Director’s Cut Friday. The Mommy Mambo.

I don’t live a wild life.

Never have and, at this rate, I seriously doubt that I ever will.

Honestly, I’m fine with that.

Completely.

I like my daily routine and I don’t like having it disrupted.

Not by small children and definitely not by small rodents who take over my attic and turn my quiet bedroom into a moany, barky, squirrel orgy center.

I’m not that kind of a girl!

So, as I sit here with my feet up and my evil laugh about to erupt from my throat, I’m insanely-happy to report that, since my last post on the subject of Operation Squirrel Annihilation, things have returned to normal around here!

I guess the creepy-backwoods-trapper-Dude’s second attempt worked.  And, it was worth every bit of the $115 I paid him.  Not.

Back to just dealing with my wild children and their wild child ways.

And, I’m not the only one living in a home filled with sloppy male beasts!

Mommy Mambo is in it up to her elbows shoulders too.

So, please give a warm welcome to my bloggy buddy and mom to 3 wild dudes of her own (twins + 1), Mommy Mambo.

Warning: It’s a hot and steamy picture this mama paints so hold on to your hormones ladies!

And remember, black is the guest, red is the best!

The Mommy Mambo on: The Wildlife Exchange

You know that place between the hip bone and the bellybutton on a man?  That place just visible above his swimsuit; smooth, taut with muscles, and smoldering with testosterone?  Or that soft patch of fur that covers the crevice between his pecs where your hand is drawn like a tiger to its prey?!  Me neither.  But, like the smell of my Granny’s chicken fried steak,  boy do I remember! (fanning myself) Opting not to fan myself to picture it vividly in my mind.  Oh thank you Justin Timberlake for being so unforgettably hot.  Wait, were you talking about your husband?  Yeah, well not me!

And I assume he remembers the way my red snakeskin pants slithered across firm curves and rested just above the lace of a thong and just below a sparkly butterfly dangling from the button of a smooth flat belly (choking back sob).   Choking back the desire to hate you a little because I don’t think I would have ever worn red snake skin pants, or described my belly as smooth or flat.  Maybe not the wiggly and jiggly it’s become today, but it’s never been my favorite body zone.  I have smokin’ hot ankles though.  Smokin’.  Hot!

Picture two college coeds; hungry eyes cutting to one another across a crowded lecture hall.  The backdrop was Miami, FL.  He was the Latin hottie.  Mine is a hottie Latin too!  I was the sweet Southern Bell far from her Texas home.  And, I’m sweet!  Not from Texas, but still, so super sweet.  It’s like we’re the same awesome person living the same awesome life in different awesome locales (we were in California when we met in college)!  Together we set the jungles of South Florida ablaze (this is my memory, OK!) with our burning desire.  Late nights of “studying” our medical courses (which obviously included human anatomy, duh!) were followed by weekends of too many Lemon Drop Martinis, beach lounging, and dancing like our very own production of Havana Nights.   Dumb Dad doesn’t like the beach, lounging on it, or dancing anywhere.  Guess our similarities ended with the Latin and the sweetness:(.

It was a wild life. (As wild as I could muster without recreational drugs,  arrests, or
x-rated video circling the globe).  Holy crap! You guys looked like Michael and Amanda on Melrose Place.  We looked, um, different from that.

Now picture this…

Feral eyes cutting across a room are not meant to seduce, but are a silent attempt at “let’s go home already” from the misery of dinner at the in-laws after a long day at work. Chatter from a troop of 3 Orangutans threatens to slice the eardrum of any poor soul within 3 square miles.  That stare, which I refer to as “The Stink Eye,” glares from a bald head, beneath a pair of glasses (cracked in the hands of the youngest primate in the tribe).  We call it the Stank Eye.  Tomato-tamatoe.   A 5 o’clock shadow reaches up toward ears where the hair from the bald head has relocated.  And that place between the hip and the bellybutton is spilling over the top of his green hospital scrubs.

And his glare rests on a haggard face without a speck of make-up, hair in a short fro 4 months overdo on maintenance; a lions mane of sorts.  Jogging pants and a hoodie conceal a jungle vine pattern of stretch marks upon a muffin top.   Seriously, are you peeking in my window?  While I undress?!  Because it sounds an awful lot like you’re describing my body!  I like to call mine a cupcake top though.  They’re bigger and more puffy.  Like my belly.

“Boys, hush and get your shoes on!  And pick up those toys so we can go home!”  she belts out in a drill sergeant tone. (sexy, huh?)   They head home and do the bedtime routine. As they climb in bed beside one another, the sounds of chimps ringing in their ears, thoughts of mortgages, work drama, doctors appointments, laundry, and legs to be shaved drift from their minds.  She slaps her arctic feet on his gorilla thigh.  I wear pink knit socks to bed.  Nothing more sexy than that! He gasps, but not too loud as to wake the wildlife.  But he lets them stay even if he won’t be getting any tonight. Cause he loves her.

Nothing but another naïve couple fallen victim to The Wildlife Exchange…

It’s a Wild Life…

Want more Mambo action?  Check out some of Mommy Mambo’s favorite posts:

• The post about the Fat Chick and Eating Healthy
• Some post about a Laptop and Stinginess
• The post where she calls someone or something A Bitch
• The post where her kids Talk Dirty

Tagged as: funny mom bloggers, guest blogging, mommy mambo