Pretty Little Episode 3

My Pretty Little Liars journey began with the start of the series in June 2010. For nearly six years now, I’ve given far too many of my Tuesday nights (and the occasional Wednesday) to this pretty little mess for the writers to be doing me this way. Listen, I don’t have much choice at this point to do anything other than go down with the ship, but it’s starting to hurt. Which is really saying something because Lord knows I’m a dramatic 16-year-old in my heart.

Not only have I subjected myself to these years of anguish, but I’ve dragged my two best friends along for the ride. Beginning with winter break binge-watching many years ago, I have now conscripted them into weekly group texts while the episode plays. Unfortunately for the rest of the viewership, our texts are more entertaining than this latest season. So, for all you Pretty Little Fans out there, here are our reactions while watching episode 2.

  1. Aria’s new boyfriend is a turtle with special needs. What even is his name? No, don’t tell me. I don’t care.
  2. Hanna’s mom, though… #FineWine
  3. Lucas’ voice hurts my soul.
  4. Why are you even here, Melissa? You should go be with your first husband, Ian. In the grave.
  5. I had Aria’s sparkly purple polo in middle school. And it was ugly then, too.
  6. Way to break that chair, Drunk Ezra. #NoDrinksForYou
  7. Why did no one brush Hanna’s hair? What is on her head? Why is this happening?
  8. Emily Fields. How can you do that to Mrs. Fields?! Hasn’t she been through enough?! And taking a fake grad pic. You need Jesus.
  9. And who is this guy all up in Spencer’s goods? Looking like a hipster Smeagol. And why so many questions, Smeagol? I’ve got a question for you. Why are you sitting like that, Smeagol?
  10. Well, obviously Hanna’s lying about being okay with you and Caleb, Spencer. BECAUSE NO ONE IS OKAY WITH IT. IT IS THE ACTUAL WORST.
  11. Liam. That’s the special need turtle’s name. So mad that I know that.
  12. I’ll forgive Aria for the sparkly polo because girlfriend is looking G O O D in this skype scene.
  13. Emily. Wtf. Who injects things into their thighs with the door wide the-freak open? “Brb. Gonna go do something super shady that I refuse to tell anyone about, but also gonna leave the door open so everyone can see.”
  14. Oh. She’s donating her eggs. Excuse me. *stands up and heads to the door* I seem to have misplaced my eyes. I believe they’re rolling down the street.
  15. Don’t get me wrong. Egg donation is wonderful. Emily Fields of Rosewood, PA being shady AF and donating her eggs is ridiculous. RIDICULOUS.
  16. Marlene. Why you do me like this?
  17. Melissa. Seriously. Chill. And go back to whatever hole you’ve been in and out of for six years.
  18. Sara “Shower” Harvey’s burnt hands story. I’m actually amazed at how often I can be shocked by this show. And I mean in a bad way.
  19. Calderon’s getting sassy. Ali should not have done him dirty like that. Hell hath no fury like a Rosewood detective scorned.
  20. Hanna never changed out of her bathrobe. I mean, it’s a fancy one, but that, sweetheart, is a bathrobe.
  21. #AngryEzra is making me lolol. He’s Danny Tanner meets Ernest Hemingway.
  22. Where is Toby? Does he know Caleb is staying with Spencer? Toby needs to run and check up on it. This is not okay.
  23. So, Aria’s finishing Ezra’s book for him. Sure. Can’t see any problems coming from that. Should be juuuuust fine.
  24. Spencer and Caleb. No, Lord. NO. MAKE IT STOP, MARLENE.
  25. I am zero percent into this.
  26. It’s like either of them making out with their reflection. I cannot. Not for one second.
  27. They have the chemistry of a paper towel lying gently across a single square of toilet paper.
  28. I did not come here for this, Marlene.
  29. So, there’s a new A. Cool. I truly did not see that coming.
  30. Why do I do this to myself? I’m out.
  31. Jkjk. See ya next Tuesday.

To Those About to Shop, I Salute You

I recently blogged for Mishka at Birth + Baby  about the occasional but inevitable horrors of shopping with children. This post highlights a particular Target trip in which an over-sized pregnant she-beast raced a one-year-old and a cart full of groceries to catch a runaway three-year-old monster. (All-of-the-hyphens-Jesus)

Check it out here!


Lyrics That Are 100% Not “Worth It”

Some songwriters need Jesus.

You may recall my first lyric dissection a hundred years ago. I actually do enjoy that song (even still) and take every opportunity to sing a long with the stupid lyrics. With this next song, I will admittedly sing along, but only if every other preset station in my car is occupied with such disasters as Honey, I’m Good or that Selena Gomez song where she says she’s farting carrots.


Those are lyric dissection contenders for sure, but Fifth Harmony’s Worth It is on the chopping block, today. Gloves on and scalpels sterilized. Let’s begin.

Danity Kane Fifth Harmony is a five-person girl band created by Diddy Simon Cowell and it took four people to write this classic.

Give it to me, I’m worth it
Baby, I’m worth it
Uh huh I’m worth it
Gimme gimme I’m worth it
Give it to me, I’m worth it
Baby, I’m worth it
Uh huh I’m worth it
Gimme gimme I’m worth it

The song begins with the literary masterpiece that is, what I’m assuming, a chorus of sorts. It is my strong conviction that, though the writer’s vocabulary is painfully limited, she wishes the listener to understand the singer is “worth it”. Worth what, exactly? Oh, we will soon find out.

OK, I tell her bring it back like she left some-
Bring it bring it back like she left some-
In the club with the lights off
Whatchu acting shy for?
Come and show me that you’re with it with it with it with it with it
Stop playing, now you know that I’m with it with it with it with it with it with it
Whatchu acting shy for?

At this point in the song, a male voice joins the fray to let the listener know that he, the female singers, the listener herself, and the known world are “with it”. We are worth it. We are with it. I feel that. And, really. What ARE we acting shy for? Think about it.

Just gimme you, just gimme you
Just gimme you, that’s all I wanna do
And if what they say is true
If it’s true, I might give me to you
I may talk a lot of stuff
Guaranteed, I can back it up
I think I’m a call you bluff
Hurry up, I’m waitin’ out front

This verse presents some questions. Roughly 875 questions, to be exact. “Just gimme you, that’s all I wanna do.” Alright. Sentence structure is a solid D-, but I get where you’re going with this.

I am, however, struggling with “I think I’m a call you bluff.” Is that like, “Hey, Bluff!” Like it’s a pet name? Like, maybe your first date was a lovely picnic dinner on a picturesque bluff overlooking the ocean at dusk. And you loved it so much that you decided to call him “Bluff”. If that’s the case, I don’t blame you for waiting out front. He sounds like a true gentleman.

Uh huh, you see me in the spotlight
“Ooh I love your style”
Uh huh show me what you got
‘Cause I don’t wanna waste my time
Uh huh see me in the spotlight
“Ooh I love your style”
Uh huh show me what you got now
Come and make it worth my while

This is what was likely intended to be a bridge, and I suppose it sets up the chorus of worth-it’s. You love my style, thus I am worth the yet-to-be-explained “it”. Makes sense.

After this, the chorus happens to us again.

And now for my favorite part. Prepare yourselves.

It’s all on you, it’s all on you
It’s all on you, so what you wanna do?
And if you don’t have a clue
Not a clue, I’ll tell you what to do
Come harder just because
I don’t like it, like it too soft
I like it a little rough
Not too much, but maybe just enough


I fight-believe me, I do-to understand, Lord. First, she says, “It’s all on you” three times. I don’t know why repetition is still shocking at this stage, but consider me shocked. And I’m going to turn a blind eye on the Goldilocks-like descriptions of “too soft” and “a little rough”, so we can focus on the last line. “Not too much, but maybe just enough.” It sounds just like the time I tried to explain myself to my stylist at my last hair cut. “Listen, I don’t like it (like it) too short. I like it a little long. Not too long, though, so don’t get crazy. So, cut it, but not too much. You know. Maybe just enough. You get it, right?” At which point, the stylist sighed and exercised the greatest restraint in not strangling me.

Then, more bridge, chorus, and rapping forever and ever until you change the station. I am uncomfortable with the video because the girls look to be roughly twelve years old and are doing unnatural things with golf clubs. But, here it is anyway.

I Saw Star Wars and I Want to Talk About It

I and $1.73 billion-worth of my closest friends saw The Force Awakens at some point over the last several weeks. If you are one that flips over spoilers, I hope and pray that you’ve dragged your stick-wielding hiney to the theater by now. But if you haven’t, *spoilers* and stuff. Well, maybe *spoilers*, but mostly *rants* and *schoolgirl hopes and dreams*. (So many ***)

Rey’s Origin

No, no, NO to Rey being Luke’s daughter. No, Yoda, NO. The Force is not with that theory. If Luke had a rando daughter and abandoned her on some sandy cesspool, I will saber-cut all of the humans, ewoks, wookies, and any of those other lumpy CGI creatures. I cannot and will not abide by this origin.

She’s also 100% not Han’s. Okay. I’ll concede that Han was most likely both a player and crushed a lot. Fine. But, I truly do not want to roll into the next Star Wars movie and have that paternity bombshell gently nudged in my direction. It’s trite, it’s annoying, and NO.

JJ Abrams wants to make her Obi Wan’s progeny falling somewhere along the Kenobi family tree? I will allow it, I suppose, but I’m not happy about it. I will, however, roll my eyes until it hurts.

Why? Because she doesn’t need to be someone’s relative. She can do bad all by herself. So what if Luke’s saber called to her? You know why? Because the lonely saber had been sitting in a locked box in Estelle Getty’s basement for a million years. You’d be calling out to a nice young girl, too. And she can drive the Millennium Falcon so she must be Han’s long lost daughter! Yeah, well, I can make a mean jerk chicken but my father’s not Bobby Flay.

You wanna know who Rey is? Rey is a nobody from nowhere and she wears plain tan clothes, her hair is a hot mess, she doesn’t give half a romantic crap about the infinite number of men she encounters, and the Force said, “Yes and amen!”

You’s a queen, Rey.

Kylo Ren

I will admit that I follow Emo Kylo Ren (@KyloR3n) on Twitter and it’s hilarious. I will also admit that I’ve never been a mega fan of the original Star Wars, and my husband told me not to bother with the prequels, though I did see (and cry through Revenge of the Sith). That being said, I am obsessed with Kylo. Obsessed! The mask, the hood, the red saber with the little handle things, the serial killer voice distortion thing that’s hella creepy but also sounds like his real voice. Listen. All I’m saying is if Kylo Ren came to the door, I’d be scared but I’d also ask him if I could get him anything. My new number one in life is to get injured in a snowy woodland duel, and then pound the pain from my chest and keep fighting until the ground conveniently splits me to safety. That’s all.


Here’s my hope for Kylo. While I love him bad, I think he’s going to bail and that busted magnified hologram-looking Snooki (or whatever his name is) and join Leia/mom. He’s turning good. I just pray they let him keep the mask and hood combo. It works for him.

Rey and Kylo

While I mentioned before that I was pleased Rey didn’t have to suffer through any romantic garbage in The Force Awakens, I’m gonna need her to get to suffering by the end of all this. And by “suffering”, I obviously mean “dating Kylo Ren”. That’s right, folks. Want to know the real reason Rey can’t be Luke’s or Han’s? Because even in a galaxy far, far away, getting freaky with your cousin and/or brother is WRONG. Let’s not sit idly by and allow the sins of the mother come back to crush and forever scar the son.



In conclusion, my feelings are my feelings and they are not up for discussion. As I have said it, so let it be. Amen and the end.



I Hired a Mother’s Helper and Her Name is Choo Choo Soul

God bless Choo Choo Soul. God bless Genevieve. God bless DC. And God bless that blue train.

Child number 3, Princess Angel Baby Lady, has discovered the mesmerizing glory of Choo Choo Soul. Baby Lady joins her brothers in a family tradition of learning how to operate YouTube channels before learning to walk. And now, as she achieves this glorious milestone, her brothers have remembered their love for Genevieve that had been briefly shelved for acceptable but inferior things, such as Power Rangers and Teen Titans. Fortunately I, like my children, have no problem watching/listening to the same things on repeat until the batteries die AND we have approximately 875 phones not fit for a trade-in, so this family can Choo Choo Soul in stereo all. Day. LONG.

Also, don’t wanna brag but I may have followed by and had a (tiny) Twitter convo with Genevieve.

TMIB + Genevieve = BIFF.
TMIB + Genevieve = BIFF.

So, yeah. We are basically BIFF (best internet friends forever).

Now, as a token of gratitude to my BIFF and a guide for all you out there looking for a good babysitter, I shall rank the greatest Choo Choo Souls for your viewing (and singing!) pleasure:

10) Give a Little Whistle. Good message. Good throwback. Solid song to round out the top 10.

9) Animal Sounds. Listen. No one’s getting any animation awards for this one but we’re not here to judge the (really bad) computerized cartooning. The song is top notch and kids love animals. Win. Maybe just listen and don’t look.

8) Do Your Own Dance. I may not love the boys wildly thrashing through the house in the name of “dancing”, but their moves sure do make me laugh. You know. In the 5 seconds between “cute dancing” and “destroying your entire house”.

7) Birthday Song. Lord knows I loves me some birthdays. Also, “A birthday is a day that you were born and everybody’s glad that you’re here.” Cue all the tears. Because I need more things in life to make me cry.

6) Steam Train. This sassy little number gets everybody moving. It’s a great distraction when you can’t even and the kids won’t even. Try it.

5) When You Wish Upon a Star. I can’t handle songs that mingle children, dreams, and wishes. I can’t. Because then I choke on tears and things get weird when the kids are like, “Mom, why are you crying again?” “I want you to keep wishing. Keep, keep wishing.” Bye. Gonna go cry for an hour.

4) A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes. Son of a biscuit. If this mother loving song doesn’t make me cry every. Dang. TIME. EVERY TIME. First, Big G is transformed into a princess and dances with Prince DC. Hi. Finally. In my CCS dreams, DC and G are happily married and all of the kids on the train are their adopted train babies and they all live together in the castle from THIS VIDEO. And they all just travel along singing, learning, and being happy and making wishes. “Keep dreaming, keep dreaming. I’m gonna keep, keep wishing. And one day, my wish will come true.” #tearsforever (Ps: upon listening to this just now, the boys changed the lyrics to “Keep pooping, keep peeping,” I can’t, Jesus.)

3) ABC. This one’s a key change lovers’ dream. Everyone in this home knows this song and, in turn, their abc’s. If you love the alphabet, more key changes than you can count, and letters forming out of a train’s smokestack, then this is your jam!

2) Bullet Train. This song’s got it all. Super fast trains, race car references, intermediate level Japanese. Bullet Train is a huge hit in this house and strikes a sweet little chord in my heart because we lived in (the beautiful land they call) Japan for a few years when I was a kid. If you don’t like Bullet Train, you probably don’t like Christmas or happiness, or joy, in general.

1)Blue Zoo Train. I don’t even care what you have to say about it. This is, without a doubt, the most wonderful children’s musical creation to have ever graced the ears of children and adults alike. It’s sassy, it’s soulful, and it extols the greatness of that precious little blue train. And isn’t that the reason we’re all here?! You go ‘head, Blue Zoo Train.

There are about 9 million others so get thee to YouTube and go nuts!

Please click this. I'm on like, page 9,000 or something.
Please click this. I’m on like, page 9,000 or something.

Five Little Monkeys and Their Inept “Mama”The

Five little monkeys jumping on the bed.

One fell off and bumped his head.

Mama called the doctor and the doctor said,

No more monkeys jumping on the bed!”

We’ve all heard it. We’ve chanted it. We’ve taught it to our children. Now, it’s time to question it.

WHAT is wrong with everyone in this story. WHAT.

Five little monkeys are apparently getting their jump on. Fine. My monkeys jump on our bed. Whatever. One of the aforementioned monkeys falls off and bumps his head. Yeah, okay. That’s not hard to believe. Then mom calls the doctor. Hmm. Okay. Why? Let’s define “bump”. Is this like a sarcastic “Oh, poor baby! Here’s a popsicle!” kind of bump or is it a “DEAR GOD!! BLOOD! BLOOD EVERYWHERE!!” kind of bump. What kind of “bump” are we looking at here? You called the doctor so I’m guessing it’s a legit “bump”. So, here’s a question: if it’s serious (which is obviously what I mean by “legit”), what is calling the doctor going to do? Like, go to the hospital. And, if it’s not legit, GET OFF THE PHONE. Your doctor is NOT even tryna deal with your nonsense after hours because your snowflake got some rug burn. (I’ve just always assumed this bed-jumping occurs around bedtime. Am I wrong?!)

Judging by the rhyme’s response assigned to the doctor (“no more monkeys jumping on the bed”), I’m guessing little Junior didn’t have to visit the ER. Okay, so, then four little monkeys start jumping on the bed. Problems. A) Did you not hear the doctor? NO MORE MONKEYS. B) Where is Junior? Is he dead? Did he suddenly grow some discernment? If that’s the case, maybe you should let Junior handle bedtime for the other monkeys from now on because he learns faster than you.

Then, what happens? One falls off and bumps his head. Where have I heard this before? Mama calls the doctor and the doctor says, “No more monkeys jumping on the bed.” Really? That’s it? Nah. Somebody’s taking liberties with their story telling. Look. I’m not saying the rhyme composer is lying, per se, but maybe doing some serious editing. Here’s me, as the doctor:

*Ring Ring*

Doctor-rolling eyes: “Yes, Mrs. Monkey. Uh huh. So, hold on. Another monkey fell off the bed? After jumping, right? K. Do you remember what I said the last time you called me on my personal phone at my personal home during my personal time? Right. No more. That’s right. Okay. Oh. Also, don’t call me again. Night night.”

Mama Monkey’s got it by now, right? Junior’s fast asleep, hopefully un-concussed. Sally (monkey #2) has an insignificant “bump” and Mama’s gathered the other three and tucked their monkey buns into their own beds.

NO. Girlfriend has THREE monkeys jumping on her bed, now. NO, LORD.

So, brace yourself, another falls off. Brace yourself with even more vigor because MAMA CALLS THE DOCTOR AGAIN.

*Ring Ring*

Doctor: “GOD, NO. FATHER OF LIGHTS. COME TO ME IN MY HOUR OF NEED. (answers phone) YES, MAMA MONKEY. WHAT IS IT? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! I fail to understand how you not only have raised five monkeys to this stage of life but how you, yourself, have managed to survive to adulthood. CAN YOU HEAR MY VOICE? NO JUMPING. NONE. ZERO. Also, how do you even have my number?! WHO ARE YOU?!” (slams phone and takes 17 Xanax)

Shock of all shocks, the remaining two monkeys jump and fall and corresponding calls are placed to the doctor. After the fourth call, the doctor realizes Mama is beyond reason. He places his coat atop his doctor nightgown while muttering very crazy things to himself and exits his home. He then proceeds to drive to Mama’s house where he’s greeted by an exasperated monkey mother. He, being equally exasperated, walks without words to the bedroom, grabs Mama’s mattress, drags it down the stairs, out the front door and LIGHTS THAT B ON FIRE. Mattress is gone, y’all. He shakes Mama’s hand and drives away to finally get some rest. Mama calls his house before he gets home and leaves a message with Mrs. Doctor asking the doctor his opinion on vaccines.


The End

Ain’t No Party Like a Magnetic Party (Magformers Review)

I was contacted by the friends at Magformers and offered a toy set of my choice in exchange for an honest review.

Well, my Magformers girl gave me a choice but I couldn’t make a decision beyond “one of the car ones” so she hooked me up with a set of her choosing that fit the category. And her pick was awesome!

27 pieces of mind-stretching fun!
27 pieces of mind-stretching fun!

I came home from yet another doctor visit for my little sickies to find a box on our porch. After stirring what little remains of my memory and remembering my product review deal, I called off the dogs and SWAT team and opened the “suspicious package” I originally thought it to be. The kids were totally into it from the start! Our set is labeled ages 3+, and don’t tell anyone, but I let all three kids play with it even though only one is over three. #sorrynotsorry

This particular set comes with 27 magnetic pieces of varying shapes and 39 activity cards that teach both how to build magnetic vehicles and everyday objects with the shapes.


Monkey (4) immediately wanted to build every car imaginable and became a bit frustrated when he pushed too hard on the pieces making them detach from each other. With a little practice and gentleness, he worked it out. Good thing, too, because his fuss is my kryptonite. #supermom


I think this set is worth the money and a great toy for exercising some brain cells. Check out their site for the many different sets for various skill levels!