Sugared Harpy

For those of you who do not want to claim the word, “Feminist,” please read this, “Yes, You Are,” at Tomato Nation.

A lesson on car dancing brought you by the delicious Ludacris and Pharrell.

“Money Maker”: A tune for the beginner car dancer or as it were, the chair dancer, section by section.

[Pharrell]
Shake your money maker
Like somebody’s bout to pay ya
I see you on my radar
Don’t you act like you’re a faker
She…

You are now intrigued by the call to “shake your money maker.” So you do. A little timidly at first, after all you are in your office chair or car, but oh Pharrell is so so pretty and sexy and so yes, you shake your money maker. A little hip action in the chair.

[Luda]
You know I got it
If you wanna come get it
Stand next to this money
Like – ey ey

Ludacris! Oh my, helllooooo. I wanna come get it, sir. I do. Not the money, but you Luda. You. I shall now roll my hips for you in this chair, start at the right bring it forward and then roll it to the back.

[Pharrell]
Shake your money maker
Like somebody’s bout to pay ya
Don’t worry about them haters
Keep your nose up in the air

[Luda]
You know I got it
If you wanna come get it
Stand next to this money
Like – ey ey

Boys, boys. Watch me, this thirty year old mother and frump extraordinaire, dance in this chair. So hot and sexy like!

[Verse 1]
Shake, shake, shake your money maker
Like you were shaking it for some paper
It took your momma 9 months to make ya
Might as well shake what your momma gave ya

Roll ass into the back of the chair at the words, “gaave YA.”

You, you lookin good in them jeans
I bet you’d look even beter with me in between
I keep my mind on my money – money on my mind
But you’s a hell of a distraction when you shake your behind

Yes, I am a hell of a distraction. Dammit, the keyboard is not as good as a surrogate pole as the steering wheel. Must improvise. Grab knee with one hand and shimmy luscious breasts and shoulders.

I got (some person?) on my right side pourin’ some cups
My whole hood is to my left and they ain’t givin a fuck
So feel free to get loose and get carried away
So by tomorrow you forgot what you where saying today
But don’t forget about this feeling that I am making you get
And all the calories you burn from me making you sweat
The mile highpoints you earn when we taking my jet and
How everywhere you turn I’ll be making you wet

Wet! ha! Do it, Luda. Quit talking and do it. I shall now shake it and push a hand into my hair. See, I’m sexy.

[Chorus]
Shake your money maker
Like somebody’s bout to pay ya
I see you on my radar
Don’t you act like you’re a faker

She…

[Luda]
You know I got it
If you wanna come get it
Stand next to this money
Like – ey ey

[Pharrell]
Shake your money maker
Like somebody’s bout to pay ya
Don’t worry about them haters
Keep your nose up in the air

[Luda]
You know I got it
If you wanna come get it
Stand next to this money
Like – ey ey

By now you are fully into the song and the thought of anyone making you wet. So dirty, you vixen. But lo, there is hip rolling and ass shaking to do. Add more sexy shoulder dips and if you’re in the car (then dear god stop reading this) you can put your hand on the top of the car for extra pole support.

[Verse 2]
Switch, switch, switch it from right to left
And switch it till you running right out of breath
And take a break until you ready again
And you can invite over as many friends as
You want to but I really want you and just
Be thankful that Pharrell gave you something to bump to

Oh Pharrell, I’m thankful. In fact, I will car/chair bump to it.

Luda – I’m at the top of my game
You want my hands from your bottom to the top of your frame
And I – just wanna take a little right on your curves
And get erotic giving your body just what it deserves and
Let me give you some swimming lessons on the penis

Penis? hahahahaha.

Backstroke, breaststroke, stroke of a genius
Yepp call me the renissance man get up and
I stay harder then a cinderblock man

Cinderblock man? Go on. I’m all worked up at this point so I’d like to hear more about this “cinderblock man” thing of which you speak.

Hey I’m just a bedroom gangster
And I’ve been meaning to tell that I really mus thank ya when you

[Chorus]
Shake your money maker
Like somebody’s bout to pay ya
I see you on my radar
Don’t you act like you’re a faker

She…

[Luda]
You know I got it
If you wanna come get it
Stand next to this money
Like – ey ey

[Pharrell]
Shake your money maker
Like somebody’s bout to pay ya
Don’t worry about them haters
Keep your nose up in the air

You know I got it
If you wanna come get it
Stand next to this money
Like – ey ey

[Verse 3]
Rock rock, rock it an make it work, girl
Please don’t stop it till it hurts, girl

At the “rock, rock, rock” part you must do some big hip swirls and enthusiastic Shakira-like waist moves.

You – you been looking a little tipsy
So if you could just shake it a little this way
See I’m a member of the BBC
The original breadwinner of DTP

I have no idea what he’s talking about. It’s kind of ruining my sexiness, here.

You the center of attention that is distracting the squad
Cause everybody in the campus like – oh my god she can

Yes! “Oh my god!” requires some serious attitude, ladies.

[Chorus]
Shake your money maker
Like somebody’s bout to pay ya
I see you on my radar
Don’t you act like you’re a faker

She…

[Luda]
You know I got it
If you wanna come get it
Stand next to this money
Like – ey ey

[Pharrell]
Shake your money maker
Like somebody’s bout to pay ya
Don’t worry about them haters
Keep your nose up in the air

You know I got it
If you wanna come get it
Stand next to this money
Like – ey ey

By the end of the song, you will have shaken your ass, hips, waist, shoulders, and used some serious leg muscles. I consider this a workout! Except now I want to shag someone…

Dear reader who found my site whilst googling, “free live in home lesbian women hair shampooing beer rinsing stories,”

Wha?

Okay. Breathe. Read it again.

Free. Free live in. Free live-in-home lesbian?

Okay. A lesbian who lives in your home, unpaid by you.

Free live-in home lesbian women?

Women? Are there other kinds of lesbians? So, you’d like lesbian womens to live in your house. That’s pretty weird. But wait.

Free live-in home lesbian women hair shampooing beer rinsing stories?

Lesbians, in your house, shampooing and then rinsing their hair with beer for the fun of it, not getting paid?

Hahahahahahahahaha!

Dude, go tell your mom to stop making you your favoritest grilled three-cheese sandwich with the words “I wuv you” in the bread. Right now. Go on, you have boxes to pack. Because you need to move out and actually meet you some live women.

Sincerely,
Melissa

As my neighbors start putting up their crazy people Halloween decorations (just wait for the pictures I sneak, it’s something to behold), I have been reminded that Christmas is coming.

Dude, I know it’s September. But my lovely neighbors will start adding Santas to their Halloween stuff in about a week so the association is really their fault. Big, creepy santas and gingerbread men mixed among black spiders and tombstones…shudder.

I tend to do all of my shopping last minute and I am usually not pleased with what I find. This year, I’m cutting back on the number of things I buy and committing myself to giving way cooler presents. I bring you this:

Dutch’s Holiday Shopping Guide for the Anti-Materialist Indie Sonofabitch Parent

It’s not new, but it’s good. Dutch is fantastic, Juniper is always adorable, and this list rocks.

Who wouldn’t want one of these for Christmas?

Thank you, fine people! Check this shit out.

Here’s part of the interview:

3. What is your greatest challenge as a mom?
My children decided early on to be their own person and this has caused me much trauma. They weren’t little puppets I could mold and shape into my own little kidbots. Not that I ever thought I could and not that I want to, but oy, those personalities are sometimes so difficult and headstrong. They have this big idea that they get to be their own amazing person and sometimes that just clashes with what mama wants to do. But naturally, this is the most rewarding part. You get to watch PEOPLE grow. It’s like plants! But with more screaming and gum in your hair!

Read the rest at Crazy Hip Blog Mama! I promise that I do speak of the vagina (again).

My newest piece is up at DotMoms called, The Big Month…

For years, I wanted to have a third child but someone never wanted it. That’s right. I wanted a baby but my husband most certainly did not. His reasons were always good, too good. We had two kids already, we were both in college, kids are hellions on wheels, we both worked outside the home, the marriage needed help, we then started new careers, the laundry was never done, the cats looked jealous already, the living room paint wasn’t dry…

Yet one glorious day, he looked at me and said it. “Let’s have another baby.”

I, naturally, collapsed in puddle of laughter before looking up, tears in my eyes, “Are you kidding me, because that’s not funny.”

Mike is going on a business trip. This is the first for us. I’ve gone on business trips before but never Mike. He’s being unleashed on the city of Denver and for that, people of Denver, I wish you luck. It’s only for the weekend but I’m going to miss him sleeping next to me. I’m going to miss him laughing with me.

I’m going to miss him.

Mike gets to be at his conference every morning at 6am. I worry that he won’t have any time to see the city. I hope he enjoys his sessions. I’m praying the hotel is comfy and he can sleep decently.

On the other hand, the kids will be with their father for the weekend. I’ve got a dinner with friends Saturday night and a lazy Sunday planned. I can sleep in, get some work done, make a killer clam chowder without anyone complaining about not wanting soup, clean the house, and decide how I want to handle my one problematic course (puh-lease people, art history IS hard, stop whining).

There is a new radio station in town called Movin 101.1. As much as I hate, LOATHE, DESPISE their marketing and name, I’m digging the station.

First off, marketing braintrusts, it should be Movin’ 101.1. See that apostrophe there, yes. It’s your friend. Use it, love it, embrace spelling and grammar and all things that do not include the random omission of letters. Moving 101.1 or Move 101.1 would have been fine, but no. We had to get all hipster on ourselves, didn’t we.

Secondly? Their slogan? Ohmygarters. “Makes you feel good.” I have a lot of things that make me feel good and yes, music is one of them and yes, I see where you’re going with it, but uh, my mind is wayyyy too dirty to let that go. If movin makes me feel good, fine, bring it on. That’s what car dancing is for, no? I think that super hot waiter at Chevy’s the other night would make me feel good too, but I’m not going to go and ruin him by omitting any letters of his name.

Now, the music? Most excellent. On my way into work (yes, morning music!) I car danced to Salt n’ Pepa, Fergie, Justin Timberlake, and Prince. I said it. PRINCE. It wasn’t “Sexy Motherfucker” but it was “Little Red Corvette” and that was almost as good.

Said new radio station that I’m not ever going to mention by name again played a whole host of fantastico selections. Every now and again throwing out something boring, but overall it was a decent experience. When I’m car dancing, I’m feeling good I suppose. And people, you should see my car dancing.

It’s like there’s a pole right in the car.

I’ve never been tagged for a meme before and now, the lovely Sara has blown my meme virginity. Hooray! She tagged me with a fun meme, she wants to know Five Weird Things about me.

Oh honey, I’m a Pisces (Aquarian cusp). There are a hundred weird things about me. Note to self: Do a 100 Things list.

But for Sara, I will narrow the list to five. Now which five? It took a bit to figure which weird things I want to share with the blogging world, because dude, some things maybe should not get out there. At least, not on a family blog like this one.

Here goes, the Big Five Weird Things About Me That I’m Willing to Present To The Bloggy Public:

1) I have a few compulsions, a slight OCD one could say. I have to lock doors three or four times to really think they are locked. I have to set my alarm three or four times to believe it’s really set. I have a shower routine that cannot be messed with, ever.

What is this shower routine, you ask? Well, I like to shower in the morning. Okay, I would love to shower in the morning and at night, because night showers are soothing. But no, my skin won’t allow it and it feels wasteful. The routine: First there is the waiting for the shower to warm to the perfect temperature. The perfect shower temperature for me is hot enough to redden skin within seconds (and how my skin hates me for it). Second comes the wetting, shampooing and rinsing of the hair. Next, conditioning (I skip this if I’m using Lush’s Big shampoo, I don’t use conditioner with it). Then, soaping of the beautiful body and rinsing rinsing rinsing. I then do the shaving of the underarms, yes, every day and always with Aveeno shave cream. It makes life better. Lastly, I wash my face with Aveeno foaming face wash. It’s the only thing out there that doesn’t dry me out but has kept the tenacious Age 30 pimples away.

The only variation to the routine is when I shave my legs. Which I don’t do every day. Not because I don’t need to, I do (I have dark, course hair and lily white skin), but because my delicate baby skin angers when I do. If I shave my legs, then I either do it right after my entire shower or at night in a bath.

That was about two minutes of your life you will never get back.

2) Certain sounds gross me out. Big time. The worst is the sound of meat things being stirred or mixed. Ground meat being mixed with various other things, mixed by HAND, and being squished around is the most disgusting thing ever. The second worst sound is macaroni and cheese being stirred. You’ve probably made something yummy that sounds horrific to my ears. I will, however, eat things that make disgusting mixing sounds during preparation.

3) I sleep with my cat. I mean, I sleep with my precious, wecious beebee kitty up in my arms. He shares a pillow with me. I love it. I love every damn moment of his furry cuddling.

4) I am not an orthodox art history instructor sometimes. Today in class I used the phrase “suck it” in regards to Athens after the Peloponnesian Wars, architecture, and sculpture. Last week I said, “she really wanted to be mounted.” I just know you want to take my class.

5) I have certain deviancies. In the sack. No, I am NOT sharing them in detail. But, let’s say that a girl who is somewhat dominating in everyday life isn’t always so in the bedroom. I can’t explain it. There are physical responses to particular actions and although I would like to use psychology to understand it, it doesn’t seem to work out so neatly. I think I was born this way and it has sometimes infuriated me that I would bow to the patriarchy in such a fashion. But there it is. Now, somebody get over here and spank me.

Dear bitches, it’s time to tag five more of you. Oh yeah, who has the power now. I’m tagging Christine, Supa, Melanie, Lisa, and Stephanie.

Daniel turns twelve today. TWELVE.

He did not get permission for this and I, for one, am flabbergasted at this development. I believe that I gave birth to him just the other day.

Daniel has grown from a sweet baby to a sweet little man. He’s smart, handsome, funny, but always so sweet.

The attacks on 9/11 are clearly significant; however, it’s also Daniel’s birthday and I’m celebrating him on this day. Remembering, yes. But celebrating this child who changed my life, YES.

If I didn’t have Daniel, I would never be this woman today. I like who I have become and it’s in large part due to his birth.

And now, today, my sweet, darling baby Daniel is twelve. And sweetpeas, twelve is a whole lot different than five. Or ten. He is still a sweetheart, sure. But that sweetness is now tempered by an intense need for personal time, a short fuse, the sudden belief that everyone is staring at him, and well…

There is the bershon.

Dear lordallmighty, since when did my child do this? I remember doing this and that was like, just yesterday when I was still wearing legwarmers and a matching perm with Anne.

But Daniel is now twelve. And apparently, twelve is when you ride the line of adorable and bitchy.

My baby’s loving, sweet, hormonal surging bershon self is twelve and I can’t wait to see what happens next. You know, after the bershon.

Happy Birthday, baby!