Category Archives: Family Fun

Happy Father’s Day!

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Fathers have a lot of responsibility.  Trust me, I know.  I was the tall kid, which meant I always had to be the dad when my friends and I played house.  I’m still a little bitter about it.  Anyway, they deserve to be thanked with kind words, gifts and blog posts.  So, I thought I would do a quick rundown of the men I’d like to say Happy Father’s Day to.

*****

My Dad

My dad and us kids when we were young’uns.

My Dad and I possibly watching Cinderella for the 100th time. I think I was channeling my inner Evil Stepmother.

What I got from him:  my independent nature, sense of humor, a tinge of creativity, the curly hair and maybe, just maybe a pinch of stubbornness.

Fun Fact:  My Dad recently told me this story.  Many years ago, his friends were going on a road trip.  Being the practical joker that he was, he took a can of tuna fish, opened it and stuck it in the back of their car without them knowing.  Apparently they didn’t find it for a long time and by that point, the smell was not very enjoyable.

Things he’s taught me:

  • that I can do anything I set my mind to
  • the importance of education
  • that I need to get out of my comfort zone and try new things
  • the importance of being able to take care of myself financially (i.e., never ending up in a position where I have to rely on someone else)
  • how to think outside the box
  • countless tips related to the outdoors/real estate/travelling/pranking
  • tennis*

*I guess you could say he failed miserably at this due to the student being a very unwilling participant.

*****

My Granddad

My Granddad holding me and my sister a few months after I was born.

Awww!

What I got from him:  highly analytical brain, mad math skills (mine don’t even compare to his)

Fun Fact:  My Granddad has trained the squirrels in his backyard to eat out of his hand.  It’s pretty cool to watch them come a runnin’ when he walks outside.  Retired life is clearly amazing.

*****

My Paw Paw

My Paw Paw with his sideways hat. Always being silly.

My Paw Paw riding my bike and me chasing him (with candy in hand, of course).

What I got from him:  sense of humor, silliness

Fun Fact:  My Paw Paw lives in a sweet retirement community where he’s recently started performing stand-up comedy.  I had the pleasure of watching an excerpt from his act and it was very funny.  He’s quite the entertainer.

*****

Happy Father’s Day to these fathers and grandfathers and all the other fathers and grandfathers out there!

Reese’s New Mom

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The following is an email my sister sent to me and my family recently.  Some things you need to know before reading: 

  • My sister is very laid back and has never been one for creating unnecessary rules.
  • Her 10 year-old daughter, Reese, is approaching control freak status.  She likes rules and structure.  I can’t judge her for this; I’m the exact same way.  Side note:  A few months ago I tried convincing Reese that I’m her real mom.  I used this as my key piece of evidence.  It didn’t work.        

Ok, here’s the email:

Subject line:  Reese’s new mom
 
So, this Friday Reese tells me that she wants me to change the way I run my household, including the way I address her in the mornings before school. Let me first tell you that she started her request off by telling me she wants me to do these things the way “normal” moms do them. Here is what was requested of me, as verbatim as I can remember:
 
1.   In the mornings, I am to knock gently on her door, peak my head inside and say (sweetly), “Reese, it is time to wake up.” If, and only if, she still doesn’t wake up (yelling louder is not allowed), I can go into her room and pat her on the back to wake her up.
 
2.   I am supposed to wake up (and stay awake) before 7:30. Specifically, she requests that I wake up by 6:30. I have made a habit of going back to sleep until she is ready to go to school. This is not acceptable anymore (because normal moms don’t do that).
 
3.   I need to make her breakfast and have it ready for her on the table around 7:20, so that we can leave for school by 7:35. She originally went for hot breakfast like French toast, eggs, bacon, etc., but I immediately shot that down and told her cereal or yogurt would have to do.
 
4.   I am to wear pants in the morning when I wake her up.  And a robe, too. Considering statement number one, I typically wake up after she sleeps through her blaring alarm for 10 minutes, shake her vigorously until she wakes up and saunter back to bed. No pants required.
 
5.   Dinner needs to be eaten at the table (funny since she is the one who is usually trying to eat in the living room).  I think she is asking for more rules.
 
Apparently her idea of normal is Mrs. Huxtable.  She reminded me of all the rules again last night in preparation for this morning.  When I finally convinced her that her idea of a “normal” mom was just a façade, she said, “fine, then I want you to be a TV mom.”
 
I slept in this morning.

Always the Victim

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Hey, hey, hey! I hope everyone had a good holiday break. Things were interesting around here, to say the least. My ultimate goal in writing this post is to get sympathy for the wrongs that have been committed against me by my family. Based on last year’s Christmas events documented in Fake Carly, you’ve probably been expecting just such a post. If you haven’t read that one yet, you may want to so that you can fully appreciate the following story. I’ll say it upfront: this is a long post. I’m sorry, but it’s necessary.

It all started Christmas Eve. I agreed to spend the night at my sister’s house so that I could watch my niece Reese open her presents Christmas morning. Before picking Reese up from a Christmas celebration she was at, Whitney and I stopped by one of ten CVS stores in the neighborhood for some last minute stocking stuffers. Apparently everyone within a 25 mile radius had the same bright idea. You guys, this place was hoppin’.*

For some reason, the products within a CVS store are funnier than any other store, including, but not limited to, Hot Topic. Anyway, upon leaving the store, I remembered that I could be Christmas-pranked at any moment. I asked my sister if she was driving me to the pranking location. She said no, but I briefly considered spraying mace in her eyes in case she was lying. Afterall, I had no other method of defense. I decided against it, as that could have caused her to crash the car. Also, I didn’t want to waste my fresh can of mace.

Once Reese joined us, we began talking about the future of our family. Reese practically stated that it was unfathomable that I could ever have kids. “Carly, you don’t even have a boyfriend!” Later she told me that she couldn’t imagine me being a parent. We didn’t explore the issue further, but I think she was trying to say I’m too silly for a child to ever take me seriously in a disciplinary situation. That’s when I told her I would be returning all of her presents as a result of her extreme insubordination.**

After arriving at their house, we watched Jane Eyre and finally went to bed around 2:30 a.m. I know what you’re thinking…”Wow! Carly can stay up past 11 p.m.?? That’s super neat and cool!” Thank you, but unfortunately, the part about watching an old lady movie has completely offset the increase in cool factor.

The next morning, Reese gleefully opened her presents and I vowed to never stay up that late again.

Reese was due at her 3876th Christmas celebration and I needed to rejuvinate myself. We decided it would be best if I dropped her off on the way to my house. Apparently, a few signs had been strategically placed on the way out of Whit’s neighborhood, specifically aimed at me. Being completely oblivious, I never noticed them. Being a child with a new iTouch, Reese didn’t remember to point out these signs to me as instructed.

How did I miss this?

After getting my stuff together and throwing on my newest and most luxurious leopard-print footed pajamas, I headed over to my parents’ house to open gifts and stuff my face. The morning resembled Halloween more than Christmas, as I had mentally prepared myself for both treats and tricks (i.e., “trick or treat,” as the kids say). Sure enough, when I pulled up to the house, there were signs of prank-like activity. Literally. There were several signs waiting for me, posted along the path from the driveway to the front door. I didn’t really understand all of them, but knew they were directed at me. I can just imagine the president of the Home Owners’ Association rolling his/her eyes while driving by this scene.

It didn’t appear that anyone else had shown up yet, so naturally, I assumed I would be surprise-bombarded upon walking into the house. It was terrifying. Luckily, I wasn’t attacked, but I would come to discover that the theme of this year’s prank (more of a joke than prank, really) was “Carly and her [lame] blog.”

Upon canvasing the inner perimeter of the house, I found some interesting pictures from my future sitting on the mantle. New readers- please read The Definition of Perfection: Travis Stork before proceeding.

Travis and I with our fictional future baby.

The baby is me. See post entitled “What a Baby!” where I make fun of that picture. Props to Lauren on her photo-manipulating skills. I will cherish these photos always (but don’t tell my fictional future husband that).

Then, I heard chitter chatter coming up the stairs. They had arrived. This is what the perpetrators showed up in:

Their parents should be proud.

The helmets symbolized their making fun of one of my favorite posts (see For the Love of the Brain), while the bras on the outside of their clothing referenced last year’s joke (see Fake Carly). The Flash Gordon underwear didn’t actually have anything to do with the blog, but certainly added to the Christmas laughter.

After eating breakfast/lunch (we’ll call it “brunch”), I was presented with several special “gifts:”

  • Framed DNA Test Results declaring Magnum, P.I. to be my true father (see Is Magnum, P.I. My Father? An Investigation by Carly, P.I.). First of all, I bet Maury doesn’t frame DNA results for his guests. Second of all, this sounds like a cry for attention from my siblings.

    I guess I was right all along.

  • Framed Marriage License (see The Definition of Perfection: Travis Stork, again). First of all, Dr. Stork is not a Ph.D. Second of all, I don’t think either one of us are Jewish (see signature by John Jewish III at the bottom).

    Our Fake Marriage Certificate

I was then given a few items that weren’t blog-related at all:

  • Scrunchies, which I have to assume were meant to mock my big hair.
  • A package of pink wafer cookies, which are an integral part of a life-altering childhood event that I haven’t yet shared with you all. One day, friends, one day.
  • Pizza Hut and IHOP gift cards that had zero value.
  • A pair of underwear with “Vixen” written on the back. Whose idea was it to put words on underwear anyway? If I want to read I’ll pick up a book.***

Here’s a visual of the three of us. Pardon the weird look on my face, I was in a state of confusion after being asked to put underwear on over my footed pajamas and somehow show both the front and back of my body.

I wish I had worn my matching leopard-print Snuggie in this picture.

A little later in the day, the final joke was executed. I have to admit this one was pretty clever. My sister created a blog, which was nothing more than a complete rip-off of my own. She copied my For the Love of the Brain post verbatim, but replaced my pictures with her own. Feel free to take a gander: How Ridiculous Is it? I can’t promise she won’t disable the site between now and the time you click on the link. It seems to me that somebody is guilty of copyright infringement. I’ll remember this next time somebody needs a favor.

To top it off, Reese walked in wearing print-outs of the blog awards I’ve received. From what I can tell, they’re just jealous of me, my blog and all the new stranger friends I’ve made (referred to by Whit as my “blog besties”).

Maybe I should advertise my blog like this, crazy face and all.

Look at all those awards!

Other notable events from that day:

  • While playing with her dog outside, my sister accidentally hit me in the face with a dog toy as I walked out the back door. Typical. A few seconds later, she inexplicably started screaming “Emergency! Emergency!,” tripped on a piece of wood and fell against the glass door, taking me down with her. Luckily the glass was really strong. I’m still not clear as to what the “emergency” was.
  • Reese made a comment that she got me a Christmas present, but that she left it at her dad’s house. Whit asked what it was. Reese said: “I can’t tell you. And actually, I didn’t buy it. I won it. Last night. At the Chinese gift exchange.”
  • Whit and Lauren sneak attacked me by grabbing me by the legs and dragging me off my chair onto the ground. My victim-instincts kicked in and I fought back, flaling my arms and legs as violently as possible. Lauren- I hope your stomach has recovered from that last horse-like kick. I won’t apologize though, they deserved it.

*Did I use this term correctly?

**Calm down. I didn’t actually say that.

***Or watch TV with subtitles.