Penis or Vagina?

PENIS.

Alas my friends, I am and shall continue to be, the only female in the house.

The Danger Family will be gladly welcoming a THIRD boy, this august!

Here is a list of the reasons why having a THIRD boy in the house will surely rock-

1. I can just give up cleaning my house from here on out. I mean come on, why even bother anymore?

2.  I get to spit and scratch my crotch whenever I want from now on, because if I don't I will merely be the odd man out.

3.  We will not have to buy anything for this little guy, because somehow I knew this was coming and saved EVERYTHING.  So really, we are doing ourselves a favor.

4.  I WILL NEVER HAVE TO PAY FOR A WEDDING.

5.  Period talk?  Nope.  Not gonna happen.

6.  In fact, no sex talk at all.  Helllllllllo Husband.  Although, I will admit- this frightens me a little.

7.  It is ok for boys to look like ragamuffins- they're boys!  So I don't have to worry about making them look cute, color coordinated, and well put together.

8.  I won't have to run nearly as fast when I hear screaming or "BLOOD" or "Moms coming!  RUN" because I will already know exactly what is going on.  They're boys.

9.  It will be considered acceptable when there are lizards, squirrels, dirt, sand, boogers, rusty trucks, and stray army men body parts loosely strewn around the house.

10.  We get to have another Bris, which is cool because everyone at Temple will cook for us. (I knew there was a reason we joined!)

So there ya have it.  Another boy.  And we are stoked!

xoxo,

(carrying yet another penis) J. Danger

WW: 18 weeks

I know, I know- WORDLESS Wednesday.  But whatever!

Big news today guys!  Bigger than me even.  Check back in later.

xoxo,

J.danger

So I know I said I wasn't that kind of girl, but...

I totally am.

I did it.

And I don't feel nearly as dirty as I thought I would.

In fact, I kinda like it.

Calm down mom (hello? 3 kids ma!)

I joined Facebook (it's a social network mom.  Yes, a social network.  No- not like Bunco mom).

Now, to be honest, I was on Facebook for awhile a year or two ago.  But it was still pretty new, I couldn't figure it out, I was sick of my inbox being flooded with stupid requests, I was done with it.

So I closed the account, stuck with the Space, and forgot all about it.

Until everyone else started doin it.

So I caved, and I joined the masses.

So far, so good.  We will see.  I just need to turn off my email notifiers because oh my word I have never gotten as much email as I do now.  Geesh!  

So there ya have it.

I did it.  And I liked it.

xoxo,

J.Danger

P.s.- Carl's Jr. YOU SUCK and I am peeved at you.  But still too peeved to talk about it RATIONALLY so I am waiting to responsibly blog about it.  Quite unlike your mega-irresponsible ad campaign right now!

An apology-

I recently joined the Google reader bandwagon.  I know, I know...go easy on me.  I still don't even have a Facebook page.

Up until I set up "The Reader" I would just follow the blogs on my page.  Well, then I started filling up "The Reader" with other blogs, AND still kept up to date with the blogs on my blogroll.

Well, somewhere in the muck and mire, I have abandoned my blogroll dearies and have gotten into the habit of just reading from "The Reader".

Today, as I was cleaning up some extras on my blog- I am moving to WordPress; hence maintenance- I totally discovered what a jerk of a blog friend I have been these past few months.

Stone me.

Tar and feather me.

Swirlie me.

Do all three if you want.

But I have found you again, dear long lost loves, and have added you to "The Reader" that now dictates my online hours.

I apologize.  I am sorry.

But fear not- I found you again.

P.S. I can see you cringing.....

xoxo.

J.Danger

WW: To be fair after yesterday's post

Happy St. Patricks Day!

Happy St. Patricks Day!

My family is Irish. Full blown (well, except for the Ashkenazi Jew I married, and the little half Jewish babies we made/are making!) And for us, St. Patricks day is a big deal.

Did you know that the whole snake ridding thing is just a myth?

St. Patrick is the patron Saint of Ireland. When he was 16 he was taken prisoner by a group of Irish raiders and was held captive for six years. Then, Mr. Smarty Pants Patrick escaped from his captivity and walked 200 miles from County Mayo to the coast, where eventually escaped to Britain.

Pause- homeboy walks for 200 miles as an escaped prisoner and no one can catch him? He was WALKING.

Ok- so. So now St. Patrick is in Britain and he has this dream revelation telling him to return to Ireland as a missionary. He studies for fifteen years (dedication?), becomes ordained as a priest, and returns to Ireland to live with Irish that are already Christians while trying to convert those that are not.

This is where we get the Celtic cross. And how many of you have a Celtic cross tattooed on you somewhere? Do you know where it came from?

Instead of obliterating the Irish culture in his teaching of Christianity to the Irish, St. Patrick tried to incorporate the culture and language into his lessons on Christianity. So, he imposed the symbol of the sun, one that the farmers of Ireland knew well, onto the Christian cross- tada! A Celtic cross.

So there were no snakes, and somewhere along the line in America it became all about green beer and Corned Beef and Cabbage. Which is cool. In Ireland it is celebrated by going to Mass, and is a Holy Obligation Day. Whoooaaaa. They celebrate by cooking up some Mutton
Bacon and Cabbage
Colcannon (one of my favorites)
Soda Bread (a staple here in the Danger home)
or Brown Bread

One of the coolest things about the Irish culture is their myth and lore, transferred for so many years by the oral tradition before they were ever put onto paper. I was read these stories as a kid, and I still read them now- to myself and to my own kids. I can remember my Grandma Catherine (one of like 17 Catherines in my family! No joke) telling them to us all at holidays and Sundays after Mass. She would always speak to us in Gaelic so that we wouldn’t forget the language, and she would tell us over and over again what it was like on her farm “back home”, what the boat trip was like over, how my Grandpa came to get her so he could marry her, all of it. I loved it. I miss it. I try to tell all of these to my kids too, so that they will have the same memories.
Here is a link from the History Channel on St. Patricks Day.

And here is a link for Irish Mythology from Wikipedia.

Lastly, here is a link from Shaw University on Irish Literature, Mythology, Folklore, and Drama.

Even though it is not about conversion anymore, or any religion at all actually, people still celebrate because of the tradition. My family and I still celebrate, so that is what we will be doing tonight.

I hope you and yours enjoy your St. Patricks Day!

Xoxo,
J.Danger

Spring, Spring, Go Away...

Spring is coming soon, which means then summer gets here. I hate summer. I have always hated it. Spring is manageable, but summer? Not so much.

The sun and I? Not friends.
I am a redhead. Naturally. When I was a kid my mom and my grandma would force me to perm my hair a la Shirley Temple.
You can bet I got rave reviews at school.

“Annie! Get Your Gun!”
“Tommorrrrrow, tomorrow, I lovvvve you tomorrrrow, you’re only a day awaaaaayyy!”

I got all of them.

Plus, to make matters worse- there were three of us girls to all twelve gazillion of my male cousins.

So I got even more of it-
“hey meatball!”
“Wassup carrot top?”
Plus, the freckles, the glasses, and I was fat. I mean fat.

It was a win win situation.

So the summer was always rough for me because when you put a pasty skinned freckle faced frizzy haired fatty in a bathing suit- in the sun?

It sucked folks. Sucked.

So I have never enjoyed the summer time, never enjoyed the sun, none of that. Sun bathers? What the hell? You are straight up baking yourself. Gross.

But here’s the catch- the boys love the summer. And now we have a pool, and we live in a beach community.

So basically I am screwed.

Except last year we went to the beach. Once. And it was fun. I packed fried chicken and a bunch of other crappy food, paddled out with our oldest son, let the kids bury me in sand (gross). And it was ok. But this year I will be spending yet another summer pregnant. And gigantic. And sweaty.
So now you get a pasty skinned, freckled face, fat (but now only because I am pregnant- holler!) sweaty pregnant lady, and then you throw in all the tattoos, and I become a beach side freak show.

Maybe I can charge admission? Like the bearded lady!

But that’s ok. The money will help, and besides, my husband likes my freckles. He thinks I’m kinda cute. So that’s all that matters.

I guess….

XOXO,
(The soon to be sun burnt in 0.5) J.Danger