Mrs. Flinger: A work in progress

UPDATE TO Mrs. Flinger October 16, 2015

Because the Universe has a wicked sense of humor, after this delcaration, my blog threw up all over my last upgrade.

So I'm starting over using Craft. Turning 40 and kid entering Jr High next year, sometimes it's just time for a change. These archives will still exist in the way the last child goes off to college and their room is the same for 20 years, but it's just time to move forward.

And then the angel of the lord cometh down and said, “go drink a beer” Apr 05, 2009

#Family Life

We live in a pretty tight community. And by tight I mean the buildings are so close you can fart and hear neighbors laugh three doors down. Or maybe that’s just me and my own farts, I don’t know, but I swear I know when the people next door have sex and when their dog has the runs and when the cop behind us gets lucky one warm night when the windows are open.

Not tight as in, “I know my neighbors and they are the awesome.”

Not tight as in, “I fucking LOVE OUR HOUSE.”

More like “These jeans push my undies up too far remind me why I don’t just wear thongs again?” tight.

(How’s that visual? You’re welcome.)

So when we were walking along in the feet of snow last year and met a nice gal and her husband, I was more than happy to invite them in for a glass of wine.

Three months later I kinda forgot about that glass of wine and the classy wieners I served. But the phone rang Saturday and my very nice neighbor asked if my husband and I would like to go on a date.


I think we would!

And that is how it came about that my husband and I pretended we were 25 year olds with better bodies and young love and all the time in the world (or at least three hours) to ride on the Burk Gillman and sample some amazing beer.

Date Night!

I can’t tell you what this means to me. To have someone ASK to take my children. WANT to spend time with my children. LOVE to read to my children.

I’m blown away.

Date Night!

With family far away, we rely too heavily on friends in town. Maybe, and I’m just guessing here, they don’t want us to ask EVERY MOTHER EFFING WEEK if they want to take our kids wink wink for just a little bit couldya wink wink? I’ve called babysitters. I’ve asked the grandparents. I’ve checked with professional nannies. It appears I have a very active daughter and pretty much nobody in the world wants to ... ... ... enjoy quality time with her.

They tell me she’s hard.

Yathink? It’s why I’m begging for a break.

Date Night!

But, begging and throwing myself at people’s feet with oil and fragrance and weed aside, having someone ask to take my kids seemed pretty amazing. Until we were actually ON the date, far far away and it hit me. “THEY ARE STEALING OUR CHILDREN AS WE RIDE!” There’s only one motive for this kind of kindness: Baby Stealers. They are so totally stealing our children. “They live up the street” Mr. Flinger reminds me. “Well, they did until this morning” I snap back “until they decided to foreclose and asked for our children to accompany them to Canada.”

How can you argue with that?

Answer: Don’t. Trust me.

After Mr. Flinger made the aforementioned error of arguing, and after a round of samplers, I pretty much relaxed in to the date and we enjoyed the two point three hours we had left. 

The children were here, upon arrival, asleep in their beds. Our new favorite people were sitting on the couch. We invited them for margaritas, homemade all Flinger Style (read: Five parts Marga and One Part Rita, if Marga is Tequila) and laughed and enjoyed having.. well? Neighbors.

I guess the community thing isn’t so bad. In these times of tough economy and of hardships and bad news, it’s so wonderful to have someone do something so small, but so incredibly large. Significantly large. Incredible in fact.

I can’t wait to pay it forward. To live out City Mama’s advice to quite literally, love thy neighbor.

Amen. Amen. A-fucking-men.

He likes big books Apr 03, 2009

#Family Life

He likes Big Books
and you can’t deny

When the other mothers
Ask you why

Your toddler reads with so much grace
and a big ol’ book in his face

You get Horney

Thinkin’ bout being lonely

How fast your kids are grow-grow-growin’

Oh Baby! Baby! You wanna make a brand new Baby!

Those other mothers tried to warn you
You’d start feelin’ that way when the boy turned two

So, fellas! (Yeah!) Fellas! (Yeah!)
Has your wife got the baby itch? (Hell yeah!)
Tell ‘em to squish it! (Squish it!) Squish it! (Squish it!)
Squish them nasty thoughts!

Your baby reads books.
Baby reads books.


I, too, am just a girl with a blog Apr 01, 2009


If you follow me on twitter, this may be a slight recap. But oh! There is VIDEO. So get comfy and get ready to cringe on my behalf.

Last night we saw Dooce (do you really need me to link to her? Hai?). I’ll be honest, I don’t read Heather that much anymore. I don’t read enough of anyone, anymore, really. (I blame Google Reader that bastardized RSS reader that is like the government aid enabling the bored and lazy.) But I wanted to hear her speak because you hear so much trash on the Internet and I wanted to go formulate an opinion on my own.

And so I did.

I get that we’re frustrated because we write and aren’t paid out the ass for it. I get the jealousy and the wistfulness and the building up of a person entirely too much so that they can never live up to those expectations, those insanely huge expectation. But I don’t get the hate and the spite and the fear.

Heather? She’s just a girl with a blog who is fucking hilarious and got noticed.

Remember when that chick got all famous from her ebay story? And remember how we all smacked our foreheads and went “DUH! EBAY! I MUST MAKE UP AUCTIONS!” And remember how that never really worked?

Sometimes it’s about being in the right place at the right time I guess. And if you hate people for their success, maybe you can flip off irony or tell coincidence to fuck off. Personally, I’m not going to piss off the time/space continuum hoping it will stay on my side and ONE DAY it will help me out a bit.

Maybe I was hoping that one day would be last night.

Heather was absolutely hilarious. She was real, honest, pregnant (yes! BY GOD she isn’t lying about a pregnancy to make money! I know this shocks you.) and actually made the crowd comfortable. She’s every bit a normal person as you can expect some chick from BYU gone badass to be.

I sorta love her for it.

And so when it was time for the Question and Answers, when she glanced around the room and nobody stood up, when I’d made a funny on twitter that I was going to stand up and say, “Hi! We all know you, but, do they know ME?” it was hard not to be the first person to jump to the mic and save Heather from the, “Anyone? Beuhler?”

Such an attention whore, this one.

So I stood up in front of a crowd of, say, 200 people? And this? This is what happened.

Walks in slow motion to the mic
Mutters something about not liking to talk in to mics
“Hi! I’m Mrs. Flinger!”
:: pauses for recognition. Waits for Heather to say, “OMG! MRS. FLINGER! I have a photo with you and I like TOTALLY LOVE your BLOG OMG! ::
:: waiting ::
:: waiting ::
Recovers slightly and starts spewing forth shit from my mouth that I only vaguely recall.
Turns to audience
“MRS. F-l-N-G-E-R”

Or, you can see if yourself:

mrs. flinger and dooce from mona on Vimeo.

Two words: Wow.

(Thanks to Mona for letting me use this awesome video. And for doing a much better recap on her site here.)