And we go farther down

My mother just came in and read my last post and asked why on earth I haven't posted about the time she called the cops on my cousin and I yet. Soooo fine here!

I present to you THE SEVEN HOUR DAY!

One morning Lisa and I get this brilliant idea that we are going to ride our bikes over to Gingers neighborhood. This is because Gingers neighborhood had ALL THE GUYS. So we go over an somehow wander over to Scotts house to hang out with him and Tom. Debbie and Ginger are there with us. To be brief I'll just tell you a few tidbits from this day. First, I hadn't yet kissed a boy. This meant everyone in the room proceeded to try and teach me. So first we had Debbie, trying to show me on her hand. This leads to all of us girls now semi practicing making out with our hands in little fists.

After this we do other stupid things like try and get the guys to kiss us, or try and get them to write on our stomachs (because then OMG they like totally touched me.) and on and on and on. We also stole their hat because it had their sweat in it. Took the barrettes they had to wear at dinner (this was during the long hair grunge phase).

Anyway about five hours had passed when my pager started going off. WELL we weren't exactly supposed to be hanging out with these boys so we brought our bikes in and hid them. Now sensing we were in huge ass trouble we stayed locked in their room and banned Debbie and Ginger from leaving as my mom would surely get it out of them where we were.

The next thing we know my mom is driving down the street. So now like a bunch of retards we start over exageratedly ducking down behind the windows like OMG she is going to see us! After about 7 hours we decide we better go home. As we are riding home the Washoe County Sherrifs pull up next to us. Seems my mom had called the cops on us at this point (fyi I wasn't older then 13). They followed behind us as we peddled up to my house in shame. The next thing we knew they had our backs against the wall and they just screamed and screamed and screamed at us.

Yeah we were in trouble. After that we got grounded. This is where the fun began. We were forbidden to speak so we would send letters. They would be depressing letters containging giant drawings of the #7 (for 7 hour day) or the words to Far Behind (or song for Tom and Scott), or other depressing woe is us shit. Thus started the daily letter writing segment in school. We would write letter after letter while we were in school. Mine would be like OMG Stephanie Delano is soo being a bitch today about Jeff Williamson (hahahaha Steph), and Lisa's would be like DUDE Shane totally looked at me today and....

I had my own teen line in my room so when Lisa would call me if my mom was there I would say, no thanks I don't need my carpets cleaned and hang up. Thank gosh my mom didn't know about *69 yet.

Also, I still have all of these letters, in date order in a binder! There was this girl that we hated named Britney because she dated Scott her code name was Britanica. So Lisa used to find stuff about encyclopedia Britanica and send it to me with the words SUCKS written all over it. I still have these too. I can't remember why but I have a nickel that Lisa sent me glued to a piece of paper also.

We also had code names for everyone else, and on the rare occasion we spoke their real name it had to be done with special accents so Tom was always referred to as Thomas Dale, Thomas Dale Henry, and you would have to know us to know the way we had to say that EVERY SINGLE TIME WE TALKED ABOUT HIM!

So you seee....really we are total morons! Our kids don't stand a chance!

Taking the Kool Cat down with me

When we were younger my cousin and I, aside from speaking our fabulous made up language had made up names. We preferred to tell guys we were about 4 years old then we were and also come up with different names. I was always Zoey and Lisa had a few names but finally settled on being called KC. To this day I still run into guys who call me Zoey and it is terribly embarrassing when they find out I lied and even more embarrassing for them that they believed me. Anyway one day we left a note for our grandma and signed our fictitious names. Well our grandmas husband couldn't read very well which means he translated Zoey and KC to Zoc and Kool Cat. From then on we had our new super cool names. We were so stupid that we would be like hey Kool Cat, yeah Zoc, and laugh about this shit in public like we were the funniest fuckers on the planet.

To continue showing off just how cool we are I'll go ahead and tell you, we used to take the phone from her house and carry it with us on the moped to where ever we were going so her brothers couldn't use it. On top of that we would pack cereal in a baggy, milk in another baggy and banana in another one. This means at any given time you would see us riding down the street with me on the back carrying cereal, milk, bananas, and a stolen skateboard with a phone cord dangling in the wind behind us. We would then get to our destination and plug in her uber cool phone covered in that neon glue they used to sell and call radio stations trying to win stuff. THEN we would call random people and exclaim...HI THIS IT DOTTY FROM FOX KIDS CLUB AND YOU'VE JUST WON A TRIP TO DISNEY LAND please go to 1398 Mill street to claim your prize today! Yes people actually got excited and yes they actually believed us.

Then as the night wore on it would turn to calling and ask people if their refrigerator was running...but dude, imagine our shock when one lady shouted back at us all happy and giddy YEAH ITS RUNNING DOWN THE STREET!

You wouldn't believe it if I told you!!!

Yesterday my husband (who is Filipino) says babe can you make me chicken adobo tonight? I'm thinking ummm isn't that Mexican? He informs me there is a Filipino version. So I look it up and then he tells me, "my mom used to make it all the time, it's a favorite."


If your married there is one thing you should always know....YOU CAN NOT MAKE IT TASTE LIKE HIS MOTHERS!

So I make it, and it is simmering on the stove when he walks in he says, "mmm smells like home." I think I'm golden. then he goes to look at it and says, "It doesn't look the same as when mom makes it, yours is darker." Confidence shot down like a balloon my son just popped.

BUT THEN DUN DUN DUN He tastes it. He says, "Wow babe, it's so good, it taste JUST LIKE MOM."

Whuuuu. Did those words just come out of his mouth. No fucking way!

Then he says the following things:

It is delicious
It taste exactly like my mom made it
I am so happy I want you to make it all the time!

So of course I respond with YOU KNOW YOU HAVE TO TELL YOUR MOM RIGHT (his mom who thinks I'm a piece of shit and can't cook and can't clean a house and can't keep her son happy). He's like I'm going to E-mail right away!

As luck would have it, his dad calls right at that moment and I kind of pretend to walk out of listening distance when I hear the following:

DAD! Shannon made chicken adobo
No really dad it was good
It was amazing
Dad it tasted just like mammas it was that good
Tell mom about it dad, she didn't even use a real recipe she just went off what I said and then looked at a few things and made it up!

Ohhhhhh Yeah folks thats right you heard it here first I DID IT AS GOOD AS HIS MOM!!!!

Also lemme give you some background on his mom. She was born in the Philippines. Here idea of a good wife is a wife that was chosen to marry you, whose only job is to stay home, cook, clean and pop out babies. Also they are to present them selves in no more then a size two and should be tattoo free and have freshly blown out hair.

Now since I have a job that bothers her. Then, since Rob LOVES to cook as much as me some nights I actually let him use the grill or deep fat fry himself some greeezy food. Because I let him do this (while still cooking a meal for Brandon and I) she says that I don't cook and her poor son has to cook for himself. Then for some odd reason she thinks I don't clean. Probably because I always have at least three things in my sink, ie spoon, coffee cup knife...that type of thing.

However this woman stopped cleaning when her kids were old enough to do it and hasn't done it since they left. Meaning if you go to her house you will find a coat of dust so thick behind her toilet seat or on her knick knacks that they aren't even cleanable. However, this weekend, although I'm still supposed to be taking it easy I did the following while cleaning my house: Cleaned every single door jam (including the little gold things that hooked my door to the wall), soaked all the stuff on the bathroom counter and scrubbed it till it was shiny, vacuumed every single edge of every wall in my house with the vacuum hose, scrubbed every bathroom counter, and every single thing on it, cleaned out our medicine cabinets, cleaned every single mirror in the house, took down anything decorative in my house and soaked it and scrubbed it, cleaned out both my fridge and freezer, washed every rug in my house, dusted under every electronic device, cleaned out my sons toy box, cleaned out the drawers in my coffee table, and then did the regular cleaning things. I do this normally when I clean. Yet she thinks I can't clean. She also thinks I don't know how to cook. Which is why the year before last when I made the best prime rib ever she was shocked, and stunned to say the least when her own husband ate 4ths and then left Reno forgetting his left overs and actually turned the car around to come get his left overs. It is also why this Christmas she tried to make one and ended up having to call me into the kitchen at the end to help her figure out why hers was over well done and not medium rare (duh the thermometer needs to be in it the whole time you can't just stick it in randomly for a second and get the right temp). It is also why her son before he met me had never had strawberry shortcake, a real chicken salad sandwich, and has never never had a REAL HOMEMADE TURKEY SANDWICH WITH LEFT OVER THANKSGIVING TURKEY!!!!!!! Yeah let me tell you how much I blew his mind last year with that one...the boy ate no less then four of them in 2 days after tasting the goodness of a REAL turkey sandwich. She also used those preformed boxed taco shells, so you can imagine how much he loves when I fry up corn tortillas and make him fresh taco shells.

So it is because of all this, that you have to understand why it means sooooo much to me when I heard that I did it as good as his mom, because my husband has his mom up on the biggest highest pedistool you ever saw. Sooooo I DID IT LIKE MOM DOES IT AHAHAHAHAHAH!

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