T.M.I. But That’s Why You Love Me

Warning: T.M.I.I went to get a spray tan.

I wore a thong so I wouldn’t be completely nekk’ed in front of the lady spraying me. I’m modest. ūüėā

I wear a sundress so it doesn’t mess up my “tan.”

I come home and go in my bedroom to take off the permanent wedgie, the thong.

But first, I walk through my bedroom with the sundresses hiked up and snap that torture devise out of my bottom with tremendous relief.

Just as I turned the corner to walk around the bed and look ahead into my window I see one of the painter men on a ladder watching me.

I thought they were done with our bedroom windows. 

Now I have to get one of those bank tube things to send them the check when they are done so I never have to look or talk to them again.

Happy Friday!

Abbie Gale 


Boy in the City

You can take the boy to the city but he’s still going to find a way to act like Tom Sawyer.


Peter won’t shoot the animals in the game.

He shoots next to them to watch the video game lizards run.

I gave him a dollar to play.

Was it a waste to let him play it of he didn’t “play?”.

Ha ha!

They are all three such good boys.

His big brothers thought it was cute that he won’t even shoot a video game animal.

They came over to the table to tell me this fact as I was taking his picture from the booth and posting it here on my blog.  I thought this fact made it a much better story.

School starts Monday and I am going to miss my buddies.


Abbie Gale

Poor Tired Husbands and their Wives’ Naughty Books

I feel like an outcast.

My sweet, southern, girlfriends that I find so refreshing, have a little secret.

You can drive by their brick houses and see that something is going on with the family that lives there.  The pansies that were planted last fall are leggy in their flower beds and should have been pulled out a month ago, and replaced with begonias.  Their flower pots are sitting empty.  Has there been a separation?  Impending divorce?   Illness?

No, they just discovered “mommy porn.” ¬†They are hiding in a little corner in their homes reading “Fifty Shades of Grey.” ¬†I know because when we go to soccer practices or the club their whispering about it, giggling. ¬†They greet each other with, “what page are you on?” ¬†They declare that the second book is better than the first.¬† Everyone my age is talking about it as if they have never seen the opposite sex’s private parts in the daylight. ¬† They are acting like a locker room full of high school boys with a dirty magazine. ¬†I feel so left out!

It isn’t that I don’t want to read Fifty Shades of Grey. ¬†I would love to be in the middle of the giggling. ¬†I would love to feel all naughty with my mom friends. ¬†It is just that the situation I am in forbids it.

You see I bought my dad a Kindle for Christmas.  I used my Amazon account to set it up for him and so far everything I have downloaded on my Kindle has loaded up onto his Kindle as well!

He is reading the books I buy and download before I do. ¬†He is commenting and updating me on what he likes about the books that I haven’t even begun reading.



I found our seven year-old Peter’s beloved Bunny like this. ¬†Maybe I could borrow Peter’s copy of the book when he is done with it.

It isn’t just the women that are being affected by this series of books. ¬†The husbands look tired. ¬†I heard one mom shout out to her husband at the lounge to “not have too many” and then give him a wink. ¬†I heard another tell her husband he better have a protein drink because she was going to sit and read while he is out playing golf, and when he gets home she might need some “attention.”

This is yet another reason to be mad at the Kindle. ¬†My poor husband is missing out on the ¬†“Fifty Shades of Grey¬†husband byproduct effect.”

This is NOT “The South” you read about in “The Help” anymore.

Abbie, All that makes you… allthatmakesyou.com

Click that “Follow” button or subscribe if I put a smile on your face. ¬†I promise this is the first dirty book review of a book I have never read. ¬†I wont think you are “bad” if you subscribe to my site on a day that I am writing about bondage books. ¬†I would think that was awesome but ask that you not try to figure out where I live. ūüėČ ¬†Oh, and Peter loves to leave his bunny in precarious situations for me to find. ¬†It is like a sport for him. ¬†This is why I know my three boys will be the next generation of kids on that show, “Jacka$$” and I will be that boys poor mom. ¬†Little girls don’t tie up their baby dolls and leave them for their mom to find and giggle around the corner.

The Bethenny Frankel Show Called Me!!!

I have to share this super exciting thing that happened about a week ago. I share this because I realize this is probably as far as my very exciting story is going to go. As usual, my frontal lobe is defective and I ramble things off that perhaps I shouldn’t, even to television producers!

As some of my regular readers know I have been busy updating all three of our boys rooms. I had the phone practically in my hand for about a week straight talking to carpet people, painters, and furniture salesperson. I kept measuring and they kept calling me back with info and prices and since nearly all of these contacts were local I was shocked when, while the phone was in my hand, the caller ID said…


Who calls me from Los Angeles, California? I might get Temecula or some other former goat town in California but Los Angeles proper?

I answer, “Hello.”

Pleasant young woman, “May I speak to Abbie… Ssss….how do you pronounce the last name?”

I chuckle and say, “It is just as it looks.” and then I say my married last name and then I say, “I tried to get my husband to take my last name when we got married. It would have been so much easier, _______. It even rhymes, Jim _______.”

Nice lady on the phone chuckles now.

Who am I talking to I wonder? This is the kindest bill collector I have ever spoken with. I’m kidding!

She says, “This is _____ from the Bethenny Frankel Talk Show.”

I have instant heart palpitations. Spontaneous combustion is occurring from my ears up and my kids are erupting into what I can tell already is going to morph into World War III in the kitchen below me.

I move into a spare bathroom on the second floor in hopes she cannot hear my boys and in hopes my boys don’t find me.

I am going to sound cool, sound cool. Bethenny, in my world and my head is AMAZING. I get her. We had similar childhoods. I understand her abrasive, at times, personality and I know that it comes from having to be her own parent and knowing how to “talk like a man.” I get her need to show people she is worth something and has value and her desire to have a family of her own, to do it right. I understand her drive and let me try to say this without sounding nuts, (like I would think anyone else saying this about someone they have never MET) I think she is all that with a side of chips.

When hearing about Bethenny’s new talk show I checked it out online and they were advertising an upcoming show about friendship. They were asking people to submit a letter about any friendship their viewers may have had that was special.

I had just posted my story “Two Broke(n) Girls.” It was perfect timing and so I forwarded it on. The best part, they are going to choose two friends to fly out and be on the show.

Did I think I was going to get chosen?

Of course!

The same way people fantasize about winning the lottery, I am fantasizing about my girlfriend and I running away to CAL-i-forn-“I”-“A” to meet Bethenny Frankel! Heck, I think ALL of my neighborhood girlfriend peeps would fly out for that!

Is she calling to tell me we won?!!!!

My hands are shaking!

She says, “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

Me, “Yeah. Sure. No problem.” This was said in a much slower and lower tone than my voice really is. Do I always sound like a pot head when I am trying to NOT sound like me?

“Are you married?”

Me, “Yes.”

“Do you have children?”

Me, “Yes, three boys.”

“Oh…how old are they?”

Me, “7, 12, 12.”

“Oh, uh..”

Me, “We have twins. They are the ones that are 12.”

What is wrong with me?!!! Really, I had to explain that the 12 year-olds are the twins and not the 7 year-old and one of the 12 year-olds? I am so distracted by the sounds of my boys screaming, “Mom told you not to give me Charlie horse! I’m telling!”

She asks, “And how old are you?

I tell her my age.

I am now running down the back stairs while I hear my three boys running up the front stairs and fighting like a giant “Fight Club” tumbleweed every step.

I am in a pair of boxer shorts and a tank top with no bra, a very thin tank top.

She asks, “And your husband’s age?”

I answer with his age (I am not telling you and you will find out why in a moment.)

I am now running through our garage towards the driveway.

She says, “Awwww, that is so cute. You and your husband are the same age.”

I am now running down my driveway, but really bouncing, in broad daylight, while I hear my boys who were “against” each other have now turned on me.

I hear the boys screaming things like, “WHERE ARE YOU MOM?!”

Another yells, “I see her! She is outside on her stupid phone, walking down the street.”

Here they all come out of the garage and after me…

I say to the nice girl who works for Bethenny Frankel, “Oh yes, not only are we the same age we are born the same week AND with baby Jesus’s birthday right between us.”

WTF did I just say? What DID I just say?

I am fully prepared to run onto the golf cart path, barefoot, and with my cell phone, sans bra, and with my husbands underwear on as I realize this is a once in a lifetime chance for…I don’t even know what yet.

She is now laughing instead of chuckling. Thank God.

I am thinking, she doesn’t know me and my sense of humor. You can’t say things like that to someone you don’t REALLY know. What if she is Jewish? What does that have to do with anything? What if she thinks I am a religious freak and I really use the term, “baby Jesus” regularly in my speech?

She says, “Have you read “Fifty Shades of Grey?”

When I submitted the “Two Broke(n) Girls”¬†story they were also chatting on Bethenny’s new site about “Fifty Shades of Grey” and how it has changed their reader’s sex life. I, the ever-present smart ass, replies with my post I had also just written that week called, “Poor Husbands and their Wives‚Äô Naughty Books.”

They weren’t calling about my¬†“Two Broke(n) Girls”¬†story?

I answer, “NOOO! I can’t read it because my dad will read it first on his Kindle and then he will want to have a book club discussion and I am not discussing a mom porn book with my dad and I cannot borrow a girlfriends hard copy because, well… I don’t know where it has been and what if a page is sticky? My mind would make it into something worse when it was probably just candy hands. Frankly, I feel like I have already read the book since all my naughty girlfriends are giving me the “blow-by-blow” of the three books…”

That is how I talk. Commas do not enter into my speech and my frontal lobe, which is supposed to filter what we say, has apparently completely stopped working.

She is chuckling again, “Yeah, I just wanted to call and see if you had read it yet.”

I say, “Crap, I was hoping you were calling about my post about friendship and the reference letter I wrote to my BFF’s new neighbors when they meet her and decide they hate her at first, (like I did) and why they should give her a second chance. It is honestly funnier than my “Fifty Shades of Grey” post.”

Did I just try to give someone advice on what to put on their talk show? Did I just hint that my “Grey” post wasn’t good?

OH-MY-WORD! What if I get invited to be on a show about the “naughty book?” If I don’t get banned from my kids southern schools for my post about the gay marriage vote in my home state of North Carolina I will FO SHO get shunned if I go on a talk show about a sex and bondage book.

Sign me up as I am sure this means they won’t ask me to come in and be a “scissor mom” or count “Box Tops” for the school PTO after that!

We talked for a few more minutes while I continued to ignore my kids chasing me down the street shouting things like, “ARE YOU TELLING DAD ON US?!” and, “WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?!” and, “YOU SAID YOU WOULD GROUND HIM IF HE PUNCHED ME IN THE SHOULDER AGAIN!” and, “I WANNA TALK TO DAD!”

She told me she, “liked my energy” and I continued to try to act cool, like talk shows call me regularly. I may have said my group of girlfriends were, “The Real Housewives of North Carolina.”

Yep, I did and collectively between that and the other things that slipped past my lips and the three screaming banshees that followed me everywhere, I realize I will probably never hear from that nice girl again.

I have had so much fun telling my girlfriends the story that it is (ALMOST) just as good.

Follow me or start hammer tweeting (here) Bethenny Frankel or post on her FaceBook wall (here) or comment (here) on Pinterest, (I will send you an invitation if you aren’t on even he, he) to give Abbie at “All that makes you…” a second chance because surely I have enough stories for my own show. I have “dirty” school noodle art.

Oooooo…Bethenny could bring in that British Nanny to make my kids stop calling my phone and computer and blog “STUPID.” I think a shock collar and remote I keep in my pocket would work. They say “stupid” and I say PAVLOV’S DOGS! For Pete’s sake people I am kidding! I just did it again! I just told the “Nanny Show” how to do their job.

-Abbie, and I hope we can share all that makes you smile, laugh, think, love, cry and cry laughing. allthatmakesyou.com


Our Most Embarrassing School Art, To Date Anyway

I am running a few of my favorite stories this week. ¬†I will be back soon with new stories, that is if I don’t end up in jail in NYC. ¬†My boys said they won’t miss me much when I am gone since I make them unload the dishwasher. ¬†I reminded them that I wash and load the dishes and so they will have to load as well while I am away. ¬†

Anyone willing to bail my naked ass out of jail? ¬†I know I will be naked because with two drinks and I am drunk and three…NAKED and jail seems like the logical progression for four. ¬†I hear the girls at BlogHer like to party at the conferences, crap. ¬†

Your dad is a BONE doctor!  How can you NOT know there is NOT a bone in it?

I don’t know. ¬†They are sweet. ¬†They are cute boys. ¬†They win classroom awards like,¬†“Most Conscientious”. ¬†These are the only reasons I can think of that the teachers don’t call me when my boys do a project in school and they...just look at the picture.

There are reasons I am not a¬†PTO¬†mom, or a scissor mom, (the ones that come to school to cut things out). ¬†The reasons are because my kids think its funny to make a¬†pasta¬†skeleton and put¬†macaroni testicles¬†and¬†rotinini pee-pee¬†and¬†spaghetti¬†BONE?¬†¬†I asked what the spaghetti was and he said, “That’s the bone in the pee-pee“.

I know I clearly have more to worry about, judging from this picture, but….




I take a few deep breaths. ¬†I put it into perspective. ¬†There are three¬†types of pasta¬†that makes up the noodle guys junk (oh and we know it’s a noodle GUY, right)¬†¬†but the dude has no feet.

For all of you with girls I want to remind you that little boys are different. ¬†For little boys, that area is a toy that stays with you. ¬†To quote one of my kids when they were three, “When can I get one of these BALLS out so I can see what they look like?” ¬†Your daughter is putting shoes on her Barbie’s feet right now and¬†I have an anatomically (in)correct foot-less pasta dude on my fridge.

-Abbie, All that makes you smile, laugh, think, love, cry, and hopefully cry laughing.


New Pet (Coming Soon to WP)

Here is one of my early posts you might have missed.  I will be back tomorrow with something new.  I am busy with a NEW PET!  Oh my word!  What was I thinking!  

I had to buy two other containers of LIVING creatures to feed it. SOS!!!

“Mom, the baby is eating the dirt in the flower pots! ¬†Don’t worry though because he likes it!” – Ever helpful older twin brothers.

I didn’t have time to make¬†lunches¬†this morning. It doesn’t happen often and I get all kinds of stink eyes from Peter and my husband Jim if I tell them they are buying their lunch. Jim because he doesn’t want to spend money on lunch and Peter because he is a¬†food snob!¬†He comes home today and I ask him how the¬†school lunch¬†was today.

His response, “They had¬†grilled cheese. That’s what they called it anyway.”

I admit I am a little proud of my own grilled cheese, not that I make them often. I use a grill pan to get the lines, butter, creamy cheese, good honey wheat bread and then I sprinkle a little parmesan like you would sprinkle salt before I cut it.

So I try to sound sad for him, (he appreciates me and loves my food and will never get married and leave me! this is my interpretation) “They always have other choices. Did you eat anything else?”

Peter, “I tried to eat a banana from the cafeteria but it turned to powder in my mouth when I bit it. The school’s grilled cheeses came out of a box. They got them from¬†UPS. The box said¬†UPS. No one should have to eat a grilled cheese that UPS made! I mean, I like UPS.¬†UPS brings most of my favorite stuff to our house¬†but they should¬†NOT¬†be making grilled cheese! ¬†Can we pack my lunch tonight?”

You will see that Peter likes it when we turn him into a sand sculpture (maybe not the mermaid but that’s what you get for pestering.) ¬†The boy has to eat constantly.

Judging from the pictures you see the kid will try about anything.  If he says the sandwich was bad I will take his word on it.  After all, he will even eat a tuna sandwich at school if I pack it, (chocked full of onions and egg and mustard) and he has no shame and even feels bad the other kids are eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Abbie, ¬†All that makes you… ¬†allthatmakesyousmile.com

I loved this

Huffington Post Article Written by Suburban Jungle “Moms are Jealous Bitches.”

PS Can anyone “like” my page on Facebook. ¬†Just want to try and get 30 “likes.”

Neighbor Kids and My Unfortunate Full Monty Moment

I am the one female in our house. The one female with zero privacy. The zero privacy has not really been a big deal because I have the attitude that we all have bodies. I have the same parts as the next girl. I don’t want to be so private that my boys become “Peeping Toms” to figure out why girls shirts are lumpy.

I have a line though.

No one, not even my husband comes in while I am “shining my belly button.” I use the room where they all go number one and number two, but I am in there having private, quiet time. Girls don’t poop. They tinkle and our belly buttons require shining. This is all a very complicated lie because I don’t want my husband to think of me “releasing hostages,” as my boys call it.

When I had kids I began locking the door. It worked for a little while. When our older boys started crawling they would just sit up against the door and cry. When they got older they pounded on the door. Then when they could walk and talk and jimmy a door they would yell, “MooooooooMMMMMMMM!!!!!”

I would answer back, “I am in the powder room.”

They would then try and open it and I would say, “It is locked.”

And they would sweetly say, “Oh, I will get it.” and then they would pop the lock and come right in.

It has never occurred to them that I locked it to keep them out. It was always as if they were doing me a favor picking the lock so I wouldn’t have to get up and open it.

So I hid all of the shish kabob skewers!

Ha! I will show them.

If you come to my house and you notice a little rattle in the door knobs when you turn them, it’s just dried spaghetti noodles.

Peter is a resourceful boy and at 18 months old he could pop a lock in no time. When I took away the shish kabob skewers to give everyone some much needed….ehhhemmm…PRIVACY, he found the box of spaghetti noodles. They do not work well to open locked door.

He can’t open doors anymore (so I won), but our door handles are the big losers because they are filled with Peter’s foiled attempts at rudeness.

This leads me to several years later on a hot summers day and another…


It is mid morning and after doing my housework I announced I was going in to take a shower. I left the boys with their buddies in the driveway playing squirt gun wars.

I am all lathered up and facing the shower head with my eyes closed.

I turn around to rinse my hair and open my eyes to find…

all three of my boys and all of the neighbor boys standing there, in a line.

The door was locked! I know I locked it!

Remember, I do not lock it for them they think, despite years of explaining that mom needs private time. They just unlocked it while I had my back to the door.

We have a large shower with clear glass walls.

There is nowhere to hide.

“Can we have a Popsicle?”

They are all just looking at me.

“Out! Yes, and GET OUT!”

They all just turn around and walk out like, no biggie.

I am thinking I have to call their moms and tell them they saw me naked as a jay bird. I am thinking this is just a naked body. But it wasn’t…

I had to call the moms and tell them what their boys saw.

I knew I was going to have to explain that I watched a stupid Oprah show and got a Brazillian bikini wax to get ready for bathing suit season. As if having a Brazilian bikini wax wasn’t traumatizing enough!

Why? Why? Why is this always my timing with embarrassing moments? It couldn’t just be embarrassing enough for the neighborhood to see me full frontal naked I would also send an entire generation of boys into their teen years thinking their girlfriends are freaks because they have hair…”there.”

Abbie, All that makes you… allthatmakesyou.com

You may also like this story

“Only to me…”

Another (Funny at my Expense) Embarrassing Story

I am finishing a story for tomorrow and it makes me laugh every time I repeat it.  I am going to give you a teaser.

It is another, “Why does this embarrassing stuff always happen to me?” Story.

Toddlers shouldn’t know how to Jimmy locks, that well.

Shish kabob skewer removal 

Polishing my bellybutton


“Oh, that rattling is just pasta in our door knobs.”

Watching Oprah leads to far too much waxing for summer than necessary.

“I have to call their mom’s and explain what they saw…Oh, my, word!”¬†

You know how I have explained that I am a little like Monica Gellar from the old TV show “Friends?” ¬†Not in the cleaning way, (making scrunched up face while shaking head) but in the competitive way.

So I am trying to spread the word about my stories and find readers.  I am trying to cross promote my blog onto other sites.

Circle of Moms is having a contest for the honor of being called a top 25 “Mom’s of Multiples” website.

If you like what I write all you have to do is click this and click vote for me.


I have like six votes, one is from me and do you think Obama and Romney are voting for the other guy?  The contest is only for two more days.  I am always coming in late for these things.  Who starts blogging in 2012 anyway?

If you have any other ideas to get the word out or how to share I would love your feedback. ¬†I am doing this with nearly zero internet experience or marketing experience. ¬†All I have to offer is being me and telling stories. ¬†Grassroots effort without SEO classes, hiring a consultant or someone to tweet for me is my approach. ¬†I’m throwing my stuff out there and if people like it then it will go somewhere, but I need some help getting it out.

Ok, now that whole uncomfortable part is done.

Have a great Tuesday.

Abbie, All that makes you… ¬† ¬† allthatmakesyou.com

Summer Vacation Begins in HOW Many Days? Help!!!

Summer vacation isn’t here yet, and I have already had to threaten our three boys that I will make them carry a “Complaint Journal.” ¬†I am thinking if they have to document how much they complain by “complaint” and “time” it may be an ¬†eye opening experience for them.
Conversation ended with me threatening second “Smart A$$ Comment Journal”.
 Lord grant me patience and ability to convey a grateful heart to little children.
They may need to wear backpacks all summer for all their record keeping.
I know the kids are ready for summer vacation but ARE YOU?
Click the “follow me” button.
For all that makes you smile, laugh, think, love cry or cry laughing.
If you enjoyed this one I am betting you would enjoy…
 Thanks for coming by and I hope to hear from you!

My “Lucky Pants”

“Do you want to go to the Van Halen Concert?” my husband asks me over the phone a couple of weeks ago.

I am thinking about where I will be at mentally Saturday with the three boys and the never ending “hillbilly hand-fishing” swamp clothing I have been washing and and say quickly, “YES!”

Then I scramble, as I have to act like I know something about Van Halen. ¬†I need to be worthy of a big night out. ¬†Like, I know that I have listened to a lot of Van Halen and that they were a hair band from the 90’s. ¬†The music all kind of runs together for me. ¬†It’s the music we listened to while drinking crappy beer, down a country road with a make shift bonfire during my teen years. It doesn’t matter! ¬†Mamma needs to get the heck out of the house.

“Valerie Bertanelli! ¬†Valerie Bertanelli! ¬†Wasn’t one of them married to Valerie Bertanelli?” ¬†I shout this as if I have Tourettes to Jim over the phone.

“Oh yeah, your right.” ¬†Jim sounds impressed that I could rustle something up to say. ¬†He knows me so well.

“Well you better be careful he doesn’t try and scoop me up because I am totally his type!” ¬†

I am already thinking about getting “The Pants” out to wear.

I have these pants my sister bought me somewhere on clearance as a joke.  I showed her.   I wore them to her bachelorette party ten years ago. They are awesome.  They are python and plastic and PERFECT for a Van Halen concert.

And they are lucky. ¬†Not in a “get lucky” way but in an even better way.

They are my Lucky Brush with a Rockstar Pants.”

They are the pants I had on when I could have thrown caution to the wind and run away forever with a famous rock band. I even tell my kids the story.  It is good they know I have options.  They even know I was married at the time AND they were already born.

These kids have to hear it every time one of their songs come on the radio and my kids friends moms have to hear my kids tell the story when it comes on in their SUV.

These pants have made me a legend among sixth graders, in my community, on my street and living in my house. ¬†That is why they are better than a “get lucky” anything.

You usually don’t get to tell a sex story on a mom blog but my lucky pants are giving me, yet another, chance to tell the story about how I almost ran away with…

“The Barenaked Ladies”

Don’t be a hater. ¬†You know your just jealous and I am pretty sure at least one of them has “A Millions Dollars” by now.

It was Toledo, Ohio and I had orchestrated my sisters “Princess Barbie Bachelorette Party Bus.” ¬†We were club hopping in the “Glass City.”

We ended up at a Banana Joe’s. ¬†It is the kind of fine establishment that ENCOURAGES dancing on the bar.

I don’t know about you but I was sick of people telling me to “get down” off of bars.

So there I was rocking my python print pants and bronze high heels on the bar and the DJ starts playing, “If I had a Million Dollars.” by “The Ladies.” ¬†It was a different version than the song you hear on the radio. ¬†I was the only one who knew the words. ¬†I knew the words because I had recently walked in a walk-a-thon and won a radio station copy of one of their CD‘s with live cuts on it. ¬†The same live cut of “Million Dollars” that they were playing.

During the song a guy called me down off the bar, (here we go again, I thought I could dance on the bar here) and asks me how I know the words to this version and he asks me to come and hang out with him and his friends. He points over to a table in a corner off to itself by the bar and the group of guys waved me over.

Just then I realized the bachelorette party needed to book it out of there. ¬†I had an entire night of bar hopping and the next club was holding parking in front for us to pull up in the “Barbie Bus!”

I told the guy he was too cute and his friends looked really nice and that normally it would be fun but I had to go with my group.

They yelled, “No stay.”

I said, “I’m soooo married and I have twin babies at home and y’all are too sweet.” Then I hear someone yell, “Oh my God it’s the Bare Naked Ladies!!!!” and everyone looks and points at the table of the “too cute, super sweet guys.”

Then I realize…


I walked towards the piano bar at the entrance where the “Barbie Bus” is waiting out front for us. But first…

I hopped up on the dueling pianos by the front window and

danced to one last song!

These pants are legendary! I dug them out and tried them on.


Have you saved an article of clothing just because of fond memories.  What luck has it brought you?

If you want to hear more click the “Follow Me” button above. ¬†You may even enjoy one of my former stories like…

Unicorn Horn or Extra Finger? https://allthatmakesyou.wordpress.com/2012/03/30/unicorn-horn-or-an-extra-finger/