Tag Archives: random

Yes, but how high does a flea jump while farting?

27 Mar

Did you know…..

  • A cow produces 200 times more gas a day than a person?
  • An estimated 200 languages are spoken in New York City?
  • A flea can jump 200 times higher than the height of its own body?
  • For every one person on the planet, there are an estimated 200 million insects crawling around?
  • That this is my 200th post?

What? You don’t care? Eh, I don’t blame you. But it seems like such a monumental milestone for me. It ranks right up there with giving birth twice and saying “I do” to my husband.  And it’s only taken me almost three mind-numbing years of blogging to get to this point.

So as my gift to all of you–my dear devoted readers with zero free time on your hands–is a super short and sweet post. Along with a sincere thanks for sticking with me and reading my stuff.

And photos of my daughter coloring Easter eggs.

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I’ll leave you with one more fun factoid: Did you know hard boiled eggs smell exactly like 200 cows farting 200 times in rapid succession?

Happy Easter

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Top Fifteen Signs You’re Old

11 Jan th


A recent photo of me, in one of my better moods.

You know you’re old when…

15) You’re about 15 minutes into a long drive in your car when you suddenly realize you don’t remember where you’re going or why.

Hmm….maybe after a few more miles it’ll come to me…

14) You hear a current pop song on the car radio that in the past, you’d hate with every fiber of your being, but now find yourself not only liking it, but turning it up because “it has a good beat.”

“Ooh! Maroon 5! YES! I’m on a paaaayphone trying to call hoooooome….”

Younguns these days! With their scruffy faces and their tattoos! Put on a real shirt! Quit slouching! Get a haircut! Get a real job!

Criminy! Kids these days! With their scruffy faces and their tattoos! Put on a real shirt! Quit slouching! Get a haircut! Get a real job!

13) You find yourself muttering things like, “Dang! They sure don’t make cell phones like they used to!” or “Back in my day, we used to have to WAIT for Internet dial-up connection.”

Man, we had it so hard back then, didn’t we? And is it just me, or does hearing that sound give you the creeps? (shudders)

12) Moving around is overrated. Getting up from the couch is a major ordeal involving moaning, groaning, and whining things like, “Oh god, this shit hurts!” Then halfway through getting up you think, “aw, the hell with it”  and sit back down.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I suppose I should get up at some point today..but for now..CAKE!

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I suppose I SHOULD get up at some point today..but for now..CAKE!

11) While shopping at Target, you hear an old lady loudly humming to herself like a crazy person only to realize it’s coming from you.

10) While shopping at Walmart, you find yourself having an intriguing discussion with the elderly clerk about bunions, arthritis and how the country is going to hell in a hand basket.

9) Having a good bowel movement makes your day.

8) You openly discuss bowel movements in public, say for instance, on a blog while you’re making lists.

7) You find America’s Funniest Videos hysterical. Especially the ‘baseball bat-to-the-nuts’ ones.

Oh, god! That was funny! The poor man! Let’s see another one! This time at 80 mph!

6) You’re the only one left on the planet who still reads a newspaper. And when you do, you skip straight to the weather and obituary sections because let’s face it–impending death and possible snow are your only concerns now.

5) When buying wine, you’re flattered the clerk asked for your ID , only to hear her snap her gum, snicker and say, “Well,  ma’am, it’s only because they make us card anyone that looks 50 or younger, ma’am. And we can’t accept your AAA card as payment. Do you need assistance bringing your groceries out to your car? I SAID, MA’AM! DO YOU NEED HELP WITH YOUR BAGS?”

4) You can’t eat spicy things past a certain time or you’ll be paying for it all night.

Dagnabit! Why did I have that piece of dry toast and glass of water? And after 5 pm! What the hell was I thinking?! This heartburn is a bitch!

3) You wake up with an incredible hangover, yet all you drank the night before was a tall frosty glass of orange-flavored Metamucil with a NyQuil chaser.

2) You manage to throw out your back because you sighed too heavily.

…and the number one sign you’re an old fart…

1) Your response to anything that anyone ever says is, “What?!”
followed almost immediately by,
“Oh yeah? Well, who gives a shit!”

When did you realize you’re older than dirt? 

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The Little Search Engine That Couldn’t

31 May

You’ve got questions? Looking for solutions to your problems?

Let She’s a Maineiac not help you at all!

Here are some of the recent search engine terms that led people to my blog:

childhood brother and sister ball-busting funny stories?

Why, yes, funny you should ask. Back in 1984, I made the unfortunate decision to jump off a precarious tower of couch cushions while kicking my legs up in the air a la David Lee Roth ‘Jump’ style, only to come crashing down–slamming my feet right smack into my younger brother’s nether regions. By some miracle, he managed to go on to have three kids. This only goes to show that not all ballbusting stories have a bad ending. (Although several people reported hearing prolonged and agonized screaming three counties over.)

kenny vhesney looking awful 

Excuse me, who? Ah…nope, you won’t find that dude here. I refuse to vheapen my blog by plastering that guy’s sorry mug all over it. Can you imagine what you’d encounter if he ever took off that damned cowboy hat? [shudders]

Kenny Vhesney: the George Costanza of the country music world

who said men can t multitask beer and remote?

No one. No one would ever say that. Certainly not me. Wouldn’t you agree those are things most men can do astonishingly well? If they ever design a remote that dispenses beer or a beer with a built-in remote, they would sell billions. Somehow attach a built-in catheter and you’d never see him get up off the couch again.

(image–squidoo)

drunken celebrity chocolate bar? 

Really? Why would you ever think I’d have something as looney-tune as that on this here respectable blog. But God knows I wish such a thing really existed– it would help me finally kick that chocolate habit once and for all.

Hershey’s New Britney Flavor with Extra Nuts

what are the worst words to hear in the world?  (I’ll let my husband take this one.)

The worst words to hear in the world are:

“Honey, we need to talk.”

“The remote’s dead and we’re out of batteries.”

“They stopped making beer.”

“To be honest, it’s been awhile since I’ve performed this procedure. Let’s hope my hand is steadier than the last time! Woo-wee– what a mess! Now then, are you ready for your vasectomy? Let’s get to slicin’ and dicin’!”

“Don’t worry, right after we insert this 10 foot long tubing up your urethra, it will bypass the giant stone lodged in your kidney and you’ll be able to urinate once again, although you may experience some prolonged severe burning. But rest assured, that will all fade away once the blinding pain of passing dozens of sharp shards of calcified stones takes over.”

“my neck is” “my new hairdo”?

If you have enough hair on your neck to even call it a hairdo, this blog is not the place to look for help. You might want to try a razor or some stylish cornrow/beaded braiding. Or perhaps you meant your new hairdo looks like your neck. In that case, I have no good advice at all, except always wear a hat. Works for Kenny Vhesney.

thunder thighs n ass?

Well, well, well! Now we’re talkin’! You’ve come to the right place!  I’ve suffered this affliction most of my life. But Jillian Michaels came to my rescue in this post here. (Warning: I did end up breaking my ass. And my thighs are actually more thunderous now.)

my ass is killing me

Sheesh! Tell me ’bout it! You and everyone else. This is my most common search engine term. Apparently asses that kill are an epidemic.

“mountain of hair” haircut?

Uh….why on earth would you think my blog would help you with that? Nope…nothing to see here! Just look away…

I said LOOK AWAY. Oh, God! No! For the love of all that is Aqua Net! NOOOOOO!!!!

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Wackadoodle Wednesday

4 Apr

Proof my kids communicate in a language I will never understand:

I’m sitting on the couch, reading a book. My son is across the room, frozen in the ‘Nintendo DS’ pose– head down, eyes glazed, thumbs working furiously.  I am completely immersed in the latest Stephen King book when I barely hear, “Hey, Mom?”

I keep reading.

“Mom?”

I look up from my iPad and squint through my glasses.

“Huh?” I ask. My son puts his nintendo down and leans forward, a grin on his face.

“Mom?” he asks again.

“Yeah?” I ask, my mouth open, my eyebrows raised in anticipation of whatever pressing news he has to share.

“MOM?” my son yells.

“YES?!” (Has he lost his hearing? Have I?)

“MOM?!” he yells even louder. (Am I in the Twilight Zone?)

“WHAT?!” I yell back.

He immediately dissolves into giggles and snorts, “Ha ha! Now you have to get rid of it!”

I blink and look up at the ceiling for a moment.

“Okay…uh…get rid of what?” I ask in spite of myself.

“Yeah, you need to get rid of what!” he laughs hysterically again.

“What?! Get rid of what?” I cry, really wishing I was back in Lisbon Falls, Maine circa 1960 with Stephen King’s imagination.

My husband walks into the room and says, “Oh yeah. You guys playing the ‘what’ game? See, you call someone by name until they answer with ‘what’ then you tell them they have to pass the word ‘what’ onto someone else by calling them by their name, so you can get rid of it.”

Figures my husband would understand it.

Proof I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be five years old:

My daughter loves to write and color. One morning, I gave her a stack of paper with some pencils and crayons and she went to work. She was busy for awhile, then handed me a pink piece of folded construction paper, her face beaming with pride.

“Well, what do you have here?” I asked and unfolded it to find a blank page. “Oh, you want me to draw something for you?”

“No,” she said, a little irritated. “Read it to me!”

“Um….read what? There’s nothing here, it’s blank.”

“I wrote you a letter, and now you have to read it to me,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.

“Okay…um….” I said. “Do you want me to help you write a letter?”

“No!” she was very agitated now. “I wrote it with my finger! So now you have to read it back to me!” she announced, hands on her hips.

Sometimes there is just no getting out of certain situations when you’re a parent.

Proof my kids know more about relationships than I do:

I was flipping through an old photo album of our wedding pictures. My daughter loves to look at pictures as much as I do. She was pointing at every one, asking me who was who and what was happening in the photos. We were at the end of my big book of wedding pictures, when she saw one of us kissing at the altar. Her eyes got real big.

“Why are you doing that?” she asked.

“Oh. Well, see, when you love someone and you want to spend the rest of your life together, you get married and so–”

“EW!!!” she squealed. “You and Daddy are married?! EWWWWWWWW!!!!” And she got up and ran away.

Proof my daughter understands the concept of time more than me:

We were looking out the window at the night sky.  She points up and says, “See those stars, Mommy? That’s where people go after they die. To heaven to be with God. And then they come back down again later and pick another family to live with.” I was pretty taken aback at her view on life and death because we haven’t even touched on the subject yet. I gave her a big hug with tears in my eyes.

Then she said, “So–y’know how you want a dog? But I don’t because they’re scary and they bite and scratch me? Well, you can have a dog. But not until after you die and go into your next family, because you aren’t going to have a dog in this family, okay?”

Well, at least I have somthing to look forward to after I die.

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Mayhem Monday

26 Dec

Welcome to another edition of:

Random Thoughts I Have to Get Out or My Head Will Implode

Blog names. Sometimes I wish I could change mine. I started out as ‘miraclemama’ then realized I needed something less ‘mama-ish’.   Now every time I see my blog title, I think of the movie Flashdance.

Welder by Day--Blogger by Night

♫ She's a maniac, maaaaaaniac on WordPress. And she's writing like she's never blogged before."♫

If only I could go back in time…

Blog Names I Should Have Picked:

More Than Mommy, Less Than Reasonable

Warm Fuzzies and Cold Beer

Mommy’s Mumblings, Murmurs, Madness and Mayhem

Java Jolts and Sugar Highs

Dimpled Cheeks and Thunder Thighs

The Very Edge of Sanity–If I Got Any Closer You’d Hear Me Scream, Then The Scream Would Slowly Fade Away to a Sad Whimper in the Distance Because I Fell into a Big Black Void Never to Return, and You’d Feel Bad Because It Was You Who Pushed Me Over

Where’s the Remote? (Seriously, Have You Seen It?)

Downeast Shore: Starring D-Woww and her husband, The Predicament

The View from the Couch

Remotely Serious and Relatively Sane

Somewhat Awake, Almost Lucid, and Completely Delirious

Halfway to Crazy Town, Two-Thirds of the Way to Smugville and All the Way to Idon’tgiveacrap City

The Big Butt Theory

2 Broke Parents

Out of the Mouths of My Adorable Little Tax Deductions

What’s the Poop?

She’s a Mainly Mild-Mannered Moron

Up All Night, Walking Death All Day

Hot Flashes, Gray Patches and Other Tales from the Dark Side of Middle-Age

Sh*t My Inner Voices Say

(Some of you have already stolen some of the good blog names out there, so I was forced to modify a few to fit my life. If you think you recognize yours here, it’s not pure coincidence but completely intentional…)

Life in the Tired-as-Hell Lane

The Great Darlasby

Darla’s Thoughts Inexactly, Inaccurately and Otherwise Completely Made Up

Mostly the Stupidest Ideas You’ve Ever Come Across

Completely Obstructed View: Jeez! Could You Please Sit Down So I Can See the TV? You Make a Better Door than a Window, Buddy!

Life is a Bowl of Disgusting Bran Cereal My Doctor Insists I Eat Because I am Older than Dirt Now

Snoring Husband Living Room

The Daily Drag

The H is Silent (it really is, Kim–you know my last name!)

The Ironic Woman

Darly-o-leg’s Rumblings

The Monstrous Pile of Dirty Laundry in Your Closet

The Complicated Life of an Exasperated Man’s Wife

_____________________________________________________

And now…A Few Gems from the Hellions (Attention: Susan, from Coming East, or Peg-o-Leg, you are both more than welcome to them, just bring them back well-fed)

Sometimes, my kids like to see if I’m really listening:

Every day, I pick my son up from school and on the drive home, I ask him, “How was school?” and he always answers with, “Good” and lots of crushing silence.

I asked him yesterday, and he answered, “Devastating.”

Naturally, I responded with, “Oh, that’s nice.”

It’s incredible how quickly a child’s perspective changes and how fast their memory fades:

My 5 year old daughter and I watched as a 4 year old in her preschool class had a major meltdown in front of the school. The girl kicked and screamed and fell to the ground crying as her mother struggled to calm her. My daughter’s eyes got real wide as she said, “Wow! Did you see that, Mom? Now that’s just rude!” She refused to believe me when I informed her that, once upon a time, she used to do the same thing.   About a week ago.

Being a parent isn’t for the thin-skinned:

*My son sat down next to me on the couch, gently poked my stomach and said, “Hey! I thought you weren’t having any more babies!”

*I told my son how, when I was his age, I was doing chores around the house and my parents never even had to ask me. He scoffed and said, “Yeah! Right! When you were my age you were, like, 47 years old, so how could you even remember that?”

_________________________________________________________

And I leave you with a question I pondered this week.

Q: How do you know you’re getting old?

A: When you throw your shoulder out doing laundry. (Apparently, yanking those wet clothes out of the washer is dangerous. Consider yourself warned.)

A: When you quickly turn your head to tell your son to stop jumping on the couch and you suddenly realize you can’t turn your neck in either direction for days afterward without debilitating pain.

A: When you go sledding down a little hill and pray every second of the way you don’t end up in traction.

A: When your daughter asks you how old you are, then yells, “But I don’t have enough fingers or toes to count that high!”

A: When you take a sip of wine over the holidays and realize that was one sip too many.

A: When 7 pm rolls around and you can’t keep your eyes open so you start to get ready for bed and the first thing you do is look for your slippers only to realize you’re already wearing them. And your flannel pajamas. And your bathrobe. And you’re sitting in a rocking chair. Doing a crossword puzzle. Wearing glasses. And watching Wheel of Fortune. Cursing and yelling out the phrases to your cat, Mr. Jingles.

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Monk Dreams and other things

9 Mar
little monks playing in the afternoon

Image by Sukanto Debnath via Flickr

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” It’s one of the main questions we face in life, right up there with “why do we exist?” and “why can’t I ever figure out how to program two shows on my DVR while watching TV at the same time?”

When he was three, my son used to emphatically yell he wanted to be a “baby doctor and a monster truck driver!” Now he’s moved on to “a math teacher…or a scientist that discovers a new planet.” My four year old daughter usually answers with, “A pink princess ballerina cowgirl!” Same thing I want to be someday, how strange. Continue reading →

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Resolutions for Slackers

28 Dec
New Year's Resolutions postcard

Image via Wikipedia

One of my friends had a brilliant idea (go, Debra!) She said that this year, she was giving herself a fighting chance at New Year’s resolutions. She would set the bar much lower, making damn sure she couldn’t fail.  As a matter of fact, she had already succeeded at most of her goals.

I immediately loved this idea of brutal honesty with a touch of stark truth. Two things this stubborn Mainer is all about. Besides, it’s a rare win-win situation for a perpetual loser. Continue reading →

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This is How We Roll

3 Nov
Red Ball at Underpass

Image by kendoman26 via Flickr

As much as I try not to, I am constantly comparing my daughter to my son. Not in a negative or positive way, mind you. Just in a factual “Hmm…she is the complete opposite of her brother!” way. I often find it hard to believe they are related. Continue reading →

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The Long and the Short of It

26 Oct
Hair Cutting Scissors

Image via Wikipedia

Women seem to identify themselves by their hairstyle. Or, in my case, complete lack of style. I’ve had the same boring, long, brown, thick-as-a-rat’s-nest hair for my entire life. Well, aside from the late 70s, when my mom sent me out into the big bad world looking like a cross between Dorothy Hamill and Justin Bieber on a bad hair day. Not sure I ever recovered from that one.

Which is one huge reason I feel more secure with long hair. Or did. I chopped it all off, seven plus inches, just last month. After the 10 plus pounds of hair was removed from my head, the hairdresser felt compelled to hold up the dustpan, the mountain of frizz spilling over the sides, and yell “Look at all that hair, Darla! GONE!”

Yeah, I miss it. My hair was like my cozy security blanket. Something to hide behind. Or maybe just to keep me warm in these brutal Maine winters. Granted, about 99% of the time it was pulled back into a frumpy ponytail…but it was there when I needed it.

Now I instinctively reach back there and grab nothing but air. I look in the mirror and I see the “Mommy cut” glaring back at me, snickering and taunting, “Nah-nah naaaah, nah-naaah nah! Face it, you’re turning into your mom! Soon your style will be nothing more than short perms and bifocals.”

Am I giving up by caving into the Mommy Cut? Having short hair does cut down on maintenance and all the money spent on shampoo and conditioner. There is a freedom there that the lazy side of me absolutely adores. Now I can actually wake up, get outta bed and drag a comb across my head (love that song) and be done with it.

Or am I just being realistic? I am a Mommy after all. I drive a minivan (sadly, no Swagger Wagon for me, but a Loser Cruiser) and I happily go to bed at 9:30 pm. I’m at the point where I’m almost able to embrace those deep wrinkles and stray gray hairs that seem to be multiplying about as fast as the Duggar family. Maybe this haircut is me trying to prove to the world, (and admit to myself) that yes, I am middle aged, dammit! I can’t hide it anymore.

But do I want to feel middle aged just yet? Well, I do want a fresh start. There’s something about turning forty that makes me want to start over with a new chapter in my life, a new me. Shed the old me along with the hair. When I had my hair cut, it felt like I was saying to the world, I don’t give a crap, it’s time for me now! Me, me, me! The brand-new, take-charge, totally out-there “me”!

Sigh. No worries….as everyone tells me, it’ll always grow back. Whew! Thank goodness for that. Us middle-aged moms like to keep our options open. Maybe next year, the Pixie cut?

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There’s Always Room for Hot Cocoa

10 Oct

Change is creeping into my life. And I like it. The trees are dull yellow and orange, the pumpkins on the porch are frosty and there’s an extra blanket on my bed. The candles on my kitchen table are lit. My warm, fuzzy slippers and mug of hot cocoa are calling me.

Fall is the most wonderful time of the year. It means the school days have settled into a routine, Halloween and Thanksgiving are around the corner. There are chilly morning soccer games to be watched and footballs to be tossed. Hay rides and baked apple pies. Sweaters and fleece jackets. What’s not to love?

Oh, yeah. “Snow!” my husband reminds me. And ice. Bad driving conditions and heating bills. Christmas shopping. *shudder*

But you can always stay inside by the fireplace, (if  you’re lucky enough to have one) snuggle with your kids under a blanket and watch “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.” Fall is short and meant to be savored.

And there’s always room for hot chocolate.

Heaven in a Mug

Make mine with double the whipped cream, please. Okay…and a slice of hot apple pie on the side with a little french vanilla ice cream…

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