SAVOR THE SEASON? CHECK YO’SELF BJ’S–IT’S SUMMER!

12

Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in STFU Friday, Uncategorized | Posted on 29-07-2010

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Muffintopmommy Disclaimer: A few of you who’ve seen this title have gotten, um, the wrong idea about what “BJ’s” is all about….(you dirty birdies, you!). BJ’s= BJ’s WHOLESALE Club…it’s like a Costco or Sam’s. I forgot BJ’s is not a nationwide chain, so I was causing quite the stir with my non-New England readers! C’mon, you might have known that’s not muffintopmommy’s schtick! So stop the presses–I’m still a hopeless nerdprudelosah!

Read on, muffintoppers!

xox,

MTM

****************************************************************************************

“Savor the season” beckons the cover of my new BJ’s Journal that arrived this week. In July. When it was 92 degrees in New Hampshire. The blazing sun bounced off my Caspar skin as I clutched my prize like a four year old with a lolly pop, wondering what budgetastic finds lay inside. Because you know I love me some warehouse shopping!

After schlopping through six months of winter, you bet your arse I’m savoring the season. Hats, mittens, ski pants, boots, runny noses be damned! Savoring. It’s what we’re all about here with our corn on the cob, lemonade, wt blow up pool/slide…..water ban and gigundo electric bills.

Savoring. Summer.

So I whip open my mag expecting to see glossy pics of some funtacular beach chairs or maybe a caprese salad recipe?  Some Italian ices? Riveting beach reads?

Annnnnd…..nothing.

Apples…. Page 1

Soups……Pages 3-5

School supplies. School supplies? ……Pages 8-9

What. What?

Apples + Soups + School Supplies = FALL.

YO, HOW 'BOUT THEM APPLES?

Fall, damnit!

Indignant, I flip back to the cover. “Lookey there.” I grit, for in the top right hand side, four teeny tiny block letters spell FALL. Sonofabitching bastards!

BJ’s….you’re dead to me.

How could you?  When we go so far back? Where’s the R-E-S-P-E-C-T? I vouched for you. On this very blog. Oh marone….you best check yoself, BJ’s. You need some schooling on your seasons. My four year old learned them in preschool this year. Whatisthematterwithyou?!?

Damn you, BJ’s, I haven’t even gone on my summer vacation yet. Remember? How much I’ve been living for it? Especially after the Wicked Witch of Cape Cod screwed up my original vacation plan?

When I fell on my arse on ice this winter, you know what got me through? Mental fortitude. I thought:

 1. Ahh, thank God for the junk in my trunk.

 2. I can do this. I’m a survivor. I can pick myself up from my bootstraps  Costco FUGGS, because I’m gonna be sitting racing around like a rabid animal on the beach in my bikini  Miracle Suit with a coldie warm juice box in only153 days!”

Yeah!

So, you will let me savor my summer. Every last week, day, minute, nanosecond of my grilled farm stand veggie, ocean breezey, Coppertone-y fun. It’s mah par-tay! Mah summah! So step OFF!

Look, I know it’s not just you.  Better Homes and Gardens? Yeah, you. I saw you, sneaking in the apple crisp recipe on page 150 of your August issue—that came in early July. Even my beloved Tarjay is taunting me, with its Crayola and lunch box ads. And  Kohl’s? I don’t need your stinking credit card and I don’t need no parka.

You all just need to stop rushing me.

Joie de vie? Stop and smell the hydrangeas? You follow? Fer crissakes, you’re like those insufferable parents who don’t let their kids be kids. Pushing them to do more and grow up too fast. Hold up, Jack! What’s the damn hurry? Let’s live today, today and worry about apple crisp in September after I’m sick of corn and tomatoes and fresh mozzarella and maybe wanna think about putting on a LL Bean knitted number to hide the muffo de toppo while I segue into hollering for the Pats and eating nachos. Okay?

And fall, please don’t take this all wrong because I love you too, I really do. You know that, right? I love the way you smell, the crisp air with maybe the hint of burning leaves at dusk. The way you sound….the crunchity crunch of leaves under my feet ensconced in toasty shoes. The way you look is an optical delight…your vibrant golds and burning reds. And do I have to say it again? You? Are the gateway to sweaters. *Swoon.*

YIKES, I DON'T THINK I'LL EVER BE READY FOR THIS SWEATER! BOOM BOOM POW!

But fall, it’s come to Jesus time, ‘kay? I’m just not ready for you yet. It’s not you. It’s me. I earned summer…with every nose I wiped, temperature I took under the glow of a nightlight, and snow boots I wrangled on a flailing boy. So I’m savoring it. WE ARE ALL GOING TO SAVOR THE FUN. SAVORTHEFUNSAVORTHEFUNSAVORTHEFUN! With dry noses and bare feet. Got it?

So… (I am not hysterical!) Here’s how it’s gonna go down, BJ’s. Imma gonna sit on the beach for week, tumble in the surf with my boys, crash my kite, clog my arteries with too much fried seafood and beer, whip some Scrabble ass on the hubs, and probably have the best sleeps I’ll have all year…..until then you just back the hell up and eat your STFU sammie. Might I suggest the half sammie/soup combo? I’ll even throw in apple crisp for dessert. You’ll just need to eat it at the beach, that’s all.

P.S. And don’t you dare be sending me a catalog with a holly wreath on it at Halloween. Just……NO!

STFU SAMMIE FRIDAY…SNARKITY, SNARK, SNARK. SNARK. SNARK!!

4

Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in STFU Friday | Posted on 17-06-2010

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

YO! Respect the top! NO means NO!!!!!

 

**Yo, attention my muffity muffintoppers….snarkity, snark, snark…this has been one HA-ELL of a week. I’ve been under the weather–still fighting to get my voice back. Can you even imagine how all kinds of crazy I am gasping to speak? I have to say, someone, somewhere is trying to shove a big ass super sizes STFU sammie down MY throat. Point is, I’ve got nothin’. Yeah, that’s right, nothin’ .(‘Cept my Robitussin with Codeine…wheeee! Good night!) Nothin’ left to give, nothin’ left to say….it’s been a WEEK! (Not to mention, I am using all available remaining energy to screech like a Marlboro red smoker at the tv for the Celtics game! Kobeyousonnofahhhbittchh!!!) As such, and because I have a lot of fun new readers (Hoo-ray!), I am re-running my first ever STFU Friday sammie post. With….the sincere and fervent reminder, that I am SO ready, willing, and waiting on the edge of my seat to hear YOUR STFU tales, should you wish to share on this very blog. Bring it, muffintoppers!  

Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?

Have you ever witnessed someone behaving SO badly, you just want to get all up in their grill and blast, “STFU!”

Me too.

When someone is just a wrongity mess of wrongness, it’s so tempting to open up a can of STFU on their ass. Problem is, if you’re like me, you might have children with you. It’s generally bad form to yell and/or swear in front of little kids. Fine. Or at all. It can be SOOOO tough to bite your (and by your, I mean my) tongue, so it’s usually a better idea to take the high road and walk away than make a spectacle of yourself and further engage with a nitwit, right? There are too many people who walk among us who are cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. There are yahoos who, at this very moment, are a half step away from getting their assault and battery on. (Oh, I watch the news.) You don’t know WHAT someone might be capable of. Ever hear that saying, “Don’t poke a tiger with a stick?” Em, yeah. In a world where thirtysomething hausfraus risk certain death by surburban stampede for 60% off Cuisinart on Black Fridays at dawn, none of us are safe.

So what’s a nice girl (or guy) to do to unleash her frustrations? When you play the good girl and you get burned, where is your recourse? Where can you exact revenge, air your grievances, get your snark on without fear of reprisal/beatdown/untimely death? 

Introducing…… STFU Friday!

Every Friday, I will post a short rant about who I think deserves the STFU Sammie Award for the week. (Yes, I’m ser-i-ous. What about this sounds like I’m kidding? Are you in or not? Don’t be getting all goody two shoes on me–I’m a nice girl. I am! This is a last resort. Think of it as a public service!) You want in? I’m deee-lighted to take nominations from you, my petulant partners in pouting, my awesome accomplices and abettors, every week at janet@muffintopmommy.com. Admit it. You know you want to join in on the fun. Because being right never felt so wrong! I mean, right. I mean, um, right in a wrong, naughty way. I mean naughty in a I’manerdthisisasbadasIget kinda way not an adult naughty kinda way. THIS BLOG IS PG-13. OMG.

Just….stfu muffintopmommy! Let’s do this thing!

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The sales clerk at Kohl’s is disarming.

She’s straight out of central casting with her ashy bob, big old glasses with the stringy things dangling, hip length cardigan over Little House on the Prairie skirt, turtleneck—the whole shebang screams quilting bee or grandma, circa 1984.

So when she participates in the light banter, “Hi, how are you, yada, yada, nice day, blabbity blah…” BAM! You don’t even see it coming.

“Do you have a Kohl’s charge, dear?’

Oh crikey, here we go. They ALL do it. Sears, Kohl’s, even my beloved Tarjay. You know the drill. They try to get you to open up one of their credit cards.

I’ve worked my fair share of retail jobs in the past and the masses are ASSES so I’m always polite. I know the boss man is making them tow the line on the ccard spiel and for a minute, I feel badly grandma is having to pitch the plastic.

“No, no I don’t.” (Sighs inside.)

“Well, GREAT NEWS!!! If you open one up TO-DAY you can save 10% on your order!” Whoa! That was some burst of energy, grandma. She must be spiking her Earl Grey with Red Bull. Damn.

“No, I don’t think so, thank you anyway.”

“Are you SURE? Don’t you want to save 10% TODAY!? You’d be missing out on a great opportunity!” Whoa. She’s borderline cell phone mall kiosk right now. I start to shuffle in place a little.

“I’d love to save 10% today, or, let’s see, roughly $4.55, but I know ultimately I’ll spend more if I open the card.” Yo, I’m no MIT grad, but I know 22 bazillion percent interest wipes out $4.50 pretty damn fast.

“Well, if you open one TODAY, you will get more opportunities to save throughout the year in the form of coupon mailers!” Scratch mall kiosk. She’s got Xerox copy salesperson written all over her. Quilting bee my ass. Granny’s a ringer.

“That sounds wonderful, but I don’t think so. I know I’ll forget the coupon, sit on the coupon, someone will crayon on the coupon, wipe their nose with the coupon, and I’ll never use the coupon. Meanwhile, I’ll be paying 22 bazillion percent interest on my $45 dollar–no sorry, with my 10% off, $40 purchase. And that, to me, is some fuzzy ass math!”  I just said ASS to grandma. Hold the phone. This is getting oogly.

Now it’s on. I’m trying to be polite because I’m all “respect your elders”, but I JUST wanna get my Sonoma on and go. When will she stop? When? NO MEANS NO! Context clues, grandmother. My body language is screaming ants in my pants. Meanwhile, my moments of glorious freedom sans kids are slipping away as I’m engaged in verbal tug of war. She must be into the Bingo hall for some serious cabbage because I see no clear escape route.

Momentarily, I consider screaming, “Uncle!” and signing up for the stinking credit card. I’m starting to feel like I’m on Dateline. I can hear Chris Hansen’s melodic voice, as the camera pans over a vile third world prison, telling the sad tale of the asshat American tourist who does something stunningly stupid in a foreign land, and under duress after hours of intense questioning by unscrupulous foreign authorities, signs something that says he committed atrocities. Or in this case, a high interest rate store credit card application.

But wait! Then I remember the frosted hair and the big, toothy grin and the finger wag. Suze Orman! On the Today Show last week! She said NOT to EVER open one of these because it will lower my FICO score and what if I want to get a new mortgage or open a small business this month!?

“NO! Ma’am, I’m sorry, but no. And I’ve really got to be going. I have a meeting with my parole officer!” Yeah! The kid is back!

“Well, all-righty then, I just wanted to help save you some money today, ma’am.” Like hell corporate shill. I bet you work for Amway on the side!

And Ma’am. The final straw. The old bat called ME ma’am.

So Betty, Mildred, Bea, whatever your alias is, YOU get the first ever, STFU Sammie award!! Respect the top. NO MEANS NO!

AND THE STFU SAMMIE GOES TO…..HUH??

10

Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in OH &^%$!!, STFU Friday | Posted on 27-05-2010

Tags: , , ,

Oh shut up yourself! I mean, myself. I mean....what?

Well, whaddya know?

The ice cream man hasn’t come a calling this week—at naptime, dinnertime, or even at all. Even though it was 90. In May. In New Hampshire. (Call Wharton and get that guy enrolled—he is one helluva businessman!)

The little mothercluckers must be reading my blog because none dared to cockadoodledoo at half crack 5 and baby actually slept til 7 (!) twice this week.

And my cell phone? Yeahh…..it still blows.  But! But! Now my *massive*(you number in the 100′s…yes, yes you do, you brilliantly fun muffintoppers) following knows of the evils of the wireless cell provider, AT&T. (Because that was a newsflash….next up, Lindsay Lohan gets jiggy with a pitcher of mojitos and misses court/filming a B movie/her sentence on the chain gang.)

The truth is? I have NO ONE to give an STFU sammie to this week.

Who knew THAT would happen?

The following is going to be shocking. Brace yourself. Everyone has been kind and cooperative this week. I’ve visited many stores, and every single cashier has been friendly and helpful. Everyone held doors open. People let me go in traffic! I even went to Kohl’s—and not only was grandmama not working, a cashier opened up a new line, just for me (me!), because I was waiting in line and then didn’t even try to get me to open a credit card.

I even emailed a transport company (one of those ones that delivers something that weighs thirty seven tons to your doorstop on behalf of whomever you purchased said gigundo bulky, item from) to ask if they could deliver my purchase by Friday (That’s STFU Friday to you!) and they emailed me back within 13 minutes and said it shouldn’t be a problem. About 10 minutes later, I got a phone call from them, and they scheduled it for Thursday (as in a day before I said I needed it) morning!

WHAT! THE WHAT? THE WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?

And they came. When they said they would. And they helped lug it into my house with my husband. And then flatly refused a tip.

EXACTLY WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON???????????? AM I BEING PUNKED?????

There was the one day this week though….when I think I *might* have been slightly snarky myself. A few things went awry–that were no one’s fault, just the way stuff goes down in life, and I was feeling grumptasticly hormonal. (Fill in the blanks people, fill in the blanks.) I *might* have snapped at the hubs. I *might* have been short tempered with the offspring. I *might* have muttered, “Move it D-bag!” in traffic and someone in my care *might* have repeated it. (Sing with me now, “Mother of the year, da da da…”) And, it’s totally possible I threw a raging pity party for myself….in my head. (It was BYOB.)

When my husband came home from work “that day” (brave of him, huh?), he told me about the sister of his friend’s friend.

Who was 36. My age.

Who was married. Like me.

And had three kids. Me again.

And, who passed away from colon cancer.

Oh.

I’ve been thinking about this person, whom I don’t know, all week. Those terrible cliches about life being unfair, and too short, I decided are cliches for a reason—they’re true. Because life IS unfair and it IS too short for some people.

And so I decided this week, the STFU sammie goes to me, for being a whinybag the other day about stupid sh*& which seemed even more asinine and shameful after the news my husband shared.

It isn’t wrong to award people STFU sammies. It’s cathartic to award people STFU sammies. And hell yeah, people deserve STFU sammies. I’m sure by next Friday, someone will be on my hit list. Hell yeah, the ice cream man clanging his flipping bell at dinnertime is annoying, but it’s NOT the end of the world. And really? Letting your kid EAT ice cream for dinner once in a while isn’t even the end of the world. Perspective is a good thing.

So for now, I think I’ll eat my sammie, wish you all a happy and safe Memorial Day weekend, and I sure hope to see you all next week.

And p.s. Don’t forget to thank a veteran or soldier this week. It’s because of them I can run my mouth on this blog without fear of reprisal (unless my mum gets hold of some of these posts), wave my American flag (or any flag I want, for that matter), and even drink beer from a can on my front steps (classy…. and totally acceptable for a woman from the home of the free and the land of the brave!)

Cheers, muffintoppers!

STFU FRIDAY SAMMIE…SNARKITY, SNARK, SNARK. SNARK. SNARK!

5

Posted by muffintopmommy | Posted in OH &^%$!!, Random Rage, Retail Therapy, Suburban Madness, Yo! It's a girl thing! | Posted on 29-04-2010

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Damn right I'm pissed! I am muffintopmommy---hear me roar!!!!

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The sales clerk at Kohl’s is disarming.

She’s straight out of central casting with her ashy bob, big old glasses with the stringy things dangling, hip length cardigan over Little House on the Prairie skirt, turtleneck—the whole shebang screams quilting bee or grandma, circa 1984.

So when she participates in the light banter, “Hi, how are you, yada, yada, nice day, blabbity blah…” BAM! You don’t even see it coming.

“Do you have a Kohl’s charge, dear?’

Oh crikey, here we go. They ALL do it. Sears, Kohl’s, even my beloved Tarjay. You know the drill. They try to get you to open up one of their credit cards.

I’ve worked my fair share of retail jobs in the past and the masses are ASSES so I’m always polite. I know the boss man is making them tow the line on the ccard spiel and for a minute, I feel badly grandma is having to pitch the plastic.

“No, no I don’t.” (Sighs inside.)

“Well, GREAT NEWS!!! If you open one up TO-DAY you can save 10% on your order!” Whoa! That was some burst of energy, grandma. She must be spiking her Earl Grey with Red Bull. Damn.

“No, I don’t think so, thank you anyway.”

“Are you SURE? Don’t you want to save 10% TODAY!? You’d be missing out on a great opportunity!” Whoa. She’s borderline cell phone mall kiosk right now. I start to shuffle in place a little.

“I’d love to save 10% today, or, let’s see, roughly $4.55, but I know ultimately I’ll spend more if I open the card.” Yo, I’m no MIT grad, but I know 22 bazillion percent interest wipes out $4.50 pretty damn fast.

“Well, if you open one TODAY, you will get more opportunities to save throughout the year in the form of coupon mailers!” Scratch mall kiosk. She’s got Xerox copy salesperson written all over her. Quilting bee my ass. Granny’s a ringer.

“That sounds wonderful, but I don’t think so. I know I’ll forget the coupon, sit on the coupon, someone will crayon on the coupon, wipe their nose with the coupon, and I’ll never use the coupon. Meanwhile, I’ll be paying 22 bazillion percent interest on my $45 dollar–no sorry, with my 10% off, $40 purchase. And that, to me, is some fuzzy ass math!”  I just said ASS to grandma. Hold the phone. This is getting oogly.

Now it’s on. I’m trying to be polite because I’m all “respect your elders”, but I JUST wanna get my Sonoma on and go. When will she stop? When? NO MEANS NO! Context clues, grandmother. My body language is screaming ants in my pants. Meanwhile, my moments of glorious freedom sans kids are slipping away as I’m engaged in verbal tug of war. She must be into the Bingo hall for some serious cabbage because I see no clear escape route.

Momentarily, I consider screaming, “Uncle!” and signing up for the stinking credit card. I’m starting to feel like I’m on Dateline. I can hear Chris Hansen’s melodic voice, as the camera pans over a vile third world prison, telling the sad tale of the asshat American tourist who does something stunningly stupid in a foreign land, and under duress after hours of intense questioning by unscrupulous foreign authorities, signs something that says he committed atrocities. Or in this case, a high interest rate store credit card application.

But wait! Then I remember the frosted hair and the big, toothy grin and the finger wag. Suze Orman! On the Today Show last week! She said NOT to EVER open one of these because it will lower my FICO score and what if I want to get a new mortgage or open a small business this month!?

“NO! Ma’am, I’m sorry, but no. And I’ve really got to be going. I have a meeting with my parole officer!” Yeah! The kid is back!

“Well, all-righty then, I just wanted to help save you some money today, ma’am.” Like hell corporate shill. I bet you work for Amway on the side!

And Ma’am. The final straw. The old bat called ME ma’am.

So Betty, Mildred, Bea, whatever your alias is, YOU get the first ever, STFU Sammie award!! Respect the top. NO MEANS NO!