All in a Saturday’s Work

When we were kids, my parents thought it would be fitting to ruin our Saturday by leaving a “chore list” on the kitchen table for us to wake up to. I can still remember the sinking feeling in my stomach upon waking up refreshed on a Saturday morning, walking down to the kitchen hoping to find a donut but instead finding the dreaded chore list. Each of us five kids would sign our name next to the chore we were going to do. Sign-ups were on a first come, first serve basis, so it was really a catch 22 – if you got up early you could claim the easiest job and if you slept in you were left with the worst job. There were always the same four chores on the list with one wild card. The fifth job was always a B.S. job that my parents made up to avoid having one of the annoying brats they called children complain about how it wasn’t fair that they were forced to work while someone else got away without doing anything. Some chores were easier than others, so many fights broke out when it came to sign ups. The list looked a little something like this:

1. Mop kitchen floor and hallway

2. Clean first floor bathroom

3. Vacuum stairs and upstairs hallway

4. “Straighten up” and vacuum living room, dining room and TV. room

5. Wild card

“Vacuum the stairs and upstairs hallway” was always the first to be claimed because it was the easiest and everyone knew it. You could start at 12:10 and be finished in time to meet up with your friends for lunch at Souzy’s by 12:30. Not even a challenge. “Straighten up and vacuum the living room, dining room and TV room” was usually the second chore to go. “Straightening up” usually meant grabbing everyone’s stuff, throwing it into a pile, and then making them bring it up to his or her room, so that didn’t take long. Lucky for us, “straightening up” didn’t include dusting. My parents never really placed a strong emphasis on it. In fact, a bottle of Pledge still looks foreign to me. We like to let our dust settle into a nice, half inch layer or so before deciding to do anything about it. Dusting was really saved for holidays and special occasions. As you can see from the list, we focused our efforts on vacuuming. “Clean the first floor bathroom” was usually picked third. It wasn’t an ideal job because it included cleaning a toilet, which is just repulsive, and there was always the risk of getting bleach on your clothes. My brother usually took “Mop kitchen floor and hallway” which was nice because it was SO time consuming with the sweeping and the moving of chairs and filling the bucket with water. Too much prep work if you ask me. Plus, the bucket was pretty heavy to carry up the stairs from the basement – definitely man’s work. The wild card chore could range from something as easy as picking up sticks outside (yes, that was an actual chore in our house, although my parents were nice enough not to make us lay them straight), to something as awful as cleaning the second floor kid’s bathroom, which was a very time consuming task.  With five kids using the same bathroom the place got pretty disgusting. It’s quite possible that the West Nile virus originated from our second floor bathroom.

Now since my parents still have a majority of their adult children living at home sucking every last penny from them, the chore list still shows up from time to time. It is just as unwelcome now as it was when we were younger. In addition to the usual chores, some newer, more difficult duties have been added.  This is partly because my parents have been doing some renovations on our home and are trying to prevent our house from being in complete shambles. Ever since May I have been waking up to strange men in our kitchen and bathroom. I used to make an effort to avoid them seeing me in my pajamas, but getting dressed before noon just became too much of a burden. So basically everyday they would see me in my pink robe, fuzzy pink slippers, and my hand-me-down Old Navy pajama pants from the early 2000’s (back when Old Navy was at its prime). Such a seductive outfit, I know. With a glass of wine and a playful wink this old maid could be married in no time!

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(Upon taking this picture I realized I don’t know how to wink)

To be honest I wouldn’t even get out of bed before noon, but Full House is on in the mornings so I have to. They just don’t make shows like that anymore. Plus, as I grow older I can relate more and more to Jesse; we both live off of family members and each of us struggle to find a successful career. And we both have great heads of hair.

Since work was being done on our bathroom one chore my dad asked of me was to paint our one foot wide bathroom closet. All I can say is thank God I’m not claustrophobic. Here is a picture of it just to give you an idea of how small it is:

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No, that is not Ms. Trunchbull’s Chokey, it is an actual closet. It’s too soon to tell the permanent damage inhaling all those paint fumes in such a small space has caused me, but I will be sure to send any future medical bills to my parents. I did put a call in to the Department of Child and Family Services to inform them of the situation, but apparently when you are 22 child labor laws don’t apply to you. But all and all I can’t complain, my landlord parents are the best and they treat us well. Plus, gotta earn room and board somehow!


Did You Save Me Some Cookie Dough?

For those of you who don’t know my family very well, let me tell you: we are addicted to sugar. Guests in our house would think we ran a bakery with the number of sweets we have in our kitchen at any given time. And the freezer? It’s always stocked with cartons of ice cream, Klondike bars, ice cream sandwiches, frozen pies, etc. I think it’s safe to say we keep the local Baskin Robbins in business. When I was 16 and looking for a part time job my Dad wanted me to apply to Baskin Robbins for his own selfish reasons. I refused because I did not want my ice cream scooping arm (my right arm) to get bigger and more muscular than my left arm. I thought I would look like some sort of freak walking around with one arm bigger than the other from serving all that ice cream. Plus I was in high school, and you know kids, they can be so cruel.  I didn’t want to be the subject of teasing.


This is how I would look had I worked at Baskin Robbins

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Here is our freezer. And this picture was taken BEFORE we restocked for the week

In addition to our love of frozen treats, someone is always making cookies around here, and from scratch (we don’t eat that “store bought crap” as my dad refers to it). It is an unspoken rule in our house that if you make cookies you have to let everyone eat some of the dough before you bake it.  It doesn’t matter if someone isn’t home when the cookies are made. You just put the dough in a bowl in the fridge so it is waiting for them upon their return. I don’t care if that person is out of the country – they get cookie dough. If you make cookies and don’t save a family member some dough, you’re just being a bitch. Plain and simple. Consuming raw eggs doesn’t scare us. The chance of getting Salmonella poisoning? It’s worth the risk. And to keep up with the cookie demand we have been forced to make the “fruit drawer” in our basement fridge the “chocolate chip drawer.”

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Who needs apples or oranges when you have chocolate chips?

If you are craving a candy bar, no need to stop at a gas station or the local Walgreens. Just come into our pantry and you’ll find what you need: Reeses, Kit Kats, Crunch Bars, Butterfingers, and a Kelly family favorite, the 100 Grand Bar. A candy bar that is so underrated it makes me sad. It’s the perfect combination of chocolate and caramel. This one flies off the pantry shelf.

Now, our eating habits weren’t always this way. When we were kids my parents fed us as if it was still the Great Depression. I keep telling them they could have written a book on “how to keep your children from becoming obese.” Get Michelle Obama to endorse that crap and they would be set for life. She loves keeping kids skinny. I bet she would even implement the Kelly family eating habits on Sasha and Malia.

Our dinner was given to us on small salad plates and we ate our cereal out of tiny, old margarine containers. (I guess money was tight back in the day and we couldn’t afford real bowls) Getting up for seconds at dinner was like doing the walk of shame. But the most traumatizing part of it all was that my Dad use to buy reduced fat Oreos. I can still taste the awful sugar free cream filling in my mouth from time to time. It sends a chill down my spine just thinking about it.

Somewhere along the way (probably circa 2007) we made the jump from reduced fat Oreos to Double Stuffed, and we never looked back. Eating cereal from tiny margarine bowls? That’s a thing of the past. Now we pretty much eat any kind of sweet we want for breakfast and we justify it by likening it to a donut. Our theory is that you can trace any sweet that you eat for breakfast back to the donut.  Cake for breakfast? It’s just like a donut! Ice cream for breakfast? Well let’s see, at birthday parties you have ice cream with cake, and cake is just like a donut, so go ahead and eat that ice cream at 9 in the morning! I was once challenged on eating pudding for breakfast and this was my response: If you look at the pudding container, what is one of the first ingredients listed? Milk – a dairy product. Ice cream is a dairy product that you have with cake, and cake is just like a donut! Done. Cookies for breakfast? Please, that’s like the donut’s third cousin, totally acceptable.

Overcoming the freshman 15 was one thing, but overcoming the “I’ve returned from college and am now living at home” 15 is a whole new battle. A battle that I am losing every day.Don’t worry though I asked for a gym membership for Christmas to help shed some of this extra insulation. Also, my sisters and I have made a pact to resist the chocolate temptation and start eating healthy. We’ll start…tomorrow…

I Have no Job, So I Started a Blog.

It’s been about six months since I graduated college. And I’ve been unemployed for every one. I like to think of it as reverse retirement- instead of being old and rich I am young and poor. And instead of traveling the world I only travel from the couch to the kitchen. But at least I still have my good looks and ability to use the bathroom.

I moved back home with my parents and two older sisters, so basically my parents have three old maids living with them. I hope they’re not holding their breath waiting to become empty nesters… My roommates are pretty cool though and my Landlords maintain the house very nicely so I can’t complain. I have my own room for the first time in my 22 years of life. It’s great, I feel like I’m staying in a hotel because I can put all my clothes and other crap on my sister’s bed while she is away at college-lucky betch. It’s a fun house, the rent can’t be beat, and there is always food around.

I try to keep busy while I’m unemployed. I have even started a daily routine: I wake up, eat breakfast, read the headlines in the newspaper and then read the captions under each picture (Like I have time to read full articles). After that I empty the dishwasher which takes about five minutes-sometimes seven if we had a big dinner the night before and used a lot of dishes. Then I spend the rest of the morning thinking about what I should have for lunch and when I should have it-you know, so the afternoon doesn’t seem to drag so much.

My dog Duke and I have been getting in a lot of bonding time since we are usually the only two home. We take long walks (so romantic I know) and send out a lot of snap chats of ourselves. He always makes me do it, he’s pulled the “I don’t have thumbs” card way too many times and I’m getting sick of it. We have a bit of a love hate relationship.


The Turkey wanted to get into this one too


As you can see we do Holiday themed SnapChats as well


Someone get us a big gulp asap. We thirsty up in here

Since I spend so much time at home I have appointed myself manager of the house. I clean to keep busy and even have started to cook-things that will surely make me a great housewife one day. I run errands during the day such as going to the bank (obvi not making any deposits, only withdrawals) or the grocery store. Now, even though I am a woman in my twenties, I have a bit of a young looking face, one that puts me in the range of about 14. This causes some stares and worried glances from adults while I’m out and about during the day. I’m sure they are thinking such things as “Where are this girl’s parents?”  “Why isn’t this girl in school right now?” It hasn’t been confirmed but I’m sure I have solicited a few anonymous calls to the Department of Education’s Truancy Officer. Whatever, I have trouble getting into the bars now but everyone will be jealous when I’m forty. At least that’s what my mom says to make me feel better.

Well there’s some insight into my exciting new post grad life. Please don’t hold your breath waiting for my next post, I’m super busy these days so it may be a while.