The Red Cups

Alright, so I know I’ve been out for a bit, but let’s be honest, Janz hasn’t been bringing the bullshit like she usually does.  Anyhoo, we had a birthday party for Lu just over a week ago and man, did Janz go OVER…BOARD.  (http://www.janzyland.com/2012/07/03/party-central/) Having her mom make those ridiculous buntings (what the hell is a bunting??  Sounds so dumb, must be French), ordering all kinds of tables and chairs, hiring a fucking band and making sure that everything was PERFECT (and driving me insane in the process).  She spent more time and effort on that party than she did pushing that baby out of her you-know-what (yep, I’ll be in trouble for that comment).  All in all, I will admit that the place looked unbelievable and the party was a success—and Turd had a great time.  I got a bit tipsy, so you know that means a it was good soiree.

But the one thing I take issue with…the red cups.  Janz has been trash-talking me to every chick she knows just because I wanted to buy some red Solo cups for the party.  What’s so wrong with red cups??  They’re simple, they’re cheap, and they’re practical.  Janz about had a meltdown in the middle of Costco when I put the 1200-pack in our oversized mega cart, which was already filled to the brim with $400 of liquor, beer and snacks.  I mean, it’s a 2-year-old’s party, red cups fit right in.  Who gives a shit if the party is pink?  Get. Over. It.

Then she tells me that she spoke to no less than 3327 other women, mostly moms, who were shocked and appalled that I would even suggest red cups…like I’m some kind of sociopath for it.  I asked exactly 3 dudes what their thoughts were on the subject, and I received 1 answer, “Who the hell cares and why are you ruining this game of poker?”  See, my sentiments exactly.  The next party, red cups all around…that and 6 kegs and whatever Swedish bikini team is in town.  But let me make this clear: Turdface is not having a party that big again until she turns 21, mostly because I’ll be paying for this one until then.

ROCK!

Oh sweet, sweet victory.

Cheers, Turd!

Shit, my kid holds her pinkie out when she’s chugging a beer.

Let’s not tell your mom we got the cups anyway.

Screw you, Janz! (Yes, she’s going to kill me.)

It’s cool if a kid just has a couple beers, right?

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The Martyr

Most of you know that Janz was on bed rest for a long-ass time.  If you read her blog (http://www.janzyland.com/2012/04/20/stir-crazy/), you know she almost went stir crazy.  But what no one heard is what I had to deal with during the whole ordeal.  Now that she’s back up, I can reveal it.  This is the real shit my friends…I’ll lay it out:

I’m just going to come out and say it: Janz drove me nuts—on purpose.  You see, she was in bed on the 2nd floor, and since she couldn’t move, I was her manservant.  If I had to hear her yell “Riiiiinggggg! Riiiiiinnnnngggg aaaa ddinnnnnggggg diiiinnnnnnnggggg!” from up in her palace one more time, I would’ve kicked a (insert endangered baby animal here).  Sometimes I’d go up there and she was calling me for no reason, just sitting there smiling like a smug jerk saying, “Hiiiiii!”  Unbelievable.

Then there’s this…I’m sure you’ve heard of the Coachella music festival that happens once a year in Palm Desert, CA.  Our good friend Suzanne is in an awesome band called HoneyHoney (their new album “Billy Jack” is the bomb), and they played in the festival this year.  It just so happens that my folks have a place in Palm Desert and we offered the band a place to stay.  In return they got us free VIP passes for the entire weekend.  Yes, I belong in VIP.  I’d been looking forward to this weekend for months.  But then Janz went on bed rest and squashed my Coachella dreams.  I missed the entire weekend, and I got to spend it waiting on my ingrate wife…joy…oh motherf*cking joy.

Now, before you go feeling all sorry for me (which you better), I’ve learned quite a bit about things around here.  Most importantly, I’d never want to be a stay-at-home mom.  Man, I would suck at it.  Hilary Rosen has it all wrong.  Romney’s wife may not have had a job in the work place, but she raised five kids…woof, five kids??  I have one and it’s really…f-ing…hard.  I give all credit in the world to Janz.  I work in commercial production, and the hours can be really long.  But as hard as my job can be, nothing compares to raising a kid.  It’s a 24-hour day, seven-day-a-week job.  Janz is a rock star at it.  And somehow she’s always upbeat and happy around Lu, no matter how nuts the little turd makes her.  I don’t know how she does it.
Hell no, I’m not going soft.  I just speak the truth…but enough of this crap, I’m off to the hot tub.

ROCK!

Father of the Year. Booyah.

Hi ladies. Does this turn you on?

Doesn't Daddy look awesome in this apron?

My secret ingredient: sweat from my chest hair. Boom!

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Party Pad

I’m back again…I think.  I’ve been waiting for enough ammo to throw into the Janz fire, and now I have plenty.

The little liar let everyone know we moved into our new pad (http://www.janzyland.com/2012/03/08/puddns-place/), and yes, it’s awesome.  But it’s no frat house.  It’s more like a museum because Janz insisted every room be painted bright white.  If you come over, make sure you bring some shades.

In response to the fabricator’s post:

–  Yes, I went out of town a couple days after the move, but it was hardly a vacation…unless, for some ungodly reason, people have decided downtown Detroit in the middle of February is a hot destination.  Woof!  Janz neglected to mention that part.  Plus, I had to go, with the amount of money we’re spending on fixing this place up, someone needs to bring home the bacon.  Lord knows miss “freelance writer” doesn’t write a damn thing except her dumb blog these days.

–  Unpacking the boxes…the reason I told her it didn’t look like she’d done anything is because SHE HADN’T!  We’ve been here for over a month and we still have boxes of knickknacks (God, I even hate that word) in what’s supposed to be our guest bedroom.  And don’t even get me started on the garage…how many cars can we fit in there?  Go ahead, ask.  The answer: none.  None.  I can’t even fit my beach cruiser in there with all the crap Janz is hoarding.  She keeps talking about a garage sale (been hearing that one for 6 months), but I have a better chance of finding a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

–  The Spa…dudes, if you bought a house with a fantastic 9’x9′ hot tub in the backyard, would you let it sit there growing green slime?  Any self-respecting homeowner would make sure that sucker rocks.  It’s awesome.  If you’re ever in the area, stop by, I’ll give you the Bo Clancey tour (cause Janz’s is boring).  The waterfall is the highlight.

–  Surround sound…gotta have it, plus the speakers in the back.  I have nothing more to say on this subject.

– Beer pong, Irish Spring and The Big Lebowski…Hey, I’m a dude, so I like those things, especially Lebowski.  Get used to it.

Overall, the amount of money I’ve spent was minuscule compared to what Janz spent on the rest of the house.  Did you know she dropped a grand on getting the place feng shui’ed?  What does that even mean?  All I know is now we have water fountains running in almost every room.  I think it’s supposed to be relaxing, but constantly hearing that trickling sound just makes me need to drain the vein.

In closing, don’t believe anything Janz says.  Only I speak the truth.

ROCK!
Dr. Spa

You have to do some push-ups before you hit the hot tub...how you doin'?

Correct military form...Kaboom!!!

At some point, I will fill this entire thing with beer.

Hey, Janz, grab me another brewski.

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I’m Back…Again

So, after a brief hiatus, I’m officially back.

This post isn’t about Janz’s usual bullshit lies, but something true (for once) that completely drives me nuts: Lu sleeping in our bed (http://www.janzyland.com/2011/04/21/sleeping-with-the-enemy/).  Janz could’ve written the exact same post today because nothing’s changed.  And it should’ve really been titled “The Little Cock Blocker” because that’s what happens when a shit-riddled snot-nose is planted between you and your boom boom partner…errr, lovely wife…every night.  Man, where’s that Epic Jerk Suite when I need it?

Turd starts off in her crib, that is, after we rock her ass to sleep.  Other babies fall right asleep when their parents put them in their cribs.  But not Lu.  Janz has never let her cry it out, never, not once.  So now Lu needs rocking—sometimes for up to an hour.  Do you know how much time I’ve spent rocking that thing over the past 19 months?  You do the math.

Lu sleeps in her own crib from 2 minutes to 2 hours.  Then the little brat wakes up and screams “Mommyyyyyyy!”  And that crazy-ass (Janz, not Lu) loves it.  She runs to get the baby, they snuggle up, Turd tweaks Janz’s nipple (yet something else that used to be mine) and fall right back asleep.

And then the kicking and hitting starts. Not only is the lack of sexy-time a problem around here, but the little beast (Lu, not Janz) has started flailing around all night.  Most of the time, I sleep with either her ass or her feet in my face.

Bottom line:  I need to get this sex-inhibitor out of our bed or I’m building a sweet Jerk Suite in our new house…Boom!

Why is it cute when she snores and not me?

Get this kid out of here.

I'm just glad Janz doesn't sleep like this.

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I’m Back!

So let’s do this. I need to respond to Janz’s post last week (http://www.janzyland.com/2012/01/baby-new-year/), where she ragged on me for being sick in bed all day. Well, I was…that day, the next and everyday until the day before yesterday. Eight days. Janz gave me shit and was a complete bitch because she thought I was just hungover. But no hangover lasts for more than 3 days, not even ones in Vegas. I finally found out it was the flu…brutal.

Speaking of being sick…you know what’s great to have when you have a cold? Nose hair. You see, Janz lasered hers off (yes, the ones inside her nostrils), so now she’s follically challenged up there. Otherwise known as bald. She claims when she was getting laser hair removal on some other parts, the laser lady was like, “All the girls are doing their noses. I’ll throw it in for free.” So she did it. Well poor Janz learned a lesson the hard way—turns out you need nose hair, especially with a cold. Hers is like a drippy faucet.

You should hear her around here blowing that thing like an 80-year-old ex-coal miner. Honk!! In the kitchen. HONK!! In the car. HONK HONK!!! At restaurants. Oh, I just heard her do it again, how adorable. And now Lulu’s learning how to be gross by watching her mom. She picks up tissues and pretends to blow her nose…coincidentally making the same noise as an elephant sound.

So what does Janz do when she’s sick? Good question. Imagine waking up in the morning, rolling over, and opening your eyes to the sight of Janz sleeping (mouth open) with a rolled-up tissue stuffed in each nostril. Hot, huh? She even walks around here like that. Imagine how awesome that looks combined with the granny nightgown—you see what I deal with.

I say she should shoot Rogaine up there, but Janz seems perfectly happy with her honking and tissue-stuffing routine. I guess she’ll never have a long hair sticking out of her schnozz, but I’m not sure that’s worth it.

Anyway, if you haven’t gotten the flu shot, do it…unless you enjoy vomiting, chills, fevers, aches, coughing, sneezing and cold sores. Fun stuff.

ROCK!

Hi Janz!

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Little Miss Sunshine…Or Not

Janz constantly talks about how we (The Brothers Clancey), are constantly picking on her (http://www.janzyland.com/2011/04/alpha-beta-clancey/). Yes, I’ve been known to be a bit of a bully to my younger brothers, and maybe my friends call me “Turbo Chet” when I drink…an homage to the dickhead older bro (who by the way is awesome) in “Weird Science.” But I’m telling you Janz is the biggest bully of all.

Janz should win an Oscar for playing the role as the victim. That’s riDICulous because the truth is she’s usually the one who’s dishing it out.

Whatever crap we give her is in clear retaliation to something she did to us. Sometimes we have to call in a pre-emptive strike knowing she’s going to come at us with something mean and hateful.

– Usually after Tyler (“the sweet mama’s boy”), tells a story, she tells him he should’ve kept his “stupid story” to himself…not nice.

– She repeatedly calls our Iowa Hawkeye and KC Chiefs jerseys dumb…terribly insensitive.

– She makes Lu wear an “I Love My Gay Uncle T-shirt,” tells Gunnar to hold the baby, then laughs hysterically as she pops off 15 to 20 shots with her camera…inappropriate.

– Then she has the nerve to follow up her insults by snapping her fingers and using MY “booyah”…downright rude.

– It’s not just the brothers either. She goes after our mom and dad as well…the very first time she met my mom (Milsie), she ragged on her for being a horrible English teacher. And when my dad tells a long story, which he has a tendency to do after a few cocktails, she pretends like she’s holding a remote control and tries to fast-forward the story…who does that?

– She’s even gone so far as insulting our grandmother. Well, Muzz did fall into a garbage can when she was intoxicated quite a few years ago, but that doesn’t mean you bring it up every time you see her…unbelievable.

So don’t believe a word Janz says about the Clanceys bullying her. She throws daggers faster than anyone, and to be honest, we’re the victims.

In closing, “I’d like to butter your muffin.”
-Turbo Chet

ROCK!

So rude

The Brothers...Boom

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The Eyes of Truth

Some of Janz’s posts really make me look like a dick. Like this last one: (http://www.janzyland.com/2011/12/12/a-real-eyesore/)

Come on, did anyone really believe that BS?

Janz has this really bad habit of talking a lot. I mean a LOT. If you get her going on a topic she’s passionate about, like let’s say “The Bachelor,” she might not shut up for days. It’s a running joke in my family…all she does is talk talk talk talk talk talk talk.

But she also has an even worse habit of asking the most annoying questions. “Do you like this dress?” “Do you think I need a haircut?” “If I was a stranger at a bar, would you hit on me?” “Did you like that chicken?” “What do you think about this toy for Lulu?” “Does this goat milk smell bad?” “Don’t you think the new bachelor is boring?”  It never ends.

Usually I can pretend like I didn’t hear her, but then she’ll keep asking over and over again, like a damn broken record. Am I the only guy this happens to?  Usually I say something like, “Less talk-y, more cook-y.”  But that doesn’t always work.

So the other day she asked me The Most Annoying Question Of All Time. “If you could change one thing about me, what would it be?”

Now I knew that no matter what I said, I’d be in trouble. I tried to get out of it by saying it was stupid, but she wouldn’t let it go. So I just said something to just shut her up, “I guess your eyes are too close together.” BOOM!  No more questions.

Here on www.mywifelies.com I am breaking through the BS…you are welcome.

ROCK!

Do I look like Janz?

Do you think she'll like her Christmas gift?

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Captain Romance

At the very beginning of the T&T blog Janz wrote a post called “Babysitter or Bust” (http://www.janzyland.com/2011/03/babysitter-or-bust/).  For once, she didn’t lie in this post.  Believe it or not, everything was actually true, including the promise (that she broke, of course)…to get a damn babysitter!  She could’ve written that same blog today, because NOTHING has changed.  And man, it’s driving me nuts.

Janz is always complaining about my complete lack of romance.  I like to call myself “Captain Roooomaaaaaance” (like “Captain Caaaavemaaaaan!”).  But what she conveniently leaves out is it’s entirely her fault that we never do anything romantic.  She won’t let us.  Every time I ask her to go out to a nice dinner, she replies with, “What time do Lu and I need to be ready?”  One time I even recommended we have dinner and then get a room at the Ritz Carlton to have a romantic night together.  To this she actually laughed in my face.  Laughed.  In my face.  Then she got pissed at me for suggesting that we leave the baby for a night.  Captain Romance’s hands are tied here, folks…Karl Hungus is coming for the money, and my johnson, and I have no defenses.

And you know we sleep with the baby in our bed, right?  Now that’s what I call romantic.  Janz choke-holds that kid in her arms all night, every night.  But I’m saving that for another post.

So I’m wondering if there are any other moms out there who can recommend a good 12-step program?  Please, Janz needs help.  Her addiction is out of control.  Do it for me.  Hell, do it for Lu.  She needs a break from her crazy-ass mom.

Deep down, Janz is a true party animal that has been chained to the crib.  There needs to be someone out there who can help free her…ANYONE?!?!

ROCK!

Captain Rooooomaaaaance!!!

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Show Me That Titty

Janz spends a lot of time and energy writing stories on her blog about stupid things I do. She’s going to kill me, but I think a nice little story about her is in order. Here we go:

In a time long, long ago…the year 2 B.C. (Before Child), Janz was a party animal. She could tear it up with the best of them, guzzling white wine spritzers like a champ…she was my little Snookie.

Cut to 4th of July, 2009. A bunch of us (we were all pretty bombed) found ourselves late night at our friend Joyce Ann’s house.  Joyce works for a certain nudie magazine…but I only read it for the articles.

Janz was looking at an issue that had a pic of Lady Gaga showing her droopy, saggy boob. From across the room our good buddy Mike asked Janz to “show me that titty.” Knowing he meant Lady Gaga’s ta-ta, I took the mag over to show him, but he was staring with his mouth open back at Janz. I turned around to see her standing there with a blank look on her face and a boob dangling out of her dress. And she calls me an idiot.

When I yelled “Janz, WTF!?!,” she seemed like she’d just woken up from a dream, then looked down in horror at her fully exposed tit. Then she acted mortified (to be honest, she’s not really the boob-flashing type) while the rest of us laughed until we almost vomited.

What troubles me to this day isn’t that it happened, but that Janz actually seemed shocked that her own boob was hanging out. You see, it was no small chore getting that sucker out. She had to take her jacket off, yank her strap over her shoulder, pull down her bra, rub her nipple (at least I hear that’s what happened), and then expose the breasticle. She didn’t just pop it out of a bathing suit—it was a lot of work to free that thing.

Man, she sure used to rock, didn’t she? Yep…used to.

I don’t have pictures of the Incident, but I did my best to reenact it below.

ROCK!

Earlier in the day...not knowing what would pop out of that dress.

Suck it, Janz!

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House Party? Not Exactly.

Most of Janz’s posts are completely untrue. But I’m going to start with the most recent one about me (House Party: http://www.janzyland.com/2011/11/house-party/). Per usual, almost the entire story was exaggerated bullshit.

Yes, she did ask me to babysit Turd that night. But there was an 86% chance she’d end up taking the baby to dinner anyways. That’s because Janz absolutely refuses to hire a babysitter and can’t go anywhere without Lu and that stupid goat milk.

For once she didn’t take the baby, so I invited a few of the dudes over to watch the Ducks game (Oregon missed that last-second field goal…bummer) and the UFC 139 fight (Shogun definitely beat Henderson). But I still don’t get why her post was so bitchy. Do I get mad when Janz has the girls over to pound wine and watch that crap-ass “Bachelor?” No, in fact I don’t.

Actually, I’m the one who’s a little ticked at her. Did anybody see that nightgown she was wearing? I want the dudes to think my wife is smokin’ hot, not that she looks like a Golden Girl.

Yes, we did ask her to “show us her titties,” but we didn’t scream it at her. No, that would be rude. It was more like a polite request for her to reveal her funbags. I don’t see what the big deal is. She should be flattered that anyone’s even asking to see those suckers. Boom! (Just kidding, Janz! Loooove you!!!).

There’s an awesome story behind the whole tittie-asking thing…next post.

ROCK!

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