my husband, and had my daughter. And hell. Look at my blog. Just from bitching about a state with way too many 's'es. Okay. Maybe there's more. But still. Admit it. You love the Mississippi cracks.

And while I have suffered through various forms of racism, some really bad meals, and several conversations where I had no clue what people were saying, I have to realize that there are some good things to be remembered.

But don't worry. I'm not getting all sappy on you.

I'm just reminiscing before I kiss Mississippi's stinky, anti-green, red-loving, porkrind and chitlin eating, slow driving, bad accent, ignorant fool ASS GOODBYE.

Because in a few months (or maybe sooner), I will no longer be a New Jersey transplant. That's right. I will once again be a NJ/PA/DE resident (not sure yet). It seems that the Air Force, after trying to send us to North Dakota and then keeping us here indefinitely, has finally approved our early leave request. And so WE ARE OUT.

Let me say it again.

WE ARE LEAVING MISSISSIPPI!

And sure, part of me realizes that my blogging career has been largely based on my life in Mississippi and I'm a little worried.

What will I blog about? Will anyone read me when I'm complaining about my too-hot soy mocha at Starbucks? Or that I had to sit in traffic for 2 hours just to go 35 miles? Or that my soft pretzel salt got stuck in my teeth and I had to go to the dentist? Or that my plethora of friends through me a baby shower and I farted. In public.

UGH. That's just doesn't sound as fun as the "black n' white prom," "free shave and enema" offer at the hospital, and deep fried pickles.

I mean, will you still love me if I'm in Philly?

 

But then I realized (for various very long reasons that have to do with money and the air force) I have to live with my in-laws for awhile. Yes, those in-laws.

So, I'll have more than enough blog fodder... so long as I don't have to pay too much for my wireless, computer time, and babysitting. How much do grandparents charge these days?