I would be absolutley remiss not to mention this special day to all of you. My baby brother, Uncle R, has turned the big 3-0, and I feel so old.

In light of this traumatic event, I've created a poem in his glorious honor:

To My Little Brother

Thirty years ago today,
a little boy was born to play.
With blondish hair and eyes of blue,
and a strange affininity for playing with pooh.
Oh how I loved being your buddy,
playing all day until we were muddy.
You were my bestfriend and I stil consider you the same,
I'm sorry this poem is so flucking lame.

Happy birthday little dude! Love, smooches and hugs from your favorite big Sis!

Posted by Mommazilla at 05:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

He has a girlfriend. And she's hung around for just about six months. Gosh, I know, I can't believe it either - we even showed her the old photos, told her the gross-out stories, and I even warned her as a big sister does - but she keeps comin' back. The best thing about it is she likes to take pictures and they let me snap some this weekend. I'm always looking for willing victims and when you have one that likes to have fun, all the better for the shots. Here's a coupla of my captures (and for pictorial proof that she's not an inaminate blow-up doll, just kidding Uncle R):

And one more of Uncle R because he doesn't think he looks like a hottie - sorry Ry, you are:

Posted by Mommazilla at 11:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Uncle R had an epiphany this weekend and because of it, decided to "man up" and do something that he says he's always dreamed of doing; skydiving. Now the only dreams I've had of falling 13,000 feet with a strange person tethered to my back were in actuality nightmares, and I made sure to share this safety conscious opinion with him. Much to my dismay, Uncle R proclaimed that this high flying challenge was an important factor in his growth as a man and I just couldn't argue with this testosterone laced argument. However, ironically enough, a certain new lady in his life happened to be present for his decision to jump, and the shame of knowing that she had previously made this leap of faith herself, was a strong factor in him growing a huge set of testicular fortitude.

Uncle R's adventure began with a long drive to the lovely metropolis of Acampo (near Lodi), early Saturday afternoon. When he got there, he was quickly put through a training session and then weighed in to determine who his friendly tandem partner would be. I snickered when Uncle R told me that he had to pay a little over the initial fees due to his weight. He reminded me that muscle does way more than fat so the additional $16 bucks he had to pay for his "overage" was purely because of his excellent condition. Whatever, even schatty hamburger meat goes for at least $2 a pound - how much value did they actually place on his life?! He then signed his liability paperwork and on camera, told the nation who he wanted to have his car and motorcycle go to - just in case. I was pissed that he didn't leave either one to me. Jerk. His final parting words for his friends, family, neighbors, and girl he wanted to impress was, "Oh Shat." What a classy, brave little man Uncle R is.

He was then loaded up on the plane and flown to the lovely flying altitude of 13,000 feet. His chubby little red bushy bearded tandem partner (kind of resembled a cute little garden gnome) promptly told Uncle R to have a seat on his lap so that they could get a little closer - connected that is. Uncle R admitted feeling a little strange sitting on Gnome’s lap and that Gnome did smile and chuckle quite a bit as Uncle R squirmed, hoping that it was a parachute cord in the Gnome’s pocket...The Gnome also happily told Uncle R that he had recently made a naked jump, giving Uncle R that much more confidence and weird feelings about his Gnome lap dance.

Uncle R said that he was eerily calm up to the final moment and the video tape taken of him actually proved this to be a true fact. Although calm, he was a deathly white and his answers sounded a little delayed. He was totally rockin' the deer in the headlight look and boy, did it work for him. I actually felt very nervous for him and my hands were sweating like rotten cheese, watching him get ready to take the ultimate leap of faith.

I honestly did not believe that Uncle R made the jump until I watched him do it. In slow motion, you could see him going through a series of emotions: fear, excitement, and the sudden realization of his mortality. He had a tremendous "O" face the whole way down and the Gnome was also wildly grinning, firmly attached to the back of Uncle R. The entire jump lasted about five minutes and Uncle R equated it to riding on his motorcycle's handlebars without a helmet, at about 100 mph.

He did give me a bit of a warning about what to expect when the actual parachute opened up (like I'm ever really going to consider doing this!); the jolt of the opening gave him a tremendous wedgie from Hell; so bad that he honestly thought he was tasting cotton. I gently corrected him by saying that it appeared to be more of an impressive moose knuckle he sustained. I guess with that much force, the wrenching of ones' jeans probably makes the family jewels and bunghole feel equally abused -so I won't argue the point.

Uncle R is now safely home and in possession of both video and pictorial evidence of his escapade. As we watched the video tonight, I saw him light up at the idea that he had challenged himself and had conquered such as awesome feat. I actually got a little misty eyed watching him be so brave and I was very proud of him for doing this on his own and with minimal encouragement. As we walked out to my car, he mentioned what an outstanding experience it was to go through and the video had really got him thinking. Again, as the older sis, I beamed with the idea that Uncle R had had a life changing emotional moment and that he was surely about to spew Shakespearean quotes and solve world hunger. Rather, he told me, "Sis, I've been thinking. I've got pretty eyes on that video, don't I?" I stopped and thought for a moment, "Yes, yes you do. They were especially pretty when they were actually open during the jump." He pondered this for a moment and smiled. We continued walking and I quietly chuckled to myself realizing that I still had the same old Uncle R and that this life changing experience hadn't taken away the little boy. I'm glad.

Some pic's of our Uncle R:

Posted by Mommazilla at 04:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

In my never ending quest to get Uncle R some female companionship and my children a satisfactory new auntie; I strongly encouraged Uncle R to have a profile on an active social networking site. He eventually took my advice but only after I promised to keep it updated and take sassy photos of him and his new toys whenever he felt it necessary to boost his viewings. I also agreed to help him peruse through some of the psycho e-mails he would occasionally receive from lonely cougars and the occasional MILF, so that I could offer a more nurturing wording to his rejection e-mails (why he asked me, I don't know - I'm not the most nurturing broad in the world). I readily agreed with the details of our verbal contract and set him up with SWEET profile, if I do say so myself. It was like I was living vicariously through Uncle R's profile; no kids, no hubby, and lots of room to make myself, um, I mean Uncle R, look totally bitchin'.

The views climbed steadily each day and he would receive random comments from interested women. One such woman was...

OK, OK, before I get into this any farther, let's just imagine that the following actually happened (wink, wink) and maybe this conversation actually occurred in real life, although the names have been changed in order to protect the innocent and to also save Uncle R from a trip to the second floor of the courthouse in order to obtain his Temporary Restraining Order packet.

..."Dungeness" (like the crab, get it?). No, that's not her screen name, but I think it sounds close to it and in my opinion, might go alone with what you'd get should he choose to date her. Dungeness is a very aggressive woman and she's been chasing my buddy around with numerous sexy e-mails and comments. He finally gave into her persistent advances and provided her with his phone number.

Flip forward to the next day...He's working and receives "the call." Unknown number and an unknown husky cigarette female sounding voice, complete with that smoker's deep throaty lung rattling laugh.

Dungeness: Is this Uncle R?
Uncle R: Yeah, who's this?
Dungeness: It's Dungeness.
Brief, uncomfortably boring conversation ensues that I won't bore you with.
Uncle R: So, your profile says that you like hunting? Did you make it out this year?
Dungeness: No (deep phlegmy laugh)! That damn restraining order made me lose my guns. But don't worry though; it won't stand up when I go to court.
Uncle R: Oh, OK. Not a violent offense I hope (nervous chuckle ensues). Yeah, well, what do you do for a living?
Dungeness: Well, I'm, uh, sorta in between jobs right now.
Uncle R: That's too bad. Hope you find something soon.
Awkward silence.
Dungeness: You're not a cop right? I thought you had some cop stuff on your page.
Uncle R: No, in a past life I had some ties. Would that be a problem if I was?
Dungeness: Let's just say that I don't live my life along the straight and narrow, if ya know what I mean (chronic phlegmy laugh, lung rattling sounds ensue).
Uncle R: Oh, OK? That's nice for you. Well, gotta go, my cellphone service is (made-up cell phone noise) really (more made-up cell phone noise) bad in this (made-up cell phone noise) area. Bye!

Uncle R is left lying in the fetal position, sucking his thumb and asking for his momma. He learned what a disaster she was in only seven minutes. He then realizes she still has his number so the adventure is still not quite over.

Poor Uncle R is going to keep looking and I think you can see why. I got quite the chuckle out of his adventure and I'm sure he will too, once he figures out how to block her number from his cell phone and peruses the court calendar to see what her restraining order was actually for. I thank God every day that I'm married and don't need to worry about dating. I also remind hubby everyday of how lucky he is to have a woman like me and not like the Dungeness crabs that invade our social circles.

I'm not even ready to give up the search for the perfect "lady" for Uncle R (emphasis on the "lady" aspect) but I'm trying to take a more "bystanding" view rather than as an active dating screener. I know my role so it's time to shut my hole - according to Uncle R and his weird friend Stomper. Uncle R will eventually find the right one for him and more than likely, it won't be by picking up a female hitchhiker on the information super highway.

Posted by Mommazilla at 07:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I'm so fortunate to have great parents and in-laws that will watch my three little monsters at the drop of a hat. They make it possible for hubby and me to work full-time so that we can keep fresh mac and cheese, Doritos, and plenty of Pepsi on the table. Yes, I am a gourmet chef and my kids' chunky little cheeks and flabby little thighs scream nutrition at it's finest.

On occasion, I have the rare event that pops up and I need a babysitter beyond the hours that grandma or grandpa can cover. When this occurs, I have an extremely trustworthy young lady that happily watches the kids and plays Barbie’s, monster trucks, and dress-up until I get home and they're once again neglected (KIDDING!). Unfortunately, my back-up sitter wasn't available for a date and I was forced to tackle the issue of finding another live body. This is where Uncle R comes in.

Ring, ring!
Uncle R: Hello?
Mommazilla: Hey there buddy! How's it going? (syrupy sweet voice, oozing love)
Uncle R: Fine...? (instant distrust ensues)
Mommazilla: Great, great. So listen, what are you doing tomorrow?
Uncle R: Uh (catching on that I'm going to ask for a favor), going to Eureka.
Mommazilla: Cool! What time?
Uncle R: I'm not sure, why?
Mommazilla: Oh, I'm just looking for a little favor....(mumbles) watching the kids for a coupla hours.
Uncle R: I just remembered that I'm also working out tomorrow and then I have to go to Eureka. (panicking)
Mommazilla: So, what time? You tell me first. You're not getting out of this one.
Uncle R: Maybe 1ish to 5ish, but probably later. I'm a busy guy you know.
Mommazilla: Yeah right, busy. I'll see you here at 3PM. I only need you for two hours. As long as your breathing and you have a pulse, you're qualified to watch the kiddos. Throw them some frozen bacon and an unopened Pepsi two liter; it will keep them busy for hours.
I can hear him breathing on the phone. Quick, raspy sounds are emanating from his throat and I hear him gulp.
Uncle R: I can't do it. Your kids scare me. Gun-Gun is the devil incarnate and I know that he'll hurt me.
Mommazilla: Your just exaggerating things! He's just a sweet, active little boy.

Gun-Gun is shrieking by this point, as I quickly try to muffle his war cries with my hands. He then proceeds to scream into the phone about cars and "Bob Bob!" (Sponge Bob) as I remove him from the entertainment center he is attempting to high dive from. Mild profanities ensue and I'm informed that I owe the quarter jar big bucks, by a concerned C-Dub who is proclaiming that there is a big unknown wet spot on the kitchen floor (don't worry Mom, it don't smell like pee!). The dogs, hearing the ruckus, begin to bark and Chico the goat starts tapping at the door with his one horn. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the rooster peeking in the window, intrigued at our strange family. I forget that Uncle R is still on the phone listening to the organized chaos.

Mommazilla: So it's a "no" then?
Uncle R: You have to ask?

Needless to say, I had to cancel my meeting.

Posted by Mommazilla at 06:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

In today's day and age, dating can be quite interesting and entirely too entertaining for those of us who get to watch (it's the voyeur in me coming out I'm sure). A very special person in my life is currently living and hating the single life (Uncle R). He's handsome, rich, super single, and just an all around nice guy. The perfect catch, right? He seems to be but unfortunately, he's just not attracting the right sort of girl. The women who seem to be expressing interest just have "issues." Children, rebound love, boyfriends, everyone has something considered to be excess baggage.

I've encouraged my little buddy to have an active online social networking account (very popular - won't name it to protect the innocent) and I help him frequently edit to add pics, comments, etc. He's had a lot of interest with it and I've enjoyed seeing his little ego peak with every MILF and cougar comment he's gotten. A few nights back, we decided that it was time for him to venture into the exciting Humboldt County dating scene and I invited him to (insert dramatic drum roll here...); Girl's Night. This special night occurs only once in a blue moon to our small group of girlfriends. It's a night of wild debauchery, hard liquor, and pure adrenaline producing excitement, set in the backdrop of a poorly lit, smoky casino filled full of immoral heathens. To translate, it's a night out without the kids and hubbies, at the casino playing penny slots and downing watery pina coladas while living vicariously through the youngsters in the crowd.

I chose to be the responsible and oh so maternal designated driver, and promptly began my tour of duty by chauffeuring Uncle R to his awaiting piece of heaven. Uncle R and my girlfriends began their course of adult beverages while I became a silent groupie around the soda machines, drinking until my bladder felt as thought it would burst. I needed that caffeine high, no matter the cost. Honestly, I had only been at the casino a couple of times, and each time had been for some sort of celebration where adult beverages (in moderation of course) had been involved. Being high on caffeine and stone cold sober, I was actually frightened to a point as I suddenly realized how scary some of our fellow gamblers were. I'm not about to brag about that I have long luxurious locks of gold hair and endless sky blue glowing eyes (and I won't even mention my bodacious almost pre-child body), but holy smokes, is it asking too much to have your guests at least take a shower prior to going out? Or how about combing your hair and brushing your teeth? Cigarettes and alcohol do not entirely cover the smell of "funk."

As I sat there babysitting Uncle R, who quickly realized that when they said "double" they didn't just mean it in the price, I slowly looked around to take it all in. For those of you not familiar with the sort of female (I hesitate to say "lady") characters you might see on a night like this, let me introduce you. Please keep in mind that this was also the selection my girlfriends and I were trying to choose from for Uncle R:

Type 1 Female (no longer a MILF): Under 40, with or without dentures. Likes to pop dentures in and out of mouth during heavy gambling or deep conversation. Always has ciggy up to her leathery lips. Has deep, phlegmy smokers laugh, and likes shiny things. She sticks to the hard liquor and Steel Reserve. Usually single or a grandmother of at least 10.

Type 2 Female (almost a MILF): Under 40, has all teeth. Wears comfortable clothing (i.e.: sweatsuit or velour) and promptly hoists a leg up on her seat as she plays her penny, nickel and quarter slots (helps the carpal tunnel that is aggravated by the gambling problem). May or may not smoke and tends to drink fruity drinks or soda. Usually married with at least two kids.

Type 3 Female (former MILF now a cougar): Over 40, probably with dentures. She's a silver fox wearing her polyester finest jumpsuit. She's rockin' the bling-bling in the form of QVC diamonique and sticks to her frugal penny and nickel slots. She may or may not smoke, but darn it, she makes whatever she does look (sing it like Fergie) GLAMOROUS. May be married but probably divorced or a widow.

Type 4 Female (wannabe MILF): Under 30, has most teeth. Very fond of spandex type cotton, snug fitting clothes and muffin tops. They tend to cluster in a group like a pack of hyenas and also make similar type noises as they are easily excitable. They share ciggies and drinks, and only gamble if it brings them closer to a good looking - or at least reasonably good looking guy with exposed greenbacks. They usually profess to either having or to have had a career as an exotic dancer. ** I know this from a previous casino experience where my girlfriends and I met a 300 lb "stripper" in the bathroom. We all raced to pee so that we could get out of the stalls and see her shake her stuff, as she was gyrating her goodies for her strange looking four foot friend who had accompanied her into the bathroom. It was a strange, surreal experience, and I practically needed bleach for my eyeballs when she was done. ** They are usually single.

Type 5 Female (lady): Under 30, has teeth and nice shape and face. Also likes snug clothing but looks good in it as well. She's confident with or without a group and only smokes on occasion. She's usually linked to a man (more than likely a hubby) and is the rarest group of the female casino crowd. She's taken and has no children. Heck, she probably even works and goes to college - maybe even to be a doctor! Woohoo!!

As you can tell, we looked long and hard for a Type 5, would have settled for a Type 3, but there was no such women to be had. Uncle R was forced to hang with the ladies and drink profusely in order to make the Type 1, 2 and 4 look more appealing. We continued to gamble our night away on the penny slots, and I had to remind Uncle R several times of decimal placement when it came to winning actual money on the penny slots (no Uncle R, 500 pennies does not make you rich - no matter what country you're in).

At the end of the night, and after observing Uncle R perform several drunk dials to numerous friends, we parted ways with our group. I drove Uncle R to his home and quietly watched him stumble up his steps, where he promptly waived his arms like one of those floppy kite figures, indicating that he was OK and in his apartment. I hesitated to leave until I saw him get inside and turn the lights on. I know that he's a grown man (almost 30 to be exact) but I didn't want him to have any unexplained black eyes or bruises caused by an unsteady floor. I don't necessarily think it was physical injury I was too worried about, but more of the potential emotional devastation we could have caused him; The dating scene he was exposed to at the casino wasn't exactly prime but I think he survived it and more than likely learned something from it. He will definitely be invited to the next Girl's Night, and hopefully, we'll actually find an available Type 5 lady for him.

Posted by Mommazilla at 06:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)