Wordless Wednesday: My Rio de Janeiro

And Something for the Warm Blooded Folk out there:

Rio de Janeiro Olympic Logo

Thank the heavens of everything holy above us, there is a logo for the Olympics that doesn't make me want to cry!  I checked out Jim's blog this morning, per normal morning activity, and I had a dance party, I was so freakin' happy!  By the way, he also has the cool intro video posted on his page.

Anyway, I tried to come up with something sarcastic and sassy to write about it but, I actually like it.

And in comparison to the World Cup logo...

it's like a golden child of design.  Seriously, my children could have designed the world cup logo... drunk.  I don't know who paid who to get that chosen, but sometimes you really need to let your step-children find success on their own.

So gold star to the Olympics.  The more I look at it, the more I like it.

The whitest little Brazilian ever born...

My youngest baby is turning 2 years old tomorrow. The whitest little Brazilian ever born...

First off, he made me put on a TON of weight. His little hands reached out of my Vag and put the snacks right into my mouth. It was a little awkward at first but I felt he was doing it in his best interest.

As it turns out, it was not for him. Shocking, not just to you but to me too, I gained a plump 22 kilos (45lbs) and he wasn't a 5 kilos (11lbs) baby as my head told me he would be.  Weird, I think it may have been my ass, using my fetus' phone, requesting the food. Go figure.

So he popped out at a healthy 3.68 kilos (8.1lbs).  Blond hair, blue eyes, and type O, thank goodness we had already settled maternity pre-birth.  It looked as if my husband and Mother had fathered a child, using my uterus of course. Kind of creepy, but he's cute enough to pull it off.

Now the feisty little man is turning two.

Oh and is he feisty. He uses facial expressions his Father could never get away with. He melts my heart with his little swagger.  And hell hath no furry like this boy making drama.

Before kids, you never knew such a strong personality fit into something the size of a shoe box.  And after, you can't remember how life existed before them.

Baby Sass, you can make me smile in the middle of the night after waking up 3 times in a row.  Your snuggles could defrost even the crankiest of Mommy hearts. And your spirit, well, I'm afraid that may be capable of moving walls.  

I never quite know what you'll do next and I love it. You add 25 lbs of spontaneity, feist, and love to my life.

To the happiest and smiliest little man a Mommy could ask for, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

I dream of burning my husband's comics

I dream of burning my husband's comics. You see, I live in an apartment in Rio de Janeiro.  There's like 1 and a half closets.

He has like 6 boxes of them.  They are all saved for our kids.  And I had to go and encourage him by giving birth to children with penises.

I did managed to send 3 boxes to his parent's house.  They live outside the city and have a proper house.   The boxes are there.  I would have sent them all but it just looked bad.

His parents are very much parents that they encourage him to be happy. Although he never reads his comic books, they make him happy by being in existence.  I argue that even if recycled and created into new and reusable items, they still technically exist.

No dice.  If you marry a person, you have to except them for who they are. My husband is an overly organized pack-rat.  I would almost classify him as a hoarder but he does not save trash, or anything dirty mind you, and has no problem throwing my stuff out.  This is not a hoarder.

And as much as I want to be the "cool" wife, every time I open the cabinet with his comics, I get an urge to just set the entire place ablaze.  Really quite beside the point because where would be live? On the other hand, we wouldn't have any stuff to clean up.

Thank goodness I have no pyro tendencies.

And then add on top of it that Brazilians just aren't good at throwing things away. They don't like to buy used and they won't throw it out unless it literally gives them the finger and walks out the door. I wouldn't be surprised if they still followed after it screaming "but we can get you fixed! I know a guy!"

Basically, there is nothing to be done. I so sassily recommended that my husband put up a shelf in the boys' room, since the comics are for them, and line up all the comics. It'll look cool and lower the risk of molding in the humid climate.

What was his response?  'You just want the cabinet space! What will you put there anyway'

Of course, I could only answer 'Stuff.'  Sorry Rachel, wrong answer.

So, he's keeping it there to spite me.  It must be out of spite because there is nothing that this man loves more than drilling holes in the wall. Mr. Rant, I know you are out there reading this.  Go do your thing to that wall, you sexy Mr.  Drill the crap out of it!  Then put in the shelf, nice and level, just like you like it.

And how nice will those Batman, X-Men, and other comics look on display.  How jealous the other 4 year olds and your friends will be.  Their wives and Moms would never let them have that in their house.

And that readers, is how you go from wanting to burn your husbands belongings to becoming the cool wife/mother.

Live and learn baby.

Mashed Potatoes with a side of Hemorrhoids

So what's for dinner tonight?  Steak and mashed potatoes.  Awesome! Some down home cooking for this lady and her family.

Did I mention that the potatoes are powdered and come in a bag?

I will never forget what a proctologist once said to me in Rio de Janeiro (see post here TMI).  He went off, "You Americans and your Instant Mashed Potatoes! Who the hell doesn't have time to make real Mashed Potatoes! And that's why you have hemorrhoids, that and your sauces."

I was like, Dude, you summed up all our food right there: instant, powered, and sauce.  Thank goodness he didn't mention hot dogs and potato chips.  I would have had to throw down then.

But he was so right!  As fast, fun, and easy for the whole family as that envelope of powdery goodness can be, it's kind of nasty.  There really can't be any potato in that bag.  Trust me, I've burned potatoes down to powder and it doesn't look like that.

I can't lie though, I'm tempted to use them.  It's just so easy.  Rip, pour, and mix. I don't even have to use milk. It's uncountable calories, saturated fat, and no nutrition mixed into one tasty side dish.  I can't image the trouble they went to finding the right mix of chemicals to get that real butter flavor. Now that's effort with a capital I-will-not-let-one-drop-of-real-food-get-into-this.

Oh well, when in Maryland, do as the Marylanders do.

I'll just call the above mentioned doctor when I get home and make sure he does entire families.  At least this time I can convincingly tell him that I am not having anal sex, just eating instant mashed potatoes. I don't know which he'll be more annoyed with.