I was enjoying a bite of charbroiled chicken paradise this evening, when I beheld something I never thought I would see.

When you have just made the biggest decision of your life and promised yourself forever to your soul mate, where do you go to celebrate?

Yes, you go to McDonalds. In your frickin wedding dress. And your veil.

You also bring your wedding party. To make sure they are easily recognized as your guests, have them all wear leis. Yes, that should do the trick.

Another tip: Be extremely loud. This will aid in getting you the attention you deserve. After all, it is your frickin day.

Go ahead, order the milkshake. All those weeks of crash dieting are behind you. It is time to reward yourself for all the times you chose salad over pasta. However, when it comes time to choose your drink, go with the diet. This cancels out all the calories in the fries and double cheeseburger.

Debate over whether you should take your feast to go, or dine in. Ultimately, choose to stay. You have a captive audience now. Relish it.

Dining at the Golden Arches may not be as wonderful as actually saying “I do” next to a statue of Ronnie, but it is definitely a great way to end your night. After all, isn’t that what we all dream about when picturing our fairytale wedding?

I was busy working from my home office this morning, when my sister, Kara, called. “Lori, are you home?”

“Yes,” I reply.

“Good. I need you to come over to my house right now.”

I have no idea what is going on, but the sense of urgency in her voice is almost tangible, so I grab my baby and yell for my three-year old to find her shoes. (Hmm, this is a little too telling of how things are in my home.) Scratch the above and insert, I tenderly lift my baby from his soft, warm blanket and gingerly carry him towards the door, where my daughter’s shoes are placed neatly. Yeah, that’s better.

About 90 seconds later, she calls again. “I only have one kid and you have two. I will come over to your house.”

I agree and less than 10 minutes later, I hear a knock on the door. My three year-old answers the door and I head towards the front room. “Kara, what is wrong?” I ask.

She hands me a frickin pregnancy test and says, “I need you to take this test right now.”

So I do.

I am not pregnant. (I am not surprised.)

She shows me her test. Our tests look different.

The funny thing is, this isn’t the first time I have been asked to take a frickin pregnancy test. I have been asked a few times now.

In honor of this occasion and also because it is FRICKIN FRIDAY, I am going to link to Dave Barry’s blog, “Natural Childbirth.” It is truly the most hilarious read (Thank you Garry Scoville) I have enjoyed in a long time. For a quick sneak peak, here are a few quotes. To read the entire blog, click here

Natural Childbirth, by Dave Barry

Let’s take a quick look at the history of baby-having. For thousands of years, only women had babies. Primitive women would go off into primitive huts and groan and wail and sweat while other women hovered around. The primitive men stayed outside doing manly things, such as lifting heavy objects and spitting.

When the baby was born, the women would clean it up as best they could and show it to the men who would spit appreciatively and head off to the forest to throw sharp sticks at small animals. If you had suggested to primitive men that they should actually watch women have babies, they would have laughed at you and probably tortured you for three or four days. They were real men.

My real man called me about 30 minutes ago. I told him I took a pregnancy test.

He asked, “Are you pregnant?”

I answered, “What would you say if I were?”

He answered, “I would ask, “Why?”

I am not really sure what to think about this. In any event, I would like to wish congratulations to Kara–  I am so excited for you and am happy to take pregnancy tests whenever you frickin need it.

To everyone else- Happy Frickin Friday!

So, after all the positive feedback (yeah, I am pretty frickin awesome) I received on Dolphinin’s Journal and the fact that I had a bunch of fun doing it, I decided to start a real blog. Below is the timeline and series of events that led to this monumental happening.

October 21, 2009

I realized I was the bomb. This didn’t come as a big shocker because I had always known that I ranked pretty high on the cool factor. What really cemented this was the following email I received from Dave Bascom, CEO and my boss at SEO.com: ”We’ve got to get more people following you on twitter. Your follower numbers are kind of weak.” When I read this, I realized that I must be really important for him to take a serious interest in my tweeples. I quickly came to the conclusion that if I was THAT important, thousands (if not millions) of people are waiting anxiously to read my every word.

October 27, 2009

I became addicted to #GNO on Twitter. It happens. I may seek therapy in the future. Anyway, I noticed that all the really super cool people (a shout out to all the girls-night-out ladies) have blogs. I read them. Every single one. OK- maybe I was entering more contests than reading content, but hey- I at least visited their sites. I once again realized as one of the coolest frickin people I know, that I needed a blog ASAP.

November 6, 2009

I began thinking of URLs and researching their availability on MadDog. I gained a love/hate relationship with domainers during this process. OK, maybe not love.

November 9, 2009

Gave up thinking of URLs and went to the brains of SEO.com. Many ideas were thrown around, all of which were frickin amazing. The best one (in my humble opinion) was frickinmom.com. When I heard this domain, I believe I heard bells ring and an angelic chorus sing. Thanks @robynstorms for suggesting it. However, when I went to purchase it (dun dun dun) it was gone! Dang Greg Shuey had overheard the discussion and snatched it up! My head was spinning, I couldn’t breathe…  Luckily he sold it to me at a premium. I have to pay him $10 and bake him some cookies this Friday.

That brings us to today- my first blog post. I know; it’s a beauty.