They Just Had To Go And Do It

I find this to be absolutely disgusting - an abomination in the land of toys. Aren't the rubber and plastic ones bad enough? Do we have to take this one more step? Why couldn't they have just come up with another really cool remote control car?

Whoever came up the this concept should be shot - preferably by me.

Jim, I'm telling you right now that if you buy this thing, it better not come crawling into my office. I will squish the mechanical terror with a heavy book or two from my credenza.

I will then retaliate by letting you enjoy this. Yes, I am threatening you on a public forum.

Don't even think of telling Charles about it. I will monitor all future conversations between the two of you.

UGH! Nasty, nasty things. I firmly believe that anything with more than four legs should be killed and that death should be accompanied by a nice crunching sound.

I hate, HATE spiders. I woke up the other night with one crawling up my arm. Charles thought there was an ax murderer in the house with all the screaming I did. I woke up the baby and everything. Fuckin ORKIN man had better get his ass back out to my house and spray PRONTO or I will rip off his head and use his skull as a bowl. I will eat his liver if I see another spider in my house! GAH! I can't help it if they freak me out. They are indescribablely gross.

It bad enough the nasty little boogers have way to many legs and far to many eye balls, BUT THEN THEY HAVE THE NERVE TO GROW HAIR!!!!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

I came across one really nasty one a couple of weeks ago while cutting the grass. It was brown and it looked like it had a really bad case of acne. I put it out of it's misery and then realized that it didn't have acne. It had a whole shit load of baby spiders on it's back. When I squished it, the little boogers flew off in every direction. (I put some force into that stomp I can tell you) A couple of them crawled across my shoe and started going up my leg. I was screaming like a mad woman. My dog started barking at me and chasing me while I was running around doing the freak out dance and slapping at my leg.

Yeah, I'm a big sissy when it comes to spiders. I admit it. I don't care. They should all die, and it's my mission to make sure that they do.

Who's with me?

I Finally Did It

In case you haven't noticed, I've changed the title to my blog. I joked about it over at Eva Las Vegas, and the more I thought about it, the more I liked it. It's just funny. Suck eggs if you're offended. THANKS Kristen for giving me a spot to verbally vomit that, and thanks Pooper for being my sounding board. Kevin, hope you like it. To those of you who link to me, you can change it on your side bar if you want. I know that it would probably offend some of your family members who read your blog and don't believe in swearing, and I don't want that - I'm serious. My mission in life is not to offend everyone, just most people (grin)

I have also broken down and planted the garden. Or more to the point, Charles finally got out there and tilled everything up. I tried to do it, but the tiller we have is approximately 700 years old and is only staying together because the rust is some how gluing it all together (super rust instead of super glue). It also weighs roughly the same as a full grown bull African Elephant and pulls just as hard. (I have nicknamed it "THING") Add to that, we have clay in our yard and it's really good at growing every kind of rock you can think of. Big rocks, little rocks, gigantic rocks, and pea sized rocks. Put a garage band on our property line and they would rock. We have so many rocks in our yard, and more showing up everyday, I have threatened to start putting them in the wheelbarrow and dumping them in the driveway - which is sorely in need of a new coat of gravel. I mean really, why buy new when you can have used? The only thing holding me back is, if I do, the driveway will then blend with the rest of the yard and I would hate to drive on the incorrect rocks and screw up the balance of the universe.

So I spent my morning watching Charles walk behind Thing and couldn't help but think he looked like he was having some sort of seizure with all the jumping and jarring and pulling and vibrating. (No I didn't laugh at him...well...okay, yes I did. But only a little) When he was done, he walked back to the house and I noticed that his hands were touching his knees. Which is good, I've always liked that in my primates. He came inside and collapsed on the floor in a sweaty heap. "I'm done." Shocking news that. 'Bout that same time Super Kid finally went to sleep and Lauren came in to cool off from a strenuous morning of riding her bike - DOWN HILL ONLY - in our driveway (yes, the one with no rocks - how many driveways do you think I have

I took the opportunity to grab the seeds and head outside and get my hands dirty. Hubby followed behind with the "I'll get you for this" expression on his face, Lauren stayed behind to listen to the baby snore and was told to yell out the window if he woke up. I was going to plant everything on my own - you know, do the really hard work, but I didn't want hubby feeling like I was horning in on his fun, so I let him tag along. We planted radishes (because we love The Admiral here), lettuce, onions, tomatoes, corn, okra(GAG), cabbage, green beans, squash, red and yellow sweet peppers, and cucumbers. (no carrots - we have more rocks in our garden than we do in the driveway and they would grow weird)

We were pretty proud considering the amount of viable soil here is only about the size of your thumbnail. Never mind that the rows look like they were made by the crooked old man who lived down the crooked lane, or something like that. We added compost last year, so we skipped it this year. I'm cheap that way. Besides, I have already gone to BJ's Wholesale (everyone kneel - I believe in buying in bulk) and bought a box of Miracle Grow so damn big we could house a homeless family in it. (I'm all about Habitat for Humanity - I do my part)

I'm really curious to see how it's all going to turn out. This will be the first year that we have had a garden that we can look after. I'm pretty excited.

Wish me luck, or at least turn your back when you laugh.

Hey Good Lookin! What Cha Got Cookin?

I can't cook.

Well, that's a lie. I can cook. You can eat it and everything, you just wouldn't want to repeat the experience, and you need to make sure you use someone else's taste buds. I mean, it won't kill you, but the severe, seizure like convulsions that you get after partial digestion just might.

I've never really liked the kitchen or anything to do with the kitchen. Except for good food - which means I can't be the one cooking it and that's okay with me.

Charles is a master in the kitchen. He can go in with no idea of what we're having for dinner and serve up something that will make you sit up and beg for it to be low cal which of course never happens. We call it cupboard cooking. He just throws something together and it automatically tastes heavenly.

Me, on the other hand. Whoa Nelly. I've tried the old cupboard cooking a couple of times. Ummm, it didn't work out to well. The first time I served up some sort of gray noodle concoction that I think could possibly be illegal on all 50 states as a deadly weapon. Lauren, who was about 4 at the time, was grossed out. "Mommy, do I have to eat this?" Hint taken. Thanks kid. Now let me tell you the truth about Santa, the Easter Bunny, and oh, the Boogie Man is real. Sweet dreams.

The second time I tried it was some sort of hamburger noodle thingy with cheese. Sounds slightly interesting doesn't it. Kind-a like hamburger Helper. Well, don't let me fool you. The dog wouldn't eat it. Really. The DOG wouldn't eat it. Seems he didn't care for the cup of red pepper I mistakenly dumped in it. WHAT? The top was loose damn it, and I managed to get most of it out. STOP LAUGHING. (the old salt shaker trick - I think Charles was trying to sabotage me)

Would you like to hear about my biscuits? Sure you would, because hearing about them is far better than eating them. Let me just tell you that no amount of butter, jam, preserves, margarine, or WATER could introduce moisture to those things. I threw them out my back door, hit a dog and he YELPED and RAN LIKE HELL. I didn't mean to hit the dog. My dog was inside, I didn't know he was there - but needless to say, he hasn't been back. I hope I didn't break a bone or anything. He wouldn't come to me when I called - and really - can you blame him? Thank God they didn't have points on them or anything, I could have killed him. But then again, I could have made a lot of money selling them as crafty NINJA STARS.

I have however, managed to learn how to cook a few things to keep starvation at bay. I have listed them for you below.

1. Canned soup is good
2. Uh, canned soup - What?! - there are lots of vitamins and shit in there. It's good for you. No damn it, I don't want to hear about the MSG and sodium. In my world, we need vast quantities of those too.
3. Fresh fruit
4. Fresh vegetables
5. HUH? what was that? Don't give me that crap that they don't count. Sure they do, we eat them don't we? Some preparation is involved - you know - like washing and peeling and sometimes I even have to cut them up. Besides, they have to count, I don't have anything else to put on this list........ OH WAIT!
6. BREAD - HA HA! thought of one.
7. uh - SANDWICHES - ha ha That's yummy goodness right there.

......I can hear you snickering.

-----------------------------------

This post was done because I lost a bet with hubby. Yes, I'm a terrible cook, I freely admit it. All the above stories are true - except for the part about hitting the dog, I had a neighbor do that one. It was part of the bet that I divulge my terrible cooking skills if I lost. I do know how to cook more than the list above, but the humor just seemed to go well with the rest of the post, so I put it in. Hope you all have a great weekend.

Only Happy When It Rains

I'll be the first to admit I'm not much for art, but I love a pretty picture. Unfortunately, I don't have much of an eye to take the pictures, the best I can do is take out of focus shots of the floor. But I do admire them after they have been taken, matted, framed and appropriately overpriced for purchase.

Sometime last week, I stumbled across a photo journal. Some of these pictures are just breath taking. So lovely. Claire has an unbelievable eye and she lives in Scotland, which I've been told is one of the most beautiful countries on earth. It certainly seems that way.

Go visit her and enjoy her beautiful pictures. Give her a shout to let her know you were there. She even has a site you can visit to buy one or four of her pictures if you want and the prices won't force you to mortgage your home.

(One of my favorite pictures is the one of the pansy entitled PURPLE, the colors are just so vivid and wonderful)

Sorry, Been Busy

AAAHHHHH. A little quite time.

Apologies to you all. My visits have been a bit spuratic and email replys haven't been up to snuff, but I think you'll forgive me. Super Baby has the stomach flu.

It brings back fond memories of when Lauren finally learned to go puke in the toilet so I wouldn't have to clean it all up. Sigh.

Poor little kid. I had a real big scare when I took him to the Dr. Connor's spleen was way way to big. ENLARGED. We had blood tests done and all that fun stuff and I smoked heavily for a couple of days, but all is well. I would much rather him have the stomach flu. That, after all, will go away.

I get to go back to work tomorrow! YES!! Charles will be staying home with him. He's a great dad and will give kisses and hugs and loves to my little man and take great care of him. (HA! MY MAN IS BETTER THAN YOURS! HE CLEANS BABY PUKE!)

I have something in store for you tomorrow. I was wanting to post on it on Tuesday, but was unable to touch the keyboard much to share.

But that's all you get for now. Super Baby is waking up and I'm afraid there's another diaper with my name on it. (on the outside - not the inside)

Advantages and Disadvantages of My Weight and Body Shape

Alright, before I get any emails telling me what an insensitive asshole I am, understand that I wrote this about ME. This is in NO WAY poking fun or belittling ANYONE of ANY weight or body shape- except for me. I'm allowed to make fun of myself - so get over it.

When I was pregnant with Lauren, I gained 100lbs. Before I was pregnant with her I weight a whopping 125lbs (I'm almost 5'8") and was so skinny my spine stuck out and you could clearly see my ribs. (Can you say anorexia?) Needless to say, the weight gain bothered me a lot, so to make myself feel better, I jotted down the advantages and disadvantages of my new weight. I lost all but 30 lbs (which was a good weight for me) and then I got pregnant with Connor and gained 60 lbs with him and added a few more advantages and disadvantages.

I ran across it the other evening going through some of my short stories and such. I thought it was funny and wanted to share it with you. Enjoy.


Advantage - I have fewer wrinkles than most people my age.

Disadvantage - Since I gain weight in my hips and thighs and buttocks, my cheeks are extremely smooth - but not the cheeks on my face.

A - I can really fill out a pair of jeans - I have Junk in my Trunk!

D - Junk in your trunk should not include the Titanic.

A - My ass and hips are one with The Force.

D - The Force is the denim trying to pull everything into one time zone.

A - I still look good in skirts.

D - I can't wear brown skirts. I'll look like the liberty bell - complete with walking vent.

A - I amazingly don't have any cellulite.

D - My thighs look like watermelon poles.

A - If I fall, I'm less likely to break a bone.

D - If I fall, I'm more likely to break the floor.

A - I have hips!

D - I look like a coffee table got shoved side-ways up my ass.

A - I have boobage!

D - If I look straight down, I can't see my feet. (They don't seem to grow in the shade)

A - When I try sit ups now, my spine doesn't dig into the floor.

D - I can't do sit-ups. I just kinda roll around on the floor and call it good. (think over-turned turtle)

A - I'll burn more calories more quickly simply by moving around because I'm carrying so much weight.

D - When I move, so does the house.

A - I still have a body shape.

D - So do whales and Oprah - I think we may all be related.

-----------

Disadvantage - I have a lot of stretch marks.

Advantage - The map to the world is on my stomach. I will never get lost again.

D - None of my clothes fit.

A - SHOPPING!

D - My stomach sags.

A - It matches my breasts.

Fuck this, I'm calling Jenny.

ADDENDUM: Oh Good Grief. To the people that sent me emails: I want you to look at the very first paragraph again...now read it. No really, go read it, pay special attention to the last sentence, the bit after they hyphen....I'll wait..............DONE? Good. Do I really need to go any further? Now go suck your thumbs.

Spread the Love

Please go HERE and read this. You'll thank me for it.

Jim will give you quite a good laugh. It seems he loves to fly, and has a special affection (or affliction) for Cali.

Funny, Funny stuff.

My Practical Jokes - Agony Level - EXCRUCIATING

I just wanted to pass on to you a few of my all time favorites.

This particular one I did to poor, poor hubby. It's amazing he still loves me. Well, more to the point, it's amazing I'm still breathing.

Once upon a million years ago, when I was pregnant with my daughter Lauren, My hubby was in PLDC. It's a school the Army has to teach soldiers how to become Sergeants - Leaders of Men and Women.

I was allowed to visit hubby - or rather hubby-in-training, once a day and bring him anything that he might need as his "Sponsor".

Well, during this particular visit, I had just gotten my first ultra sound that afternoon and was on a natural high. I was in a great mood and was feeling extremely devilish. "What can I do to fuck with him?" I thought. "There has got to be some way I can mess with his brain in some general way without getting him into to much trouble." I kept thinking about it the whole time I was driving over there.

It was part of the school discipline for him to stand at Parade Rest while I was speaking to him, even though I was a lower rank. He was not allowed to laugh, and was only allowed to talk sparingly. Hubby is one of the most self-disciplined individuals I have ever met and it was a real challenge for me to try break it. As I was walking up, a thought struck me (it hurt). I knew what I was going to do and I had to fight HARD to keep the smile off of my face.

Hubby was released from the chow line to contact his "Sponsor" - me.

Me - Well, do you want to know how the ultra sound went today?

Charles - (quick nod of the head)

Me - It's twins.

Charles - (blank look)

Me - Did you hear me? I said it's twins.

Charles - (blank look)

pause - me waiting for reaction.

Me - Okay fine, it's not twins. They can't tell what sex the baby is, but there is only one.

Charles - (blank look)

Me - (sighing deeply) Okay, do you need anything?

Charles - No.

Me -(shaking head) Okay, I'll see you next week.

I left feeling very disappointed. I thought FOR SURE that would get him. HELL, it would've messed with my head! I was mopey the rest of the day. I didn't know if I would ever be able to get him.

I went to visit him the next week, all thoughts of the previous week's visit were out of my head.

Me - Hey there soldier man. Do you need me to bring you anything?

Charles - No. . . how are the babies?

Me - Babies? Our baby is fine. What other baby?

Charles - (jaw dropped) huh? wha? You said twins.

Me - huh? OH! ... Didn't you hear the part where I said there was only one?

Charles - No, I didn't get that part. (relief swept across his face - to this day, I would swear in a court of law I saw tears of joy in his eyes.)

Me - How did you not get that part? I told you right after I told you we were having twins.

Charles - I was really focused on the "TWINS". I was to traumatized to focus on anything else. The only thing I remember after that was laying in my bunk later that night.

Me - Oh...uh....sorry.....There's only one.


When I think about this it was cruel - but damn it - I told him right after! It was not my intent to keep him in pain for a full week.

I feel kinda bad about it - but I'm still cracking up, 9 years later.

I hope he never gets me back for this one.

The Garden of Shame?

Hubby and I have been languishing in togetherness and it's making me sick.

No, I'm not talking about indulging ourselves in the horizontal mambo (even though that has come up in conversation). I'm talking about enjoying each other out of bed - you know - TALKING to each other...and now I remember why I don't talk to him (it's a joke - jeeeeeezzzz - work with the joke - don't screw it up - even though we all know I secretly adore him, I still get to make jokes at his expense because we're married.

First some background:

We live WAYY, WAYYYY, WAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYY out in the country. So far out in the country that the deer come right up into our yard. We also have a few squirrels, some bunnies, a couple of 'possum, foxes, raccoons and a whole ass load of frogs that live in the stream that runs through our back yard. We call them "The neighbors". We also have "People Neighbors" but I will not be referring to them anywhere in this story.

Hubby has an amazing gift of knowing when I need to vent about something... or everything. It may be the fact that my head turns 360 degrees while I projectile vomit, but I don't think so. Men are not known for cluing in to subtle hints like that. He knows that venting about something is the best thing for me. I'm not looking to him to find the answers all the time, we do it jointly. If I verbally vomit my stress, I feel a lot better about it and am better able to deal with it and the situation causing it. To anyone else, it would just sound like a lot of bitching and whining.

Now the story:

Mom was staying longer than planned down in NC, spending time with her mother, and Charles and I were sharing a day all to ourselves, until the kiddies got out of school. We haven't had lunch together for quite a while and it has been over a year since we had breakfast out together. He usually gets home at 9-10pm, sometimes later, and I'm so tired I'm usually asleep or just on the edge of it, no matter how hard I try and stay up to ask about his day. So this was a real treat.

We were at IHOP (the International House of Pancakes for all you people who don't have one located conviently near you). We had purchased the local newspaper so we could Tsk over the goings on in our community when the subject of all the rain we've been getting lately came up.

This is the conversation that ensued:

Me - It's a good thing we haven't put anything in the garden yet. Everything would have drown.

Hubby - Yeah, I talked to mom (HIL) about it. She said we can put it in late. We'll just have to harvest late and water more to combat the heat for the cooler weather plants.

Me - Well that's no big deal. I bought that extra hose (total of 3) so it should reach all parts of the garden this year. That'll be great. That way all I have to do is put the sprinkler attachment on and turn the hose on when I get home.

Hubby -I think it would be best if you just turned the nozzle attachment to "rain" and stood out there and watered them that way. You've got time for it. You get home a lot earlier this year than you did last year. Shouldn't be any problem.

Me - HUH?! WHAT?! Honey, I'm running from the time I get home. First there's Lauren. I have to help with and/or check homework, make sure she takes a bath and not just stands in the bathroom while the water is running and then sprinkle herself later to it looks like she took a bath. I need to make sure she lays out her clothes for the next day and check to make sure she does her chores. Then there's Connor. What am I supposed to do - just put him in the playpen all evening? There's diapers that need changing and dinner to cook, and I can tell you that it's not easy cooking when little dude wraps his arms around my knees so I can't walk, while screaming so I'll pick him up. Of course I can't pick him up because I refuse to cook while holding him. What if he gets splashed with something? What if he grabs something hot? So I have to try and find something non-lethal to occupy him so I can cook dinner, but that never works...I'm guaranteed at least 30 minutes of all out screaming - MINIMUM - while I'm trying to put dinner on the table and just pray that dinner doesn't burn while I'm trying to distract him. Then I have to bath him and give him his medicine which is even worse than changing his diaper - you know how he kicks and screams and squirms and spits it all out! Lets not even talk about laundry, vacuuming, dusting, mopping, cleaning bathrooms and just general straightening of the house. We also have a dog, 3 cats and an aquarium with 2 goldfish that Lauren has named Jake and Harry. I also have to find time to spend with the kids! I would actually like to know my children instead of just their names. I don't have time to screw around with the garden during the week. I save that shit for the weekend after I cut the grass on Saturday, but before church on Sunday.

Hubby - *giving me funny look*

Me - WHAT?! FINE! I'll set aside one day a week where I'll go and hoe around in the garden if you think it needs more attention.

Hubby - (pause) ... so uh, you'll be hoing around in the garden huh.

Me - Well, yeah (abrupt stop)... oh damn!

-laughter from both-

Hubby - (sing little diddy) "Hoing in the garden!" "Hoing in the garden"

-more laughter and other patrons in IHOP are getting upset with us, I gave them dirty looks but we lowered our voices -

Hubby - So, who are your customers? We live to far out in the country for you to have a high clientele. Are people walking through the woods? What's REALLY going on when I'm not home?

Me - DAMN. My secret is out. I have to come clean honey. It's our neighbors. They're animals.

We laughed a bit more and both lit a cigarette. That laughter and time together was better than any cover rumpling we could have done.

Hubby - Getting stressed out are you? What can I do? Do you need me to do anything?

Me - (giving sappy love looks and wanting to rape him in the restaurant) There's nothing you can do that you aren't already doing. I knew it was going to be difficult when you started this shift, but we need the money and it has the added advantage of giving you 2 four day weekends a month. It's not like you're lazy or something. You work 10 to 12 hours a day and you drive an hour one way to work. On your days off you help with the kids and the house. On the days you do work, you get the baby ready in the morning and give him his medicine and pack his bottle bag.

Hubby - You could let me cut the grass. I've been asking you to let me cut it for weeks.

Me - No. It gives me some exercise and I need something physical. Besides, it gives you time with the kids.

PAUSE

Hubby - I love you.

Me - I love you more.

Hubby - nu-uh

Me - uh-huh

Hubby - nu-uh

Me - uh-huh infinity.

Hubby - nu-uh infinity plus one

Me - We are so damn childish.

Hubby - So?

Back in a Bit

Well everyone, I'm going to be gone for a couple of days. (dry your eyes)

My mother is coming to visit and I get to abuse her in person instead of having to do it via telephone and blog. (insert evil laugh here)

She's flying in from Albe-q-q New Mexico (you can figure it out). The last time I saw her was when Connor was 7 weeks old and had his surgery. She flew in to help. (THANK GOD!) She was our savings grace - literally. She is an RN and really helped sooth me when I thought the world was crashing down around me. I felt so totally at ease letting her tend to Super Baby. There is no one else on the face of this earth that I would have trusted to watch him, and I mean that.

And to answer the inevitable question...my mother loves Charles. Charles loves my mother. They get along great! I often joke that if he and I ever get a divorce, my mother will take his side. (this of course is not true - she would support me publicly and slap me silly privately for letting such a good man get away.)

I do however, have a couple of things for your viewing pleasure...pictures


Charles, Me and Lauren

August 1998

(This is the only picture of me in my wallet, so that's all you get)

Lauren was 4 months old. ISN'T SHE CUTE! You are allowed to drool over hubby - just not to much.

Yes the curl is natural.


NEXT!










My little angel Lauren. October 2000. This was taken while we were stationed in Mannheim, Germany. The play ground was just behind our housing.

Yes, yes, you are so right. She is adorable.

NEXT!








Lauren April 2002.

You just can NOT tell me she isn't cute. LOOK AT HER!

Yes, that's a real bunny.

NEXT!












My Lauren again - Sept 2003. Beautiful isn't she.

She looks just like her mother. (grin)




NEXT!










Lauren April 2005




The most beautiful girl child on the face of the earth. (to me any way)






NEXT!








Lauren March 2006 - It's okay...you can envy me.






NEXT!















This is Super Baby, aka Connor.

Oct 2005

I've been so lucky that both of my kids are happy kids.
None of that sour puss stuff unless they are sick. I accomplish this by slipping drugs in their milk. (NOT)

NEXT!



Crap, I can't get this next one to load. It's one of him and Santa. It's the same Santa that the White House uses. Best damn Santa I've ever seen, and Super Baby looks extremely cute. Oh well, use your imagination.

NEXT!







Super BABY! Connor April 2006.

I'm surprised he is smiling at all in this picture. He was, and still is suffering from dual ear infections.

He went back to the doctor today and they put him on another round of high strength antibiotics. Poor kid. He just can't catch a break.

He's still cute as hell in his little bermuda shorts and Dockers shirt though. Still no hair or teeth. sigh.

That's right, blow kisses at the screen. It's okay, no one can see you but me.


Well, that's it. I hope you enjoyed the tour thru the pictures in my wallet.

Hope you all have a great weekend and to all those mommies out there...

HAPPY MOMMIES DAY!

---------------

My thanks to Blind Squirrel Studios for the pictures.

This Just Keeps Getting Better and Better

I wasn't going to post anything today, but after an email I received from one of my readers, I feel compelled.

Dear Nikki,

I happened upon your blog and have been richly entertained with your wit.

However, I am disappointed that you do not make observations on politics. I feel that your slant on our rather muddled reality would really liven things up.

Could I trouble you to post on something political?

Sincerely ,

(I'm not gonna give you the name)

-This email has been edited and posted with permission of the sending party -


First and foremost I must say...DAMN I AM GOOD! ANOTHER EMAIL! YEAH BABY! (doing silly little dance) GO NIKKI! GO NIKKI! IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY! (slapping my own butt)

(After composure has been restored and ice-pack applied to my posterior)

Mr. No Name,

Hey thanks for writing in! I am always eager to hear from those of us who have twisted humor. *SMOOCHES*

I am sorry to say, I don't post on politics. I stay far, far away from politics. I am unable to have an intelligent conversation about politics, but neither can the politicians, so I don't feel to bad.

I will however make this one exception just because you took the time to write to me and it made me grin my ass off. ( Oh hubby! Come here! I'm in a really good mood!)

Today's subject matter will be ...

The General Stupidity of Politicians and Politics

Brian E. Karst, 34, was running for Common Council as an Independent candidate in upstate New York. In October 2005, he was arrested for a plethora of traffic violations and was found to have a blood alcohol content of nearly twice the legal limit. Karst was later released to a third party and was again arrested for DUI three hours later, driving the same car as before. This "Leader of Humanity" was previously arrested in September 2005 for the same damn thing.

A bill introduced to the Alaskan legislature proposed to make "all public flatulence, crepitation, gaseous emissions, and miasmic effluence" illegal. Anyone convicted would be subjected to a $100.00 fine. (Beans and cabbage were later submitted to the legislature as food products of those who wished to have weapons of crass destruction)

Once upon a time, a butcher from WV recruited 150 of the locals, and formed a chapter of the KKK. The Grand Dragon came to bless it and everything. The Grand Dragon was so impressed, he recommended the young butcher go in to politics "The country needs young men like you in the leadership of the nation" he said
The butcher, Sen. Robert C. Byrd (D-WV) has won praise for his opposition to the war in Iraq and defends the rights of minorities.
(Did I miss something?)

"They say Democrats don't stand for anything. That's patently untrue. We do stand for anything." --Sen. Barack Obama (D-Ill) (he he - no further narration needed)

Our illustrious leader's response after being questioned if the war in Iraq and the rise of terrorism are signs of the apocalypse "Hmmm, uhh, hah -- ummm -- I, the answer is -- I haven't really thought of it that way, heh, heh. Heh. Here's how I think of it. Ummm -- heh heh. First I've heard of that, by the way, I, ah -- uhh -- the, uhh -- I, I guess I'm more of a practical fella. Uhh. I vowed after September the 11th that I would do everything I could to protect the American people. And, uhh -- my attitude, of course, was affected by the attacks. I knew we were at a war. I knew that the enemy, obviously, had to be sophisticated, and lethal, to fly hijacked airplanes, uhh, into -- facilities that would, we would, killing thousands of people, innocent people, doin' nothing, just sittin' there goin' to work."

Thats it I'm afraid.

No Name, I hope you liked it, and thanks for the email.

Bits and Bobs

Dear Readers (read "Victims")

I submit for your snorting pleasure, the funniest webpage I have ever come across. I give it to you because you will love me forever and ever. I give you... Engrish. You will not be able to resist bookmarking it.

I found it when I was reading Diary of a Goldfish, which I found through Attila's site .

WELL! What are you still doing here? For cripes sakes, go learn some Engrish.

A couple words of warning: DO NOT VIEW THIS AT WORK. DESK BEATING AND HYENA LIKE LAUGHTER WILL GIVE AWAY THE FACT THAT YOU ARE SURFING THE NET!
______________________


For those of you who have experiemented with crosstitching and failed miserably - and those of you who excel at it, I give you..(trumpets and fanfair)..Subversive Crosstitch. I also discovered this one via Diary of a Goldfish.

I think Heather will be especially interested in this site. She has been very gracious in giving me stitching tips. There are a couple of pics on her site showing what she had done and it blows me away.

Every time I try to do something with thread, it comes out tangled, mangled and pitiful. When people ask about it, of course I lie and tell them it's a high brow cat toy. (envy me for my expensive cat toys - they are custom made no less)

Have fun boys and girls.

Tomorrows Tears

I watch you grow
from so little to so tall.
Holding precious hands
so you won't fall.

Kissing boo-boos
and giving hugs.
Your lovies are so addictive,
ancient mommy drugs.

I count each rib
1,2,3.
Watch the school bus
as you wave bye-bye to me.

We buy clothes
and things for your room.
Bright yellow and pink
to cast out the gloom.

Here before me
what do I see?
A little person,
so much better than me.

What do I do when
when you're all grown up?
I'll cry giant tears
in my loving cup.

10 Things About Me to Confuse You

1. I love practical jokes. Not the kind where you get a bucket of water dumped on your head, there's nothing funny about that unless you've been swimming and are already all wet - I'm not totally hateful - just mostly hateful.
2. I have a scar from a bullet on my upper thigh... just kidding.
3. I enjoy my own humor. A.k.a., I laugh at my own jokes, which to most people is bad manners. I don't get that. Why would you make a joke that you don't laugh at? Laugh for crying out loud. Laughter is good. I will laugh with you and at you. I will laugh at myself first because well, I'm funnier than you. No really, joking aside, I don't feel that you should be able to laugh at anyone or anything unless you are able to laugh at yourself first.
4. I dislike stupid people, elitist asses, and drama queen/kings equally.
5. I feel uncomfortable expressing my emotions unless I am talking to my immediate family. Otherwise, it comes out as a joke. Yes, I know, bad form, but what can ya do?
6. When I had my daughter 8 years ago, I didn't even know how to change a diaper or hold a baby. I wish I could describe the nurses faces from the delivery room when one of them asked me if I wanted to hold her and I told her I didn't know how.
7. I am currently trying to expand my horizons. One of the ways I am doing this is by visiting various different types of blogs. I like the fact that I get that personal feed back from most of them and some good debates and conversation come from them as well.
8. I have a bad temper and show it to just about everyone except my children. I'm working on fixing that. My mother told me a while back that I should control my temper and not let it control me. Even I can not deny the truth and wisdom in those words. I am having a hard time balancing that with when I feel like someone is insulting me or doing me wrong in someway. I have a hard time not cussing them out on the spot. I am trying to get my brain to shift into a mode where I can tell them off without cussing them out - rather than giving them the standard - GO FUCK YOURSELF - BITE ME DIPSHIT - or the ever popular - SIT ON IT AND SPIN DICKHEAD. And no, I do not have a problem with confrontation, though I rarely instigate it.
9. My father died when I was 9 from a brain tumor. I have some memories of him, mostly of when he was sick - radiation, chemotherapy, 3 different surgeries. I feel cheated. I have a lot I would like to talk to him about.
10. I LOVE classical music like Bach and Mozart, enjoy some opera, love ballet and believe classical guitar is the best thing ever.

Nikki's Moving Up in the World

I received this email. CHECK IT OUT!!!

Nikki (If that is your real name)

I would like to know how exactly you think you can get away with saying all those hateful things about your mother-in-law.

At least you could have the decency to do this anonymously. I think you are lower than the dregs of hell for doing such a despicable thing to someone whom you obviously owe a great debt.

You should feel ashamed and embarrassed.

I will no longer read your blog.

I feel somewhat complemented that someone took the time to send me hate mail. I think it's cool. I have obviously moved up in the world if I am getting hate mail on things that are neither political nor religious. GO ME!

It did occur to me that one of my loyal and "full of it" readers sent me prank hate mail. It doesn't matter. I still think it's cool.

Either way, it was sent to me to get a response, so I shall give you one, just cause it's fun.

Nikki (if that is your real name) - This is how you start off hate mail? Come on, be more creative. You could have tried something along the lines of "Nikki, you slimy piece of shit" or "Nikki, you and your blog suck." Either of these would have set the tone for you much more easily while conveying what you want said much more quickly. It would have saved you time. But it appears as though you have killed the brain cells needed to do this while smoking weed and doing lines of coke.

I would like to know how exactly you think you can get away with saying all those hateful things about your mother-in-law. - You want to know how I'm getting away with it? Okay, I'll show you. Be real quiet for a second (pause). Did you hear anything? No? THAT'S how I'm getting away with it.

At least you could have the decency to do this anonymously. - What in the hell kind of stupid ass statement is that when you opened this with "Nikki (If that is your real name)" You obviously seem confused as to whether or not I keep things in my blog anonymous. I tell you what, I'll let you figure it out. (YOU DUMB ASS)

I think you are lower than the dregs of hell for doing such a despicable thing to someone whom you obviously owe a great debt. - No shit. That's cool. Not everyone can be considered to be lower that the dregs of hell. I'm special, and we all want to be special don't we. I do have one question though. Exactly what is it that you think I owe this woman? If you read one of my comments on a previous post, you would realise that I firmly believe that my husband was abducted by aliens and left at her house. I don't owe her shit.

You should feel ashamed and embarrassed. - Really? I should? Well damn. Cause I don't.

I will no longer read your blog. - Okay, whatever floats your boat. The NEXT BLOG button is in the upper right of your screen.

Who ever sent me this mail, thanks. It made my day.

The Little House That Hell Built - Part 3

(You're just on the edge of your seat aren't you.)

Yes dear readers, it's that time again. Time to get your blood boiling, your mouths harrumphing, and your lips a-twitching.

Let me take you back...

To my tortured existence whilst pregnant with
my daughter Lauren.

One of the many wonderful things that happened to me while I was pregnant was that I didn't have to go visit the In-laws. When I was about 5 months pregnant I declared that I simply could not take all that driving and wasn't going anymore. Hubby barely protested. It drove him crazy that we had to stop every 20 minutes so I could pee.

I was in a state of no In-law bliss. I was so tickled. No one to be shitty to me. YEAH!

At the time, both hubby and I were in the military and I was trying to get a babysitter for when Lauren tore her way into the world. Finding Child Care for an infant in or around a military post is close to impossible. My stress factor was already located so high that it had been detected by satellite and my due date was only a couple of months away. Then
they decided to come for a visit. OH JOY. I automatically went to Stress Con 3, and China and Russia jointly issued me a warning to chill the fuck out before they obliterated my ass.

We had a townhouse roughly the size of a pimple at the time, so I at least had the savings grace that they would not be staying with us while they slept. I was however, required to suffer her presence in my home from about 7-7 for two days. I'll never forget when they arrived. The first damn thing to come out of that woman's mouth was "Oh, you got big didn't you." Oh, she's a quick one isn't she. She wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know. My stomach was about as big around as the ego of your standard conceited actor and there she was stating the obvious. Thanks for the heads up. I knew how I looked. My nickname while I was pregnant was Barney. Everyone in my unit would rub my belly before they went on a field exercise for luck.

As I stated before in one of my previous posts, both of my pregnancies were very painful, but I had the added joy of having a real problem with my glucose levels dropping while I was pregnant with Lauren. This led to quite a few interesting side effects. I would loose my peripheral vision, or loose my vision altogether. I also suffered from ringing in my ears that was so loud I couldn't understand why people in the same state with me couldn't hear it as well. I would also loose my hearing altogether. When I lost my vision and hearing at the same time, it was scary as hell and I tended to freak the hell out.
In this particular instance, I became thankful for them. I wouldn't have to see, hear or talk to her! Unfortunately, they were not available on demand, so all I could do was pray to go temporarily deaf and dumb.

She immediately went into my kitchen and started cooking after farting off at the mouth. It was 3:30 in the afternoon and she decided we needed to go ahead and start dinner. I don't know why she said "WE" because "SHE" wouldn't even let me in the damn kitchen to cook in my own house. Oh no-no, dear reader, she wasn't being nice. She wasn't concerned that I needed to rest, she wanted to be in control, and my hubby inadvertently aided her by shooing me out of the room. CAN YOU SAY PISSED?

We all sat down for dinner where the main topic of conversation was how she hardly gained any weight at all with her two pregnancies. Well isn't that special. I escaped after eating more green beans and climbed the stairs to bed, leaning heavily on the rail, pleading exhaustion.

The next day was just as hellish. Why do you walk like 'at? Come on, less go shoppin'. You sure do have to pee alot. I ain't never heard of nobody being sick that much while they was pregnant. Can't you get the Dr to give you something to make it stop? Do they still let you work at that Army place while you're pregnant? Your rearend growed too didn't it. You shouldn't be takin' them pregnant pills (pregnant pills?). A friend of mine told me they wasn't good for the baby. Now, I don't want you to go usin' those disposable diapers. Use the cloth ones. They worked just fine for me and my children and they'll work just fine for you too. OH! I cane wait to keep the baby.

That evening, they left. Hubby was upset. "I never get to spend enough time with them."

Here Kitty Kitty Kitty

After reading Admiral Pooper Scooper's post Traveling Man, it made me think about my own childhood. The fondest reflections I have are of my cats, specifically of T.T.

I love cats. I admire their sense of independence, their aloof nature and ability to lick themselves (except for the butt, I'd just drag my ass across the grass - not saw grass though - some nice soft, fresh grass, wet with dew - at least then I'd get a semi-washed cat butt.) I love their haughtiness; the way the approach you seeming to say "You may pet me now mere human, but don't touch my paws, I just did my nails on the back side of your couch."

I even had a cat rattle when I was a baby. I don't know what happened to it over the years, but I'll never forget when my brother Jay stepped on it and broke it. I was devastated. He killed my kitty. I think it was revenge for demolishing his castle that our parents put together brick by brick when we were smaller - but I digest.

My favorite cat of all time was T.T. Mom had a Siamese cat Treat, who got pregnant and had a litter of kittens by a random Tomcat (Mom of course, had a very stern talk/lecture with Treat soon afterwards about mating with every Tom, Dick and Furry cat) I don't remember how many she had, but I remember that it wasn't to much longer after she had them that she disappeared and we had a litter of kittens to look after. (I have always suspected that she was killed by a group of neighborhood dogs than ran the streets freely - obviously before leash laws) We eventually got rid of all but one, T.T. He was small, black with a white chest and one white claw. The movie E.T. was very big at the time, so that's what we named him, but T.T. was just easier to say. (Lazy southern tongue)

T.T. and I were inseparable. He would go walk in the woods and I would follow him. In amazing cat style, he would find the prefect spot with dappled shade and roll in the grass. I would lay next to him and we would listen to the wind blow and the crickets would sing to us. I'm not sure he cared for the singing though since he occasionally ate one.

In true kid form, I tortured him with loving cruelty. I would put him in a laundry basket and spin him around on the floor over and over again until he finally would struggle out and run drunkenly away. My Grandfather would come over occasionally and would treat us all to "The Ferris Wheel", where he would put one hand under his belly and the other behind his head and spin him around and around in the air. The whole family would giggle while protesting that he stop and we would all flock over to him with much "Oh you poor kitty" and the like while petting him on his furry drunk head. I would stretch my shirts out by pulling the hem of my shirt up and stuffing him in the pouch I made. I carried him around everywhere. I knew all the scratching and hissing weren't real and he had to love it as much as I did. (I was sooo smart)

We used to sleep together. I would lay on my back and he would drape himself over my head and doze. I'll never forget waking up from a dead sleep with one of his claws through my left eyelid. It seems he had been watching my eyes move during REM sleep and could resist. After that, he was no longer allowed on my head. I allotted one side of my twin bed for him. I had a sleep over once where my girl friend and I slept in the same bed and T.T. jumped up with us. I made her sleep in the 3 inch crack between the bed and the wall so T.T. could have his spot. (Yes we are still friends to this day - she seems to be a glutton for punishment)

He would curl up on me at any possible opportunity (hard to believe isn't it). If I was laying on the couch watching TV, he would jump up onto the small of my back and lay there with his feet tucked under him. How I remember those times! I would hold off going to the bathroom until I was ready to bust just I wouldn't have to make him get up.

One of my very fondest memories was when I was laying on my back in the living room and he jumped up onto my stomach, tucked his feet underneath him and went to sleep. I started giggling at something and he started bouncing up and down on my stomach. It made me laugh all the harder. He eventually got up and trotted away in disgust.

T.T. died when I was about 14. I still miss him.

Dressing Room Brain Teaser

What is it with department stores and their stupid dressing room rules? Why do they only allow us to take a small number of things to try on in those terribly small and pathetically lit rooms at a time?

I have several theories about this that I will list for you in all their glory.

We can only take a maximum of 6 things at a time into a dressing room at a time because...

1. The rooms are so small that only 6 pair of underwear at a time will fit in that little room with you.

2. You and your six pair of underwear have just reached the maximum occupancy load for that room.

3. If you hang anything heavier on the walls than those six pair of underwear, the crepe paper walls will come tumbling down.

4. Those sales geniuses up at corporate know that women would grab everything they could off the rack and try it all on and stay in the dressing room for at least 3-4 hours fantasizing how we would look in that at the club if we could only afford it.

5. This is the way they make us go back through the isles to see if there is anything else in there that we can buy.

6.The flickering fluorescent lights are secretly sending subliminal messages to spend more money and anything more than 6 pair of underwear would block you getting the messages.

7. There really are people behind the mirrors watching us undress and dress and they can only handle our scary bodies for no more than six articles of clothing at a time. Anyone with a great body is allowed 10 items.

8. They also sell medication to help you get rid of the bruises you acquired on your elbows and knees while trying to change in that cramped little room and anything more than 6 pair of underwear would keep you from picking it up.

9. They want to sell a lot of underwear.

10. They're either really stupid or really smart, I haven't figured out which yet, which means, I probably just really stupid.

11. The men that are in that store aren't really there to shop for themselves, they just want to see what kind of underwear you are getting, but will buy something to make it look like they were shopping, thus boosting department stores sales.

12. They don't want to listen to your children scream in the dressing room for any longer than necessary and thusly limit your time in there. The echoes in those rooms could damage your hearing after listening to caterwauling kids for 15 mins. Straight.

13. It's not really a department store at all. A secret gambling casino that is hidden behind the kitchen appliances and they don't want you there any longer than you have to be to minimize the risk of being exposed. (play appropriate Mission Impossible theme here)

14. Cause their Mama told them it should be done that way.

What is your theory? Or do you think I have finally gone off the deep end?