Saturday, December 11, 2010

My Broken Funny Bone

Where do I begin?
With an apology? A thank-you? An excuse?

Buckle up, Crazy Road travelers...this might be a bumpy ride.

First, I will tell all of you that have been wondering if the crazy, funny, nutty situations that make life on Crazy Road so, well, crazy~ are still occurring, that~

YES. Indeed they are.

Its a bit of a long story as to what happened with me, and why I haven't written about our chaotic, hilarious life. But now, as I am writing, the words are piling up in my head and ready to explode right onto this blog...

The fact is, my funny bone broke. And it took the words of a complete stranger, as well as a new friend, to shake me out of my slump.

You see, back in July, I received an email unlike any other.

It was an email from someone that I had never met.

Inviting ME to compete in the Mrs. Maine Pageant.

My initial reaction was a giggle.

ME? In a pageant? Now THAT was hilarious to me. And to my close family and friends who know me all too well~hysterical! How would someone like ME compete with beautiful, smart, talented ladies who were likely familiar with very high heels and false eyelashes?

More giggles just picturing it.

ME in a bathing suit? ME in an evening gown? ME in

And so days went by, and I couldn't get the thought out of my head. Being in the pageant would mean I could talk about Barbara Bush Children's Hospital and The Make-A-Wish foundation, and maybe, just maybe, help out these two charities that are very near and dear to my heart. so, why NOT me?

"PLUS," I thought...

I mean, this is something that is a once-in-a lifetime opportunity. The whole issue of the looming 40th birthday has been really getting me down...why not do this thing and really take this opportunity to GLAM up. I USED to be glam. I USED to know what was hip. I USED to read magazines and brush up on eyeliner and highlighting techniques...

NOW I pour over the articles on banishing belly fat and reducing stress and de-puffing under-eye-bags.


So, with the encouragement of the same family and friends that giggled along with me at first, I took the plunge into the pageant world. I vowed I wouldn't stress about it. I promised I would have fun with it and not try to be someone that I was not...


I didn't even realize what was happening.

I poured over pictures of bathing suits and gowns.

My hair has gone from blond to red to brown to red to brown again in an effort to look my best.

I purchased creams and lotions and eyebrow stuff...

I stopped seeing the humor in my days.

On Thanksgiving, for instance, my beloved coffee pot @#$% the proverbial bed. Because I am a fiend about my coffee, not just any coffee pot will do. Because its Christmas, my finances are tied up in Santa's sack(get your minds outta the gutter folks, I mean toys)...and the new pot will just have to wait. So, in the meantime, my husband and I take turns literally beating the broken KRUPP'S coffee pot until it brews my liquid lifeblood.

That's funny.

But I didn't write about it. I will, though. I have a lot of "ground" to make up...

Our Christmas tree came crashing down in the middle of our living room the other night. Among shattered ornaments and tangles lights, the real me would have laughed at the situation and written about the fact that I heard the tree creaking and thought there was a squirrel or mouse a la Clark Griswold, and my husband and I were staring at the tree waiting for it to jump out at us as the tree came smashing down...

Thats funny.

But all I could do was cry and think about all the work I put into that tree and the sentimental value it had...

My husband said..."Well, its gonna make a good story for your blog..." And I barely heard his words.

A couple of weeks ago, I was trying on gowns for the pageant. As I stood in  front of the mirror, and the downright lovely lady fussed over the straps and the trains and the sparkles and the boobs...All I could think of belly fat. My stress. My worry about being judged.

This was not funny.

Last week, I met with a couple of ladies to go over my "pageant stuff." My paperwork. My bathing suit. My plan for the interview.

I answered the questions in a way that I thought was "pageant" like...

And here is my first "THANK YOU:"

During the practice interview, she stopped me mid-sentence.

She said, "You are not that funny. Everyone told me that you were funny and I am just not seeing it."

I was so taken back by her statement! After all, the one word that I am pretty sure people think of when they think of me is: funny.

What had happened? Where had I gone wrong? Had I evolved into an un-funny person?

You know what?

I had.

Shame on me.

I think I convinced myself that to compete in a pageant like this, I had to become very dignified. Very serious.

Very Not Me.

So thank you, beautiful stranger. I hope to re-meet you soon so I can introduce you to someone I like very

The other night, as I was peering into my magnifying mirror looking at my wrinkles and zits and other deformities with my ever-critical eye, my husband came into the bathroom...

"Stop doing that!" He said..."You are beautiful."

"Easy for you to say. You don't have one-single-wrinkle or and you never get zits!"

He said, "Maybe you should stop layering all those products on and just use soap."


And I looked at my side of the vanity and really saw what I had missed for months.

I have every anti-aging eye cream, scar-reducing serum, self-tanners, stuff to make my hair better, thicker, longer, lighter, darker, skin-primer, face luminator, Clearasil, line erasers, eye-lash plumpers, lip sticks, glosses, balms and name it...if it is on a Rite-Aid shelf...I own it.


And I am pretty sure I look the same as I did before.

He was so right. Again.

Yesterday, my new friend Kayt said, "When are you gonna blog again? We miss your funny, crazy life!"

You know what, Kayt?

So do I.

And lucky me, it's been right here waiting for me. Right in front of my ridiculously eye-shadowed eyes.

Thank you, Kayt.

So...onto my apologies...

To my husband. I know I have been impossible.

To the followers of Crazy Road...

Sorry...temporarily lost my funny-mojo.

I am right here...

And so, I will be in the Mrs. Maine Pageant in February. I will do my best to represent all of the "MRS. MAINES" out there who are busy mothers, wives, workers, bill-paying, grocery getting, dinner-making, tear-wiping-bedtime-story-telling-appointment keepers-taxi driving-Christmas shopping-beautiful-talented-successful ladies out there.

I will proudly wear the heels and the gowns and the bathing suits(oh.yes.i.will) and the eyelashes. My hair will be shiny and big and my "girls" will likely be taped up to resemble the boobs(yes, I said boobs, because its funny)of days gone by...

But underneath it all, I PROMISE, will be crazy, funny me.

And THAT is perfectly fine.

I am thrilled that you are still reading this. I might have thought you would have given up on it. I forgot how much I love to write about my wonderful life...I admit...I almost forgot my password to get into my own website! But of course, it came to me. Its really my own description of the real me.

Thank goodness..

I am soon-to-be-forty.

I am proud of my life and my accomplishments.

I have laugh lines~From years of laughing so much and so hard at myself, with friends and family, at funny movies with my husband, at my kids, my sister, my friends, Lisa, Julie...

I have a belly that has made room for my three beautiful babies, and is a bit stretched out because of that. In light of what I have in my kids...I'll take the stretch.

I have stress about my job as an advertising executive, and ad deadlines, and sales numbers...but I have a great job~I work with fantastic people, I have a perfect schedule...I am so lucky.

I am blessed with healthy, happy kids. An amazing, supportive husband. A great family. Amazing friends.

And a healed funny bone.

Stay tuned...I am back, baby!!

Thanks for reading...


  1. To my beautiful wife,
    No matter what, I just want you to be who you are and what I feel a Mrs Maine should be, not the Miss Maine everyone else is looking for. Let's be real, Mrs Maine should not be a pagent queen, she should be who you described. Good luck Mama.

  2. She's baaaaack! Yippie! This made me laugh and cry. Perfect! Kayt