In doing extensive research on the subject of the once-fashionable jean shorts for my sister post to the too-short shorts, I discovered the term “Jorts.” Call me a girl on this one, but I’d like to compliment the creator of the term. You, my man, are da man.

Why, you ask, am I discussing the travesty fashion of the jean shorts?

It seems, my dear tens of readers, two of my cousins believe them to be acceptable attire in mixed company. For serious.

There are still people wearing the short jean. The Jort.

Who are these people and why do they still sport the Jort?

Two of these people are my cousin and my cousin’s husband. And they DEFEND their right to wear the jean short. They are PROUD of their jean shorts. They wear them in mixed company at times of sorrow, at times of joy, and at times of togetherness.

Anytime, my friend, is not the right time for the jean short.

They may convince themselves of the convenience or comfort or stylish looks of the Jort, but they need a visit from the Fashion Fairy and a healthy serving of knuckle sandwich.

Most Jorts wearers also don a Mullet (the hairdo, not the fish) as seen in the pictures available here. (My cousins may be the exception to the rule.)

Also perplexing is the propensity to TUCK in the printed t-shirt IN TO the Jorts all-pulled-together by a braided belt loosely knotted and flipped around (as cousin #1 exhibits).

The Jorts fashion is limited to the proud and true 50 States as I’ve never witnessed any other non-AmeriCAN in all of my 19 days of overseas travel donning the Jorts. If any of you exotics have spotted the Jorts in your local pub, be sure to snap a pic for posterity.

Even though I am a Florida native, I am NOT a Florida (UF) fan. (GO NOLES!) So imagine my elation when I discovered that UF fans actually LIKE wearing jean shorts and do it on purpose. How apropos that the the lowest of the low Floridiots would WANT to wear Jorts.

Lastly, I am inspired by the blog, Stuff White People Like, and I am going out of a limb and proclaim that black people DO NOT WEAR JORTS. None. Not one. This is a white boy phenomenon. I am challenging you, my tens of readers, to link to me a photo of a black man wearing Jorts.

Disclaimer: Jorts do not fall in the same definition as hip hop baggy man capris normally worn by young black men. Jorts are mainly stone- or acid-washed denim adorned with a belt and tucked-in shirt. I’m talking JORTS here, peeps.

Find me a black man in Jorts and you got yourself a $10 gift certificate to my store. (Limited to 2 gift certs in case I’m totally wrong in this.)

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

UPDATE:

Angela @ goinpopless is the 1st to submit a black man in Jorts:

Anyone else? 1 more gift certificate left!

Now that you’re read that word, you must now do them. It’s impulse - like Pavlov’s dog.

I was just lying in bed with Trouble begging her in my head trying without success to get her to fall asleep. When The Boss was first born, I started counting to 100 in my head when I asked prayed begged willed wanted her to do something like fall asleep at 3:34am. I figured in my warped new mama mind, that when I finished silently counting to 100, she’d do as I wanted. It actually worked a few times, and that got my OCD brain to think it would work forever. That was almost 4 years ago, and I still count to 100 to will them to sleep.

So tonight, as I was counting to 100 along with the ticks of the clock, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to do my Kegels.

tick - clench - tick - release - tick - clench - tick - release - tick - clench - tick - release - tick - clench - release - tick

Correlation: 2 kids out the vuh-ja-ja = need to do your Kegels on a regular basis

While I was in the middle of my Kegels (please don’t visualize), I thought, “Can I get sore from Kegels?” Or, is that the reason for doing Kegels. And who is Ms. (I hope a woman discovered these) Kegel? And if I get sore, what will THAT feel like? Will I need to put IcyHot on my vuh-ja-ja?

And if I do, will I like it?

Falling asleep is a luxury to a parent with young children. Staying asleep for longer than 4 hours at a clip is blissful.

Falling asleep with a pee diaper in my face is normal.

Falling asleep with a pee diaper in my face and a teeny tiny knee in my ribs is typical.

Falling asleep with a pee diaper in my face, a teeny tiny knee in my ribs, and a sippy cup full of water leaking on my sheets is commonplace.

Falling asleep with a pee diaper in my face, a teeny tiny knee in my ribs, a sippy cup full of water leaking on my sheets, and an itty bitty hand slapping my face is standard practice.

Falling asleep with a pee diaper in my face, a teeny tiny knee in my ribs, a sippy cup full of water leaking on my sheets, an itty bitty hand slapping my face, and my HockeyMan snoring/laughing/talking/tickling under the influence of Ambien is my nightly routine.

I learned on Oprah today (and the show about the NHL draft HockeyMan is watching right now) that sleep is not a luxury. See what you can learn watching a hockey show.

So, my tens of friends, I am off to bed.

And it is only 11pm.

……………………………..

It’s after 11. I’m still up chatting my my blog friend, Secret Agent Mama:

ME 11:01 i’m actually getting bags under my eyes

SAM 11:01
i check in on you often

ME 11:01
awww…

01:30
sleeping >6 hours a night isn’t good for mama

SAM 11:01
I . Hear . That .

ME 11:01
so i decided that NO MATTER WHAT that i’d head to bed at 11

01:59
and it is now 11…

02:04
and yet i’m still typing

……………………………..

WHY CAN’T I GO TO BED??????

I feel like I need to do more.

I need to read more.

I need to blog more.

I need to speak out more.

I need to take more pictures.

I need to clean more.

I need to move more.

I need to know more.

I need to study more.

I need to practice more patience.

I need to be funny more.

I need to see my friends more.

I need to think more.

I need to be still more.

Starting today, I will blog more. I think it helps my brain realize what’s going on in my brain. Unfortunately, it also lets everyone around me know what’s going on, and I get a little uncomfortable knowing that.

So, I will be funny more.

Here are my solutions to the needs above:

I feel like I need to do more. What? You mean more than raise two toddlers, run an online store, and serve as a sucky housewife? What more do you WANT from me? Oh. You want to EAT, too? Bah.

I need to read more. I said earlier that I was going to finish reading Water for Elephants. So what if I haven’t touched it in the 2 days I’ve had it on my end table.

I need to blog more. Like more than 2 times a week.

I need to speak out more. You might get sick of my politicking in the next few months. But, people, this country needs help. That, or I’m moving to Canada. For now, I’ll stay silent.

I need to take more pictures. 10,000 isn’t enough.

I need to clean more. Worst. Housewife. Ever. Well, maybe not worst. I’m not a bonafide hoarder yet.

I need to move more. At least get off my recliner.

I need to know more. Right now, just knowing what Britney’s doing today on TMZ will have to count for knowledge.

I need to study more. My girls’ pediatrician today suggested some books on handling “strong-willed” children. They’re on their way from Amazon.

I need to practice more patience. See above.

I need to be funny more. See above.

I need to see my friends more. I realize just how lucky I am to have the skanks friends I have. Hi Steph!

I need to think more. I’m blond. I get a pass every now and then.

I need to be still more. Ohmmmmmm……

Staying at mom & dad’s - 16 days
The Boss is learning how to add in her head - 3 1/2 years old
Trouble is talking - 4 word sentences - 2 years old
Ate delicious cheeseburgers
Mom gave the girls (well, The Boss) mini-golf clubs - cutest ever
I got a new fancy-pants camera - gotta learn it

Watched SiCKO - now I’m sick to my stomach - I’m moving to Canada

Learned I need to take a hard stand this election “season” - I need to know/learn/educate - We will be heading to Canada next November if things don’t change.

Any suggestions on a location?

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

Follow-Up: Underwear? On the first Bunnytown show we saw, there was a bunny that kept popping up throughout the show saying “underwear” for no good reason - The Boss thought it was HEEEELARIOUS.

No, not MY favorite show (I’ll never admit it), but my daughter’s new favorite show is BUNNYTOWN! (underwear) If you have kids under 5 and haven’t yet seen Bunnytown yet, set your DVRs (PLEASE don’t tell me you don’t have a DVR) to record it every weekend.

Produced by the same people who make Jack’s Big Music Show on Noggin, Bunnytown is HEEElarious for preschoolers. (underwear) I can actually sit through the show over and over and find it humorous. Tell me if you can do that with Dora. Puhlease. (underwear)

This is not a paid ad - I just like - I mean my girls like - this new show. Check it out. (underwear)

Seriously.

OK - I’m lying. It’s waaay to cold there for me. I’m a native Floridian for Pete’s sake. I can’t deal with snow and weather under 50 degrees. Nope. Can’t do it.

Why, you ask, would I move to Canada? I lurves a list:

• They’re SO nice. Every single person I’ve talked to in Canada (most from my business) is so nice. Not that I’ve tried, but they never get upset or mad. And with their accent, they sound so nice. Kinda like the English sound smart. The Canadians sound nice.

• Free health care. Please don’t comment about politics here - I just want to get my head scanned without having to pay $1200, then $50 for follow ups, and another $800 for a 2nd scan, etc. And I still owe the hospital for some part of Bear’s birth. She’s almost 2. It’s not that I just didn’t pay - they got the insurances all messed up and are just now realizing I didn’t pay for something. All this crap, and we HAVE insurance. I can’t even imagine what it’s like for someone without it or on Medicaid.

• Hockey. HockeyMan would be in heaven to have hockey around him 24/7. Aside from living in the Coliseum (no, not the Colliseum), I think living in Canada would make his life.

So, please, Canada, lower your temperature so I can move to your blessed country. Who knows - depending on who is elected as President next year, I may have to bundle up and move anyway.

cccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccc

Visit Mamas Like, eh!

cccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccc

Already?

It’s what? November 11th??? Are you kidding?

It needs to be against the law to put up any Christmas decorations before Black Friday. (If you don’t know when Black Friday is, you don’t deserve to be called “woman.” Google it. Or if you’re too lazy, click HERE, and I’ll Google it for you. How do I love thee? I Google for you!)

I saw a friggin Christmas tree all aglow tonight. IT’S NOVEMBER 11TH. It’s still friggin 80 degrees in the sun during the day. Argh.

I get that some retail businesses (mine included!) have to start the holiday shopping promos to drum up biz for early shopping season. Unless you’re my mother-in-law, and you were done in September. Seriously, friggin September.

But for all of you normal freaky house decorators of all things Christmas - WAIT UNTIL AFTER THANKSGIVING!

For the love of Pete and all things sane.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I have a stalker. It’s friggin awesome. Check her out. I’m welcoming more stalkers. No need to sign up. Just be nice.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Mamas Like is having a Holiday Gift Guide EXTRAVAGANZA next week. (Retail doesn’t count for the after Turkey Day rule, remember.)

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I used “friggin” 6 times in this blog (including this sentence). I’m a crazed, friggin woman (now 7 times).

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

This weekend, I’m at my parent’s house with the girls. HockeyMan stayed behind to watch hockey/football/baseball, play Wii, go to the UCF game, work, hold down the fort, and thankfully clean and help with my business shipments.

So, while I’m here, I’ve learned some things, just in the last 36 hours:

*Windows, Cox & AOL suck. I LURVES my Mac and Firefox. I can’t log in or even see my blogs through my parent’s internet connection. My mom even spent over an hour on the phone with Cox and they finally hung up on her with no luck. So, I’m stuck using my mom’s old AOL browser to see and update my blogs. Yeah. My blogs look like CRAP in AOL. Get with it, Mr. AOL. For now, you still suck.

*When it rains, it pours. It’s been pouring now for 24 hours STRAIGHT. My girls had serious cabin fever today. There was a tornado an hour away, so everyone had to “hunker down” in case it got bad here. It sucks.

*Instead of watching America’s Next Top Model or the other “crap” shows I watch, my dad suggests I work out. Yes. Thanks, Dad. I never thought of that. Give up my “crap” shows to work out. I’ll give it a go. Sure. Thanks.

*The Mullet Festival is getting expensive! Here in Niceville (yes, I said Niceville), we celebrate a fish called a Mullet. No, not the haircut. The fish. It used to be a free festival, then they started charging $1, then $2, then $5, now $10. Ten friggin dollars! Insane. Growing up, the Mullet Festival was THE place to go during the 3rd weekend of October. We hung out, met up with friends, and ate funnel cakes and alligator tails. The last few times I’ve gone, my Dad and I have a mission to find the redneckiest couple attending. I hope to have some pics next week to show you our findings. Come on. It’s the MULLET Festival. How hard will it be to find rednecks? The challenge is to find the redneckiest (or as we name them, Mr. & Mrs. Niceville) couple and take their picture. I can’t wait.

……………………………………………………………………………