About Darcy

My Bio here

Who’s Singin’ the “How the Hell Is This School Project Gettin’ Done in Time” Blues?

So then…both my kids announce brand new huge projects that must be completed before the school year ends — which is just a couple weeks away — and I suspect these projects weren’t assigned today.

Of course, this reminds me of the School Project to End All School Projects, so I’ll share this here just in case any of you are singin’ the “How the Hell Is This School Project Gettin’ Done in Time” Blues!

That Special Joy When Another Mom Notifies You Just How Oblivious Your Kid Is -- Honestly, are ALL kids procrastinators or do some kids have a special knack for being COMPLETELY OBLIVIOUS? SoThenStories.com #funny

So then…she nibbles the walnut brownie I baked and comments on how nicely Tucker and her son Andrew, both age 11, are playing basketball in our backyard.

I beam. This is the first time Linda’s son has come over.  (I’d even tidied up the house and baked some “get-to-know-you” brownies.)

“They’ve had a great afternoon,” I say. “Thanks for letting Andrew come home with us after school. Tucker’s really enjoyed hanging out with him.”

Linda nods, picks up Andrew’s backpack, and heads for the patio door to collect her son. She says, “Yeah, I almost had to cancel though, because Andrew hadn’t made enough progress on his International Fair project yet. But he did a lot last night, so he’s in pretty good shape.”

My pulse quickens. What International Fair project? I ask.

She looks at me as though I’m joking. “The one that’s due Monday.”

Today is Friday.

“Oh, is that, like an optional project, like for a Science Fair, or something?” I ask hopefully.

She turns to me, backpack on her shoulder, and says, “No, this is the big 6th grade History project they’ve supposed to have been working on all semester. Surely Tucker’s told you about it?”

I’m sure I’m turning bright red from embarrassment – and bright white from panic.

“Um, no, he hasn’t mentioned it. What’s due on Monday?”

Well, now she sets the backpack down and turns her attention completely toward me, and braces herself to tell me some very bad news.

“OK, each child picks a country, then they need to write a report on 6 topics of that country, like climate, cuisine, politics, religion, stuff like that.”

I gulp.  Sweat forms on my brow.

International Fair Darcy Concern
“Each report has to be typed up and pasted on a tri-fold poster board with artwork and photos,” she continues.

“Well, um, OK,” I stammer. “I..I think we can work on that this weekend. I can run to the crafts store for the poster board. We can probab-“

“Get the flag materials there too,” she interrupts.

“There’s a flag?” I ask.

“Yes, and a costume.”

“WHAT?”

“Yes, this is why they gave the kids all semester to work on it! They need to make that country’s flag out of fabric and put it on a stick because they’ll carry it in the procession. Then they also need to wear a costume that’s native to the country – it can be homemade, or maybe you have a friend or family member who has something from that country, or—“

She stops as she sees me sit down, about to hyperventilate.

I whisper, “I don’t even know what his country is.”

She winces.

International Fair Linda Explains
“OK, look, I hate to keep going, but you should know the kids also need to cook an authentic dish from their country.” She blurts it out very quickly like she’s ripping off a band-aid. “And they need to have enough bite-size servings for 40 students because all the 6th graders and their parents are invited to the International Fair – which is Monday.” Then super-fast she says, “And it’s 25% of their grade.”

She picks up the backpack again and turns toward the patio door. She looks back at me and I see indecision on her face. Should she flee the scene? Grab her son and run away, kissing him all over for having the good sense to tell her about the International Fair project months ago?

Or should she stay and comfort a fallen comrade in the Mommy Wars?

Please, my eyes beg her. Don’t abandon me. Explain more about this International Fair of which you speak. Help me, guide me, tell me my son’s frikking country, something, anything, for God’s sake. What’s your son’s country? Can our sons choose the same country? Can my son join your son and share his flag and his tri-fold and his cuisine? I beg of you…

Of course I don’t say any of those words out loud. But she can see them in my eyes. So she pats me on the shoulder, opens the patio door, and calls for Andrew.

The boys come running in. Linda says a nervous goodbye to an oblivious Tucker, hastily thanks me, hustles Andrew out the door, and snags another brownie on her way out.

Bitch. She annihilates me AND still has time to take a treat?

I shouldn’t have thought that. Of course she’s not a bitch. Why shoot the messenger when there is somebody much more appropriate to receive my wrath?

As the front door closes, I turn to Tucker, narrow my eyes, and ask in a chillingly low voice, “Did you know there was an International Fair project due on Monday?”

He stuffs a brownie bite in his mouth and says brightly, “Yeah, but it’s like a Science Fair or something – it’s optional.

I grip the handles of the chair. “Tucker.It.Is.Not.Optional.It.Is.25%.Of.Your.Grade!”

He shrugs, says, “Huh,” and takes another bite.

I look at him with wonder that this truly carefree child emanated from the womb of a Type A hyper-organized, compulsive pre-planner like myself.

“Linda said the teachers have been talking about this International Fair all semester. Did you think they would spend that much time talking about an optional project?” I ask.

He screws up his face and lifts his shoulders in a gesture of Hey, who knows what’s on the minds of those crazy teachers?

International Fair Tucker Shrugging
I take a breath. “Tucker,” I say. “Do you even know what country you have? And if you chose a country, what did you think you were choosing it FOR, since you thought the project was optional?

He finishes the last bite of the brownie and says, “Oh yeah, I chose Mexico. I thought it was like ‘Hey, where would you like to visit if you could pick any country?’ And I picked Mexico because I love Mexican food.”

“Well, I’m glad you do, Tucker. I’m glad you do. Because you are going to be making Mexican food all weekend. And a flag and a costume and 6 reports! YOU ARE GOING TO BE ALL MEXICO ALL THE TIME FOR THE NEXT 48 HOURS!!”

And thus began one of the most painful, stressful weekends in the history of school projects.

Ay Caramba!

International Fair Tucker Color
— Darcy Perdu

If you enjoyed this post, receive NEW funny posts by subscribing HERE!

Original Illustrations for So Then Stories created by Shelly at Shell Graphics

(Any projects that snuck up on you or your kids? Any surprise tests? Or how about the “oh-yeah-I-need-36-cupcakes-for-school-tomorrow-Mom” at 9:00 at night? Share your Stories and Comments below! I LOVE to read them!)

International Fair Hearing the News Color

Do I Embarrass Myself in Front of Celebrities? Why Yes, Yes I Do!

Backstage Bungle -- funny & embarrassing story!  @SoThenStories

So then…I confess that I neglected to share a rather embarrassing tale from my recent trip to Vegas with my two teen kids and their three pals.

Oh sure, I shared our shenanigans and hypnotized hilarity – but of course, no trip is complete without my own personal embarrassment…

THE BACKSTAGE BUNGLE
Our friend arranges for us to see a comedian friend of his, so the teens and I get awesome free seats and an opportunity to meet the comedian backstage afterwards.

The show’s hilarious! We love it!

Afterwards, an usher brings us to an attractive guy named Jim who’s the comedian’s assistant or road manager or something. He takes us backstage to a waiting room, then into the comedian’s dressing room.

The kids and I greet the comedian and thank him for the seats.

While the kids are talking to the comedian, I go off to the side with Jim. I gesture toward the kids with my Iphone and whisper to him, “Do you think it’s OK if I take a picture?”

“Sure!” he says, “That’s flattering!”

“Oh, OK,” I say shyly. “I never know. I don’t want to ask a celeb for a photo if it’s too pushy or something.”

“Not at all!” says Jim, smiling. “I’m happy to take a photo with them. They probably won’t know who I am though!”

Huh?

I look at him strangely. They won’t know who you are? I don’t know who you are, either!

So I’m looking at this Jim guy totally confused, when suddenly –

LIGHTBULB!

Oh, damn. Now I remember! The comedian mentioned during the show that his friend was in the audience – a singer from a popular boy band in the late 90’s.

Oh, damn, damn, damn. Jim’s not the comedian’s assistant! He’s the friend – who’s also a celeb! And he thinks I’m asking for HIS picture!

I quickly try to recover gracefully, nodding my head enthusiastically, like yes yes that’s exactly what I intended all along please by all means get in this photo you delicious little former boy-bander you!

So then follows a horribly awkward photo shoot where I’m directing my kids and their friends to all smush together in pics with the comedian and the hottie 90’s singer-dancer.

Argh!

Could I just make it through ONE WEEK without embarrassing myself?

Nope.

As we leave the theater, walking along, I stop dead in my tracks and gasp!

Because now I remember something that makes me wince with fresh new embarrassment.

Before we went to the comedian’s dressing room, about 10 of us were squeezed into a tiny waiting room — me, the 5 teens with me, a few friends of the comedian, and Jim.

Jim was standing and the rest of us were sitting on two benches facing each other – smashed in so close, our knees were touching the people seated opposite us!

After awhile, conversation petered out a bit, so one of the adults said, “We need some entertainment while we’re waiting” and someone said something to Jim like, “Are you humming over there?”

He grinned — so I asked, “Oh, do you sing?” in that tone of voice you use when you discover someone who has one job — has just been revealed to have another talent.

Like the tone of voice I’d use if my plumber glanced longingly at my piano and I said with a tinge of surprise, “Oh, do you play?”

I was thinking, “Oh, Jim the assistant also happens to sing.  That’s cool.”

And when I asked “Oh, do you sing?” — Jim and the others laughed which I took to mean “Good God, no!” which is the same response I’d give – because I’m a dreadful singer (even the nuns say so).

Just then, the door opened and we filed out to the comedian’s dressing room.  One of the women smiled at me and murmured, “That’s a good one.”

NOW it all makes sense. She and the others thought I KNEW Jim was a famous former boy bander so they interpreted my question to be “faux innocent” – like I was ribbing him or teasing him!

Like batting my eyelashes and asking Kobe Bryant, “Oh, do you play ball?”
Or asking Meryl Streep, “Oh, do you act?”
Asking Miley Cyrus, “Oh, do you twerk?”
Asking that old Vatican guy with the funny hat, “Oh, are you religious?”

So Jim and the other adults all thought I was being clever and coy and maybe even flirtatious!

But I was just being completely clueless – which, I suppose, is its own special talent.

Embarrassing myself being yet another special talent I possess.

So, former boy bander, if you ever read this post – just know that you’re still smokin’ hot and I’d love to hear you croon anytime, baby!

— Darcy Perdu

PS I changed his name for this post so as not to embarrass him – or myself – any further!

If you enjoyed this post, receive NEW funny posts by subscribing HERE!

(Ever embarrassed yourself in front of a celeb? Do you know all the 90’s boy banders by sight?)

For hilarious tales from the front lines of parenting — and my story of the most embarrassing thing I’ve EVER done — buy this rockin’ new book, I STILL Just Want to Pee Alone!
I Still Just Want To Pee Alone at Amazon.com




Click the Buy Now button for an autographed copy mailed right to your door!

WHAT in the WORLD…?

Not sure what's the MOST embarrassing thing in this post - but ALL of it has me in giggles! @sothenstories

So then…I clarify that this post is not intended to make fun of the people mentioned in the post.

Which I’d never do.

It IS intended to make fun of my teen daughter Chloe.

Which I do all the time.

In fact, it’s my life’s work.

But let’s face it, she’s an accomplice to that. She just makes it so easy.

For the purposes of today’s tale, you should know that Mr. V is a very smart, skilled science teacher with grey hair – and an accent from a country whose surnames have so many vowels, everyone just calls him Mr. V.

And now our tale:

As I’m laying down on Chloe’s bed while she puts on her pajamas, I tell her about a vendor’s new employee I met today. “She’s very sharp, capable, professional – dresses beautifully – really very impressive—”

“But…?” asks Chloe, as she climbs into the bed.

“But she ends every sentence with ‘and everything,’” I say. “It’s the oddest thing. I’m used to people saying ‘ya know’ or ‘ok’ repetitively, but I’ve never met anyone who said that. And she kinds of slurs it, like ‘an’ errrthing.’”

“She says it a lot?” asks Chloe.

“Yes! She’ll say, ‘We’ll send you the spreadsheets an’ errrthing, then you can review the figures an’ errrthing so we can get together for a meeting an’ errrthing.’”

“No way!”

“Yes, really! But she’s so professional in every other way, she may not even know she’s doing it. We’re going to be working together a lot — I’m wondering if I could discreetly mention it to her, as a helpful—”

“NO!” says Chloe.

“Just a friendly word of advice? She might appreciate it.”

“No, Mom, you cannot do that! I hate when people tell me I use the word “like” all the time! I know I use it, but I’m like a Valley Girl – I can’t help it!”

‘Like’ a Valley Girl?” I grin. She laughs.

“Well,” I say authoritatively, “Sometimes in business it’s OK to advise people—”

“No, no, no!” She shakes her head vehemently.

I laugh and say, “Yes, it IS OK – hey, don’t you remember that time my friend Carol had to tell her employee that people complained about him stinking? Remember? And she had to tell him to take showers? He was from a different country where they don’t shower that much so—”

“OMIGOD! Like Mr. V!!” she exclaims.

“Oh really? Does he smell a bit—?”

“OH!” she says fervently, “It’s in-TOX-icating!”

Bwahahahahahahaha!

I die laughing.

“In-TOX-icating? The smell is in-TOX-icating?” I ask.

She blushes and blurts, “Yes! Wait! Is that the right word?”

“Chloe, that means you find his scent powerful and exhilarating! Appealing and captivating! Like you’re drunk on his aroma! Like you’re swooning!”

She buries her head in the pillow – mortified!

“Did you mean the smell is ‘in-TOL-erable” instead of ‘in-TOX-icating?’ Maybe? Just maybe?”

She pulls the covers over her head.

I impersonate her voice and add a flirtatious lilt. “Oh Mr. V, come closer, come closer. Your smell is so in-TOX-icating!”

She’s shouting “STOP STOP STOP!” from under the covers — and the bed’s shaking ‘cause we’re laughing so hard.

And you can bet that ever since then, whenever she least suspects it – (and often when we’re in the company of others) – I interrupt the conversation to passionately blurt, “Oh! It’s so in-TOX-icating!”

She always turns bright red and shoots me a fierce look – and I just laugh and laugh and laugh!

— Darcy Perdu
PS I changed his initial to further protect the teacher’s anonymity!

If you enjoyed this post, receive NEW funny posts by subscribing HERE!

(What words do YOUR kids mix up? Have you ever had to give constructive feedback on an awkward issue to an employee/coworker?)

For hilarious tales from the front lines of parenting — and my story of the most embarrassing thing I’ve EVER done — buy this rockin’ new book, I STILL Just Want to Pee Alone!
I Still Just Want To Pee Alone at Amazon.com




Click the Buy Now button for an autographed copy mailed right to your door!

Hypnotism and Humiliation: Vegas-Style!

Hypnotism & Humiliation - Vegas Style
So then…I take my two teens and their three pals on an educational Spring Break trip to Washington DC to learn more about our nation’s politics.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Are you kidding me?

I take ‘em to Vegas!

You can click here for Part 1 of our shenanigans –

And now for Part 2 –

HYPNOTIST SHOW

My teens, Chloe and Tucker, and their pals want to see a Hypnotist Show, so we head over to the Marc Savard show at the V Theater.

I glance about skeptically as we file in and sit down.

The hypnotist starts speaking. I cross my arms.

I don’t believe in hypnotism.

The hypnotist tells the audience that lots of people think they don’t believe in hypnotism.

(Well, he’s psychic at least! That’s exactly what I’m thinking!)

The hypnotist says that’s like saying, “I don’t believe in gravity,” but it still exists. “Hypnotism exists whether you believe or not.”

I smirk. No such thing. His “volunteers” will obviously be plants – people he hired to pretend to be hypnotized.

He calls for volunteers from the audience. My son’s friend Marco stands up. WHAT!?

Marco goes on stage, gets hypnotized with the other volunteers — and starts following the commands of the hypnotist — tapping, standing, snoring, squirming, making funny faces, reacting to imaginary snakes, and RIVER DANCING!

Yes – RIVER DANCING! – 18-year-old tall, cool Marco is kicking his Irish Jig legs all akimbo, enthusiastically strutting and popping heel-toe-heel-toe, sideways kick!

So unless Marco is secretly on this hypnotist’s payroll, I guess hypnotism IS real?

Mind blown.

We’re all laughing hysterically at the antics on stage.

The hypnotist convinces one volunteer that she’s wildly in love with him – and convinces another that she’s repulsed by him.

He hypnotizes a huge muscular guy to respond to every shoulder tap by breaking down into sobs and hugging whoever’s closest to him!

He tells them all that a belt is a snake, so when he approaches with the belt and a hiss, they all flip the flip out!

Then the hypnotist brings out a STRIPPER POLE and invites the volunteers to AUDITION!

My son and I exchange a look. A look that says, “This is about to get REALLY awkward.”

Nothing like watching your guy friend attempt sultry stripper moves in front of your Mom. Not to mention the rest of the audience.

If he performs really badly – it’s embarrassing.

If he performs really well – it’s even more disturbing!

Should I storm the stage and rescue my teen charge? Should I just avert my eyes?

Who suggested this damn show? Why aren’t we doing something respectable like visiting the MGM lions?

Fortunately, the hypnotist is playing the scene for laughs – so he quickly taps the “strippers” if they start to take their audition a little too seriously.

And believe me, some of these volunteers tackle this task with a gusto and passion that’ll make your eyes bleed!

The audience is dying laughing – Marco’s looking like he’s having a great time – and yes OF COURSE we pay the $20 bucks for the DVD of tonight’s show so that we have Marco Blackmail Material for many years to come!

(Perfect wedding reception video, don’t ya think?)

All in all, we have an absolute blast swimming, sightseeing, dining, and enjoying shows. We love us some Vegas!

Of course, about 3 hours into the drive home to LA, Marco realizes that the $120 cash he put in the room safe for safekeeping was still safely IN the safe!!

As we call Lost & Found, I can’t help wondering if the hypnotist hypnotized Marco to leave the money there — and secretly extracted the safe code from Marco so he could recover the money himself!

Hmm…googling “How to become a hypnotist” right now!

— Darcy Perdu

UPDATE!  Because the internet is a miraculous place, my blogging friend Jessica Ziegler of hilarious Science of Parenthood saw this story and said she KNOWS hypnotist Marc Savard – then HE commented too!     Hypnotism (Facebook comments)

If you enjoyed this post, receive NEW funny posts by subscribing HERE!

(Do YOU believe in hypnotism? Can I BECOME a hypnotist so I can make business colleagues bend to my will & make my kids clean their rooms & make hot celebs fall in love with me? What would you do with YOUR hypnotism powers?)

For hilarious tales from the front lines of parenting — and my story of the most embarrassing thing I’ve EVER done — buy this rockin’ new book, I STILL Just Want to Pee Alone!
I Still Just Want To Pee Alone at Amazon.com




Click the Buy Now button for an autographed copy mailed right to your door!

Dispatches from Spring Break Vegas Trip

So then…I consider all the educational, enriching, cultural landmarks I can visit with my kids on Spring Break – and instantly choose VEGAS!

Dispatches from Spring Break Vegas Trip

That’s right, I’m taking my two teens and three of their teen friends to Vegas for Spring Break!

Gambling! Drinking! Strip Clubs!

Oh wait. That’s for my business trips to Vegas.

This is a family-friendly trip! Recalculating, recalculating…

Still a go!
Tucker & Chloe, their 3 pals, and I head off to Nevada!
And now, here are Dispatches from Our Vegas Trip:

PLANNING OUR WEEK
Me: OK Kids, what would you like to do in Vegas?

Maggie (daughter’s friend): Oh! I’d love to see a hypnotist show & swim in the wave pool at Mandalay Bay & go to the buffet at Aria & — well, if I wasn’t anti-MGM—

Me: Why are you anti-MGM?

Maggie: Because they have lions in captivity in their hotel lobby! That’s so cruel!

Me: Oh, OK. Well, if you weren’t anti-MGM, what would you wanna do there?

Maggie (quietly, sheepishly): See the lions.

Me: *blink*

Maggie: What?

Me: Ha! I thought you were going to say, eat at MGM’s Rainforest Café or see a certain show there – but the thing you’d want to see there is the very thing that prevents you from going there? You’re hilarious!

Maggie: Um…thank you?

(PS We did end up at Rainforest Café later, but we respectfully averted our eyes from any potentially captive lobby lions.)

1 Dispatches Pool 429

POOLSIDE FUN
Heading down to the pool – but first, I’m in the shower –
shaving legs, underarms…and now toes? TOES? Holy Hell!

Where did these Hairy Hobbit Hooves come from?
Am I the only one with this affliction? I gotta shave those li’l puppies!
But I can’t even touch my toes on dry land!
How am I gonna reach ‘em in a slippery shower wielding a sharp razor?
Oh Lordy – pray for me!
Two band-aids later…

1 Dispatches Michael_Jackson_One_graphic 429

CIRQUE DU SOLEIL – MICHAEL JACKSON ONE
There are about 87 Cirque du Soleil shows in this town. This one features Michael Jackson. I thought he was no longer with us but hey, this is Vegas – anything’s possible.

Wow, awesome show! These performers are phenomenally talented! Not sure if that last dancer was actually Michael – or a hologram – but either way, damn, can he dance!

1 Dispatches Michael hologram

PS: Quitting my job to become trampoline-artist with Cirque du Soleil! Those guys have a blast! I’m uniquely qualified for this job! When I fall, I bounce! Sign me up!

1 Dispatches Trampoline

ARIA BUFFET
All the foods. All over the world. All at once. All in mah belly!
Deee-lish!

1 Dispatches Buffet Seafood

FREMONT STREET
Wade into the wild, wonderful sea of humanity in downtown Las Vegas? Sure!

1 Dispatches Fremont Sign
Yes, kids, you can zip line down Fremont Street over the heads of all these drunk tourists and street performers, but be careful of pickpockets and affectionate lushes as we make our way to the zip line.

Don’t get too close to anyone or you’ll end up mugged and pregnant with an STD and a meth addiction.

1 Dispatches Fremont Zip Line

Stay tuned for Part 2 of Dispatches from Spring Break Vegas Trip…
— Darcy Perdu

If you enjoyed this post, you can receive NEW funny posts by subscribing HERE!

(Seriously, what the hell with the toe hair? Anybody, anybody? Meanwhile, what’s your favorite thing to do in Vegas?)

For hilarious tales from the front lines of parenting — and my story of the most embarrassing thing I’ve EVER done — buy this rockin’ new book, I STILL Just Want to Pee Alone!
I Still Just Want To Pee Alone at Amazon.com




Click the Buy Now button for an autographed copy mailed right to your door!

I’m Published! In a BOOK! Aw HELL Yeah!

So then…I’m published!

I bound up the stairs, then execute a flawless triple axel from the balcony, two cartwheels, and some enthusiastic twerking!

Followed by my SUPAH STAH pose:

Molly Shannon

Shout out to the incomparable Mary Katherine Gallagher (Molly Shannon)!

Yep, I’m published, peeps!

In a real live book!

THIS BOOK!
I Still Just Want To Pee Alone at Amazon.com
And you can OWN this book!

For a mere $9.99!

Just click this little book ritecheer:     

OR I can personally autograph the book and mail it to your house for a slight upcharge of $3.00 to cover shipping, handling, pen ink, and the laborious labor of me actually signing your book – plus workmen’s comp in case I sustain a signing-related injury. Just PayPal me a total of $12.99 to darcy@sothenstories.com — and tell me to whom to inscribe the literary tome – as well as your personal home address so I can mail you the book (and watch you while you sleep).





“Darcy, you know we worship the very ground you walk upon,
but is this book really worth the money?”

HELLS YEAH!

Not only does it contain MY hysterical true tale, it contains HILARIOUS & HEARTFELT stories and essays from 39 other kick-ass writers.

Jen Mann, New York Times best-selling author, hand-picked the 40 contributors in this book to produce one helluva rollickin’ read!

“I am mightily intrigued! What’s your story about?”

Well, you know how I share some of my most bodacious blunders and hilarious humiliations on this blog so you can laugh out loud – and cringe, thanking the Good Lord you’re not me?

Well, the story I share in this book is THE MOST EMBARRASSING thing I have EVER done.

And it’s in PUBLIC – like, VERY PUBLIC.  Like DISNEYLAND PUBLIC. 

And it’s HYSTERICAL!

Seriously! One time, I tried to TELL the story verbally – but I was laughing and crying so hard, gasping for breath, I couldn’t even get the words out!

So I had to write it down! And submit it to this anthology! And Jen Mann chose it for the book, so I CAN’T WAIT for you to read it!

And if any of you awesome peeps are going to be in the LA area on April 30, you can come celebrate with me, Jen Mann, and 3 other contributors, Kathryn Leehane, Tracy Sano, and Mackenzie Cheeseman at our Book Reading/Signing Party!

We’re all humor writers so we’re going to read hella-funny stuff, share cupcakes, and sign books! So if you happen to live near LA, email me at darcy@sothenstories.com if you can join us at 12 noon on April 30 at Calabasas Library, 200 Civic Center Way, Calabasas, CA!

Meanwhile, you’ll also enjoy reading all the stories and essays in the book by the other fabulously talented writers!

And guess what?  PERFECT MOTHER’S DAY GIFT!

Aw hell yeah!

So pony up some pretty pennies to buy a copy for you – and yo mama – and yo sister & neighbor & teacher & Zumba partner & parole officer!

THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY DID-I-MENTION-I’M-A-PUBLISHED-AUTHOR HEART!

— Darcy Perdu

If you love laughing, receive NEW funny posts by subscribing HERE!

(So excited, you guys! Hope you check out the book at Amazon.com – or the library – or just read over someone’s shoulder! I hope you like it!!)

Eject the Pervert!

Ejecting the Pervert from NYC bus!  A funny tale of bravery and bedlam!  #funny @SoThenStories.com

So then…my sister glares at the stranger with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns, telepathically conveying, “Someone’s getting’ thrown from this bus – and it ain’t gonna be me, buddy!”

Let me back up.

My darling sister Dawn is visiting me in New York City for the first time, along with her husband.

We’re all in our 20’s and I’m so excited to show off the city I’ve called home a couple years now.

I take them to:

Stunning museums!
Fabulous Broadway shows!
International restaurants!
Cool dance clubs!
And world-renowned landmarks!

And for ever after, when people ask her about her first trip to Manhattan, does she share those wondrous sights, sounds, and experiences?

Nope.

She shares this story:

Dawn, her husband, and I take the subway from midtown Manhattan all the way downtown to Battery Park for a huge 4th of July festival.

All day and night, New Yorkers make their way down to the harbor to see the ships and fireworks.

It’s a blast!

But then the event’s over. And all those hundreds of thousands of New Yorkers want to go home UPTOWN right now.

Like RIGHT NOW.

Naturally the mass transit system can’t handle ALL of us at once, so we walk in big massive sweaty throngs from subway entrance to subway entrance, hoping to find one that’s open. But they’re all packed from overcrowding.

Finding a taxi is laughable and traffic ain’t moving anyway.

We consider waiting it out, but late night in Battery Park’s a bit sketchy.

The crack ho’s and meth heads are puzzled why their ‘hood’s mobbed with anxious Uptown preppies. “Get out the way, preppies. You’re harshing our mellow.”

So we trudge onward, desperate for any mode of transportation.

FINALLY we see a bus. It is full. We board anyway.

Every inch of space is taken with tired cranky people in various degrees of inebriation.

In the mayhem, the three of us are separated as we stand in the aisle squeezed amongst tons of other people.

As the bus inches its way uptown, we hear some murmuring, annoyed tsking, and a couple “Hey!s” from the right side of the bus.

My sister’s on that side of the bus — but her husband’s in the back and I’m on the far left, so we can’t really see what’s happening.

We find out later from my sister that there’s a man who is…how do I say…slightly tipsy? intoxicated? – ok, SMASHED OUT OF HIS EVER-LIVIN’ MIND!

Apparently, this big tall guy decides to lean into the women standing next to him – and I mean LEEEEEAN into them.

He wants to share his Rocket Pocket and NO ONE is buying. As soon as he leans his pelvicular area into some girl or woman, they push him away, but he just gets gropey elsewhere.

Passengers complain to the bus driver, who says, “I’m not allowed to leave my seat – can someone back there help out!?”

Lots of mumbling, but no action.

Bus keeps moving; the drunk guy keeps leaning his Joy Junk into the women near him. People are telling him to cut it out but he just shouts belligerently. He’s bobbing and swaying – and lunges in my direction.

My sister Dawn – my sweet petite darling sister who wouldn’t hurt a fly says, “That’s it, buddy, you’re OUTTA here!”

He laughs. She shouts, “Off the bus!” He turns away. She calls to the driver, “Stop the bus! This guy’s gettin’ off.”

The guy curses and moves away from her, squeezing into the crowd in front of him.

MY SISTER FOLLOWS HIM.

She keeps telling him, “Off the bus. Off the bus, buddy.”

He resists. She follows and starts tapping him on the shoulder! He’s at least a foot taller than her! It’s like David poking Goliath.

She’s nudging him toward the exit. He resists and curses.

She perseveres.

Her husband and I are in shock – we’re separated from her by about 30 people in each direction. We can’t even reach her to help her!

She keeps prodding him closer and closer to the exit. People try to squeeze out of the way to give them a tiny path to stumble through.

Now he’s in that little step well next to the doors, but hanging on for dear life. He does NOT want to exit the bus.

The driver stops the bus and pushes the door’s auto-open button. My sister keeps nudging the guy, pushing him politely but firmly in the back, saying, “You need to get off the bus now, go home – go home, guy” – and finally shoves him out the door!

THE BUS ERUPTS INTO HUGE CHEERS!

The driver quickly pushes the auto-close button, drives up a couple blocks, stops the bus, stands up and says,

“Men! You oughta be ashamed of yourselves! I legally can’t leave my seat or lay hands on any passenger! I can’t believe you let that tiny little girl throw that drunk pervert off the bus! You should’ve helped her!” Then he turns to my sister and says, “Good job, young lady. I thank you – we all do!”

And the bus claps and cheers for my sister again – and all the men look a bit sheepish – and honestly, the ones who were close enough to that section of the bus could have helped a bit –

But hey, hell hath no fury like my sister when someone’s shoving their unwelcome boy toy willy-nilly into a crowd!

And ya know what? That’s a helluva better First-Trip-to-New-York story than some dusty ol’ museum recap!

Go Dawn! Girl Power for the Win!

— Darcy Perdu

If you enjoyed this post, you can receive NEW funny posts by subscribing HERE!

(Do you agree the stories of what went wrong are often more memorable than what went right? Any tales of bravery to share?)

Difference between Chick Chores & Dude Duties in the Household Labor Game

Who's Doin' the Chores at YOUR House? Funny Differences between Chick Chores and Dude Duties! #funny @SoThenStories.com

So then…a few of us enjoy delicious shrimp pasta at our friends’ house (Pam and Rob) when the husband says, “You haven’t been here in awhile. After dinner, I’ll show you the lawn I re-seeded.”

Now between you and me, I can’t imagine anything more boring than watching grass grow – especially if there’s more pasta and wine to consume – but I dutifully tag along for the viewing.

The men nod approvingly as Rob gestures about, explaining the month-long project to rip out the bad stuff and install the good stuff.

Then he takes us into the garage where he shows us a new tool bench and shelving system he built. It’s actually pretty impressive – and he beams as the others compliment him and clap him on the back.

As the women head back into the house, one says to Pam, “Wow, that’s so great your husband’s so helpful around the house.”

“Yes, well,” she says, a smidge less enthusiastically than one might expect.

I shoot her an encouraging smile and say, “What’s up?”

“Well, sure he takes on a project here and there – but he doesn’t really ‘help’ around the house. He’s not doing any of the day-to-day grind – like doing dishes, folding laundry, making meals…”

The other women nod their heads in agreement.

“Same here,” says one.

“Yeah,” says the other. “Mine will happily show you how he refinished the patio chairs – in excruciating detail – but ask him to empty the dishwasher and he’s not interested at all. He’s like, ‘but won’t we just have to empty it again tomorrow?’”

We laugh.

“Exactly!” Says the other woman. “They don’t like doing maintenance chores that are repetitive. There’s no sense of final accomplishment. You fold a load of laundry – so what? There’s another load tomorrow. Clean some dishes? Oh damn, they’ll just get dirty again at the next meal. There’s no final moment of glory – like, ‘TA-DA! It’s done!’”

The second woman says, “So are women wired differently? Repetitive tasks don’t drive us as crazy as they drive the men – or do we just get stuck with those tasks?”

“I don’t know,” says Pam. “And is it different when both spouses work outside the home?”

“Sometimes it’s reversed,” says the first woman. “I have some friends whose husbands typically do the cooking. And some couples seem to do a good job of splitting all the work. But most of the time, I see the wives doing the day-to-day stuff – and the men handle the trash, the car, and the ‘projects.’”

“Yes!” Pam says, laughing. “Don’t get me wrong – I’m glad Rob pitches in – but I just find it funny that some men are much more interested if the task has a clear beginning, middle, and end – especially if the end is something grand that you can point out to your friends and neighbors like ‘hey, look what I did!’”

That’s a really good point. I’ve yet to walk into someone’s home where the wife grabbed us to check out her linen closet to see how nicely she folded the towels in color-coordinated stacks.

None of my pals invites her guests over to the dishwasher to demonstrate the proper bowl-to-plate-ratio loading technique that results in such spotless dishes.

And I’ve yet to see a wife point to the carpet to say, “Look how nicely I vacuumed this rug – it took me three adjustments on the settings to be sure the machine really sucked up all the dirt!”

And yet, I’ve been on plenty of home visits where the husbands have proudly pointed out the results of their latest projects in the garage, the yard, or the house. We get to hear in glorious detail exactly how many nurseries he had to visit before finding just the right size and type of tree to work so well in that northern corner of the yard.

(Of course, with everyone so busy with work and kids, it’s wonderful to get any help at all around the house.)

But the whole time I’m nodding along as these women good-naturedly joke around about task differentiation between some men and women…

All I can think is…

OMIGOD, I’m a dude!

I’m TOTALLY a dude!

I LOATHE repetitive maintenance tasks. I suppose most people do – but I mean I REALLY hate them – and chiefly because they never end – and there IS no sense of TA-DA!

I NEED a TA-DA! I’m a glory-hound of the highest order!

I’d much rather take on a project that has some gloating perks, even if it means working longer and harder than the maintenance tasks!

I don’t want to spend 20 minutes cleaning the kitchen – but I’ll happily spend two hours completely reorganizing the pantry, fridge, and cabinets! TA-DA!

I’ll gladly show you some insane dessert creation that took me hours to concoct –

or a hilarious Powerpoint presentation for my friend’s birthday featuring photos, snarky captions, and inside jokes that took me literally weeks to create –

or anything else OTHER than the mind-numbingly boring chores of household duties.

And since I work full-time, I don’t feel too guilty admitting I outsource some of that work to a fabulous housekeeper I’m happy to pay.

And of course there are plenty of women more talented than I am who accomplish amazing home and yard projects that are definitely TA-DA worthy!

So my questions for you are:

1) What’s the division of labor like at your house – who gets the repetitive maintenance tasks – and who gets the TA-DA projects?

2) Which type do you PREFER – or are you cool with both?

And if you’re cool with both, what time can you be at my house?

— Darcy Perdu

If you enjoyed this post, you can receive NEW funny posts by subscribing HERE!

(What’s the division of labor like at your house – who gets the repetitive maintenance tasks – and who gets the TA-DA projects? Which type do you PREFER – or are you cool with both?)

Five Travel Hacks You’ll Love

Spring is finally here, and I’m teaming up with Downy Wrinkle Releaser Plus to share five travel hacks that you’ll love, along with a great giveaway offer. One lucky winner will take home a Travel Pack from Downy Wrinkle Releaser Plus valued at $150 (including a $50 Target gift card!)

Spring is finally here, and I’m teaming up with Downy Wrinkle Releaser Plus to share five travel hacks that you’ll love, along with a great giveaway offer. One lucky winner will take home a Travel Pack from Downy Wrinkle Releaser Plus valued at $150 (including a $50 Target gift card!)

Five Travel Hacks You’ll Love

Downey Large Image

1. Roll; Don’t Fold
As you pack, roll your clothes instead of folding them. You’ll be able to fit up to two times the amount of clothing by rolling them as you would by folding them.

2. Pack your “Iron”
And by iron, we mean Downy Wrinkle Releaser Plus. The 3 oz travel size meets airline standards. Slip it into your carry-on bag, and with a simple spray, you’ll be wrinkle free all trip long. (It’s also a great fabric refresher if you have to wear your clothes more than once on vacation.) Click here to read more and grab a coupon.

3. Bring an Empty Water Bottle
After you get through security, several airports have filtered water stands to fill your bottle. You’ll also find that most airport cafes will gladly fill your water bottle as well.

4. Snap a Picture
If you’re checking your luggage, snap a picture of your suitcase contents before you leave the house. If the airline loses your luggage, you’ll be able to use the picture to prove the value of the contents.

5. BYO Blanket
Blankets on airlines are hard to come by these days – and they’re not always washed between flights. If you tend to get cold on planes, or you’re going to be flying overnight, pack your own blanket to stay comfortable.

Enter to Win a Travel Pack from Downy Wrinkle Releaser Plus

One lucky winner will receive a travel pack valued at $150, including a travel tote, a Tervis Tumbler, Downy Wrinkle Releaser Plus and a $50 Target gift card.

Giveaway ends at midnight on Friday, March 20, 2015. Open to US and Canada.

Complete the form below to enter. Good luck!

Gimme a Call

Gimme a Call - No, Seriously, If You Know What's Good For Ya, Kid - CALL ME!! #funny @SoThenStories

So then…my high school freshman Tucker excitedly hops on the bus with his bassoon.

He smiles broadly, joining the rest of the school’s concert band on their way to the airport.

It’s his first time taking a trip on his own without our family.

They’re flying from L.A. for a week in NEW YORK CITY!

He’s thrilled!

I’m terrified!

As he takes his seat on the bus, I throw myself to the ground, writhing and moaning – clutching rosary beads and amulets to my chest — chanting spells, praying invocations – waving my talisman and lucky charms in the air – begging the gods to watch over my first-born as he zips 3000 miles away.

Or at least that’s how it feels.

I console myself with the knowledge that today’s amazing technology allows me to stay in constant touch with the fruit of my womb.

He never goes anywhere without his cell phone — so I’ll just call him to ensure he’s OK, having fun, and remembering to wear underwear.

The transcript from our calls:

Day 1:
Me: Hi honey! How are—
T, whispering: Can’t talk – we’re entering Lincoln Center for a class.

Day 2:
Me: Hey, how—
T, whispering: We’re just about to go into the Broadway show.

Day 3:
Me: How’s it go—
T, whispering: We’re eating dinner, then we’re performing. Gotta go.

OH MY GOD!

So I haul my ass over to the computer, study their itinerary backwards and forwards, and plan my phone call for EXACTLY the perfect time:

Day 4:
Me: Hello! How are—
T, whispering: Can’t talk. We’re on the bus.
Me: I KNOW you’re on the bus! That’s why I called you right now!
You’re IN BETWEEN activities! So we can talk now!
T, whispering: But we’re on the bus. Doing…bus things. I can’t talk NOW.

Bus things? What are bus things?

I’m starting to think my kid’s avoiding me.

Is he interviewing new families on the East Coast? Is he enrolling in school out there?

Will I EVER get my baby back?

Sob!

Now to be fair, he does occasionally text.

I’ll text something like “Are you having fun?”
And he’ll text “Yeah!”
Then I’ll text “What are you guys doing today?”
And he’ll text “Stuff!”

Maybe he’s been kidnapped. And his captors don’t speak English well. So they can only text one word answers.

I consider texting, “Have you been kidnapped?”
But he’d just text back “Nah” — (and that’s EXACTLY what kidnappers would say!)

I’m about to speed dial a private eye, psychic, and a witch doctor, but then I realize Tucker’s probably just having such a blast, he doesn’t have the time or inclination for chitter-chatter.

But I’m also wondering if it’s a BOY thing. Because when my daughter goes on a trip, she can’t wait to tell me every detail – even if I have to insult a neighbor to hear it!

Finally the day of pick-up arrives!

As families mill about the school parking lot waiting for the airport shuttle, David (Tucker’s dad) asks other parents if their kids stayed in touch during the trip.

The parents laugh and start complaining about the same lack of communication.

One dad says, “My kid was gone a whole week. I only got two calls – and one of those was a BUTT-DIAL!”

— Darcy Perdu

If you enjoyed this post, receive NEW funny posts by subscribing HERE!

(So is this a BOY thing? Or a TEEN thing? Or a I’m-Having-Too-Much-Fun-Quit-BUGGIN’-Me-Mom thing?)

Mind Tricks

Helena book two
Helena Hann-Basquait is releasing a new book called Memoirs of a Dilettante, Volume Two, so check out her guest post below and her book links.

Countess Penelope and the Jedi Mind Trick

I walked in on Penny doing something I’ll bet she wishes I hadn’t seen. But still, we all do it, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of. There comes a time in everyone’s life when you just need to experiment, to see what your body can do, to learn what you’re capable of, and if you do indeed have mental powers.

Yes, darlings, the Countess Penelope of Arcadia (small little moisture farming community just east of Mos Eisley) was trying to use The Force to move her glass of wine to her hand. When I opened the door, she tried to act all cool, as if she were just stretching to reach it, but I caught her with her eyes closed, breathing calmly and legs crossed in a zen-like yoga fashion, hand outstretched and trembling slightly.

“What are you doing?” I asked with a knowing grin.

“Nothing,” Penny said, clumsily knocking over her wine glass. “Oh, now look what you’ve made me do. Dammit, Helena, that’s alcohol abuse!”

“Gee, I’m sorry, Darth Penelopecus. Looks like you maybe should have stayed in Dagobah and finished your training instead of running off to the Cloud City to try to rescue your friends.”

“Hey, you know what? Maybe that explains it,” Penny suggested.

“Explains what?”

“Bear with me, Helena,” Penny began.

“I always do, darling.”

“Kayso, if you could have Jedi powers, what would you do with them?”

“I already told you, darling – I don’t like those movies. And I especially don’t like the new episodes. I’d really rather not talk about it.”

Penny gave me a look that told me that we were going to talk about it.

“Fine,” I sighed in resignation. “Well, as far as Jedi powers go, I mean, you have to give me some guidelines. I mean, are we talking the original trilogy – the ability to move things with my mind if I concentrate enough, or are we talking the ridiculously powerful abilities of the Jedi from the prequels. In those movies, Yoda bounces around like a three year old on a sugar bender, and the Jedi practically fly. But in the original three, Luke Skywalker – supposedly a very powerful Jedi – at best leaps out of the carbon-freezing chamber. Now either George Lucas was just drunk on the power of new filming technology and just completely lost his mind, or else…”

“Or else we can only come to the conclusion that in the final analysis, Luke Skywalker was the worst Jedi the universe has ever seen. And why would that be?”

“I’m sure you are going to tell me,” I said, trying to keep a straight face.

“Because he didn’t finish his training!” Penny cried, and pointed to the door. “Now, if you please? I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Okay,” I said with a sly smile, “but I still say you’d have more luck trying to something-else-ate.”

“Wow,” the Countess replied. “Sounds like someone really needs-a-date.”

“I do,” I sighed. “I really do.”

I stood in the doorway for a moment, thinking.

“What are you still doing here?” Penny asked snarkily.

“Well, don’t you want your answer? What I’d do with Jedi powers?”

“Nope,” she replied, and waved her hand at me slowly. “You will bring me more wine now.”

“No,” I said, turning off her lights and leaving her in the dark and walking away. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“Helena!” She called after me. “Helena, turn the lights back on! I’m in the dark here!

“Helena?

“Hey, don’t be too proud of your technological terror, Helena! The ability to turn off the lights is insignificant compared to the power of The Force!”

I just laughed diabolically as I continued to walk away. I may not be a Jedi, but I’m the master of the mind trick. Weak-minded fools, beware.

If you want to read more, BECOME A FAN at PUBSLUSH and pre-order Memoirs of a Dilettante Volume Two and Penelope, Countess of Arcadia

Available now! image06 JESSICA image07

The one, the only Helena Hann-Basquiat, everyone's favorite dilettanteThe enigmatic Helena Hann-Basquiat dabbles in whatever she can get her hands into just to say that she has.

Some people attribute the invention of the Ampersand to her, but she has never made that claim herself.

Last year, she published Memoirs of a Dilettante Volume One, and is about to release Volume Two, along with a Shakespearean style tragi-comedy, entitled Penelope, Countess of Arcadia.

Helena writes strange, dark fiction under the name Jessica B. Bell. VISCERA, a collection of strange tales, will be published by Sirens Call Publications later this year. Find more of her writing at http://www.helenahb.com or and http://www.whoisjessica.com Connect with her via Twitter @HHBasquiat , and keep up with her ever growing body of work at GOODREADS, or visit her AMAZON PAGE

WOOD You Like a WOOD Watch? I’m Giving Away a Brand New $129 Wood Watch!

So then…a guy named Paul emails me to ask if I’d like a wood watch.

First of all, who the hell is Paul?

And second, there can’t possibly be watches made out of WOOD!

I scan the room, left to right, looking for the cameras that are surely punking me.

I figure I should respond with something like, “Sure, Paul (if that’s your real name), I WOOD love a WOOD watch, if they really exist!” (see what I did there?)

But first I click the Jord company link — and HOLY HELLWOOD watches!

And they’re gorgeous! I glimpse a sweet little cherry number called the Ely.

Jord Ely WatchSo now I’m like, “OK, Paul, New Best Friend, what’s the scoop, baby?”

Turns out, Awesome Paul offers to provide a free watch for me – AND a free watch for one of you!

Just enter the Giveaway below – and the winner will receive a Jord wood watch gift certificate worth $129 plus free shipping!

They have a wide array of styles for men and women – and 12 models cost $129 or less, so you’ll be sure to find something to suit your taste – or for a gift for someone!

Awesome Paul works for Jord, a collective of artists, designers, and seasoned watchsmiths whose style is guided by a deep appreciation for natural elements and modern design. Their timepieces are sustainable, efficient, and simple.

Paul even set it up so that if you click the Jord ad on my site to buy watches for yourself and others, then I get ONE MEEELLION DOLLARS!

(Wait, what’s that, Paul? Oh, that ad just gets me a small commission per watch sold? Oh. So how many watches would need to sell before I earned ONE MEEELLION DOLLARS? Oh, I see.)

OK, folks, you’re gonna have to buy a helluva lot of watches for me to earn that kind of smack, so get busy! Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Christmas, Hanukkah, Bastille Day – watches for everybody! And of course Arbor Day because hellooo — wood watches come from trees! And naturally, wood watches are perfect President’s Day gifts – how better to honor George Washington’s wooden choppers than by dispensing wooden watches? Of course people give gifts on President’s Day!  Were you raised in a barn?

So then Paul sends me the Ely – which is smokin’ hot on my delicate thin wrist.
Jord Watch on Wrist
(OK – my pale hairy slightly man-ish wrist – but still – awesome!)

The face looks cool –

The clasp is clever and comfortable –

And I love the conversation piece of wearing a WOOD watch!

So if you’d like one of these hot little puppies on your delicate wrist, enter the Giveaway below!

The lucky winner will be announced on — (wait, let me check the date on my WOOD watch) – March 18!

Thank you, Paul and Jord Watches, for sharing these cool timepieces with us!

— Darcy Perdu

If you enjoyed this post, you can receive NEW funny posts by subscribing HERE!

(Now please leave a nice comment so Paul and Jord think I have a HUGE MASSIVE FABULOUS following! Thank you!)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Remember All Those Cool Vacations You Took with Your Young Kids? Well, THEY Don’t. Nope. Nada.

Remember all those cool vacations you took with your young kids?  Well, THEY don't.  Nope.  Nada.  #funny SoThenStories.com #vacation

So then…a sailboat skims the lake on a TV show and my son, Tucker, age 12, says, “That looks cool. I want to go sailing someday.”

I pause the TV. “You DID go sailing! Don’t you remember? At Club Med!”

“What’s Club Med?” he asks.

“Omigod, you don’t remember that? We went to Club Med a few years ago on vacation – and you went sailing – and jet skiing!”

Blank look.

***
A few months later, a neighbor kid talks about losing her first tooth, so I say, “Tucker lost his first tooth at the Alamo!” Tucker laughs and says, “Yeah, while eating popcorn!”

My daughter, Chloe, age 9, says, “You guys went to the Alamo? Isn’t that in Texas?”

“Yes! You were there too! Don’t you remember?” I ask.

“No. Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure! Don’t you remember the Texas family reunion – and we all toured the Alamo?”

Blank look.

***
A few months later, we talk about buying raffle tickets for the school fundraiser. Chloe says, “Nah, I never win anything.”

“Sure you do,” I say. “Remember when you won bingo on that cruise a few years ago?”

“Cruise?” she says.

Oh.My.God.

***
Why in the world am I saving up all my pennies to pay for vacations for these kids when they don’t even remember GOING on the vacations?

Sure, they were young back then, but REALLY? Those were some of the coolest, most fun, most special family memories – and they don’t even recall BEING there?

At the time, they had a blast! But now, they act like anything earlier than a couple years ago is just a blurry fog.

How did we go from “this is the best vacation ever!” — to “what vacation?”

Nemo’s Dory has a better memory than these kids!

They seem so skeptical, I pull out the photo albums for evidence!

“Here you are at the family reunion on the beach! Yes, that little guy on the raft is YOU!”
“Look, here you are – smiling and laughing on a Disneyworld roller coaster!”
“Here you are on a jet ski! No really, that’s you. That is NOT photoshop. I SWEAR that’s you!”

Honestly, when I think of all the money I had to save to afford going to cool places –

the finagling to get time off work –

the stress of travelling/what do you mean your tummy hurts?/ahh! pass the barf bag –

and the hassle of packing/unpacking/where are those friggin’ water wings? –

And they don’t even REMEMBER that we went on the vacation?!

It makes me wonder why I went to all that bother!

Oh yes, yes, I know that it was probably great for their brain development to go new places and do new activities when they were early grade schoolers, toddlers, tots, and wee ones – even if they can’t remember it now.

And yes, of course, we’re lucky to go on a vacation at all.

And yes, yes, it was enjoyable for us as a family to spend that quality time together.

But whatEVER, people!

A more clever mama WOULD have just photoshopped their kids’ pics into exciting locales and PRETENDED to have vacationed there!

I could’ve saved a bundle!

From now on, I’ll just sprinkle FAKE MEMORIES into my conversations — and the kids will likely believe me since they can’t remember anything anyway!

“These croissants are delicious! Reminds me of that time we all vacationed in Paris.”

“Hey, remember when we cruised up to Alaska and went glacier-hopping?”

“Wow, it’s so hot today – just like our tour of those Hawaiian volcanoes – remember?”

And if they look skeptical, I’m just gonna keep selling it, like it’s totally real.

“This pizza’s almost as good as the pizza we had in Italy. Yeah, we vacationed in Italy. You don’t remember? Oh, sure you do. We went rollerskating at the Sistine Chapel? The Pope stopped by to play badminton? Then Johhny Depp flew us to his private island – and Beyonce came by for paintball? You don’t remember that? Omogish, SO much fun. Pass the pizza, honey.”

Then I’ll just stare off dreamily, smiling – while they look at each other, completely confused.

And if they ask for photographic proof – oh, I will make it, baby –
I WILL MAKE IT!

Remember all those cool vaacations you took with your young kids?  Well THEY don.t. Nope. Nada.  #funny #vacation SoThenStories.com

— Darcy Perdu

If you enjoyed this post, you can receive NEW funny posts by subscribing HERE!

(OK, seriously, when do kid memories kick in? And why didn’t someone tell me? I would’ve just plopped them in a sandbox until THAT age — THEN take them on cool vacations! Am I the only one whose kids don’t remember all the awesome stuff that happened in their early years?)

The Big Reveal!

Hilarious book of 40 funny writers sharing laugh-out-loud stories and essays! "I Still Just Want To Pee Alone" (release date late March 2015 )

So then…New York Times Best-Selling Author Jen Mann compiles a NEW book of hilarious essays and stories from 40 fabulous writers for her newest book, I Still Just Want To Pee Alone, which cont—WAIT A MINUTE! –WHO IS THAT?

THERE!

RIGHT THERE!

I Still Just Want to Pee Alone

OMIGOD!

IT’S MEEEEE!

That’s right!  My story’s going to be in a PUBLISHED book!

Like a hold-in-your-hands, honest-to-God, real-live book!

WHAT?                                                     

I know, right?

SO EXCITED!

Today’s the COVER REVEAL so you can see what this little puppy looks like!

Then in late March, you’ll be able to OWN this baby!

In fact, you can own MANY of these babies!  So save your pennies, pals!

For a little taste of the hilarity and awesomeness you’ll find in the book, check out the blogs of the writers below:

Jen Mann of People I Want to Punch in the Throat

Bethany Kriger Thies of Bad Parenting Moments

Kim Bongiorno of Let Me Start By Saying

Alyson Herzig of The Shitastrophy

JD Bailey of Honest Mom

Kathryn Leehane of Foxy Wine Pocket

Suzanne Fleet of Toulouse and Tonic

Nicole Leigh Shaw of Nicole Leigh Shaw, Tyop Aretist

Meredith Spidel of The Mom of the Year

Rebecca Gallagher of Frugalista Blog

Rita Templeton of Fighting off Frumpy

Darcy Perdu of So Then Stories

Christine Burke of Keeper of The Fruit Loops

Amy Flory of Funny Is Family

Robyn Welling of Hollow Tree Ventures

Sarah del Rio of est. 1975

Amanda Mushro of Questionable Choices in Parenting

Jennifer Hicks of Real Life Parenting

Courtney Fitzgerald of Our Small Moments

Lola Lolita of Sammiches and Psych Meds

Victoria Fedden of Wide Lawns and Narrow Minds

Keesha Beckford of Mom’s New Stage

Stacia Ellermeier of Dried-on Milk

Ashley Allen of Big Top Family

Meredith Bland of Pile of Babies

Harmony Hobbs of Modern Mommy Madness

Janel Mills of 649.133: Girls, the Care and Maintenance Of

Kim Forde of The Fordeville Diaries

Stacey Gill of One Funny Motha

Beth Caldwell of The Cult of Perfect Motherhood

Sarah Cottrell of Housewife Plus

Michelle Back of Mommy Back Talk

Tracy Sano of Tracy on the Rocks

Linda Roy of elleroy was here

Michelle Poston Combs of Rubber Shoes In Hell

Susan Lee Maccarelli of Pecked To Death By Chickens

Vicki Lesage of Life, Love, and Sarcasm in Paris

Kris Amels of Why, Mommy?

Mackenzie Cheeseman of Is there cheese in it?

Tracy DeBlois of Orange & Silver

Meanwhile, I’ll keep you posted as soon as the book is available — so clear a shelf — or better yet, a whole ROOM in your house — get ready, baby!

— Darcy Perdu

When Your Own MOM is Tougher than the COPS!

When Your Own MOM is Tougher than the COPS!  Would you do this to your kid?  #funny SoThenStories.com

So then…I finish my shift and drive home. Yeah, that’s right – I’ve got a job – and I’m only a TEENAGER. Yep. (trying to act casual, but super stoked!)

(I’d been so nervous during my interview at Grandell’s Amusement Park, but honestly – how could they resist my professional interview outfit: pastel teal polyester pants with a striped collared shirt – and get this, one of the stripes was the exact same shade as the pastel teal pants! No, seriously. I like to think it’s that kind of meticulous attention to detail that impressed them to hire me immediately.)

All summer, my teen coworkers toil outside in the broiling Louisiana sun, running the carnival games and operating the rides.

But I serve chili-cheese-dogs in an old-timey train caboose – the ONLY air-conditioned spot in the entire amusement park!

The teen boys who work here are always hanging around my caboose – (the TRAIN caboose – git yer mind outta the gutter!) – and I’m fairly certain their constant presence is a testament to my charming personality – OR the air-conditioning. Whatevs. Potato Po-tah-to.

Anyway, I’m happily singing along to my car radio as I turn the corner and pull up outside my house. I park on the street, wave to my Dad in the backyard, then stroll up the sidewalk to our front door.

I’m halfway there when I hear a man’s voice behind me say, “Excuse me.”

Someone must need directions. I turn around, saying, “Yes, can I help y—”

There is a cop. Standing in front of his cop car.

This cop needs directions from me? That’s weird. It’s usually the other way around.

“Do you know why I’m here?” he asks.

Oh dear, this cop is having a really bad day. He doesn’t know where he is or what he’s doing.

“No,” I say gently, wondering how I can contact his sergeant to return him safely to the precinct.

“I’m here because you blew through two stop signs right in front of me.”

Oh.

Oh, I see.

Suddenly the whole picture becomes painfully clear to me.

“Well, I’m not sure I’d say “blew” through them, maybe I “stop-rolled” through them?”

His expression indicates he’s not interested in parsing semantics with me.

“I can’t believe you ran a second stop sign right in front of me while I was following you for the first one. Didn’t you see me in your rear-view mirror?” he asks, pulling out his ticket book.

I furrow my brow. Does he mean the make-up mirror? That thing in the middle of the windshield I use to apply thick coats of Maybelline mascara?

“Well, why didn’t you have your sirens on?” I ask. “I would’ve noticed you then.”

He looks flummoxed, like he can’t believe I’m trying to turn this around on him being at fault.

Just then my mom comes tearing out of the front door.

“Oh my God, Darcy! What have you done now?”

(What have I done “now?” Good God, she makes it sound like I’m a regular juvenile delinquent!)

I say ruefully, “Narcotics again, Mom.”

Mom is NOT amused.

“DARCY! Don’t you dare joke about this, young lady!”

She turns to the cop and says, “What did she do?”

He says, “She failed to come to a complete stop so I – wait, is that you, Meredith? It’s me, Tommy – Tommy Renaldi.”

She takes a couple steps closer and recognizes the young cop. Mom works as Deputy Clerk of Court so she knows most of the cops who come in and out of the courthouse.

“Oh, hey Tommy. I mean, Officer Renaldi,” she says quickly, trying to highlight his authority for my sake.

“Meredith, I didn’t know this was your daughter.” He closes his ticket book. “No need for a citation. I’ll just let it go with a warn—”

“No!” she says vehemently. “No daughter of mine’s getting a free pass just because I work at the courthouse! She commits a crime, she pays the consequences! You throw the book at her!”

“Aww, Mommmm,” I say plaintively.

“Aww, Mommmm,” the cop echoes in solidarity. He grins at her optimistically.

She shoots us both a look that smacks the smiles right off our faces and the hope out of our hearts.

She points a finger at me and says, “When you’re finished here, come inside for a ‘talk.’”

And with that, she spins on her heel and strides back into the house.

The cop looks at me with sympathy – and a fearful shudder.

“Oh, man,” he says, “That’s gonna be some talk.” He writes in his book. “Here, I’m just gonna cite you for the one stop sign – so at least it’s $50 instead of $100.”

I’m appreciative – but dammit, do you know how many chili-cheese-dogs I gotta sell to clear $50 bucks?

I mumble “thank you” as I mournfully take the ticket.

As I trudge back up the sidewalk to my front door, I can only imagine him thinking, “Dead Man Walking…”

Note 1 – MY MOM:
First, I need to tell you that my Mom is actually one of the warmest, funniest, most compassionate people you’ll ever meet. Quick to offer a lending hand, a sympathetic ear, a strong shoulder to lean on – she is literally my role model for motherhood! But damnation, if you try to slide something by that woman — and she thinks you need to learn your lesson – well, by God, you.will.learn.that.lesson! Another reason she’s a great Mom!

Note 2 – MY DAD:
Second, I find it absolutely hilarious that my Dad simply waved at me from the backyard. I mean, his teenage daughter pulls up, followed by a cop car, but he just waves and goes about his business! To be fair, he was working on the “Yellow Cracker Box.” This was our affectionate name for the bizarre box-shaped yellow rehabilitation vehicle he bought used, then retrofitted it to include a table, bathroom, and pull-out beds so our family of 7 could go on camping trips and road trips all across the South. He was quite fond of that Yellow Cracker Box, so he may have been distracted by whatever he was tinkering with or fixing.

I like to think he just assumed, “Oh, that Darcy’s a clever one – if the cops are after her, I’m sure she’ll figure a way out of it.” Of course, more than likely, he probably just figured my Mom’s “Spidey Sense” would alert her that one of the 5 kids was in legal trouble – and that she’d rush to ensure the kid was prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

Note 3 – MY NEXT COP:
Fortunately my next summer job provided me with a hilarious way to get out of speeding tickets as this true tale will attest: Funniest Way to Get Out of a Ticket. 

Note 4 – MY NEXT CRIME:
Recently my Book Club read The Husband’s Secret by Liane Moriarty (great book BTW) about a wife’s dilemma when she learns her loving husband of about 15 years and terrific father to her kids actually secretly killed a girl when he was a teen. Should she turn him in or not?

When I asked my Book Club friends if they’d turn in their husbands in a similar situation, most said they’d keep the secret! But you can clearly see that if I pulled something like that, my MOM would not only CALL THE COPS on me — she’d swab my DNA, track down the buried body, and gather all the damning evidence into a compelling PowerPoint for the judge and jury!

Note to self: do NOT invite Mom to help dispose of any bodies. My Dad, on the other hand, would’ve pulled up in the Yellow Cracker Box, tossed the body inside, and headed to the desert with a shovel. Which kind of parent are YOU?

— Darcy Perdu

If you enjoyed this post, subscribe HERE! 

(How would your parents react if you showed up at your house with the cops? What would you do if it were YOUR teen – let the cop issue a warning – or insist on a ticket? Any funny cop stories?)