tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40996770172225718422012-01-31T03:55:44.484-06:00Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.comBlogger2691100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-7136557406879406892012-01-30T12:31:00.000-06:002012-01-30T12:31:01.468-06:00

I saw The Descendants last night. It was good, if not somewhat depressing. But it made me think... Sometimes, it's damn hard to be positive. Like those days when you see that someone has seriously cited Hillary Clinton as their role model, hero and inspiration. Okay buddy. I'm no stranger to difficulty. I've written about it again and again and again. Sometimes, when I go back over my

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-12388747555316847712012-01-27T15:38:00.002-06:002012-01-27T15:40:47.051-06:00

To the three fans of Fridays with Bob:Due to the fact that I had to work on my off day (I get every other Friday off), Fridays with Bob has been moved to a date TBD. I have to go to an awards banquet for Mrs. Bob tonight, so no late-night reprieve.Unless I go drinking and blogging. And I'm not sure anyone wants THAT.Smooches, Bob

Bob -- Ladies, please -- I'm engaged!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10583830226915741420noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-42447177127098811652012-01-24T09:28:00.000-06:002012-01-24T09:28:06.087-06:00

I tried to do these things called mountain climbers last night. If you don't know what they are, look it up and be horrified. Stupid exercise straight from Satan. I guess you're supposed to feel all triumphant or something once you're done climbing your little fictional mountain. I assure you, the only thing I experienced was a dinner encore.  I am still sick with this weird cold-stomach flu

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-28005667089639609792012-01-23T11:06:00.000-06:002012-01-23T11:06:45.148-06:00

Mr. BFG and I watched Courageous over the weekend. If you haven't seen it, it's really a great movie with a great message. And, I know you might be rolling your eyes right now, because I did too. I might love God, but usually movies with Christian themes are more than a wee bit cheesy. Whatevs. Judge away. My lovely mother-in-law also gave both of us some devotional books based around the movie

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-73452910984293001492012-01-20T10:51:00.000-06:002012-01-20T10:51:06.513-06:00

I feel guilty for not blogging more this week. It's been nice to have an actual keyboard again. One that doesn't require that I edit everything fifty times just so I can make sure "mechanical" doesn't change to "masturbation" without me realizing it until the deed is done. That one is always fun to explain. Anyway. I have a lot to get off my chest today and since I have no idea if Bob is going

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-56173801005447269972012-01-19T10:27:00.000-06:002012-01-19T10:27:07.456-06:00

I probably don't have to tell you guys that I was the perfect child. A model for excellent behavior. Straight A's. Perfect attendance. Always went to bed on time, never once skipped school to er, fraternize with my boyfriend and would totally not ever torture my poor mom with my desperate desire to pull all of my hair back in a headband. Okay. I can't even type any of that with a straight face.

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-91643720757496697982012-01-13T15:43:00.005-06:002012-01-13T16:58:09.323-06:00

So, today is my birthday and I'm old...like old as fuck. I'm nearly five times as old as one of Mrs. BFG's kids (the one that's eight -- like I know what their names are. One's Andrew and the rest are...Sport, Kiddo and Squirt. I think Andrew's the tallest, but they're all short as hell to me. Yes, I'm a terrible person. Yada yada yada).Fortunately, I'm not so old that I can't enjoy my favorite

Bob -- Ladies, please -- I'm engaged!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10583830226915741420noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-48241124949970670522012-01-12T09:03:00.001-06:002012-01-12T09:05:36.753-06:00

It's been torture to go without a computer. Mostly because I keep thinking about everything I'm missing on Pinterest. But, I was content to use Mr. BFG's laptop. Until it, too, bit the dust. What the hell? And so that was all annoying, but somewhat manageable. I had my phone, even if it did correct things to thongs and my check-in at the dentist looked more like I was shipping the kids off via

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-40598170219844771332012-01-10T09:58:00.000-06:002012-01-10T09:58:15.364-06:00

I just sent the happiest kid ever back to preschool this morning. I'm not sure what that says about my parenting. Probably not a lot. But, this is a home that thrives on order and cleanliness and routine and these last few weeks have been difficult without it. While I did enjoy the holiday and the ability to sleep past 7:00am, I would be lying if I said I wasn't relieved to have things back to

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-77203397141980488912012-01-09T11:15:00.000-06:002012-01-09T11:15:10.663-06:00

I went to Zumba for the first time yesterday. If you ever want to see something hilarious, go to your local gym and just observe a class. Preferably any gym but mine. Because, as I discovered yesterday, I am much much too white to "get it girl." Whatever that means. I just know I cannot and should not do it. Ever.  The weight loss thing has been a bit frustrating these last couple of months. I

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-16713905089945159232012-01-06T15:10:00.001-06:002012-01-06T15:10:18.470-06:00

New phone. No idea how to use it, but it sure beats the Failberry! We'll see how this new ability to mobile post works. Photos of fat girls in Uggs to come soon!

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-17726439643618160892012-01-05T10:13:00.000-06:002012-01-05T10:13:15.809-06:00

I'm not one to spend a lot of time dwelling on the issue of Karma. Mostly because I already know that 99% of the stuff coming my way will be totally and completely deserved, so it almost seems pointless to fight it. I embrace adversity! Sometimes. If the worst that ever happens to me is being blocked on Facebook or having nasty comments made about me...I'll take it. Mostly because those people

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-37576472355519027992012-01-04T14:18:00.000-06:002012-01-04T14:18:30.811-06:00

I think I'm done with this three week long Christmas break. I'm totally serious. We need our routine. We need to be in bed early and out of bed and on the go. We need to have plans and do things and run errands and not be stuck in the house where we throw tantrums (yeah, I said "we") and toys and refuse to take naps because we're not tired enough to. I need order. When I'm stuck at home like

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-54556192485279132422012-01-03T09:43:00.000-06:002012-01-03T09:43:35.892-06:00

My computer bit the dust Saturday morning. I powered it on, ran (okay, clearly y'all know I don't run) to get my coffee and came back to find the Blue Screen of Death staring back at me. Taunting me. It was all like, "I know you have real work to do that doesn't involve kicking ass and taking names at Words With Friends, but I'm in the mood to screw with you, so take it like a man BFG!" And I

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-91819479463074963442012-01-01T21:03:00.000-06:002012-01-01T21:03:14.667-06:00

A few years ago, I made the mistake of promising people I'd be less snarky. As it usually goes with New Year's Resolutions, that quickly fell by the wayside and before I knew it, I was wondering (out loud and possibly rather directly) what that girl was laughing about every time she saw me, because it wasn't my stomach that was hanging over the waistband of my pants... Ahem. Since then, I've

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-27004562905385797762011-12-31T20:14:00.000-06:002011-12-31T20:14:28.505-06:00

I'm having trouble believing that this year is coming to a close. As I get older, it seems as if you blink and a month has gone by. Other times, it feels like some months (especially the hot ones) will never end.  I turned 32 this year. It's been relatively good to me so far, if you don't count the gray hair.  It's funny how life hands you the unexpected. Relationships rebuilt, others destroyed

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-84469800388470988302011-12-29T15:34:00.016-06:002011-12-29T22:14:12.336-06:00

Ok, let's be honest. I do a terrible job of blogging regularly on Fridays. Now I know why BFG recruited me for this job -- Friday is the WORST day to blog. It's the end of the week; you're totally focused on the weekend (or, if you're like me and work an alternate schedule, have already STARTED the weekend every other Friday). Moreover, all those great ideas bouncing around in your head that

Bob -- Ladies, please -- I'm engaged!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10583830226915741420noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-20354795605098199772011-12-29T12:12:00.000-06:002011-12-29T12:12:29.198-06:00

*This is a compensated review of the book The Magic Room. All opinions expressed are my own (as usual). "A dad's job, we were told, is to remind a daughter of her strengths, and guide her into womanhood." (Forward, The Magic Room) I stood on the front porch Sunday night, tears in my eyes as my father pulled out of the driveway to head back to his hotel. It would be the last time we saw him

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-77126307313926500612011-12-27T12:09:00.000-06:002011-12-27T12:09:41.296-06:00

I feel like it's been forever since I've had a chance to sit down and write. Christmas was such a whirlwind. It seemed as if the day was over before it even began. But, it was wonderful and I'm grateful for the time I had with my family. I even got to throw in some time with friends. Anyway. It's Tuesday, and I guess that means it's time for a Tuesday Ten (and hey, thanks for all four of you

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-74630043950542318742011-12-24T17:19:00.000-06:002011-12-24T17:19:41.029-06:00

Wishing all of you a Merry Christmas! May it be filled with love, laughter and the warmth of family and friends!

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-30896908208632017652011-12-20T19:12:00.000-06:002011-12-20T19:12:27.889-06:00

Sitting here drinking a beer, wondering if anything is going to get done. I think the answer at this point is no. Unless I want to be up for the next four hours on a cleaning spree. And I probably will, because that's the way I roll. Music on, booty shakin', arms a' scrubbin'. That's right. I'm living it up down here in the CS. I spent the day on the couch nursing a headache. Which you know is

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-30181720947696832562011-12-19T10:48:00.000-06:002011-12-19T10:48:38.733-06:00

What is it about having a long To Do List that makes people like me (read: procrastinator) find a million other things they'd rather do? Sure. I could go fold that load of laundry in the dyer. And, I could maybe try a wee bit harder to figure out how the eff I'm supposed to print envelopes via Microsoft Word. I should probably put clothes on my kids instead of letting them run around in Buzz,

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-27596414086693396672011-12-13T10:02:00.000-06:002011-12-13T10:02:54.524-06:00

Here we are. The last full week before school is out for the holidays. And it's going by at a snail's pace. I admit that my thoughts on this are purely selfish, because really all I want to be able to do is sleep late and not hear things like, "MOOOOM we're out of Gold Grahams, CAN I HAVE WAFFLES" shouted through the house when half the family is still snuggled happily in their beds. Three

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-27306268823820834492011-12-12T15:06:00.000-06:002011-12-12T15:06:16.368-06:00

You know what makes my day? Comments like this: "OHHHHHH!!! Ugly fat white bitch is bitter because men are boycotting her! BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! You are so delusional, it is hilarious. American women are insane and living in a dream world. Have fun growing old alone with your 10 cats!" Cute, right? I feel like I need to point out a few things here. The first being that it wasn't

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-33244662191702270742011-12-09T09:26:00.006-06:002011-12-09T11:25:57.376-06:00

Yeah, so Bob has been a little MIA recent. To quote Michael Corleone in the Godfather, "it's business, not personal." We've been busy here at work.So, while traveling to Chicago back before Thanksgiving, I noticed a new rule at the TSA checkpoint in Chicago's Midway Airport. Children under 12 are now allowed to keep their shoes on. While I am sure this is a huge relief for families traveling

Bob -- Ladies, please -- I'm engaged!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10583830226915741420noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-53563731296783877272011-12-06T10:06:00.000-06:002011-12-06T10:06:38.397-06:00

I have an announcement to make! My house is completely decorated for Christmas. Inside, I mean. Because, what holiday would be complete without a disgruntled husband trying to figure out how to hang lights outside without blowing multiple fuses and falling off unstable plastic chairs (ladders are totally for wimps!)... The tree is up, covered with ornaments mostly placed around the bottom third

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-53053715171961269372011-12-05T13:35:00.000-06:002011-12-05T13:35:46.118-06:00

Back in September, I posted about Max, my friend's gorgeous and sweet three year old son with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy. That day, I wrote about him and his big sister Holly, the problems boys with Duchenne face and an amazing organization called Parent Project Muscular Dystrophy. These people are deeply committed to ending this type of Muscular Dystrophy and each fall host Coach to Cure MD,

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-82052915625029089582011-12-02T10:10:00.000-06:002011-12-02T10:10:03.432-06:00

I look forward to Fridays. Not because it's pay day (because that just seems to be a reminder of exactly how poor you are), but because it's the one day out of the week that I am not forced to pry open my crusty eyeballs before the sun comes up and cart everyone across the universe in order to get them to school on time while Mr. BFG runs around the house like a maniac at the absolute last

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-80365881664585898902011-11-29T11:31:00.001-06:002011-11-29T12:41:26.889-06:00

I just realized that today is Tuesday. That's sad considering that yesterday, I was completely aware of the fact that it was a Monday. In fact, Monday made it very clear to me that it was a Monday (after a five day holiday, to boot). Between the 6:00am wake-up call and trip to the grocery store (because I forgot my kids need things like juice boxes and Little Debbie's), the small fact that our

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-58193485572081195992011-11-28T07:40:00.000-06:002011-11-28T07:40:59.652-06:00

I let the twins help me make dinner last night. Oh sure. I see you over there, feeling all superior because you always let your kids help. You love messes. Goo. Sticky chairs. You never find yourself under your kitchen table at 2:00 am, trying to find that last fleck of glitter that fell off some gift from a well-meaning friend. Crumbs on kitchen counters don't phase you! Yeah. Okay. You're

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-4647287914666691102011-11-22T09:32:00.000-06:002011-11-22T09:32:06.852-06:00

I think I'm dying. Literally. I'm pretty sure it's tuberculosis. The hacking cough. No energy. I Googled it and I have two out of eight symptoms, so it must be true. And two days before Thanksgiving too. Oh well. At least my loved ones will be here to say farewell and bury me. Or, you know, dance on my grave. Whatevs. I'm easy. I couldn't decide if I should do a Ten Things I'm Thankful For post

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-78670840888022665522011-11-21T10:52:00.000-06:002011-11-21T10:52:50.750-06:00

Oh. Hey there, uh...readers. (I still have readers, don't I?) I'm sick. Again. Which is awesome since, you know, Thanksgiving is in, like, three days. And nothing says you love your family more than a pie you accidentally sneezed all over! It's hard to feel festive when it's 80 degrees and humid outside. I was hoping to be able to show up for dinner in jeans, a sweater and a pretty scarf.

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-29484764850066886122011-11-18T11:02:00.008-06:002011-11-18T11:47:29.375-06:00

Dateline: ChicagoWell, as some of you may know, I was in Indianapolis two weekends ago for the wedding of a childhood friend of Amy. This weekend, I am in Chicago for the party for the wedding of a childhood friend of Amy.Now, some of you may ask (and by some, I mean any single guys who stumble across this blog): Bob, why the fuck did you have to go to the SAME WEDDING TWICE? The answer is:

Bob -- Ladies, please -- I'm engaged!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10583830226915741420noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-66765095232001435732011-11-17T09:33:00.000-06:002011-11-17T09:33:17.812-06:00

I may or may not have mentioned at some point in the past that I hate rudeness. Despise it. With a passion. Rude people make me cringe in that way a mama would when she sees you do the exact opposite of whatever lesson she's recently beaten into you (not that I ever did this, because I was the perfect child). I seem to run into rudeness a lot in this little college town full of students who

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-42121072576122687332011-11-11T09:05:00.004-06:002011-11-11T12:54:48.123-06:00

I'm back, after a short sojourn in Central America, a malapropism for the Midwest that I am never, ever going to let the love of my life live down. Having said that, it pisses her off so much that I remind her about such malapropisms that I may have to quit one day or wake up with my own penis sliced off and stuffed in my mouth. I'm going to take a couple of seconds right now to curl up into a

Bob -- Ladies, please -- I'm engaged!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10583830226915741420noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-55900970617660227022011-11-08T09:22:00.000-06:002011-11-08T09:22:20.762-06:00

It's Tuesday. I have no commentary. Unless you want to hear my haiku about cold coffee. No? Okay. Well. Here's your Tuesday Ten! 1. I'm kinda over this stage where my five year old immediately turns his nose up at foreign foods. It's rice krispies, not toasted maggots, son.  2. My hair has been driving me nuts for a month now. But, I've gotten used to how long it is and easy to put up

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-59538594466818043472011-11-07T11:32:00.000-06:002011-11-07T11:32:11.888-06:00

Today I want to talk about Christmas. Nope. Wait. It's still November and most of us are still trying to celebrate that obscure holiday known as Thanksgiving. I don't know much about it, other than it has something to do with football, turkey, pie and some fancy story about Pilgrims and Indians Native Americans Indian-Americans Native American-Americans. It's the holiday where we all spend the

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-30652417635777516832011-11-03T08:37:00.000-06:002011-11-03T08:37:04.329-06:00

Halloween is barely behind us and I'm already being bombarded with holiday sales and Christmas ads. Does November just not exist anymore? (thank goodness my birthday was last month) It's no secret that I'm not the biggest Christmas fan around. I tend to spend the entire months of November and December in complete denial, only to find myself standing in the aisle of Target two days before

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-6449729334840901802011-11-01T09:59:00.000-06:002011-11-01T09:59:53.888-06:00

I think I just had what one would call an "Ah-Ha Moment." I'm still kinda reeling from that, so I may have to ask you to excuse me in advance for my heaping sarcasm this morning. I am also dealing with a couple of kids who still have an overabundance of sugar in their systems. Boo for Halloween hangovers. I had a lovely birthday on Saturday. I got to celebrate with family (after having a

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-73021486282891061882011-10-28T15:39:00.005-05:002011-10-28T15:44:30.197-05:00

Well, it’s Friday again and what does Friday mean? That’s right, it’s time for F-bombs with Bob, which I cannot, for legal reasons, make the title of this post because instead of getting a real lawyer, I went to 1-800-LAWYERS. Yes, 1-800-LAWYERS…I don’t know if it’s real, but if it is, then substantially less-BFG should be getting a fun sized-BFC(heck). Maybe. Who the fuck knows, really?Now,

Bob -- Ladies, please -- I'm engaged!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10583830226915741420noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-29422567248741890872011-10-27T09:08:00.000-05:002011-10-27T09:08:13.118-05:00

Here is the wagon.  And, here is me. Far away from the wagon.  Any questions?  Reese asked me why I fell out of the wagon. He was really concerned about my well-being. Riley, on the other hand said, "OH! Make a car run over you." I think he's the evil twin. 

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-44750228133269574532011-10-25T10:22:00.000-05:002011-10-25T10:22:32.300-05:00

I feel like the walking dead today. Baseball has taken over our house these last few weeks and we are up much too late for people our age (or for people who have as many kids as we do). I can't even focus because the twins are fighting over a toy tow truck and I'm thisclose to dumping out the car bin (yes I have it sorted and labeled, thankyouverymuch). It's Tuesday. I totally slacked off on

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-77243134126423033112011-10-21T13:25:00.001-05:002011-10-21T14:14:31.027-05:00

Bob here. HUGE week this week, don’t you know. Big things happening all over the place – Moammar Kadafi Qaddafi Gadhafi Gaddafi dead, Humpdashian on the rocks, but biggest of all, McRib (or for your four-fingered jaundiced-looking types, Ribwich) is back! Wooooooooooooo! That’s all well and good, but let’s face it, I could give a fuck about what’s big in your pathetic little lives.

Bob -- Ladies, please -- I'm engaged!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10583830226915741420noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-71567237638858824042011-10-20T10:30:00.000-05:002011-10-20T10:30:49.398-05:00

I'm not doing what I'm supposed to be doing today. Like, getting the stuff out of the washing machine that I left last night. In all honesty, I'm a little frightened because I put Blake's brand new, dark red polo in there and I'm a tiny bit worried that it may have bled all over everything else. I'm sure leaving it overnight totally helped that entire situation. I haven't showered yet today

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-78774553795182163542011-10-18T10:15:00.001-05:002011-10-18T11:30:45.619-05:00

Today is the day that just about every Texan has waited for! No, we didn't secede. Fall as finally made it's way to the Lone Star State!  I was so happy this morning that I whipped up a batch of pumpkin pie oatmeal and didn't share any of it at all, because I'm awesome like that. So, it's Tuesday. Which means it is time for everyone's favorite weekly write-up, Big Fat Gini's Tuesday Ten (

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-67728683141400965582011-10-17T11:31:00.000-05:002011-10-17T11:31:38.661-05:00

Ah, the internet. That super fun invention Al Gore created in order to destroy the universe via sites like Facebook, Failblog and Daily Kos. Now if only he could create an entire network to brainwash the unwashed masses. Oh wait. You know what I love most about the Interwebz? I mean, other than the fact that I can get super great deals on prescription drugs via eBay (just kidding Department of

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-51339231040618890092011-10-14T16:34:00.006-05:002011-10-14T16:41:37.371-05:00

Bob here. Much like seasons, Tim Allen sitcoms, additional Baldwin brothers and herpes, I’m back!Some of you may say “Bob, why should I continue reading your blog posts? You’re an epic disappointment, a bigger tease than I was in high school (presuming that you are a woman, as nearly everyone else on this blog is, and you were a flirt in high school) with your first couple of weeks of AWESOME

Bob -- Ladies, please -- I'm engaged!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10583830226915741420noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-81102073746867095682011-10-13T10:15:00.000-05:002011-10-13T10:15:22.077-05:00

I learned something important this morning. When you're out of coffee creamer, the next best way to sweeten your coffee is NOT by throwing in a small handful of Almond Joy pieces. That was, in a word, gross. I feel like a cat with a hairball! It's been a long week. I blame this on PMS. I have felt so unfocused. Just floating in a sea of unrest and no direction. Like I was about to be eaten by

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-1064551134581587492011-10-11T06:54:00.000-05:002011-10-11T06:54:13.105-05:00

I loathe being up before the sun. It ain't right. The kids had the day off from school yesterday and I don't think I've been this happy to send them back since last Monday! There is something to be said for a good routine. It seems like they thrive on it. There is order. Discipline. Two things I desperately need to survive this crazy life. Along with a lifetime supply of coffee. Just a quick

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-68508877104675830742011-10-10T11:28:00.000-05:002011-10-10T11:28:34.066-05:00

As you may be aware, I'm a bit of a bag hoarder. I love bags. The bigger, the better. From Vera Bradley, to my madras plaid L.L. Bean super large tote, to the super adorable hot pink and green polka dotted overnight bag and matching train case from my mom. Oh, and my red and blue striped Dooney & Bourke (with hot pink lining) to a Fossil bag I got for over 50% off at an after Christmas sale at

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-5973777555241995312011-10-07T11:12:00.004-05:002011-10-07T11:16:45.490-05:00

Sorry about this, peeps, but I am currently at the beck and call of the future Mrs. Bob, who fell down the stairs this morning and broke her foot. I have thoughtfully hacked her Facebook account and posted a photo of the X-ray here.Or if that doesn't work, why don't I thoughtfully post it right here? Maybe when people search "broken foot" it will be as highly rated as "big fat penis blog."I

Bob -- Ladies, please -- I'm engaged!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10583830226915741420noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-27356975016525196862011-10-06T10:57:00.000-05:002011-10-06T10:57:40.363-05:00

I thought I was turning into a big softie in my old age when Reese wandered over to me and said, "I'm super Reese, with the power to punch," and I replied with "how about the power to hug instead?" Clearly something is wrong with me. As a conservative, I should be encouraging violence, racism, evil capitalism, cronyism, fraud and waste. What's with all this hugging crap? Perplexed by this

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-46511296715838742102011-10-05T12:42:00.000-05:002011-10-05T12:42:31.286-05:00

Ever have one of those weeks where you look at your calendar and think, "uh, how am I gonna do this?" Yep. That's us this week. Again. I feel like I'm constantly in the car Monday through Thursday. Drop off. Pick up. Take someone a forgotten item. Go to the grocery store. Come home long enough to reply to an email or two, throw a load of laundry into the washing machine and then load everyone

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-74904257338225915932011-09-30T12:44:00.000-05:002011-09-30T12:44:03.850-05:00

Dear Fans of Bob: Due to the demands of the Joint Select Committee on Deficit Reduction, Bob will not be able to post his with his normal inimitable style today.  However, I think that I should point you to the perfect Christmas gift for all of your husbands. The Blacktop 360 Party Hub Grill. Watch the video.  Nothing in history has ever been this awesome. Toodles, Bob

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-55871233347476063882011-09-27T10:00:00.000-05:002011-09-27T10:00:22.508-05:00

Can I just say that I have never been so grateful to get all of these kids out of my house and back to school? After last week, I pray that I never have three sick kids at one time ever again. Sweet Jesus, it's enough to make a woman check into an institution. Somehow, I managed to avoid the worst of it, though I have had those "ohmygodimgonnadie" moments here and there since Saturday. But

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-24250101508431117972011-09-26T10:36:00.000-05:002011-09-26T10:36:08.104-05:00

I think I woke up in the Twilight Zone. My ears are itching. On the inside. So, either someone's talking about me, I'm sick, or some sort of freak alien creature is going to crawl out of them at any moment while Captain Kirk says something like "Oh. my. God. What is. This thing. Crawling. Out of. Your ear." I woke up late with the sudden realization that I'd felt too icky to go grocery

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-17043871976304459212011-09-25T19:37:00.000-05:002011-09-25T19:37:39.730-05:00

(I was supposed to do this yesterday, but I am completely lame and might have taken some cold medicine that knocked me out for somewhere close to ten hours or so and now feel as if I've been hit by a truck, my apologies) Last week, I introduced you to Max. But, in case you didn't get a chance to read about him, you can find it here. And, because I can't possibly resist super adorable kiddos, here

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-20029076030792079362011-09-23T15:58:00.000-05:002011-09-23T15:58:50.407-05:00

Well, for those of you living under a rock for the past half-decade plus, you may want to skip down to the bottom of this and see if there is some witty sign-off or banter there for you to fake-chuckle at.  The rest of you, continue reading, because I’m going to talk about… Teh Interwebz As you know, teh interwebz (or, as it is often know, the internet) is a critical part of our lives as well as

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-11188026203040449692011-09-22T15:21:00.001-05:002011-09-22T15:36:29.380-05:00

This is three year old Max. Is he not super adorable? I mean really. Raise your hand if you wish you had good hair like that. Max loves to dance to 80's music in his living room, watch Phinneas and Ferb, and most of all, play with his big sister Holly.  And this is Holly. I knew Holly when she was not much more than a bean in her mama's tummy. She is a sweet, smart, and often sassy 6-year old

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-59974487898250561442011-09-21T10:33:00.000-05:002011-09-21T10:33:48.624-05:00

When you have four kids and a hungry husband, you spend a lot of time at the grocery store. Usually because when you take the kids, you forget about five things on your list, yet somehow end up with a few random packages of Oreos. And so you have to go back and get these things because everyone gets a little cranky when they don't have their favorite items like Starcrunches and non-crunchy peanut

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-36215699940795797112011-09-20T09:42:00.000-05:002011-09-20T09:42:41.920-05:00

I think I might need a good, healthy dose of perspective today (this is not, however, an invitation to provide some, in case you were wondering). The three little boys have been sick since Saturday, each going back and forth between running high fevers and coughing to feeling well enough to slobber all over me and beat each other with toys. In times like these I worry about the small fact that I

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-34848853827368397102011-09-19T08:56:00.000-05:002011-09-19T08:56:40.958-05:00

I am a people watcher. I am fascinated by people. What they do. Where they go. What they're wearing. Why they're with that ugly chick (oh wait, she's got big boobs). I silently judge them. Sometimes, I want to be them. I may or may not ask them where they got that cute bag. But usually, I'm just horrified by them. I may have mentioned a few weeks ago that I stumbled upon a Dance Moms marathon. I

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-89871605292985607702011-09-16T10:20:00.000-05:002011-09-16T10:20:30.961-05:00

Ok, party people, Bob is on vacation!  And what goes better with vacation than a head cold!  Yes, Bob is sick this week, which is likely going to cut down on the length of his post.  That doesn't mean, however, that I am not going to go head on (apply directly to the head!) at on of the scourges of modern society: The cable company. Time Warner.  Cox.  My personal favorite, Comcast (it's

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-91241525062565602692011-09-15T12:08:00.000-05:002011-09-15T12:08:20.054-05:00

I'm having the most rotten day. I'd say I need a hug, but I hate hugs. Probably more than I hate geckos. And I really, really hate those little buggers. I sent my kid to school with a blue rectangle for Show & Tell on Blue Square Day. Who does that? I mean. It's simple enough right? A square object in any shade of blue. No restrictions on size. Square. Blue. Totally straightforward. So, instead

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-48507633547508829472011-09-13T07:54:00.000-05:002011-09-13T07:54:54.258-05:00

Obviously, I am lame. Like, super lame. Lame to the point of being redundant. I don't tweet. I hardly ever blog. I wear yoga pants and graphic tees far too often for my husband's taste. My second home is the local HEB grocery store. I may or may not be guilty of eating whipped cream straight from the spray can because I am literally that desperate for sugar. In my defense, last week was crazy

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-57374709175310542892011-09-12T07:12:00.000-05:002011-09-12T07:12:57.240-05:00

I'm have just entered my second month of the Big Fat Gini Improvement Project. I was kind of amazed to see that I'd made it a solid four weeks without a) dying and b) killing anyone. Yet. My thighs have also shrunk in size just the teeniest bit, so I figure this is an all-around win. So, here we are. Month Two. And I couldn't figure out where to go next after my first resolution, which was to

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-71038269112582814042011-09-11T09:35:00.000-05:002011-09-11T09:35:24.042-05:00

Each year, I think that I'll gain some sort of perspective. That I'll suddenly have some sort of brilliant commentary as September 11th approaches and will see through all of the political haze that has surrounded this day. Instead, here I sit, just weeping at the memories on this 10th anniversary. Speechless when my children ask me why I'm crying. My life has moved on in an endless string of

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-45824693784217514522011-09-09T11:48:00.000-05:002011-09-09T11:48:38.504-05:00

Bob here.  I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to post today. Unlike Texas, the East Coast is reeling from back-to-back tropical events, parking over us like frat boys at a bar with penny pitchers. One of my coworkers was swept away in his car last night, which he managed to escape, only to be trapped in a building and have to be rescued by boat. Amazingly, he's still working today (albeit

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-75246002227115595802011-09-08T00:00:00.000-05:002011-09-08T00:00:20.325-05:00

Over the last few weeks, my relatively short journey into change has been met with some pleasant (and not so pleasant) surprises. And so, when the offer to read Dominique Browning's memoir, Slow Love, How I Lost My Job, Put on My Pajamas and Found Happiness fell into my lap, I jumped at the chance. Browning is facing change. She has just recently lost her job, finding herself utterly lost in her

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-77895884174591588382011-09-06T07:25:00.000-05:002011-09-06T07:25:10.884-05:00

As I type this, it is 64 degrees outside. Do you know how long it's been since I've seen 64 degrees? I don't either. But it's been a while. In fact, I think that I'm going to have to take a sweatshirt with me to the park this morning. Which, if you think about it, is hilarious. Since just a few days ago, I was suffocating the second I walked out the front door. As glorious as all of that is,

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-78023831376313384402011-09-02T09:30:00.000-05:002011-09-02T09:30:07.796-05:00

So, Labor Day weekend.  The “end of summer.”  Wooo. You know what the end of summer means to me? It means that members are coming back from their month in the district (it’s not a vacation, seriously – you should see their schedules for when they are home).  That means instead of just a-hole staffers with their problems, the big cheese and their problems will be back in town. On the plus side,

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-48216201967255820722011-08-31T13:07:00.000-05:002011-08-31T13:07:45.135-05:00

I went to church again on Sunday. Still here, too. Can you believe it? You'd think I would have just burnt right up. Used as an example of God's wrath or something like that. I'm actually a little disappointed, if you want me to be honest. What's church without a good exorcism? No. Instead, I sat there, legs crossed in my pretty dress (that's getting bigger!), listening to what the minister was

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-54700790399074288532011-08-30T09:14:00.000-05:002011-08-30T09:14:41.521-05:00

I am dragging today. Which is not good when you're waiting on someone to show up with their kids so they can play with your kids (who are still in bed at 9:00am). And, I don't feel like breaking this habit. Ever. I am short on commentary. And time. And a basic desire to anything but go back to bed myself. So, here's your Tuesday Ten! 1. Last night, I managed to burn the legs off my cooling

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-89238969423946785502011-08-26T09:41:00.000-05:002011-08-26T09:41:51.851-05:00

Bob here. Rumor has it that a ton of (ok, two) people missed having Bob in their lives last week, so I guess I'm locked into this for good now.  Ok, so let’s start with the basics.  The East Coast had A FUCKING EARTHQUAKE on Tuesday.  WTAF, Mother Nature?  Seriously? That said, guess where I was during the earthquake?  Yep, that’s right, a liquor store.  Tragic amount of “spoilage,” lots of

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-79791909937873574992011-08-25T10:40:00.000-05:002011-08-25T10:40:20.700-05:00

If you have read this blog for any amount of time, you know there are three things I don't do. Ever. Geckos. Vomit. And anything remotely scary or suspenseful. People find that last one hilarious, especially when they hear that I actually loved Zombieland (two words: Bill Murray). I have been known to hide during scary movie previews at the theater and my skin crawls every time I see an ad for

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-54977519179988255902011-08-24T08:25:00.000-05:002011-08-24T08:25:39.202-05:00

It all started a few weeks ago at church. That's right. I said it. Church. I went. And I wasn't spontaneously consumed by fire, so I figured maybe God had something important to tell me. Like, stop being so angry about your circumstances and do something about it. Not exactly what I wanted to hear. The least he could have done was preach about drinking and dancing so I could go all Ren

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-60553732010131637492011-08-23T10:06:00.000-05:002011-08-23T10:06:33.300-05:00

Over the weekend, I wrote a guest post (that you should immediately go read) for my friend Rhea over at Oh Really dot com. She was under the erroneous impression that I am hilarious, amazing, awesome and (feel free to laugh), not fat. I love her anyway. Like me, Rhea is a mom of boys. Three of them, all within 18 months of each other. She has also been a surrogate twice and when I first met her,

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-23564249026650194552011-08-22T08:05:00.001-05:002011-08-22T08:06:28.451-05:00

Once your kid reaches 6th grade, you're kind of a pro at the whole First Day of School thing. You get up early. You make breakfast and lunches and iron. You herd people from the bed to the shower and from the shower to the table and from the table to the car. You wait in the drop off line and just as you think you've got it down, you find yourself getting all teary as you say your goodbyes and

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-55437362481143583872011-08-16T10:35:00.000-05:002011-08-16T10:35:08.693-05:00

What is it about kids and their need to go missing the second you sit down to do something productive? I find myself constantly counting heads in this house. One. Two. Three. And then I look around trying to find the fourth kid. Or the second and third. Or, some random fifth child who has shown up my house without me knowing.  And then you realize it's actually some homeless guy who finds the

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-37875631778245585232011-08-12T12:04:00.000-05:002011-08-12T12:04:23.853-05:00

Welcome back, Friends of the Big Fat Gini Blog (FOBFGB)!  It's me, the great and powerful Bob, with another edition of "Friday Bob Roundup," the potentially weekly post where BFG turns the internet mic over to yours truly so that he bust out some knowledge.  This week, I'm introducing myself because BFG is currently slitting her wrists with a butter knife.  So she's not going anywhere for a

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-85868041949441044512011-08-10T10:10:00.000-05:002011-08-10T10:10:18.027-05:00

Attention HEB Shoppers, In order to make everyone's shopping experience a more pleasant one, I'd like to suggest the following: 1. Stop parking in the spots reserved for Customers With Children if you don't currently have any, or if they are not currently with you. You can walk the extra hundred feet into the store. I promise. Please let the sleep-deprived woman with peas in her hair, who

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-38474507574663236322011-08-09T09:51:00.000-05:002011-08-09T09:51:22.945-05:00

At what point in the day is it totally unacceptable to have kids running around in their pajamas? I only ask because I feel too lazy to put away the two hundred pounds of their laundry that I washed, dried and folded yesterday while watching re-runs of Friends. It's only 9:24, so I figure I'm good for another couple of hours. Of course, if I don't bother to put my contacts in, I won't even

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-20205594418885716742011-08-08T09:30:00.000-05:002011-08-08T09:30:41.260-05:00

I look bad in hats. I don't really know why. I mean, maybe it's the weird shape of my head or has something to do with the way my face is as big and as round as a large truck tire. Sometimes, when I wear a baseball cap I look like I'm batting for the other team, if you catch my drift. I cannot accessorize. At all. I mean, I try. But I realized I failed at it big time when my mom fixed my

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-16740388421580029232011-08-05T09:54:00.000-05:002011-08-05T09:54:51.250-05:00

*A BFG Note: What can one say about a guy like Bob? Not a whole lot, since I've met him exactly once. At a wedding. Which wasn't mine (there may have been a lack of guests due to the shotgun nature of it all). And he doesn't even remember meeting me. So, either I am completely lackluster or he was completely blitzed. I may have been too. I vaguely remember a conga line late into the evening.

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-79460425022394137022011-08-04T13:37:00.000-05:002011-08-04T13:37:41.885-05:00

Sometimes, I post thing that I later regret saying. A snarky comment here, a little judging there. Maybe I might have called someone out one day and then noticed I was doing the same thing the next (no, not you...I don't act like you, ever). And maybe one time I publicly picked on someone for eating at a local wing joint frequently only to find myself wanting to drive through the Fried Pie Shop

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-65096322281300390142011-08-02T09:55:00.000-05:002011-08-02T09:55:50.594-05:00

I'm not gonna lie. I love that my kids sleep until after 9:00 am these days. It brings new meaning to the phrase, "lazy days of summer." The downside is that I have got to figure out a way to break this habit since school starts soon and our district usually frowns on frequent late arrivals. Or kids with bags under their eyes. Sigh. Being a parent is hard. It is another lovely and warm day here

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-8088109179134874952011-07-26T10:02:00.000-05:002011-07-26T10:02:34.230-05:00

I have something stuck in my eye. It hurts. So much that it's literally making me crazy. And all I can think about is that Biblical verse about plucking the log from your own eye. More people should read the Bible, I think. I'm just sayin'. Because I'm tired and cranky and have eleventy things to do (which includes helping my oldest child clean out his entire room), I'm gonna keep this short

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-39797332822098619262011-07-25T11:32:00.000-05:002011-07-25T11:32:54.164-05:00

I love a lazy Sunday. Lolling about in bed, reading your 1,047 page book. Watching movies. Eating ice cream and brownies for breakfast. Finding anything to do but housework, even though you've been home for a week and still have a suitcase to unpack (and we won't even mention the second suitcase that showed up Saturday with the extra kid you've been missing all summer). But before you know it,

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-75209333461478225082011-07-20T11:57:00.000-05:002011-07-20T11:57:17.601-05:00

Before you have children, you daydream about the kind of parent you'll be. You make plans, create rules for yourself. You say things like, "my child will never" and promise yourself that you won't make the same mistakes your parents made with you. You will give them the best of everything. They will never suffer, they will never misbehave. You swear you will never cut their hair at home, like

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-18473328239825134052011-07-19T10:35:00.000-05:002011-07-19T10:35:08.875-05:00

I love the sound of drumsticks banging against the hard floors first thing in the morning. Better than an alarm clock really. Getting back into our normal groove has proven to be a little difficult. Sure, we've only been home for a little over 24 hours, but the boys aren't exactly making it easy on us. Between the post-trip haze and the regular mid-summer boredom, it looks like mama is gonna

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-20443603851368262352011-07-18T10:57:00.000-05:002011-07-18T10:57:07.581-05:00

I am procrastinating.  If you could peek into my house right now, all you would see are bags and suitcases. Each of them full of things that I'm going to have to put away. New clothes and shoes. Overstuffed toiletry bags. Cords and gadgets for travel. Two pairs of drumsticks. Paper towels. Six jars of peanut butter, four bottles of Frank's Red Hot, twelve boxes of pasta, three 12 packs of toilet

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-16116167800862378322011-07-11T11:32:00.000-05:002011-07-11T11:32:28.439-05:00

I feel that mixing different kinds of cookies in a cookie jar should be considered blasphemous. Honestly, I don't want an Oreo that tastes like a peanut butter cookie. And I don't want a chocolate chip cookie that tastes like overly ripe bananas. These are the things I'm left to think about, alone out here in Memphis. Mr. BFG has abandoned me to take a trip out to his grandparent's land in

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-6696201870012751052011-07-05T10:07:00.000-05:002011-07-05T10:07:56.596-05:00

I have to hand it to Mr. BFG. He took an eleven hour trip and made it nine and a half hours. I'm not sure if he drove faster because of the whining kids in the back who constantly needed to know if we were still in Texas (the answer was yes for a good while) or if it was because he feared his wife was going to start throwing things at him if he didn't stop forcing Weird Al upon her (the answer is

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-78220905172274154102011-07-01T09:06:00.000-05:002011-07-01T09:06:53.667-05:00

I don't know what it is about children and their uncanny ability to sense change. It seems like even at the tenderest of ages, they smell it coming from a mile away and make the necessary adjustments. "Damn. Mom's putting me in my own room tonight. Quick! Get an ear infection!" "We're about to go on vacation for two weeks. Hurry up and make them crazy so they'll leave us with Grandma!" For

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-39064982353583164762011-06-29T09:09:00.001-05:002011-06-29T09:11:37.793-05:00

I'm not so good at writing about my opinions. That's not to say that I'm unable to voice them. Oh no. I generally have no issue with that. I am a known commentator on our local news page. I am not above a verbal smackdown. And it is rare that I will leave an argument alone. Unless it's a debate over whether or not a contest question was worded correctly that turns into a fight over a coupon

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-89614178206615005672011-06-28T08:34:00.000-05:002011-06-28T08:34:26.189-05:00

I truly believe that it is unholy to sweat before 10:00 in the morning. Seriously. I should not be perspiring from my head to my toes just from the simple act of drying my hair or walking to the mailbox. It's just wrong. Because life hasn't been interesting enough lately, God felt the need to smack me in the face with a UTI. Which feels awesome, if you must know. Other people get to spend their

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-57583326639008018912011-06-27T09:09:00.000-05:002011-06-27T09:09:59.202-05:00

I admit it. I have a soft spot for kids selling food. Sure, it might be the lure of food that actually reels me in and not so much the actual cause. But, still, it's the thought that counts and I would be nothing if I weren't charitable with my husband's hard-earned money. And so I was out being a good citizen and general human being on Wednesday, buying gluten-free cupcakes for my BFF at our

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-80113512094227867512011-06-24T11:07:00.000-05:002011-06-24T11:07:00.073-05:00

I remember the day I broke my mom's set of Greek vases. I was eight or nine at the time. We had just gone shopping and my mom wanted me to bring my new purchases out to the living room to show my dad. I wasn't paying attention, as usual. The shelf hung at the end of the hallway. The hangers caught it and down they went, clanking and shattering all the way down with a tinkling crash. I stood there

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-44698850713683364042011-06-21T11:01:00.000-05:002011-06-21T11:01:56.786-05:00

My floor is littered with trash from the boys' good bags from their visit to the dentist this morning. Reese is holding two stuck together stickers up in front of my face and happily exclaiming "look, a sticker sandwich" while Riley and Blake keep popping out from behind the couch wearing their new "clever" disguise glasses and yelling "SURPRISE!" Andrew is around here somewhere sulking and this

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4099677017222571842.post-17938868639539938442011-06-20T09:48:00.000-05:002011-06-20T09:48:17.136-05:00

I love Texas.  I can remember the day my parents told me we were moving. I was a first grader at S.B. Butler Elementary in Mystic, Connecticut. At the time, we lived in an old sea captain's home, built in the 1700's with a gopher outside of our kitchen window and a yard that seemed to stretch on forever deep into the woods behind our home. I had gone to school that day wearing a red t-shirt with

Big Fat Ginihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03462503578188104745noreply@blogger.com8