All right. Back to the funny bidness at muffintopmommy. That last post was cathartic but I’m ready to move on embrace being irreverent!

Oh, p.s., I did my good holy deed this week. Last night we took the kids out to dinner, and three nuns in full habits were sitting at the table across from us. Luckily, the boys brought their A-game.  No one took the lord’s name in vain even me,  although 3 year old did ask me if they were “the ice cream ladies” (I have no clue what he meant by that but I know my grandmother is in heaven clutching her rosary beads pleading, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what went wrong?”)

Hubs sneaky eavesdropper was floored to hear one of nuns say, “This is one of Adam Levine’s songs playing right now. He’s on The Voice and is really interesting!” Oh sister, muffintopmommy fistbump. He’s interesting all right. Is now a bad time to admit he’s on my Pinterest pinboard under the category of, “People I’m allowed to cheat on the hubs with”?

THAT'S RIGHT, SISTER. HE WAS SENT FROM GOD---EVEN IF HE'S PROBABLY NOT CATHOLIC.

So what if he weighs less than I do—many have faced greater challenges. Like infidelity. Which I would potentially totally commit with Adam Levine. But it would be infidelity with an asterisk after. Infidelity*: Hubs telling me to go for it is roughly akin to the time I was 8, huffed to my parents I was running away, packed my pleather rainbow suitcase (We are the world!) full of Ramona Quimby books and stuffed animals….and, they patted me on the head and wished me bon voyage.

Buzz.Kill.

They knew I was rolling in my pleated coolots straight toward THE LAND OF MAKE BELIEVE and would circle right back even though they dressed me in questionable attire with even more questionable travel accessories. I blame Fred Rogers. Lady Elaine ain’t real! (And neither is my quest for faux adultery. Don’t call the priest! Don’t.call.the.priest!)

Anyway, back to the good sisters. One of them forgot her leftovers so I ran out to the parking lot to give them to her. (Who knew when their next yummy meal would be? You know the padres probably get all the good eats. Grr.) The three were walking with their backs to me so I yelled, “Excuse me, sister?” and naturally they all turned around. “I had a feeling you’d all turn around!” I bellowed. (Badum dum dum…I just couldn’t help myself. Kind servants of God, they laughed at my lamo joke. Plus, they could see I had their chicken parmesan. And had been drinking.)

Me, 1. Kindly Nuns with kickass musical taste, 0.

Anyway, I do good deeds. I was practically in a coma, forced to drink draft beer with my dinner on a Monday night in front of the good sisters, because I had chaperoned a field trip to the wilderness. After riding on a plush, pimping yellow bus full of screaming first graders for half an hour, we got to look at frog skeletons, stuffed birds, catch bugs, and troll for creatures in a pond with nets and buckets. The woman who guided our tour is a howl and busted my chops for screeching, “Eeew! Yucky bug!” and guffawing at two bugs mating. Worst chaperone ever.

(Sidenote? Today I woke up with a migraine. Coincidence? Don’t ever, ever, ever, ever complain about teachers having their summers off. They need them to recuperate!)

I tried. But I am clumsy in nature. My idea of being outdoorsy is reading People mag at the beach or playing recreational cookout sports. Wiffleball while balancing a beer? Yes, please! Teetering with a bucket in swampophilia? Um, no!

Another mom and I were chatting with the teacher about camping. She asked if I ever camped and I said, not really, because…. hubs and I are afraid of the woods. And don’t like bugs (who I now know thanks to the field trip are vital to our survival…but sorry, still not a fan!). And , we would scream like a 5 year old girl if we saw a wild animal. Yes! Squirrels are too scary! I would be all about camping if I were with someone who knew what they were doing— provided I had a campfire, running water, a shower, warm bed, smores, cocktails, and faux camped on the perimeter of the woods close to vital amenities like Target and the liquor store. Is that too much to ask?

I have no survival skills. None. I would rather be dumped onto a random city street at 2 AM with just my wits about me than be alone in the woods. Truth. At least you can negotiate with people in the city. You’re bound to find someone to help you. In the woods? Bugs? Would bite me. Food? No one delivers. Animals? Would totally eat me for dinner. They’d be all, “Look at that tasty muffin top!” And it would be game over.

Dumped in the city? No prob. Kind of like the time two of my colleagues and I wandered away on a business trip after hitting some bars in a strange city and found ourselves foraging for food at 2 AM. (Unrelated: none of us became CEO. Or CFO. Or anything with a capital “O” at the end.) Did I panic when we walked into the Domino’s Pizza and it had bullet proof glass? No. I just took it to mean Domino’s was the best damn pizza that city had to offer and that people would of course kill for it (It was the midwest. Sorry midwest. I luvs you long time and you rule at BBQ. But pizza should not be made west of NYC.). So, I gave the kid at the window $10 to sell me the very next pizza that came out of the oven. (You haven’t lived ’til you’ve played pizza roulette….was I getting Pepperoni? Was I getting ham and pineapple? Pepper and Onion? Who knew! I still don’t know! It was Domino’s!)

We had mystery topping pizza in hand within seconds and lived to do lots of corporate learnin’/detoxing the next day. ROI! Actionable! Market Driven! Blood alcohol content!

If we were in the woods, I would have kicked it first. No question. If a ginormous animal didn’t make me his Scooby snack, I’d have expired from Diet Coke DT’s or Target withdrawal. Survival of the fittest–I lose!

What about you? Would you rather be plunked in the city or the woods?