I can't finish it and FYI, boys like to fart

Big shock.  I didn't successfully do NaBlogPoMo.  (You know the thing where I was supposed to do a blog post every day for a month.)   November is a tricky month with Thanksgiving and all.  My husband understands that for my own sanity and the health of our family, I need at least an hour a day with my laptop.  Twenty minutes to blog or so and the rest to work on my manuscript.  If you had been at my parents' house over Thanksgiving with the throngs of children and adults and not nearly enough booze, you would understand that sanity is not a high priority.  It's survival of the fittest. 

I'm not really bummed, though.  It started to get taxing blogging EVERY DAY.  I do, however, think I want to set three times a week as a discipline and goal.  (And also, that is a requirement for the ads I'm going to be posting on here in the near future.  Sorry if you think that is selling out.  I'm trying to adopt a special needs kid from Asia and that ain't cheap.)

But to give you a laugh, let me leave you with the following story.

Sloan and I went shopping in Greensboro with my three teenage nephews, Anderson, Caleb, and William.  They are each hilarious and kind and boneheaded in ways that only teenage boys can be.  (Oh, they're also all good looking.  And not in a "I'm their Aunt so I have to say that" kind of way.  Yes, it's a little bit creepy to say that, but seriously, you'd think out of 14 grandkids, my parents' would have at least one that was just marginally attractive.  But false.  The Johnson kids have beautiful children.)  Add to that my husband who really isn't known for being all that mature and what you get is the equivalent of shopping with four giant toddlers.  Toddlers obsessed with burping, farting, texting, and making "That's what she said" jokes.  Does it make you nervous that three of the four  men in this story have driver's licenses?  It should.  Because if one of them is driving and another one of them farts, apparently there is some sort of bro code that requires the driver to turn on the window lock so everyone is stuck suffocating in the car.  You'd think that because for some odd reason we were in 2 cars it would help, but you'd be wrong.  There was enough gas to go around.

At one point, Sloan was parking the car and the three boys were supposed to be in Foot Locker. Apparently I  missed them when I was finishing up at Old Navy.  So I walked into Foot Locker and said, "Um, I'm looking for three teenage boys." 

Yeah, it was an akward moment for everyone.

Then I heard a honk and there was my nephew Anderson driving my sister's 15 passenger van (she has 8 kids, remember?).  My nephew Caleb was riding shotgun and yelled, "Hey, Aunt EJ, come get in the man van."  So, of course, I did get in the man van.  And when I told them about my "looking for three young boys" question, it should come as no surprise that one of them said, "Well, I suspect Penn State is hiring."  

I quickly added Penn State and pedophilia to my growing laundry list of things they were not allowed to make fun of. 

My favorite part of the entire excursion was when we were driving to Macy's in the man van.  Anderson was at the wheel and Caleb was again riding shotgun.  He had his window rolled down and was trying to look cool with his arm hanging out of the giant silver van.  He saw some girls on the sidewalk and he called out to them, "Hey ladies, looking good.  Look at my cool ride.  My big brother will drive us wherever we want to go." 

Later in the day, Caleb later confessed that if he had a terminal illness, his make a wish would be to have Morgan Freeman follow him around and narrate his life.  Caleb is now waking up.  When Caleb brushes his teeth, he thinks "Damn, I look good" and he is right.  He does look good.

So, if you need a good laugh, I'd suggest renting my nephews.  But be forewarned, they're gassy.  And constantly texting.  And you might just pee your pants.