y’all, i am not cut out for teaching

Week one of #projecthomeschool is officially in the books and the second begun. For my students, I am concerned. At our current pace, my girls will go from Class of 2021 and 2024 to 2022 and 2025, respectively. Most days, they sleep until noon and drag themselves down the stairs around 2 PM, demanding “breakfast”. Since we don’t have a cafeteria here, they’re directed to the pantry. They are never greeted by a loving, smiling teacher that offers a hug or high-five but rather a cranky Karen. There’s never a “how can I help with your school work” but instead a “did you bitches get your shit done?” There are no schedules, cute phrases, or motivational posters on my walls. We don’t have school colors or a fuzzy mascot. My classroom isn’t warm nor is it inviting (it’s my breakfast room, y’all!). There’s no behavior chart and no treasure chest. Here, misbehaved students get spanked. I expect that the principal will terminate me before the end of the week. So be it.

To recap the rest of my week…

For Christmas, Meredith asked for a treadmill. Now, for those of you that only know my children virtually, Meredith is my 90 (yes, nine zero) lb. fourteen year old. We work towards weight gain for her, not weight loss! Needless to say, we laughed at her request; but, she persisted. So, after Christmas, we cleared a space in our crap – err – guest room and pooled our cash gifts and bought an elliptical machine. I *may* have dragged my feet with “research” (mostly in the name of “it’s new year’s so let’s get in shape” sale prices) but we did finally place order and the machine did finally arrive. The delivery man struggled to get the box off of his truck and into our garage. On the outside of the box, the description read, “247 lbs, total weight”. WTAF? Coty was at work so the carton sat in our garage accordingly. That evening, Coty unpacked the box and made a plan for the three of us (me, him, and Mals) to carry that goddam thing up the stairs. After I heard his plan, I informed him that he was an idiot and his plan was a bad idea. Two days later, the machine was still sitting at the base of our stairs. For anyone close to me or to Coty, you know he has terrible OCD. So, by Friday evening, he lost his shit because the elliptical was still sitting in our foyer. Stupidly, I agreed to his plan. Picture it: me and Mals, *sharing* a stair, her counting each one to the rhythm of “heave, hoe”, trying not to laugh (or pee) and, 16 steps later, the machine was at the top of the stairs. Now, y’all know I am *never* wrong. Sadly, this scenario was no different: 72 hours later, Coty is stillll hearing about my poor strained upper back. I *am* the new Hunchback of Notre Dame. And, no, I haven’t been on the machine. #heowesme #bigtime

On Saturday, I decided that I’d had my fill of the never-ending Spring Break 2020; even introverts need the occasional break. I shaved my legs, showered, applied a full face of makeup, did my hair, and got dressed up (by dressed up, I mean denim capri pants and a CAbi shirt). I got in the car and drove all the way to the drive-thru pharmacy. After that, I hit not one but TWO grocery stores. #iamarebel Here’s what I discovered:

  • people are still hoarding toilet paper. WTAF? Those of us with IBS, I say “nay nay” #ripjohnpinette Remember, y’all; karma is a big ol fat bitch.
  • canned goods are cleared out but produce are available. Y’all do realize the amount of sodium in the canned shit, right? #moreproduceforme
  • coughing, even one caused by SAR2020 – not COVID-2019, parts the seas of people. It’s straight up comical. My favorite sinus infection ever!
  • who decided that it was a good idea to hoard dairy? Y’all do know that shit expires, right? Give me back my coffee creamer and no one gets hurt. Well, not today, anyways.
  • cleaning supplies are gone. WTF are y’all cleaning? Please say that you’re donating to clinics and hospitals! For those of you that decided to disinfect your home from a virus that never crossed the front door threshold, you’re a fucking idiot. Please leave enough product for those of us that clean regularly and need to replenish our supplies.
  • people are actually doing puzzles and so stores are selling out. I’m starting to think that puzzle makers may be behind COVID-19! Stupidly, I bought a 2,000 piece puzzle. I sifted through all of the pieces. Twice. And, my frame is still missing 3 pieces. Too ambitious, perhaps? I don’t remember the last time I purchased a puzzle or the last $15 purchase I regretted.
  • i sent Coty to the liquor store. Again. For the third time this week, he stocked up for the next two weeks.

I’m working on my lesson plans for the week. In economics, we will learn “how to NOT blow Daddy’s entire paycheck in a single day with online purchases”. In honor of COVID-19, we will discuss the “importance of not carrying or using cash”. Eww. We may cross this lesson into science with a “how to douse your cash in Lysol and why it’s necessary”. In English, we will continue our lessons in sarcasm and test over the proper use of cuss words. #sarcasmisitsownlanguage #imbilingualyall For math, we will count the number of cuss words per sentence. For fine arts, an award will be given for creativity and best use of cuss words. #priorities In culinary, our focus will be “how to make ramen noodles and pizza rolls”. We will also learn “how to effectively brown a PopTart and an Eggo without burning them”. Is it inappropriate to teach them the ratio at which I like my vodka tonic? Let’s face it, if I was a sub, I would’ve already rolled in the projector-on-a-cart and started a film. #imnotforeveryoneyall

it’s not a mexican beer virus, y’all

Y’all, I’d be willing to bet money that I’m one of the laziest people you know. So, when Coty suggested that we tack on Disney to our volleyball tournament in Orlando, I was less than thrilled. Disney with Coty means 20,000+ steps per day. Outside. With crowds. Stupid people. Scooters. Strollers. Snotty nosed children. In the heat. I am not outdoorsy, y’all and the only shape I’ve ever been in is ‘round’. I work from home and my desk is strategically placed 5 steps from my side of the bed. Likewise, it is 29 steps to the kitchen, 27 if I walk with purpose. It is 35 steps to grab my favorite VT cup and only 33 to pour a refill. It is 13 steps to the WC in our master bath and a whopping 40 to get to the garage and into my car. There are 16 stairs up to our second floor of our house and I avoid them like the plague. Walking is one thing; walking and climbing is a whole different ball game! #idontrun #hellibarelywalk #keepingmystepsaround100perday

Sometimes, family vacations are hard. Let’s face it: there is more togetherness during this time period than during your normal, everyday life. And, although I love my little family dearly, I was ready to get home — to get Coty back to work and the girls back to school. (After all, I have much Netflix to catch up on!) Enter COVID-19. Continuing Our Vacation Is Dangerous. Contemplating Over Vodka Indefinitely Desired. Cursing Our Volume Inside Daily. The CDC can tell us that COVID is an acronym for Corona Virus Disease, but, in all reality, my definitions are more appropriate and certainly more accurate.

Homeschooling has begun at Casa de las Muehes and we aren’t exactly off to a strong start. It’s Day 2, and Meredith has already admitted that she misses school. (I’ll be sure to remind her of these days when we get back to school next month). During a lull in real estate a few years ago, Coty suggested I get a job as a substitute teacher to, uh, give me “something constructive to do with my time” (translation – not sit around and online shop all day). Y’all, I barely like my own kids. Can you imagine *me* in a room full of disrespectful little assholes? I’d be on the five o’clock news for sure! Here’s how homeschooling is going for my two:

  • I don’t habla the Espanol.
  • That’s not algebra 1, that’s algebra 2. Keep arguing.
  • Do you know how long it’s been since I took Anatomy & Physiology? I’m sure it’s changed since then.
  • Fortunately, for you, I never took statistics.
  • I slept through every social studies class I ever sat in and I’d fail any geography test of places outside the US or UK.
  • I never met an English class I liked.
  • I played oboe, yo; not percussion.

I survived *two* maternity leaves; so, surely I can do this? At least, I’m not making bottles and changing diapers this time around. Have faith in yourselves, y’all. But, more importantly, get the nearest liquor store before they get shut down, too! #priorities #keepyourtp #mamaneedsvodka

’tis spring break, y’all!

In case y’all hadn’t heard, we are back at Walt Disney World. Yay. And, since I haven’t yet sorted how to blog from my phone, this post is coming to you live, via FB and will be pushed to teammuehe.com at a later date. #imnotforeveryoneyall

The crowds of people at WDW for Spring Break have made it abundantly clear that the majority of the American public has obviously not been deterred by the threat of Coronavirus. And, I say, good for them. If you are not immunosuppressed, go forth and vacation. Disney has kicked their caution levels into high gear (for the most part) and offers hand sanitizer as you exit many of the rides. [It would’ve been nice if they had done the same seven years ago when Mallory and I left here with Pertussis. For you layfolks, that’s the GD whooping cough! I’m not bitter, though. But, I’ll save that story for another post]. However, y’all – let’s remember that soap and water still equates to good (and *very* basic) hygiene. To all you asshats that have bought up all the soap and hand sanitizer, what the HELL were y’all doing before? Were you just not washing your hands or what? I guess Team Muehe consisted of a bunch of germaphobes long before it was trendy to be one.

When I was here at WDW last summer, my daily mantra was #coverthatshitup. My hashtag was in reference to the guests of WDW that insist on not covering their bodies appropriately. I get it: when it’s hot and miserable, you don’t wanna wear a lot of clothes. But, geez! If your yoga pants have never seen the inside of a yoga studio, perhaps they shouldn’t be seen outside of your home either (let’s keep it classy, y’all). This year, with Coronavirus, I will continue last summer’s mantra but direct it to those with a cough. To it, I’ll add #keepthatshittoyourself. After all, ain’t nobody got time for that! The one nice thing about the threat of Coronavirus is that cough, even if only an allergy based one, will part the crowds like Moses parting the Red Sea! If for no other reason, it’s worth a good laugh. #ffshangupandwalk

Shortly after arrival, we received a call from the front desk. Disney resorts now offer a $10 gift card per day of your stay if you agree to waive housekeeping services. Now y’all, I’m traveling with two teen-aged girls that forget how to hang up their used towels when away from home (wait, who am I kidding? They don’t hang that shit up at home, either!), have never learned how to make their own bed, and can never seem to rinse their nasty ass toothpaste spit outta the sink. Bitch, please. Keep your $60. I’m gonna need the housekeeping!

As for my darling husband, tagging me in the parks at all hours, y’all know me better than that. If there’s no photographic proof, my ass was never there. Coty and the girls did that crazy shit again where they stay up late for extra magic hours (last night was Hollywood Studios) and then woke up extra early this morning to be the first ones on Flight of Passage – the Avatar ride at Animal Kingdom. No thanks. I stayed in the room and worked (y’all do know I have a real job, right?) and then went to bed early. I was still asleep when they got back this morning. #thatshowiroll #arentweonvacationorsomething

Y’all may not know this about me but I’m easily annoyed. I don’t like crowds. Hell, I don’t like people. We got stuck in line in front of some drunk assholes that had a snorting contest this evening. Yes, you read that right. Snort Ing Con Test. WTAF? I’m not sure if they were trying to see who could snort the longest, the loudest, or who could make theirs echo the best. Either way, it was annoying AF. #yallbouttogetasoupbone This is day two, y’all; and, it ain’t looking good. I’m old and broken down. I’ve come close on many occasions of reminding these kindergarten dropouts: “single file line, bitches. Don’t crowd me”. I need a break from dumbasses before I lose my cherub like demeanor! But, alas, still four more days to go.

We shut down Magic Kingdom at 1 AM and I survived to tell the tales! An announcer came over the loud speakers to let everyone know that the park is closing. At the end, Mickey says, “see ya real soon!” – translation: “get outta here, ya fat bastards!” #ripjohnpinette

I’ll leave you tonight with a pic of my Disney-fied vodka tonic. If you have plans to come to WDW, I highly recommend that you locate all of the bars before your arrival – like print a map and highlight that shit. Trust me, you’ll need them. #thankmelater And, since I’m giving advice, choose Spring vs Summer for your trip to WDW. It is chilly tonight; we are all in jeans and hoodies (and, no, I did not pack appropriately; hence, multiple pics of me in my Vineyard Vines stripy hoodie) It’s far easier to tolerate crowds when you don’t have sweat running down your ass-crack! #yallarewelcomeforthevisual

…because y’all asked for it

What is a blog post? By definition, it is helpful, industry-specific content that that gives readers a useful takeaway and shows you’re an expert in the topic.

If that is what you are looking for, you’ve come to the wrong place. I *am not* for everyone, y’all. I cuss. I drink. I don’t go to church but I do vote. I don’t follow sports unless it’s a game my girls are playing in. I’m kind of opinionated and I mastered the art of sarcasm at the age of 7. Like, I’m considered bilingual and it’s a gift that I’m happy to share with everyone. I’m *that* realtor that wears jeans in the winter and shorts in the summer to show homes. I’m a tad critical of other drivers and a proud member of the grammar police. I have celiac disease and am straight-up bitter about it. I’m seldom wrong and will argue to prove my point. I’m a huge fan of ‘Peanuts’ yet have never named a dog “Snoopy”. I have a hard time making my facial expressions use their inside voice. I am half-Scot and have tendency to tell people about it – even when they don’t ask. I’m not a huge fan of travel but do like to “make memories” with my fam. I can find the bad in *any* given situation; try me. I’m tall but I’m not *that* tall (we will leave weight at “the door” with religion and politics). I sang U2 songs to my girls when they were babies because, after all, I know all of the words to all of their songs. I have been married to my best friend for over twenty years and have two girls that I hope, will one day, be contributing members of society. If you can handle all (or, at least, most) of that, welcome. Otherwise, as my nav system frequently advises me, “make a legal u-turn now”.

we’ve got spirit, y’all

Y’all, when I attend sporting events at my girls’ schools, I make it clear who I am there to cheer for. If I am wearing burgundy (no, not maroon), I am there to support Victory Lakes. If you are not, sit elsewhere. Likewise, if I’m wearing royal blue, I’m in attendance to support and cheer for Clear Springs. If you are not, find your own people and sit with them. As it turns out, I can be mouthy during games. I have a tendency to yell at refs – especially during basketball games (after all, they have a tendency to need my guidance). I’ve even been known to offer them my own glasses; maybe if they could see better they could make better calls? If you agree with all of the refs’ calls, you’re an idiot. If you think the refs aren’t *occasionally* trying to throw a game or pulling for a specific team, you’re an idiot. Learn the rules of the game: that was a travel/double dribble/carry/push/tech and your kid committed a lane violation. This ain’t the Y. We are here to win. If you are not okay with my educational direction, sit elsewhere or leave. Please do not give me dirty looks/side eye all because we are cheering for opposite teams. And, if your daughter pushes/elbows/kicks/trips/bites my daughter and I jump up and yell, “oh, HELL no; girl, I will kick your ass and your mama’s ass” just know that I ain’t kidding. #iwillcutyou #mamabearinthestands PS – VLI for the W. And, no, I didn’t cut anyone (not tonight, anyways; next week, I may have a different report). But, smart move on the part of the poor bastard, cheering for the opposing team, that sat in front of me during the first quarter and then got up and moved… ? Wear and LOOK FOR your school colors, people!

y’all know me, right?

Y’all, *I* am a memorable person. Between my dynamic use of sarcasm and my cherub-like demeanor, I’m a goddam joy to be around. Today, someone that I’ve met on *multiple* occasions introduced themself to me. Holding out their hand, “hi, I’m blah, blah, blah”. (And, yes, that is exactly what I heard; I tuned their ass right out when they started with an introduction). Then, as I extended my own hand, I heard myself say, “yeah, I know; we’ve met several times!” <enter awkward silence> Now, normally, in this type of situation, I do a better job of holding my tongue. Well, not today, bitches; my darker side shone through. It is the season of giving and that’s what I had to give today. I should mention that I’m not a fan of this person (y’all know I don’t like people) and nearly gagged up my morning coffee when they approached. When I left, I heard them say in a fake-ass voice, “bye, Susan!” and I cheerfully replied “Merry Christmas!” and then mumbled under my breath, “Kiss my ass, kiss his ass, kiss your ass. Happy Hanukkah”. #asshat #dontactlikeyoudontknowme #happyfuckingholidays

it was downright magical, y’all – part two

In the words of the great Robin Williams as Mrs. Doubtfire, “brace yourself, Effie”. This is a long post.

We arrived at the ship without issue on Sunday; and, I managed to not kill anyone. Disney really does do the check-in process better than others so we were onboard the ship in record time and far earlier than our scheduled check-in time. (But, can we all agree that I’m more of the type to focus on the negative aspects?) “Now joining us, the Muehe Family”. Yay. <enter jazz hands and eye roll emojis here. And, is there an emoji for “where’s the closest bar because I’m surrounded by overly perky people and I may hurt one of them soon”?> True story: there’s a bar just across from where you embark. Apparently, I’m not alone in my way of thinking. “Bartender? Pick me next!” ??‍♀️ (For those that have never cruised, “embark” is a fancy term for “get on”. I’ll never understand why they have fancy terms on cruises, but they do. Never in my life have I used the words “embark” and “disembark” other than when on a cruise ship. You “get on” (or board) a plane and “get in” a car. Why must you “embark” a ship? It’s like calling the back of the ship an “aft”. WTF? It’s the back. Let’s just clear the confusion and use everyday English words, people).

We grabbed lunch and checked out our “stateroom” (fancy term meaning “freakishly small floating hotel room that you’re overcharged for”). Our stateroom included a “veranda” (fancy term meaning “tiny balcony for those with motion sickness that need to get fresh air”). At 4:30 P, cruise activities cease in order to get all passengers to their muster station (you know, the place you meet if the ship has a Titanic-like episode so that you can all prepare to decide if your Jack is worthy of sharing space with you, Rose). All passengers literally cram (think WDW on July 4th) onto the deck of the fourth floor and stand in groups with their families – shortest to tallest. Sadly, our family order has changed and I’m now wedged between Meredith and Mallory. #iamnotshort If the weather had been a tad cooler or if there had been a breeze to diffuse the smell of unbathed travelers (French baths do not count), perhaps I would not have lost my cherub-like demeanor; or maybe it was just the close proximity of smelly people I had never met before and never want to meet again? But, when that one family (y’all know the ones) decides to come rolling out to join the rest us and they are ten minutes late, I have a hard time holding my tongue. “Thanks for taking the time out of your busy schedule to join us, asshats. Where in the Hell have y’all been? Did you NOT notice that you were the only effin people on the ship that weren’t on Deck 4?!” #selfcenteredmuch We are all trained in how to don a life preserver and what signals to listen for from the captain. Ruptured eardrums are all part of the experience. One of the “team leaders” marches back and forth in front of the lines of families like Hitler in an orange life preserver making sure that we are all paying attention to the safety instructions. Now, y’all, I’m in a very long term relationship with my iPhone. I’ve owned one since the very beginning and we are attached at the hip – err – wrist (Coty lovingly refers to my phone as my boyfriend). However, when in a situation where you are asked to put your phone away and pay attention, I will follow the rules. [slides phone into back pocket]. Well, here comes Hitler. He stops in front of Meredith and looks my way with an “ahem”. To which I respond with an “I beg your pardon?” look. The second time it’s a louder “ahem” and now I respond with a “bitch, please – my boyfriend is in my back pocket” look. I was just about to open my mouth when I turn and discover that it is my DH being *that guy* on his phone!

If you are considering a cruise, do your research. Here is my list of pros and cons to cruising.

Pros:

24 hour access to food including all you can eat french fries ? ?

Cons:

24 hour access to food including all you can eat french fries ? ?

More pros:

Excursions

More cons:

Excursions

I don’t believe I need to explain why 24 hour access to food can be a pro *and* a con but will explain my thoughts on excursions.

First off, let’s call an excursion what it is: an expensive day off the ship (following disembarkation ?). Our first day at port was at Disney’s private island, Castaway Cay (pronounced “key” but you know, fancy terms). It was a bust as weather was uncooperative. No worries, y’all. We went back two days later. More on that soon. Day two at port took years off my life. Girls were given the option on excursions and chose to swim with dolphins in Nassau. We did this years ago in Grand Cayman so I opted to take the whole $5 discount offered to “nonparticipants” and tag along to take pictures and videos. Since the girls are under the age of 18, an adult needed to be present and actually in the water with them. Mind you, our girls can out-swim us with an arm tied behind their back (I shit you not) but whatevs; Coty took one for the team and signed on as a participant. Once on site, we realized that Coty had left his wedding band on. Now, before I go any further, ask me where my wedding band was. For those that guessed “in the safe on the ship” you are correct. If you have known Coty and I for a while, you know that we were both overweight (or, in my case, more overweight than I am now). After we lost weight, our wedding bands needed to be sized down. Now, ask me who has taken care of this and who hasn’t. (It’s been years, y’all). If you guessed “Susan has and Coty hasn’t” you are correct again. And, to make matters worse, Coty wears a Russian style (aka triple rolling) wedding ring – three interlocking rings (signifying our past, present, and future) that roll against themselves when you put on or take off the ring. To understand why I mention this, keep reading. The set is too big for Coty’s ring finger and way too big for my thumb. But, “no biggie, sweetheart; I’ll wear your ring while you’re in the water”. Team Muehe (minus mama) enters the water and proceed to hug, kiss, and swim with the dolphins. I stand nearby on the deck taking pictures and video which I promise to post later. Between a switch from picture to video settings on my phone, Coty’s ring rolls off my thumb and bounces onto the deck. Twice. And then, as if in slow motion, slips perfectly between two slats of wood and falls into the water below. It was like a scene from a bad movie where I yelled “nooooo” while falling to my knees in attempt to reach a ring that was clearly gone forever, like the signed by Babe Ruth baseball in the movie, ‘Sandlot’. My heart stopped. A band that Coty’s worn for the last 20 years – gone. Our past, present, and future – gone. I don’t normally cry, y’all but I welled up instantly. Fortunately, an employee caught on to my distress and asked what happened. I explained and he replied in island fashion “no worries, mon” and went into action. Within ten island minutes (think half an hour in the real world), he had a SCUBA diver headed our way. And, just like that, Coty’s ring was back in my hand! [Looking back, the vision of me on my knees peering through the slats of wood on the deck with one eye must have been comical for the bystanders]. Note to self: schedule Coty’s damn ring for sizing.

Our final port stop was back at Disney’s Castaway Key – err – Cay. Without asking for my input, Coty rented jet skis. [This portion of my post is dedicated to all of my friends that are working towards their teen getting a driver’s permit/license and those that have recently achieved such goals]. Picture it: two jet skis for a family of four. Can y’all guess how this played out? If you guessed that Meredith went with Coty and Mallory with me, you’re on a roll! Here’s when the fun begins: Mallory, as a licensed driver, could operate the jet ski; however, must have an adult onboard since she’s under the age of 18. Now, I have ridden shotgun many, many times with Mallory while she was learning to drive; and, I’m a firm believer in, and avid user of, the “oh shit” handle. [I’m convinced that it was the mother of a 15 year old working towards their driving permit that invented that thing and you’ll never make me believe otherwise!] It took her a few minutes to get the hang of it but soon we were speeding through the water, leaning left and right (me doing the opposite of the jet ski), and jumping wakes. The entire time, Mallory is yelling “woohoo” with each wake jumped and me yelling “slow the fuck down, kid”. There are no “oh shit” handles on a jet ski. I had visions of my fatass flying off the back and taking Mallory down with me (after all, she was the only thing I could hold onto) and even scarier visions of me trying to get my fatass back onto the jet ski in that instance. Speaking of taking years off of my life… Fortunately, we survived and I was able to spend the rest of my afternoon in a shaded lounger, drink in hand, people watching. My heart rate normalized approximately two drinks – err – hours later. ** At this point in my post, I offer unsolicited advice: if you do not look like my boy, Michael Phelps, for the love of all things good and holy, leave the Speedo at home! And, if your bikini bottoms are designed to look like a g-string, find some that aren’t. Again, people: this is a family friendly cruise. Good lawd! #coverthatshitup #cottagecheeseshouldbeservedwithfruitnotswimwear

Some of you saw Coty’s post about our last day in the Florida heat being spent at Disney Springs. If you haven’t already, find John Pinette’s stand-up set about Disney on YouTube. The bit about “taking the fat guy out to walk him” at Disney in August (in my case, July) is a far better description of our family vacation. And, PS, the amphibious cars were NEVER my idea of a good time.

I leave you with a few final thoughts:

MCO, get your shit together. Never ever should there be wait times posted to get through security. #thisaintdisneybitch

Florida, your drinking water tastes like it came from the bathroom faucet. Zephyrhills water isn’t worth the plastic it’s bottled in. #bottledwatersnob #ozarkagirl

I have friends that book travel specifically for Disney properties (I blame you for nothing, Leigh, and will still recommend your services ??). I remember once having the thought that I could do that, too. I mean, after all, I’ve been on three Disney cruises, been to WDW 10 (yes, 10 fucking) times, plus Disneyland in CA and Disneyland Paris. I’m very well versed in all the Disney lingo, their FastPass systems, and their dining plans; plus, I’ve stayed at multiple resort properties – from value, to moderate, to deluxe. But, honestly, y’all: can you imagine *me* trying to convince someone that Disney is where they wanna spend their hard earned money for a summer vacation?! Bahahaha. I hope they never see my posts! The thought of it now makes me literally laugh out loud. Something tells me that this would NOT be a good career move for me…

I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t like to travel. (We already concluded that I don’t like people). I’m lazy and I like to stay home. I hate packing, living out of a suitcase, and then unpacking. I will, however, continue to travel and post accordingly. I’d never take that away from y’all… ? #sistersinsarcasmunite

it was downright magical, y’all – part one

For those of you that have been waiting to hear a review from your #sisterinsarcasm, here it is. Oh, and be warned, I use foul language. I was raised by a sailor and Scot so really didn’t stand a chance. ??‍♀️ I’ll try to be better. #notreally

We arrived at the Gates of Hell – err – WDW early (think 2 AM early) on July 4th. We opted to stay a single night at Disney’s Coronado Springs because I’m cheap. Big mistake; HUGE. When I say that it was 10K steps from the check-in desk to our room, I’m not exaggerating. Per the attendant, “just cross the bridge over to your building”. Bitch, please. That bridge was longer than the bridges over the swamps in Louisiana! Keep in mind, there was no bell service at that hour so we were toting our just-under-the-50lb-limit-so-we-don’t-get-charged-extra suitcases and our carry-ons. And, keep in mind that my DH walks like he’s dodging rain drops so my view is always of my family’s backsides. I may have used a few not-so-magical words during this stroll. Enter dirty looks and “Mom, don’t cuss at Disney” from the fam. It was almost 3:30 AM, before we got into our room, found bottled water, showered, and in bed. My cheap ass learned a lesson: pay the extra to stay at the Deluxe Resort the first night. The refurbished room was lovely, BTW. Best shower at a Disney resort property, so far.

Coty doesn’t allow sleeping-in during vacation; so, we were up and out before 10 A. #shootmenow Those that know him, know that Coty has a yogurt for breakfast and a cheese stick for lunch. The rest of us aren’t allowed time to eat, “no time for breakfast; we’ll get lunch in the park”. ? Those that know me, know that I get crabbiER when I’m not fed on a regular schedule. I heart my husband but often wonder how we’ve survived this maddening combination.

During this trip, Coty discovered Lyft. We paid a premium rate to stay at a “Deluxe Resort” on the monorail yet found ourselves using more Lyft than the free (and by “free”, I mean included in the jacked up price of the deluxe resort) transportation. Hey, I know: let’s pay more to stay here so we can pay more for transportation. Makes perfect sense. ?

Main Street USA smells and looks the same; like coming home. However, this time, it is *beyond* crowded with smelly people, asshats on scooters, and a shit ton of desperate-looking parents pushing double strollers all running into the guests in front of them. I saw multiple moms with the “why did I sign up for this shit?” or “where’s my vodka tonic?” expression on their face. [If you don’t do crowds, don’t do WDW on July 4th]. At one point, Coty and I nearly flipped the power switch on the back of one bastard’s scooter because he kept honking at people. Like WTAF, dude? We’re all jammed in here like sardines in a can; your scooter doesn’t allow you access to some special, nonexistent fast lane! I told more than one crying baby, “I feel your pain, kid”. #same Magic Kingdom needs more alcohol. That is all.

It’s our tradition to dine at Crystal Palace our first night at WDW. This is not my pick. Meredith’s favorite has always been Pooh so we suck it up for her sake. I must say that the costumes of Pooh, Piglet, Tigger, and Eeyore are looking dingier than I’ve ever seen and could use a good cleaning. Like, don’t put them in a front load washer or send them to the dry-cleaners, they need to be fully submerged in a mixture of bleach, water, ammonia, vinegar, and whatever other cleaning agent you have under your kitchen sink! Can you imagine the cesspool of bacteria on those costumes?! #ideafornextsciencefairproject Sadly, I got glutened at dinner (How exactly does one mix up blue cheese with tartar? And, yes, I eat tartar on my boiled shrimp. Do people actually eat cocktail sauce or blue cheese, for that matter? Cocktails, yes. Cocktail sauce, no) so spent the rest of my evening alone back at our room. The worst part was that I missed the damn fireworks – my one and only reason for agreeing to be at WDW on July 4th. I was able to see a few from our balcony at the Grand Floridian but it wasn’t the same. Coty and the girls closed down the park, as per usual. He tagged me in his FB post but y’all know my ass wasn’t there!

The next day was spent at EPCOT, followed by dinner at ‘Ohana (still our fav), then the ‘After Hours’ event at Hollywood Studios. It was another magical day complete with sweat running down my ass-crack. #allpartoftheexperience We closed down DHS for 1 A and were showered and in bed by 2:30 A. Now, normally this isn’t an issue – most people would just sleep until 9 A, and get a later start. Not Coty. He was up for 6:30 A and had the girls to Animal Kingdom, via Lyft, by 7 A to ride ‘Flight of Passage’. I took a hard pass on that one and lounged in my bed – it was almost like a mini vacation. ?

Two times we attempted to ride the boat (the free/included transportation) from the Grand Floridian to MK. Two times we waited for the boat. And, two times the boat arrived and we were told by captain, “sorry, folks; lightening in the area so we are shutting the boats down”. It’s only 10K steps from the boat up to the monorail; so, let’s do that again. Here’s a fun fact: they allowed the swimmers to remain in the pool but no boats on the water. Can someone explain this to me? Maybe they care more about their captain/cast members than their guests?

Our last day was split between AK (for Coty and the girls), followed by MK, and dinner at Artist Point – where we paid adult prices (due to their ages being higher than 10 years) for our little darlings to eat off the kids menu. That is, after all, how we roll. Coty and Meredith got to meet their doppelgänger, Grumpy and I met mine: the Evil Queen.

My favorite part of WDW is still people watching. My Dad taught me at an early age when he’d glue a coin to the floor at Baybrook Mall and then watch to see who would try to pick it up. ? I found myself thinking thoughts like “you wouldn’t wear that in public at home, why wear it here? OR “did you check the mirror before you left your room today?” Sooo many women dressed like they were 50 lbs lighter than they actually were. It’s a family place, ladies; let’s keep it classy! A bit of modesty never hurt anyone. I mean, I get it: I’m sweating, too; but damn! ? #coverthatshitup

Bell hop scheduled our bags for 8 A pick up today so that our things could be crated and sent to the ship. It made for a magical start to our day. We survived and even had time for gluten free waffles before heading out.

And, speaking of bacteria, Team Muehe managed to escape the FL Disney properties fever free. This is HIGHLY unusual for us (think pneumonia and diphtheria/whooping cough). However, do not fret: we are now on the “motorcoach” headed to the ship and surrounded by a bunch of snotty nosed coughers. Is CCISD the only district that teaches the whole “cover your cough” thing? I may lose my shit on one of these little assholes before we get to the ship!

Patch applied (because I get the motion sickness, y’all); about to board. Until next time…

I’m not outdoorsy, y’all

Why skiing isn’t for me: plan to arrive at 8:30 A for 9:30 A ski school. BP (for you newbies, that’s bitch, please). I’m on vacation. I don’t arrive an hour early for anything! Apply coats, scarves, hats, gloves. Arrive. Remove coats, scarves, hats, gloves. Stand in line. Sign waivers promising that I won’t sue if I get hurt or die. Sounds legit. Off to collect rented equipment (you didn’t really think I’d buy that shit, did you?) Stand in line. Get fitted for ski boots – and by “fitted” I mean that it felt like the boots were so small that they cut off the circulation to my brain. That was obviously their plan (see earlier post where I was asked to purchase annual passes). Guy claimed boots are proper fit. Whatevs. Now, proceed to ski line carrying one snow boot and one ski boot while wearing the mate of each. Helpful attendant instructs me to “walk heel-to-toe… like Frankenstein”. Wait. What? Stand in line. Kid half my age grabs skis and fits them to my boot (more on that later). Sit among the other crazy fools to apply second ski boot. Gather my family and my ski crap. Forgot a helmet which I’ll most likely need/utilize so get back in line. Am informed that goggles are not included with helmet but are highly recommended. Uh huh. Leave rental place for resort store to purchase four pair of ski goggles at $40 each plus four face covers at $25 each (see previous post and pic). #sucker I ask, “do you have bottled water?” since the last hour of ski prep exercise has left me parched and slightly dehydrated. I’m told, “we don’t sell bottled water in the resort but will sell you a roll-up plastic cantina that can be filled at any of our filtered water stations”. WTAF? Whatever, freak. I thought I was in New Mexico not Colorado/California. Purchased roll-up plastic cantina (which will later serve as boot flask) and off to stand in line for filtered water. Re-gather ski crap and fam and head off to find ski instructor. Reapply coats, scarves, hats, gloves plus helmet with new goggles and face cover. Trek my decrepit old ass across the resort to meet up with the other morons in the “first time skier” class – which is clearly, to a point of being embarrassing, labelled with huge, yellow “BEGINNER” flags. Stand in line. Instructor is approximately Mallory’s age and Meredith’s size and is named “Toni” – as in “Tony with an I”. I already hate her. She tries to learn all of our names. (She later called me “Lisa” then “Tina” and then called Mallory “Madeline” then “Madison” then “Meredith”. Very effective. She seemed annoyed when Mallory ignored her. I suggested that she’d get a quicker response if she called Mallory by her actual name. She looked at me, confused. Maybe the cold temps and lack of O2 got to her, too?) Toni instructed me to tighten my helmet chin strap. Translation: “I can tell by looking at you that you’re old, out of shape, and uncoordinated and will most likely bust your ass in the first 15 minutes”. Wrong. It took me at least 20 minutes before falling so joke was on Toni! Wipe frozen snot onto new face cover and gather ski crap and fam again with newly tightened helmet and head to the “magic carpet”. Another helpful attendant informs me that the magic carpet is *just like* the conveyor belts at the airport then adds “if you fall off, walk back down to the start and try again”. Now, y’all, I’ve been on lots of airport conveyor belts – mostly because I’m too lazy to walk it – and have never once been warned about falling off! Stand in line. Step onto “magic carpet” as gracefully as possible and brace myself for impact. Survive first magic carpet and move forward to stand in line for the second one. Dismount successfully – in one piece – with all of my ski crap. Small victories. Gather fam and commence to climb the rest of the way up walking heel-to-toe, like Frankenstein, only to be instructed that it’s toe-to-heel when climbing. Bride of Frankenstein? Take my place in line to learn how to put on and remove my skis – with poles (if standing) or with hands (after falling). Wipe frozen snot from nose again and remind myself that I’m on vacation/having fun all while making a mental note to never agree to ski again. Toni teaches us how to side step and how to “make pizza slices” with our skis. We learn how to fall down and are promised that the snow is soft so “it’s fun to fall”. <roll eyes under new goggles> Meredith vomits the first time. Now, what do skis do to an arthritic, already slow moving old woman? They make her immobile. I remove a package of Kleenex from my snow pants pocket and throw them at Mallory to throw to Coty – who is closer to Meredith. I stand helplessly and watch poor Meredith and earn another “Mother of the Year” award. More side stepping, more pizza slices, and more frozen snot. Meredith begs for a break. I agree and do my last pass of basic skiing – using my skills taught by Toni to turn left and then right. Successful left and not-so-successful right ends in a face plant into the snow. I scream, people look and are met with a glove-shaped bird. I attempt to remove my skis so I can stand up. Toni finally realizes that I’ve fallen and yells over for me to “use my hands” to unlock the skis. For fuck’s sake, Toni. Hands? What hands? I can’t feel my hands! The ski attendant had tightened the ski boots to make sure this old lady couldn’t break loose from her skis easily; so, I lay there in the snow like a swollen tick and awaited help (think Randy from ‘A Christmas Story’ – yelling, “Ralphie, I can’t get up!”). The cuss words coming from under my rented helmet with tightened chin strap would’ve made a sailor blush. Help arrives and I’m freed from my skis. Toni agrees to a break but informs us that we aren’t advanced enough to ski down to the start. So, I gathered my skis, my fam, my frozen snot, and what’s left of my pride and walk down the mountain, heel-to-toe, like Frankenstein. #skischooldropout

That, my friends, was the first and last time I skied.