Saturday, March 31, 2012

Daddy, you'd better sleep with one eye open.

Well, it's Marianna Annadanna here with this week's cheesy theme! 

Given that my uterus is screaming at me to grow something inside it, I would really like to hear some random child stories! Are your kids weird? Of course they are.  All kids are weird.  That's what makes them normal.  Just like the rest of us. 

Send your weird kids stories to and I'll post them!  Or tweet me a link @CheesyBloggers. 

To kick things off, we've got this adorable post from our dear friend The Robot Mommy.  You should all go read her super smart stuff.  She's a total genius, and obviously a Freudian expert.  (Freak!)


20120225-001030.jpgWhen I went to my little educational forum and took my early childhood education classes, I listened, I took notes, I absorbed. I was particularly interested in the Freudian psychosexual phases of life. You know what I mean; the oral, the anal, the phallic. That last one is where Conner lives right now.

Last Friday, that phase become a reality in my home. Well played, Sigmund.

Mommy, here's a present. And I'm going to marry you.

Hello, Oedipus...

Now, I'm not going to lie. I've lost quite a bit of that particular knowledge. The biggest reason is because I don't teach anymore. If you don't use it, blah blah blahity blah.

Oh but I remember the Oedipus complex. How could I forget? The first time a boy falls in love and it's with his mommy. Better yet, he's super jealous of his daddy. Actually the way the story goes Oedipus loves his mother and kills his father to be with her. Somewhere in there, he becomes king. Ego awesome although creepy.

The phase itself though is completely normal. As long as it goes away.

Considering my current situation, I'm frustrated knowing how to handle it only from a teacher's perspective not a parent's! Scratch that, not a mommy's!!

I didn't panic...much. I didn't really react. In fact, I ignored it. The first time he said it. I held onto hope that it would just be a one time "cute" sorta random thing.

Then this happened...

Mommy, take off your rings.

Why, honey?

Because I don't want you wearing them anymore

But I can't. Daddy gave them to me and we are married so I can't. I made a promise to him.

I don't like them. Wear them over here.  ---pointing at my other hand.

Sweetie, I'm not going to do that. I wear the rings on this finger as a promise to love your daddy forever. It means a lot to me.

I don't like you, mom. You aren't nice.

Joy and rapture!! Maybe it was enough to nip the O.C. in the bud.


He proceeded to tell daddy that I was going to marry him and "Sorry, Daddy" and such. He went as far as creating alternate mommies and daddies like us but different. These parents play baseball, marry him and then die. In that order.

I'm really hoping that this phase is not one that creates tantrums or too many yucky words with daddy or more imaginary dead parents. I'm thrilled he is discovering and learning about people and relationships. It is such a huge part of his growth. He's growing up so fast before my eyes.

Soon it'll be discussions about his own wedding. And I'm not ready for that yet either.



Thank you chickie for sharing this disturbing story. 

Kidding!  I love it.  Although I think your hubby should sleep with one eye open. 

As for the rest of you, got anything equally funny/weird?  SEND IT

Friday, March 23, 2012



Almost one year ago when the three of us started this little cheesy blog, we had one original idea - one initial concept that united us forever and ever.


Some of you may even remember those original tweets.  We were going to get together.  And we were going to EAT CHEESE. And we're sure you know how amazing it is to find your long-lost blogger soul-mates on the interwebs - and surely you have thought: my god I'd love to hang out with these people. 

Well now, NOW, the day has finally arrived.

Seriously.  No joke.  Cross our hearts.  Pinky friggin swear. 

We have officially booked The Palmer House hotel in Chicago, Illinois.  Four double rooms.  Each with TWO bathrooms.  RIGHT DOWNTOWN one block from Millennium Park.   There is room for everyone, and any of our followers is welcome.  If we get more than 8 cheesers wanting to come?  We'll book MORE ROOMS!

You will have two - COUNT 'EM, TWO - nights of freedom.  Two nights replacing your crazy family with your crazy blogger friends.  Two nights to eat and drink and sing and dance and laugh and of course tour one of the most wicked-ass cities known to all humanity. 

Two mornings to SLEEP IN.  Two mornings to eat cookies and cheese for breakfast and wash it down with beer.  Two mornings to not wake up to the sound of babies crying, rather wake up to the sound of your fellow bloggers puking laughing in the next room. 

You CANNOT miss this, you guys.  This will seriously be the most fun you've had in years.   (Except for that time you peed on the hobo in Vegas - that was unique, right Carmen?) 

There will be junk food.  There will be flashback 90s music.  There will be beer and cheese (neither of which will be force-fed, but are highly encouraged).  There will probably be enough Xanex to last us at least a couple weeks.  THERE WILL BE CHEESY GIFT BAGS courtesy of the lovely founders of this blog.

If you miss this, you will surely regret it forevermore. Don't make us send you postcards from Chicago to taunt your asses for not being there.  Cuz we totally will.

We've outlined all the details on our Blogger Getaway page, HERE

And if you've never been to Chicago, you can check our Marianna Annadanna's "Chicago Dos and Don'ts" HERE.  And if you want to see how Miss Sarcasm takes on Chicago (and the poor hobos that will inevitably be robbed blind by her and her ignorance) read HERE and HERE.


This is the real thing! We are totally going, with or without you.  But we don't want to go without you!  Without you, nobody will be there to tweet pictures of all the back-asswards shit we do.  You've simply gotta come!

Shall we tempt you with hotel photos?  OH YES WE SHALL.

Indoor pool. This just screams, drunken fully-clothed cannonball to Miss Sarcasm.

Double beds, double bathrooms. Room for Twister?

Lobby Bar.  For immediate check in hydration.

More bar.  More hydration.


BAR.  Seriously.  How classy does this place look?  

LOUNGE.  I can taste martinis just LOOKING at it.

LOBBY.  Plenty of room for somersaults and making fun of strangers.....  I mean, proper, mature behavior.

What are you waiting for?
Email usTweet us!  JOIN US

Monday, March 12, 2012

Amusing Athletics. Or Is That Embarrassing Exercise? Whatever.

Hi, Angela@BeggingTheAnswer here with our next theme: Gym, Sports, and Exercise.

It seems like whenever I reminisce or complain on my own blog about some past gym-class folly, plenty of people join in with stories of their own.  And I have plenty myself.  I failed high-school bowling. I have post-traumatic-stress-disorder regarding dodgeball.  But those exploits didn't end after I graduated high-school and mandatory gym-class. I recently had my admittedly-large personal bubble invaded by an over-enthusiastic Zumba instructor.

And I know I'm not alone.

What gym-class or sports exploits have you experienced?  Any entertaining failures or amusing injuries?  Or were you a rock-star when it came to sports? Change into your P.E. clothes and let us know!  Link up below or email to have your post featured on our main page! Or DM us on twitter @ChessyBloggers.  GO!

Monday, March 5, 2012

Wow. I’m awesome.

Here's an adorable little forgetful post from our very own Marianna. She's a Cheesy Blogger and a Snappy Surpriser. Plus she's my sister from another mister who I'll never forget.


Wow. I’m awesome.

I’ve recently realized that I’m friggin awesome.

Actually, it’s more of a sarcastic statement. It really has to do with the fact that I’m becoming more and more ridiculous (ridiculously stupid).

Last week Hubby emailed me to say that my driver’s license was on the dashboard of his truck. What? How in the hell did it get there? Well, it was there because I had to use it at work last week to get into the building because I forgot my security pass. At the end of the day, the security guard gave the license back to me. My husband then picked me up, and I must have had the card in my hand when I got into his truck. I apparently put it on the dash without even noticing. So, once I remembered all that, I replied to Hubby's email: “Wow. I’m awesome” I told him.

And that’s where it began. The awesomeness, I mean. Or, more specifically, the realization that lately, I’m particularly awesome.

Later in the week, I couldn’t find my headphones. I knew I had them in the car on the way home the day before, but there were nowhere to be found. My mp3 player was fine, just minus the headphones. When I got in my car the next morning, they were hanging out of the driver’s side door. They’d been dangling there all night. Again, there was only one logical conclusion I could draw. “I’m awesome”, I said to myself.

On Friday night I decided I would wash my car. Filthy little bugger, it was. I was using hubby’s new pressure washer. Well, I poured some soap into the bucket and decided that it was too much work to get a separate hose to fill it. So, I used the super duper machine to fill the bucket. It was only a matter of seconds before I was covered in soap foam. Awesome.

I’m not sure if it’s an age thing. Or if maybe I’m just as awesome as always, but just noticing it more lately.

Last year, when I accidentally took the bus home (having forgotten that I drove to work), I had the flurry of wedding planning to blame – my mind was so otherwise occupied with planning the greatest day of my life, that it didn’t have time to think about such simplistic and meaningless things as how I got to work (or how I would get home).

But now… what’s my excuse now? I have none. There’s no special reason that I should be such an idiot.

So stay tuned. I’m sure more awesomeness awaits.

Thursday, March 1, 2012


I was supposed to be in charge of the new theme LAST WEEK.
I was supposed to post this TEN DAYS AGO.

What happened, you ask?
I full-on, totally and completely, utterly and wholly forgot.
I dropped the ball. Or dropped the blog, I should say.

Normally I'm really, really good at juggling a million things without forgetting one.

Not lately.
Maybe it's a symptom of my mid-thirties.
Maybe it's a sign I need to slow down and organize my life. Maybe let some things go on the back burner. Maybe it's a sign of early onset dementia. Oh my dear hypochondria, of course you'd say that....

Whatever the reason, this is not the only time I've forgotten something.

Like, the time I parked at the Post Office, got out of my car, walked to the door and realized, Oh fuck.  THIS isn't the bank.  Why am I here?

Or the time I walked into an important meeting almost 20 minutes late because I simply forgot about it.  And got to do the walk of shame into the room in front of everyone.

Or the time I left the bath water in the tub all night after Wee One's bath...the time I put the milk in the cupboard....the time Facebook  had to remind me of my own mother's birthday....

There are many, many instances of forgetting that I could share but I'm sure I'm forgetting them.

Do YOU have any great stories of forgetfulness?  Share them with us.
Email us at  We'd love to feature your post this week.

Unless I forget to check my email/post your piece/forget the theme/forget to breathe and blink.....