What Goes Around Comes Around

I have so many,many nicknames for my short people that it's hard to imagine that they know their own names.

For my daughter there's - Blond Child, Little Bear, Itsy Bitsy, Shrimp, Sweets, Angel Bear, Lovely, Crack Smoker, and I'm sure a couple more that I'm forgetting.

...it's the same for my son

His various nicknames are - Super Baby, Super Kid, Hero, Super Hero, Midget, Little Dude, Evil Baby, Charles the Second, Crack Baby, and again, there's probably a few more I'm forgetting....but let me get on with the story.

This past weekend, Connor decided that he was extra, EXTRA, EXTRA, bored and wanted to play in my little sewing basket....which is really a plastic bag from Walmart....and I gently took the BAG OF DEATH away from him that was filled with EYESIGHT DAMAGING NEEDLES and RESPIRATORY INTERRUPTING, BUT OH SO COLORFUL STRING and told him "I don't think so Crack Baby. You don't get to play with this. No touching please."





and because he's my son, he responded with





"Mine! Crack Mommy!"





Oh yeah, I want a thousand more just like him.

Love Thy Boobies

I know that this is the second time in a month I have a link for you to click on for some do-gooder reason ....and it's probably left you so shocked that you're copiously drooling from all orifices...but hey, I don't have to clean it up...so here goes.



As some of you may or may not know, a mastectomy is when you go in for surgery and have either one or both of your boobies loped off.



I'm not a big fan of boobie lopping myself....but just as long as the removed bits aren't used in catapults and cannons, I'm okay with it. I secretly think that some mastectomies are done simply because the Dr is either a) jealous or b) a man or c) a jealous man, and wants to feel your boobies in the privacy of his own home.....but I digress.



Sometimes boobie loping is necessary due to cancer or the permanent impression of your ex-husband's hand print, and then it's a real big help.



As I'm sure you can all imagine, it hurts like the dickens when this happens and the insurance companies are wanting to make it an out patient surgery (all the quicker the Dr can go home and feel your boobie) while you still have all sorts of medical paraphernalia sticking out of your chest.....don't let that happen.....make the fucking Dr wait at least TWO days before he can go home and fondle you without your knowing.



Click here and sign the petition. They only need your name and zip code.



(I have so much tact and class that it's unreal.)

Yes, I AM A Smart Ass

I drove down to Richmond yesterday to pick-up my Victim (aka Charles). Seems he had a little accident in his work vehicle. OOPS.

...and because I love him soooooo very, very much......and because I'm a cheeky broad....I had to fuck with him a little bit.

"So, you had a little accident in your van huh."

"Yep."

"What did your boss say?"

"He said 'Shit happens.'"

"They gonna clean it up for you?"

"Yeah. Shouldn't be any problem really. There wasn't that much damage."

"Damage? You caused damage?"

He looked at me like I had a wart on my nose. "Damage normally happens when you have an accident."

"That's normal for you is it?"

"That's normal for anybody."

"Well, I'd have to say that when someone has an accident in their vehicle, they don't tell their boss. "

"Only if they're stupid they don't."

"Sweetheart, I don't know how close you and your boss are....but a normal person doesn't tell ANYONE when they have an accident in their vehicle...but you may want to get checked out by a Dr.."

"I did go to the Dr. They gave me a urinalysis and a breathalyzer and I blew a 0.00. The urinalysis results should be back next week sometime."

"Did they check you for a urinary tract infection?"

"Why in the hell would they do that?"

"Because if you pissed in the van, then you definitely have a problem. I mean, it's okay if you want people to think you were in a wreck or something instead of having some sort of bladder control problem. There's a lot less humiliation in having a wreck than having "an accident", especially at your age."




I'm telling you, he has got to love me to have been around me this long.

Clickity Click Click

Hello bitches.

Click here and then click on the purple box where it says "Click Here to Give - It's FREE" at the top of the page to help provide food for rescued animals.

What the hell are you doing?

Get to clickin'.

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I was airing out the house last weekend in the cool weather. All the windows in the house were open and we could hear all the outside sounds riding on the breezes.

Connor was content with playing with his trucks on the floor until we took another trip outside to hang up clothes and Lauren was outside riding her bike and torturing the dog.

I watched Little Dude squatting there on the floor repeatidly wrecking his trucks and making little kid sound effects and it was so damn cute, and a big bubble of love swelled inside my heart, creeping up my throat.

He looked up and caught my eye, smiled and said "Bootie"

I was taken aback. "BOOTIE?" I said.

"Yeah" he said nodding "Bootie."

"Where did you hear that word?"

He cocked his head at me and gave me the baby equivalent look of "you smoke crack"

"Bootie Mommy"

"WHAT? Are you saying that Mommy has BOOTIE??!!!"

"No, Mommy no got Bootie."

At this point I was speechless. What the hell was I going to do? Argue with a 2 year old?....AGAIN?

Connor saw my expression and saw something wasn't clicking.

"Feet Feet, Mommy. Bootie"

"Uh?"

Connor stood up, stomped his foot and yelled "BOOTIE GO FEET-FEET MOMMY!"

I didn't get it. My kid was talking about my feet and my bootie. What in the hell was going on?

"OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" I finally caught on.

The birdie says tweet tweet.

Top 10 Reasons I Hate Spiders

1. - They have to many legs.



2. - They have to many eyes.



3. - They seek, anticipate, and salivate at the thought of bugs.



4. - They're sneaky.



5. - They live in my house, but don't contribute towards rent.



6. - They're ugly.



7. - I'm convinced that up close, really, really close, they stink. (I haven't tried sniffing one, if you do, let me know how it turns out.)



8. - They bite


9. - They're poisonous.

10. - They suck....literally.

There's Something Wrong In The Cosmos

I was over at Not A Granny's a few days ago, just reading thru some of her posts. I was a first time visitor and I was trying to get a feel for her blog (a feel FOR not OF her blog smart asses). I saw she had one of those little test thingys.

This one was "What animal were you in a past life". She was a wolf. "Cool" I thought. Let me go check this out...

.....and this is what the thing came back with after putting in my birthday.

You Were a Spider

You tend to be the master weaver of fate - both for yourself and those you know. A creative force, you tend to work from divine inspiration.

What Animal Were You In a Past Life?

What I want to know is this....



What kind of fucking shit for brains decided to make me a spider hummm? I hate spiders. I hate them with a PASSION. As a matter of fact, I think jihad against spiders is do-able. (If you know of one that is on going, please let me know where I can sign up)



I was looking for something like "You were a tazmanian devil - feared by all, envied by many"...and I get some spider bullshit.



Don't give me that Karma shit.....



I want answers damn it! ANSWERS!

HI HO CHARLIE!!! AAAWWWAAAAAAYYYYYYY!!!!!!

Years ago Charles, Lauren and I flew to Montana from Germany to visit my mother.....about 7 or 8 years ago I think it was.

I loved Montana. Gorgeous. Just gorgeous...

...anyway, mom took us to an outdoors store. You know what I'm talking about...good store for hunting, fishing, camping...I don't remember the name.....and as we were walking around and just having a general "look-see" Lauren, in all her cute adorableness saw a stuffed horse and fell in love with it.

I refused to pay for it...if I remember correctly, that stuffed horse was 20-30 bucks.....and I love my short people and everything, but there was no way I was going to pay that kind of money for a stuffed animal.....so grandma and granddaddy did (because they smoke crack).

On the way home, Lauren asked what she should name her stuffed horse. I think I offered up the name of "Fred" or something along those line. Grandma offered the name "Charlie".... I'll never forget the mischievous twinkle in her eye, and the grin on her face when she was doing it. I immediately protested, but it was to late...Lauren was taken with her Grandma, so Grandma got to name him....and Charlie Horse became her bedtime buddy, her playmate, her comfort.

Fast forward to Spring '07. I get a phone call from school....Lauren has had her first experience with a real Charlie Horse and claims that she can't walk....I even had to put her in the school wheelchair to get her out to the car.

She's fine by the time we get home, a bit sore, but okay.

"Here, my lovely little cripple. Eat a banana. It'll help."

"A banana?"

"It's good for you. Hush and eat, unless you want another Charlie Horse."

Lauren sits carefully on the edge of the couch and looks at Connor's toy box. Her stuffed Charlie Horse is languishing on top. I see her looking at it and I start cracking up. It's gonna hit her any second now.

She chews slowly, I can see the wheels turning behind her little eyeballs. She cuts her eyes at me...

"WHO NAMED HIM?!!!" she exclaimed hotly

"Your Grandma named him. It wasn't me. You can't blame this one on me." I threw up my hands and pressed myself back into the chair cushion.

"Why didn't you say something?

"I did!!! But you were two and you agreed that his name should be Charlie. No amount of talking I did made any difference."

She gave me such an accusatory look, it was so venomous.....and then she looked back at her Charlie Horse and didn't say another word about it.

Later that night, when she thought I was absorbed in cleaning the kitchen, my back turned to her...she snuck him back into her room. I heard her softly say.

"It's okay Charlie Horse. I still love you even if you are named after a cramp."

It almost killed me to wait until she was down the hall to start laughing....

7 years later, she had finally gotten the joke.