Foxy Wine Pocket

Me, uncensored.

The Perfect Wife

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Spoiler Alert: That’s not me.

The invitation to my husband’s company Christmas party could not have arrived at a better time. Like a summons from heaven, we were invited to don elegant clothing, dine amongst corporate elite, and spend the evening at an upscale hotel.

I wept tears of joy.

See, at the time, I had a three-year-old daughter, an infant son, two large dogs, and four cats under my round-the-clock care. (Take my advice: just have the baby; don’t pretend you’re not ready and adopt too many animals instead.) Still nursing my son, I was severely sleep deprived and generally ragged. Showers were infrequent (as was any basic hygiene), and milk, bodily fluids, and other mysterious substances constantly covered my skin and clothing. My best outfit included some capri maternity jeans from Old Navy and whatever machine-washable shirt didn’t have stains on it.

I was desperate for an adult night out without anyone clinging to me, needing to be comforted, fed, or changed. I was desperate to feel clean and beautiful. I was desperate for a full night’s sleep.

Oh yeah, I also wanted to support my husband, Mr. Foxy. Recently promoted, he wanted to make a good impression with the new VPs and the CEO. Arm candy couldn’t hurt. Operation “Be the Perfect Wife in Exchange for a Free Night on the Town” commenced.

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I Can’t Believe You Ate My Sandwich

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Over twenty years ago, my husband ate my sandwich. I still haven't forgiven him. @foxywinepocket

My husband and I battled for the first time over a sandwich. This argument happened over twenty years ago, and I still haven’t quite forgiven him.

You see, I have food issues. Growing up in a family of eight, mealtime was a battlefield, and as the youngest, I was generally the loser. We kids fought for every piece of food and ate as quickly as possible to not go hungry. On the very rare occasions that my father bought fast food, he would buy three boxes of fries for the six of us. Spoiler Alert: The math never worked in my favor.

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For Sale: My Husband’s Final Hopes and Dreams

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I haven’t been camping in over a decade. Wanna know why? Because I hate it. I fucking hate it.

I guess I didn’t always find camping so detestable. I spent my summers in high school working as a counselor at a campground outside of Yosemite. Three full months of that camping shit. In college, I used to personally initiate camping trips on the weekends and during breaks—pitching a tent, hiking, fishing, cooking up my catch—all that crap. Even in my early married years, I actually enjoyed camping as a leisurely activity.

Me, as a camp counselor. Of course that dirty hippy loved camping. Of course she did.

But now? Camping is dead to me.

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Follow Foxy Wine Pocket on Facebook and Twitter. You can also subscribe to my blog and never miss a new post. It’s quick and easy! (That’s what she said.)

Of Love and Mixtapes

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The first time I kissed Mr. Foxy, I immediately knew he was “the one.” Surreal and glittery and heart stopping, the moment our lips touched, I saw our entire future together, and it was warm and tingly. (I’m talking about the vision, not my lady parts.)

So what did I do after I discovered we were destined for each other? Well, I broke up with him. Naturally.

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Follow Foxy Wine Pocket on Facebook and Twitter. You can also subscribe to my blog and never miss a new post. It’s quick and easy! (That’s what she said.)

Rejected Bandages and Other Badges of Motherhood

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“Bacon is my favorite long food!” At age three, my son gifted me one of my proudest mommy moments:

My child could properly categorize food, and he appreciated one of the most magical flavors in the world.

Not that I’m biased, but bacon really is the best long food. And flat food. And able-to-be-crumbled food. I’ve been known to mix it with nuts. Put it in pancakes. And create an entire dinner party menu in which every single dish—from appetizers to dessert—includes bacon.

To celebrate my son’s newfound enthusiasm for cured pork and to support his insatiable bandage habit (he goes through approximately 20,000 each week), I purchased a shit-ton of, you guessed it, bacon bandages.

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Follow Foxy Wine Pocket on Facebook and Twitter. You can also subscribe to my blog and never miss a new post. It’s quick and easy! (That’s what she said.)

The REAL Love Your Spouse Challenge

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The Facebook "Love Your Spouse Challenge" is the easy way out. I've just upped the ante. @foxywinepocket #humor

I’ve been seeing all these beautiful pictures of my friends and their spouses on Facebook in the “Love Your Spouse Challenge,” a seven-day challenge designed to “celebrate your special union.” First dates. Weddings. Nights out on the town. Perfection, right?

Some of you have even created hilarious spoofs by posting pictures of your grilled-cheese sandwiches, burritos, and doughnuts (don’t you spell it “donut” or I will cut you). Hilarious, for sure, but not the real challenge.

The glamour shots aren’t the real challenge either though. It’s too easy to post flawless pictures of you and your spouse—special moments and occasions that highlight your love at its finest. What about the ugly moments? The hard ones? (That’s what she said.) The unflattering pictures? That’s where the real challenge comes in.

Allow me to up the ante.

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Follow Foxy Wine Pocket on Facebook and Twitter. You can also subscribe to my blog and never miss a new post. It’s quick and easy! (That’s what she said.)

6 Things I Overlook Because I Love My Husband

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Husbands can suck (that's what she said). But we love them anyways. @foxywinepocket | humor | snoring | farting

“If I could loan you my eyes, you would see how perfect he is.” My grandma declared this any time someone would dare insult my grandpa. She adored him, and he her. They had a true love affair.

I believe everyone should know such intense love—a feeling so strong, a bond so tight, a connection so deep that certain flaws get overlooked, because no one is perfect. Take my husband for example.

While he can always find the TV remote (even if it’s hidden in the couch cushions), he absolutely can not find any easily locatable household object ever.

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Follow Foxy Wine Pocket on Facebook and Twitter. You can also subscribe to my blog and never miss a new post. It’s quick and easy! (That’s what she said.)

Dancing the Dead Dog Jig

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Sometimes out of nowhere, a song latches on to your brain and won't let go. Actually, it happens to me quite frequently. And this story is horrible. @foxywinepocket | humor

Sometimes out of nowhere, a song latches on to your brain, slithers through the gyri, and won’t leave until you stick an icepick in your ear.

Actually, that happens to me quite frequently. Commercial jingles and 70s sitcom theme songs surprise and “delight” me by their random appearances in my head. (Unless it’s Friday. I hate that shit.)

Naturally I feel obliged to infect entertain everyone around me by sharing those songs.

Loudly.

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Follow Foxy Wine Pocket on Facebook and Twitter. You can also subscribe to my blog and never miss a new post. It’s quick and easy! (That’s what she said.)

15 Ways You Can Get Us in the Mood

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Instead of flashing your man parts or slapping our backsides, if you really want to turn us on, try a few of these mood enhancers instead. @foxywinepocket | humor

Listen up, men. We women are hard-working, exhausted, and possibly a bit cranky from our daily demands. Oftentimes, we’re not feeling in the least bit sexy. As manly as you try to sound, “Wanna do it?” is not going to get our juices flowing. Your tried-and-true mating rituals, like flashing your man parts or slapping our backsides, are much more likely to get an eye roll than a roll in the hay. These days, if you really want to turn us on, try a few of these mood enhancers instead:

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Follow Foxy Wine Pocket on Facebook and Twitter. You can also subscribe to my blog and never miss a new post. It’s quick and easy! (That’s what she said.)