I lost my leggings and my dignity but I got a blog post and a surfboard out of it.

So remember how a few years ago I got that invitation to the beer party in Atlanta? WELL GUESS WHAT HAPPENED AGAIN.

I got a little… well. I got a *lot* drunk on Friday night. The kids are out of town and apparently I felt like I needed to make up for all the alcoholic beverages I miss out on when I’m busy momming it up. Saturday morning had me in full on panic mode when I woke up with a missing tooth and a tiger in my hotel room.

Wait. Nope, that was a movie.

I woke up to a number of baffling things, though, the most confusing one being a confirmation email for a hotel reservation in Savannah next weekend sent at 1:44 in the morning, precisely the middle of my not-finest hour that night.


PANIC ENSUES and I almost cancelled a reservation for a woman with the same name as me. That’s right, it was another email meant for The Other Candace, my alter ego in Atlanta. So I forwarded it to her with an explanation of why I nearly ruined her trip.



At the time of this publishing, I have not yet heard back from The Other Candace. She might not be quite as amused at the mix-up as I am.


If you accidentally get invited to a beer tasting in Atlanta, find a way to say yes.

There are two things that are good to know about me. First, I make friends everywhere I go, and second, I really love my day job. I love my day job so much that I work late some nights to get some extra time in on projects, as I was on this particular night when my Gmail dinked alerting me that I had an Evite to a party. I assumed it was from one of the kids’ friends’ mothers, because no one invites anyone to a third grader’s birthday party with a few fill in the blank packs of overly happy clown invitations stuffed into 22 backpacks anymore. Now we send them directly to the spam filters so that I have to be informed of the party on Saturday morning by a kid going “are we leaving for Kaydince’s party yet?” followed by me rushing to throw on real pants, haul ass to Target, spend too much money on a piece of crap toy, and spend four hours at a roller rink pretending to be the kind of mom who limits her kids’ sugar intake, “Ok, sweetheart, just ONE small cup of Sprite, one little treat once in a while at a party can’t hurt.” Inevitably the conversation breaks down into out-organicking the other parents. If your kid’s lunch gets packed with non-dairy, wheat-free, sugar-free, organic, free range yogurt, you win.

So when the Evite came into my inbox late that night, I ignored it. Then a few minutes later, it was followed by an email from a name I didn’t recognize, inviting me and a gentleman named Taylor to a beer tasting party. Taylor’s last name was the same as mine, and I quickly realized that there is another Candice S. who had a very similar email address to mine. Rather than reply with a generic “sorry, wrong number,” I took a break from the report I was writing to tell them how terribly sorry I was to have to miss the party (since it was 6 hours away from me in Atlanta).


“Hi Candice and Taylor,

It’s your across the street neighbor, Luke. I got your e-mails from Katie A. because I wanted to invite y’all to our annual Backyard Brews party. I’m sending y’all the evite with all the details, but I wanted to give you the heads up. Katie and Kyle will be here, so there will be someone you know here (just wanted to let you know). Hope all is well.



“Dear Luke,

This gathering of yours incorporates two of my favorite things: beer and parties. I would be there in half a heartbeat if you actually were my across the street neighbor.

Unfortunately for me, my across the street neighbors are a sweet old retired chemist named Bill and his gossipy, sort of overly dramatic wife Marilyn. One time, my 11 year old son’s disc golf driver sailed into their yard and she came over 15 minutes later wringing her hands, worried that if her dog had been in the yard at the time, he might have gotten hit and suffered a concussion and asked that I please ask Dade to try not to throw the disk into her yard. After standing there for a moment to let the realization sink in that she was indeed not at all joking about the potential for canine brain injury, I apologized but told her that if Dade had better control over his throw, I wouldn’t keep kicking his butt at the disc golf course every weekend, so it wasn’t promising but I’d try and get him to be more careful anyway. Also she wears BRIGHT PURPLE Crocs to the grocery store which I simply cannot abide.

It sounds like it would be way more fun to be your neighbor instead. I don’t even think Bill and Marilyn drink beer. If I had to guess, she probably drinks pink wine out of a box, and he probably drinks Cheerwine while  fantasizing about slipping just the teensiest, tiniest bit of arsenic into her Franzia before mowing the lawn. I know I would think about that a lot if I were Bill.

So it is with regret that I decline your invitation, but I encourage Taylor and the intended Candice S. to join you at the annual Backyard Brews party, because awesome neighbors don’t come along every day. When you are lucky enough to live across the street from them, you should take every opportunity to raise your solo cup and toast your good fortune. And maybe drink one for me. 🙂

Very sincerely,
Candice Devinney S.
Wilmington, NC”


“Let me start this email reply-all by saying that I have seen no less than 5,000 hilarious emails in my life. Between college and 7 years in the construction industry I feel privileged to have a network of friends that send incredibly witty emails.

I must admit, this is the funniest email I have ever seen.

FYI I have looped in the Twitter-verified “#actuallyintendedcandAceS.” into this epic email.

It is crazy to think that there is actually more than one Candace S.that exists in this world. After all, the name is pretty rare unless you watch ESPN.

I’m upset to hear that Candice cannot  make it to the party. I’m also upset to hear that Marilyn doesn’t appreciate a good arm when she sees one. That kid could one day be an all-star. Let’s be honest…she’s lucky that he hasn’t lit a bag of poop on fire on her front porch. But there’s still time – he’s only 11 and one can only hope.

Luke, please accept this as our official rsvp to the party. And I also invite Candice S. to come to Atlanta for a frisbee-friendly environment. I also invite Bill to tag along so he can escape the prison in which he is currently trapped.

Thank you Candice for not simply filing this email but bringing a load of enjoyment to the group.

I hope you and Dade continue to push the boundaries of neighborhood disc golf.



And that’s the day I made friends in Atlanta by getting invited to their party by accident. I didn’t go, but it’s an annual party, and I totally still have the Evite with their address on it, so maybe one day I’ll road trip on down to crash that party.

Baby visiting for the holidays? I GOT YOU COVERED.

Baby Stuff

My brother and his kids moved down here last year so I went aunt-crazy and bought so.much.stuff. I wanted that squishy little chunk of baby at my house all the time, so I acquired this trove of baby items to accommodate him. Babies are expensive and seriously high maintenence, it was like Vespa in Spaceballs with all the junk we had to haul with us everywhere. “It’s my industrial strength diaper wipe warmer and I *CAN’T* live *WITHOUT* it!!” Pain though it was, however, said junk has served me well, and now it’s time to pass it on so my offspring can have all the ridiculously expensive electronic gadgets they think Santa is bringing them for Christmas.

Everything was used only part time and is relatively clean, from our smoke free, pet free home. (That’s only kind of a lie- my brother used to smoke a ton of pot but as far as I know he only did it in his girlfriend’s car. Also, we do have a turtle, but she was only on the booster chair one time and it was for a “turtle birthday party” which was my brother’s bright idea and I’m pretty sure he was baked AF that day, which is why it only happened that one time before I got home from work. I have thoroughly washed the booster chair since then.)

For sale:

A convertable high chair with one-hand removable tray. It rolls, and it also comes off of its perch to make a handy little booster chair. Turtles and babies agree it’s the most comfortable place to dine. $50

A little bouncy chair that vibrates. It used to have a tray, but the tray was poorly designed and didn’t detach so I may or may not have hulked it off in a fit of rage. Free with the purchase of the rest of the lot, on account of all the rage.

A walker, handy for those times when your baby is bored from sitting around doing nothing useful all afternoon and you feel like you really haven’t bashed your Achilles quite enough in the last few days and you’re jonesin for a fix. $15

A Pack n Play, which absolutely does *not* accomodate a 24 year old heavily intoxicated man, so don’t bother trying. Babies sleep here just fine though. $40

A spare car seat base for a Graco Snugride (Snug Ride?) which, hand to god this is a true story, does not include the actual car seat because aforementioned stoned brother strapped it to the back of his Schwinn cruiser to pick up a watermelon from Harris Teeter, got home, dismounted the bike, and promptly toppled the whole rig into the brick garage, spewing watermelon everywhere and staining the fabric. We read online that carseats shouldn’t be used after an accident, and after much debate over whether Gallaghering the carseat counted as a true accident, decided to err on the side of caution and threw away the seat. The base has never been in an accident because it’s always been in my car and thankfully my family only has room for one dumbass. $5

A plastic rocking horse, which has been ridden exactly one time by a guy I work with as he tried hitting on me by saying “I ride many things well” and giving me wiggly eyebrows, and has been ridden by the baby exactly zero times. (I have also ridden wiggly-eyebrows coworker exactly zero times if you care to keep count.) $10

A walk behind toy that has adjustable speed wheels so it doesn’t fly off in front of your baby. The annoying musical bit on the front actually isn’t as bad as a lot of the toys we’ve had, but it is removable for when you run out of Xanax. There is a little phone that goes with it somewhere in the house, but when I’ve sent my offspring after it, they got sidetracked playing with other baby toys and I was running out of light so I said screw it and took the picture without it. I might find it. I might not. I’m pretty sure your baby isn’t going to be brokering any high stakes deals with the phone, and the function of the toy is not affected by its absence. $10

I’m in the Pine Valley area, text or email with questions. I’m available after 3:15 pm weekdays, but my approximate window of sobriety is only about 4.5 hours long, so no texts past 8.