Everybody Can Just Bite My Ass

In Case You Were Wondering.....

2007-11-24T20:14:00.000-05:00

Being a woman does not make me less than a man.

I will not submit to you. I don't care if you are a woman or a man.

I will not jump if you want something to drink or eat or anything else. I will step quickly and with motivation if you need toilet paper...simply because you not having any grosses me out though you probably deserve to go without it.

I am not your bitch. I am not your slave. I am not your super woman....though I do have the power to cuss a blue streak and piss off everyone in my immediate vicinity - which I have displayed on many occasions.

I will not use the excuse "I can't because I'm a girl."...and if I hear you trying to teach that crap to my daughter again, I will forget that you are my husbands mother and let you have it....we've spoken about this before. I will not "speak" to you about it again.

I don't want to hear you snickering while I'm splitting wood. Granted, I probably look ridiculous doing it, but that's not what you're snickering about. You're snickering because you think it's funny that I'M splitting splitting wood....but I'd bet my bottom dollar that you'd have something to say if I didn't.

Do not make me feel like the bad guy when my children need to be disciplined.

Do not make snide remarks when I put my dishes in the dishwasher instead of washing them by hand.

Do not give my side long glances when I hang my clothes up or put them in the dryer. If I do it one way, you think it should be done another.

Don't play the poor suffering woman with me. You're a manipulative old bat that's tough as shoe leather.

To be clear...there's basically one thing you're allowed to do when you come to my house....

LEAVE.

Go 'Head. Make My Day

2007-10-09T12:39:00.000-04:00

Well, I'm employed. *puts down dirty rag*

I won't start for a couple of weeks. New boss guy has to do a back ground check and all that jazz before I can start. I'm not really worried about that triple homicide I committed showing up. I don't think they have my DNA on file anywhere in the criminal system. *metallic clicking in the back ground*

So in the mean time, I still here at the home front, making sure the grass grows and the cats fart. *opens small cardboard box*

The house is perfectly clean...in comparison to what N. O. looked like after Katrina anyway *sharp metallic clicking* and the neighbors are ready for me to go back to work. It seems to me, that I'm the only one around here that is a fan of 80's music and bright neon colors in my wardrobe. Never mind that I suffer from hearing loss blasting my music so loud that the neighbors can hear, *SHARP metallic click* and my eyesight will never be the same.

It's not that I give a crap what they think of me really *puts chamber in the round of gun* especially since the bastards have driven all the moles the the tri-county area into my yard and I'm out for a little revenge. *poses in mirror trying to look cool and cop like*

I've tried everything to get rid of the little fuckers....I mean, if the dog can't dig 'em up, what am I supposed to do? (the moles I mean, not the neighbors) *ties on Rambo bandanna and attempts lopsided grimace in mirror....dog barks*

The new job is the same as the old one, just a different company. There aren't that many places out there that want someone who can only work during the day and no weekends. (the fuckers) So here I am, mole hunting, and waiting to start work on a job I had hoped I was done with. I'm so fucking excited I can't stand anyone. *shoos cat out of room*

Maybe I'll just start job blogging. *ties socks together to make holster* There are some freaks out there, that's for sure.

Anyway, I'm off to my own little hell in the front yard...and the back yard, and the side yards.

BLAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

shit, I think I just shot the dog.

Large Pieces of Crack Anyone?...Anyone?

2007-09-29T17:15:00.000-04:00

Just checking in with all you boys and girls. Hope you're doing well and all that shit.

I'm still jobless and so damn broke I couldn't get financing for a candy bar.

On the up side...you lovely people still take the time to comment on my blog and send me email....which is good...because I really hate mopping the floor....and reading comments is the perfect excuse not to do that. Thanks Yall!

Like today for instance.....I went to check my email and I had a couple new ones in there. One was from a blogging buddy and another one was from Annemarie Van Dijk. Who's that? you ask? My answer...fuck if I know. Basically, the bitch spammed my blog email address...and it totally pissed me off. I don't give out my blog email address to anyone for any reason, so the bitch had to get the shit off of here.

The email went like this.....

SEE MESSAGE FOR DETAILSREFERENCE NUMBER: NLSUK/9408/756/2007BATCH NUMBER: NL2/02/-052AWARD NOTICE STAATLOTERIJ NL.RESULTS FOR CATEGORY ADear Winner,We are happy to inform you that your email address came up in the first dip.Invariable,means that you have emerged a winner under the First Category of our promotion.Winners were picked by computerized system, drawn from company and individual e-mail addresses worldwide.The draws is officially announced today 27th of Sep., 2007.You have therefore been awarded a lump sum pay out of 500,000(Five hundred thousand Euros), which is the winning payout for Category A winners.NOTE: For easy reference and identification,find below your Reference and Batch numbers. Remember to quote these numbers in your correspondence to our claim Department.REFERENCE NUMBER: NLSUK/9408/756/2007 BATCH NUMBER: NL2/02/-052Please contact staatslotreji claim department immediately for due processing and remittance of your prize money to a designated account of your choice with the following details:(1) NAME.(2) CONTACT ADDRESS.(3) TELEPHONE AND FAX NUMBERS.(4) TICKET AND PRIZE NUMBERS.(5) NOTIFICATION DATE.***********************************************************************

********Contact Person:Dr Michael AvansContact Email :staatlotcustom@aim.comContact Tel :0031-634238365******************************************************

*************************Sincerely Yours,Mrs Annemarie Van DijkPROMOTION CORDINATORN.B: Any breach of confidentiality on the part of the winners will result to disqualification. Contact your claim department immediately.

....and because she won me over with her charm and charisma, I decided to send her an email address thanking her for this "Winning" opportunity. It went something (or rather exactly) like this.....

Dear Mrs Van DICK,

Why don't you shove this phony ass contest up your shriveled and wart encrusted ass.

I don't see your dumb ass sending me a check now do I?

Do I have a sign on my head that says "Gullible little shit - please fuck with me" on my head?

I'll tell you what. I've got $50,000 sitting in a bank in Nigeria and I'm having trouble getting the funds here to the US. Why don't you give me the name of your bank, routing number and account number so I can deposit it in your account so I won't have any problems with those pesky people in the US government? I'll give you a 10 percent fee and everything....right after everything clears.

I'll also need your SSN, DOB along with your residential address and home phone number...and I'll also need your mothers maiden name ...so I can laugh at you.

Please eat a piece of my shit and catch AIDS.

Have a nice day.

Now the more level headed of you are asking yourselves "and what purpose does this serve? What greater good has she accomplished by being so vulgar, nasty, waspish and hateful?"

My answer to you is this....

Grow a pair of balls and a sense of humor. This shit is funny and it made me feel better. Now I want you to imagine me flinging poo at you....because that makes me feel better too.

I Aint Dead Yet

2007-09-08T20:25:00.000-04:00

Hi Folks

Sorry to deprive you of my snark recently but I've been on a hunt...job hunt that is...and that's been pretty hard to do considering I'm sick and I've lost my voice. I mean, how am I suposed to interview if I can't speak? It wouldn't exactly make a good first impression for me to whisper and croak intermitantly...unless you're a freak and you're into that sort of thing....and then God only knows what in the hell I'd be hired to do. BLECK. Gives me the hebbie jebbies just to think about it.

I'm tired of insurance. I'm tired of sales. I have no idea what I'm going to do. I'll let you know what I'm doing when I figure it out.

I'll be checking in on all you weird people (and the not so weird people) from time to time.

I'm going to post this draft that's been in here since March since I don't feel like writing anything new.

__________________________________________________________

Okay people. Lets talk personal hygeine.

It's painfully and DISGUSTINGLY obvious that some of us don't know when to get a pedicure or when it's okay to wear sandals.

We just had couple of days where the weather was nice and warm and everybody broke out capris, shorts, and sandals....they did NOT however, GROOM themselves and that's so damn nasty it hurts....it hurts my eyes because I have to look at scary feet, and it could have hurt the back of my legs because of nasty people in crap-tack-ular open toed sandals didn't cut their toe nails and that's just WRONG. I cut my dog's nails for Pete's sake. Why don't you cut your nails people? I was thinking of buying some shin guards and putting them on backwards to protect my legs for your nasty, black toenails - and I don't mean they're black because that's the color of the nail polish. They are blaringly SANS nail polish, and normally that would be okay if you cleaned yourself BUT, if you've got BLACK toenails that hang off the end of the sandals - you aren't fooling anyone - you don't wash - and we know it. (I'm guessing all that black under your tonails is asphalt from where you've been scratching the road...but I could be wrong)

So for the sake of keeping the people around you from throwing up, I've listed some handy-dandy pointers for you.

1. Buy nail clippers. There are a couple of different types, please ask for help if you get confused.

2. Buy a pumice stone...or if it's something you're not comfortable using - I'd like to recommend a cheese grater and sand paper.

3. Buy Lotion - please GOD! buy some lotion. Your feet need it. No really. They NEED it. You see all that cracked dry skin on your heels? Yeeeesssssss, of course you do. You couldn't possibly miss it. That's where the application of lotion comes in and does it's magic.

Please feel free to print them out, write them down and email them to your friends and relatives who may need help or reminding. These guidlines can easily be laminated and taped to the TV - which is where those freaks are sitting instead of taking a shower.

What Goes Around Comes Around

2007-08-29T10:49:00.000-04:00

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

2007-08-28T23:30:00.000-04:00

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

2007-08-25T21:40:00.000-04:00

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

2007-08-23T10:21:00.000-04:00

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'.

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

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

2007-08-21T13:35:00.000-04:00

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

2007-08-17T10:06:00.000-04:00

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!!!!!!

2007-08-08T16:36:00.000-04:00

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.

I'm Feeling Good

2007-07-28T20:29:00.000-04:00

I can cook.

Now I realize that I may be getting way ahead of myself here, especially in light of my online confession here...but I think the ol' brain has finally assimilated some information on how not to burn food.

I've been on a really good..uh...good food cooking streak for a while now, and that just doesn't happen. I usually pump out something palatable ...oh....I'd say...about one dish (dish people, not meal)every 2 weeks or so.....but I am really topping myself here lately (not that I'm ready to go onto Hell's Kitchen or anything).

Last night I made the yummiest chicken ever. It wasn't dried up like old cardboard like it usually is....it was tender and juicy and it wasn't raw in the middle or burnt on the outside....the juices fairly burst from the chicken when we cut it. The mashed potatoes were perfection, the green beans were GREEN and had not withered in the pot from lack of stirring. The cucumbers were sliced in uniform pieces with no gouges on the sides and the sweet tea was just right.....and to think, I didn't even have to lock the children up in their rooms or duct tape them to the floor so I could accomplish this.

I also made a home made blackberry pie last night...my first pie ever....and it tastes wonderful....and I don't even like blackberries! I will however admit to calling my mother in law at least 5 different times to assist me. I can say whatever else about the woman...but she can cook like no body's business.

The night before last, I made the most tender and mouth watering cubed steak that God could think to grace the earth with. The rice wasn't crunchy, the broccoli was just right and I served that with fresh sliced tomatoes and onions. I damn near had an orgasm half way thru dinner.(and no, that didn't upset the hubby, he was happy....said it just meant he wouldn't have to work as hard later)

The ultimate test was this evening though.

I went to the store and got a lemon cake and frosting, and decided that's what I would have for my birthday. I went home, started mixing and suddenly realized that I didn't have any oil for the recipe...in a daring and clever move...I decided to substitute 2 egg whites for 1/3 cup of oil....and that was when it struck me like a bolt of lightening....it was time to confront my one true nemesis...the culinary creation of evil!!!!!!!...the bundt cake.

Laugh if you must. I have failed so miserably at these things over the years its just pathetic (more pathetic than my normal cooking if you can imagine that). My one true claim to fame has been cupcakes....it is after all.....hard to screw them up.....but I was feeling confident after the resounding success of the blueberry pie...and dug back....WWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY back to the back of the cabinets and pulled out my two bundt cake pans.

I was in a quandary. Which one should I pick? I chose the green one over the orange. I have failed at my last 3 bundt cake attempts in the orange pan......sprayed with Pam....and poured my smooth delicious looking batter. I had changed the position of the racks in the oven....something that I have just taken to doing frequently (I think this has a lot to do with my recent successes), slid the pan in, and set the timer.

There was nothing to do but wait, and wait and wait. I resisted temptation as much as possible to open the door and peak in. The last bundt cake fell AND burnt because of my compulsion I think.....and 38 minutes later, I pulled out the most beautiful bundt cake ever. It wasn't just lovely in comparison to my usual cooking....it was lovely in general. It looked like something normal people would eat....and I was proud.

After a dinner of left over cubed steak, chicken, green beans and rice, I cut a small slice of cake.....cake I had left unfrosted.....the first unfrosted cake I have ever made. I admired the smell, color and the moistness....noticed it was a little dense for my liking BUT! it hadn't fallen....I picked up my fork, anticipating the zing of the lemon....and the phone rang. DDDDAAAAMMMMNNNNN!

It was my mother in law...calling to check and see how the blueberry pie came out....I gave the phone to Charles and sat back down. I quickly cut a piece and scooped it up with my fork.

It was wonderful.

I gave everyone at the table a bite of my cake...finished every last crumb on my plate...looked at Charles and said

"You only had to wait 10 years for me to learn how to cook."

he chuckled

"I think I'm just going to sit here and be smug for a while. I feel awful proud of myself"

"You did good baby"

"Yeah, now if I could only learn to keep a good house"

"Don't get ahead of yourself"

"Ass"

*sticks out tongue at me*

There's Love There

2007-07-19T17:21:00.000-04:00

I'm turning 33 in 8 days. It's not traumatic or anything, it's just another day, but Lauren is excited and has already given me a book of "poetry" she has written.

No really, she really did write me poetry....modern poetry if you will - with a spin.

My favorite one goes like this:

Roses are red
Violets are blue
My feet stink and
So do you

Yes it seems she has "borrowed" a bit from the traditional "roses are red, violets are blue" but she really makes it her own with the stinky feet thing.

There's another one in there that runs a close second:

The reason I'm lazy and a pinch to crazy
Is because you hug me and kiss me to long
I know that's because you love me
But I wish you'd quit.

Yes, she is a treasure, isn't she. This is all her own. She didn't feel intimidated by peer pressure into making it rhyme...she just shouted her love on constructioin paper with crayon.

.......

She even went so far as to alter the Happy Birthday song for me...and I think it's the most terrifical (that's a very Tigger-ish word isn't it) song ever. It is written so I can sing it to myself....

Happy Birthday to Me
Happy Birthday to Me
I look like I'm 20
but I'm really 33.

No, I didn't commission that last one. She just knew she had better put something nice in if she wants to share my cake and ice cream ;D

Just Because I Have To

2007-07-16T12:54:00.001-04:00

Okay, I'm coming clean.

I'm an insurance salesman - a couple of you know this....

No, I'm not kidding.

Do you want to know one of the problems with being an insurance agent? NO? Tough shit, I'm telling you anyway. Everyone automatically thinks you're lying...and do you know why that is? Because many insurance salesmen do...at least in my experience. I can name 5 insurance agents that I know are honest....I won't tell you how many I know that aren't because it would depress you and send you running for an insurance quote and there would be so many calls that the phone lines would blow up (sounds like I'm flattering myself with the amount of readers...but you know what I meant, don't be difficult)

I will tell you this though. I work for an honest agent. I targeted him when I sent out my resume a couple of years ago because I knew via the grapevine that he was honest, I got lucky, and he hired me.

Now, I know that a lot of you hate the insurance man because you think he's always jerking your chain. You think he's always trying to take you money over some silly shit...always trying to sell you something. ------------that's just a whole other venting session -------------------

When I wrote your policy - you walked out of my office with my personal cell phone number in your hand. I made it clear you were not to call me with questions on your bill. It was an emergency number only. A number reserved for those "OH FUCK ME WITH BILL CLINTONS STINKY TOOL" moments. You wrecked your car? CALL ME. Your house caught fire? CALL ME. You just got an enema? WIPE YOUR ASS and don't eat any whole grains for a while.

I take care of my clients, and I take care of Bossman's clients. That's what I do....but do you know what really pisses me the off?

1 - LONG TERM CLIENTS. Yes, that's right. They fucking piss me off. WHY? Because they always think that because they've been with the company forever and a day they should be able to pay whatever price they want to pay. Yeah. Fuck off.

Insurance is a business like any other business and the prices go up. It's reality, accept it and drive the fuck on. You know the good old days when your insurance went down? Yeah, that doesn't happen much these days, so you can pretty much kiss that shit good-bye, and lick your lips, because that's probably the last taste of that you'll be getting. Inflation goes up - not down....and I don't see the average american's utility bills going down every month...so why in the fuck should your insurance go down hhhmmmmmmmmm?

"Why Mr and Mrs Jones! I see that you aren't using very much electricity these days, why don't we cut your unit cost from 1.00 to .75 for being such a long term client but not actually using our services."

I want to know how many of you actually have had that call happen.

2 - Clients that call me screaming when their rates go up because of the DUI, Reckless Driving, Suspended Lic. and 3 at fault accidence's they've had, have made their rates go up. Think you dumb shit. WHHATTT TTHHHEEE HHEEELLLLL DDDDDOOOO YYYYYOOOOOUUUUUU TTTTHHHHHIIIIIINNNNNNNNNKKKKKK IS GGGGGGGGGOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAA HHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNNNN? I'm not going to call you and tell you that it's gonna be okay and verbally hold your hand and console you because you're fucking stupid AND I'm not gonna take your fucking abuse for your rates going up either. Hit the fucking road ass-munch. I don't get paid to get yelled at, be talked shitty to, to be intimidated (like that happens)or receive snide remarks from you - you walking batch of genital herpes.

3 - Clients who call me and threaten to "shop around" if I don't lower their rates. Fuck you. Go shopping. You want to go somewhere else? Then fucking go. You're threatening me and talking ugly to me, and it isn't conducive to me going out of my way to do shit for you...........not that I can do shit about your rates any damn way. That shit comes down from Regional. I'm all willing to go to bat for you if I don't see any reason for them to go up (mistakes do happen)...(if I do see reason for them to go up...please see above) but if that's the premium, then that's the premium. I can't pull something out of my ass to make you happy, and odds are, anything that I did pull out of my ass...wouldn't make you happy...so you're just SOL all the way around aren't you?

I actually have some really great clients. Some know me well, and some don't....but regardless of which...I'll do my best for you as long as you treat me with common courtesy and respect, but don't expect me to work a friggin miracle - especially when you're a screwed up driver with a bad attitude and bad credit.

I wrote this while very upset. I was a good girl and read over it a bit and deleted the word "Fuck" 7 times. You're stuck with the rest of the fucks because I thought they were good where they were...no pun intended.

HEAR YE! HEAR YE! or is that HARRYYY! HARRYYYY!

2007-07-13T10:23:00.000-04:00

I guess by now I should really give an explanation of my going away and coming back - because a few of you have asked...so here it is:

I left and then I came back.

Hope this helps.

BWWWWAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I crack me up sometimes.

okay okay. I got tired of it. My husband got tired of me doing it. It was sucking up to much time out of my day...yada, yada, yada.

There was once upon a time, that I NEEDED the vent to keep from going stir crazy. I have now come to the conclusion that I'm already crazy and there really is no help for me, so now I'm going to fuck with your head......exactly how, I have no clue....but I'm sure something will come to me eventually, and then you're in for it. (I hope you sleep well with that thought in mind tonight)

I realise that my life is bereft without dishing out snark...and since I have no life, I choose to SNARK on you (excuse me, God Bless me, hope I didn't slime you).

There are some new rules for me below...please make a note of them.

I do not promise regular postings.
I do not promise to spell check.
I do not promise to check for punctuation and grammatical errors. (as if I ever have before)
I do not promise funny postings.
I do not promise to respond to your comments. (not being a bitch, but I'm cutting the time down here)
I do not promise to comment on your blog.
I do not promise to think.
I do not promise to struggle to put a sentence together coherently, or is that coherently together?...awww, who gives a shit.
I don't even promise to be lucid while posting...or even DRESSED! (that fucked with your head now didn't it - yeah, sleep well with that - you poor bastard)
And I most assuredly do NOT promise to keep my language clean - and I don't break any promises that I haven't made dammit...and let that be a lesson to me.

If you have any questions, you may ask, but who knows if I'll actually answer you? You could look at it like playing the lottery. If I decide to come down off my chemically induced high and answer, you win...but you don't get shit but a warm fuzzy feeling in your belly (and in your toes if you're a freak).

Hugs and kisses and shit to everybody.

Lessons Learned

2007-07-11T13:00:00.000-04:00

I got a letter last week.

A real bonafide letter from an actual person. No shit. It actually happened. My mailbox wilted temporarily with the shock. (visualize that)

It was from a very old friend of mine....whom I'll call Worker Bee. Someone I had met in Jr High (middle school to most of you out there) and continued to keep in contact with even after I had moved away to start high school in another town. We stayed in touch for years, but eventually lost touch after the birth my daughter 9 years ago, while she was pregnant.

I was shocked to hear from her. I was so happy! Immediately, thoughts of our old chummy school days passes through my mind. Thoughts of the bad joke wars we used to have made my cheeks plump with grinning. I felt the old fellowship all over again - all before I read more than 3 words in her letter. I wanted to know everything immediately, and I mean EVERYTHING - RIGHT NOW.

She told me that my cousin had died.

My cousin and I had the same name (with the exception of our last names) and I had looked her up a couple of years ago. Nicole, Worker Bee and I were all friends in school along with the usual gaggle of people with intermingled with, but to me, those two were my world.

Nicole even lived down the street from me and we had spent many hot, hazy, summer days playing outside and doing a lot of things we shouldn't have. We talked. We danced We roller skated. We did make up. We dressed up. We strutted. We talked about boys. We went swimming in the river. We would walk for miles around our neighborhood just so we wouldn't have to be at home. She was ever confident and self assured. She is the one that taught me not to give a damn what anyone else thought of me. She was naturally beautiful. She was the girl I always wanted to be....and she was dead, and no one had called me.

Worker Bee had written to me on the day of her funeral and that's how I found out....but I didn't get her letter until a month after she had written it(I would like to thank the postman for his continued ineptitude - and my husband for forgetting to give my my mail when I came back from NM).

I was very upset...not because she had told me in her letter, but because no one had called me....and because I had put off calling her for months and months...simply because I find it hard to pick up the phone sometimes. It's true that no one had called me, but I hadn't called them either, and that didn't make me feel any better. I felt/feel exceedingly guilty - because I knew she had been sick, and I didn't call.

I went to Childhood Town and laid flowers on Nicole's grave this past weekend. I had the florist make up the flowers especially for her - pink if you please, sir - and with a little card to with them. I was struck with a delima. How was I supposed to say everything I wanted to say on that little card? Exactly what could I say on that sad scrap of paper? I struggled. The florist looked at me expectantly, waiting.

I drove down the old historic streets marked with beautiful Inns and B&B's and lovely old fashioned restaurants and eventually found the town cemetery and after getting directions to her plot from Worker Bee, I found her. She was right by a majestic old tree, in the shade, with flowers all over her grave. He birthday had been the day before and it was obvious that even in death, she was still deeply loved, especially by the 3 children she left behind...16,12,and 4.

I don't know what to say or do in times like this. I was blessedly alone. I stared at her marker and grinned. I had never realized that she had dropped her maiden name instead of her middle name when she gotten married. I had done the same thing....just one more thing to tie us together....and I gave her her flowers, and I whispered to her, and I cried and I wanted to scream and I cried and then....then....because I hate crying...and I especially hate crying in public, I pulled myself together....and I went to visit another old friend ....Worker Bee.

...and Worker Bee and I laughed and ate and I met her husband and her children and we laughed and talked and looked at old pictures and I felt the old kinship still there. The old confidences whispered still echoed and we exchanged new secrets and we told more bad jokes and I had to tear myself away to go home.

I left Childhood Town behind knowing that though one old friendship was gone, there was another there for me.

I left Childhood Town with only a few flowers and a miniature card to cover the earth that covers one of the only true friends I've ever had.

To the Lady who taught me to dance as a child, may you dance among the clouds.

Meme

2007-07-09T12:13:00.000-04:00

Mama en Fuego wanted to know:

#1 If you tore off a piece of foil for a dish then decided to use saran wrap instead, would you throw away the foil or keep it to use later? To be honest, it would depend. I mean, how pissed off am I because I have to cook? If I'm not very pissed, I'll save it.

#2. If you could be a super hero, what would your name be and what kind of powers would you have? I would be called "The Midas Sphincter" Giving a whole new meaning to the phrase "shitting a (gold) brick"

#3. Do you believe in the 5 second rule? Depends on what it is...and I usually go by the 3 second rule, and you just have to use your discretion. Like water - I don't care what kind of rule you've got....it's not cool to drink water off the floor.

#4. Do you brush your teeth in the morning and at night? Do you floss? Yes, Yes and yes. I'm all about oral hygiene, Kiddies. I even have little floss gadgets in a baggie at work to get rid of those after lunch hangers on. I don't floss in front of anyone, and I don't brush my teeth at work, but it's not cool to have some green shit in your teeth - especially after you just bleached them to blinding whiteness.

#5. If money were no object, where would you live? Shit, I don't know.

#6. If you could go back in time for 5 minutes where would you go? Who would you visit? Hell I don't know. Only for 5 minutes? Doesn't give me anytime to introduce myself to anyone..... I'm going for.......Where - Iraq, When - Sept 1, 2001, WHO - no who - phone call to the White House.

#7. Do you believe in heaven? How do you picture heaven? Yes. I can't tell you everything about heaven, but I can tell you, it has a big beautiful library in it.

#8. Do you believe in hell? How do you picture hell? Yes. I can't tell you everything about hell, but I can tell you, it's where my in-laws live.

#9. If you found a hair in your food, and you knew it was yours, would you keep eating? I don't know. How long is the hair exactly? I mean it's one thing to find a short bang hair sitting lightly on top of your cool whip....it's quite another to find a foot long strand mixed in with the melted cheese.

#10. Your walking down the aisle in the supermarket and just as you pass a hot guy/chick you let out the worlds largest fart, what do you do? RUN AND LAUGH LIKE HELL WHILE BLAMING THE CHILDREN

#11. Have you ever had sex on a plane? Hell no.....why? You asking or something? Just so you know.....that's not my thing.

#12. Do you mix the food on your plate or do you segregate? I'm a total segregationist when it comes to my food. I don't mind if the juices mix or if they touch or any silly shit like that....but I don't want my peas gettin all chummy with my blob of 57 sauce.

#13. If you could go back and date someone again for a week, (before things got bad, ended, too complicated, what ever) who would you date again? My husband. No really, I'm not shitting. He puts them all to shame. That's why the sex is still so damn good.

#14. You're on an airplane and all the sudden there's a thunder down under and you have to go, NOW but you can see that there is at least a 3 person wait for a bathroom. What do you do? Squish the ol' cheeks together, do the poker up the ass walk, get in line and pray. If I feel I can't make it...I'll tell them I have Krohns Disease and go into detail. Yes I would.

#15. You and your significant other are moving in together. While putting some of their stuff away some naked pictures of their ex fall out. Do you confront them with the pictures? Do you take them and throw them away? What would you do? Dude, I'd totally throw that shit away. No need to tell him, he'll figure it out eventually and I wouldn't have to hear that lame ass excuse "oh! I totally forgot I had those" PPPPAAAAA LEEEEEEAAASE!!!!

#16. You win the lottery, millions, how do you spend the first 10k? Give it to family

#17. If you had a choice between being beautiful or being successful, which would you be? Successful. Success builds confidence, and that makes you sexy and beautiful.. no need to look like a model...I have my own look thank you.

#18. Can you lie with a straight face? Not when it's squished up against the mattress..............................WHAT??? Just keeping you on your toes. Um, yes I can, but I can't look you in the eye.

#19. What's the last prank you pulled on someone? THERE ARE SO MANY!!!!!

#20. You see a man and a little girl walking down the street. She's pulling away and yelling for him to "leave her alone." What do you do? Depends. I would definitely keep watching. Do I know them? Is he acting funny? Does she seem scared? Is my gun loaded?

4th of July

2007-07-03T18:03:00.001-04:00

Happy 4th of July Everybody!!!!

Don't burn any of your shit up or blow off your fingers.

Clues For You

2007-07-02T09:00:00.000-04:00

You guys know I love you don't you? Well, because I love you and shit, I'm making a list of things people need to know about foot maintenance...not necessarily for you specifically, but definitely for the public at large...because some folks out there scare me. Feel free to post this list at work and hand it out to "friends" and family.

You know you need to cut your toenails/take care of your feet when:

You can scratch your leg without moving your fingers.

Your toenails are scratching a hole in your shoe.

Your toenails require more polish than your fingernails.

Your toenail is longer than your toe.

Your toenails are just as long, or longer than anyone of your fingers.

Your sandals don't fit because your toenails hang over the ends.

You are mistaken for a Hobbit.

You don't need to wear cleats.

You look like you work on car engines with your feet - sporting that black line of nastiness under the nail and several built up callouses with sharp edges.

You have to clean beneath your toenails with a butter knife, and it doesn't really help.

You have to register your feet with the county and/or state as a deadly weapon.

Terrorist put a hit out on you because even they can't stand the site of your feet and view them as an aberration.

People have actually told you they would rather kiss you scaly, scab encrusted ass, than to look at your feet.

Bears like you, and view you as a potential mate.

Mr Rogers kicked you out of his neighborhood for scaring the children and clawing at the mailman.

You file your toenails to look like pointed cannibals teeth.

Razor blades immediately rust at close proximity to your bunions and callouses to avoid contact.

You've been banned from even the crappiest manicure places due to frequent breakage of their equipment.

You have several pending lawsuits for property damage and/or post traumatic stress disorder.

Your spouse makes you sleep with your shoes on.

Badgers hump your leg.

Your feet inspired the novella "Dinosaurs Live Again"

Sorry if you're offended by this list. You can send your complaints to www.Imawhineylittlebitchwithbadpersonalhygiene@yahoo.com

If I Wasn't Fat Before, I Am Now

2007-06-27T11:40:00.000-04:00

Dear Lord,

Thank you for giving man the wisdom to cook sopapillas. I know it's because you were hungry once too and wanted some good eatin'. I can see you now, chillin' out in the dessert grubbin' on sopapillas drizzled with honey, drinking some wine and cooling out with your apostles - the original OG.

I have lived a deprived life - never having tasted the wonderfulness of a sopapilla - or ever having heard of a sopapilla - until I went to visit my mother and step-dad in Albuquerque this past weekend.

I would also like to thank you Lord, for the Taco Salad I had at El Pinto's (which is the same place I had the sopapilla - but you already know that). It was wonderful - so wonderful in fact, that it made me want to sit up and slap my grandma - which I'm sure is going to be one of those sins you're going to hold against me later - but I couldn't help it. Taco Bell doesn't have a damn thing on it (did I just swear? My Bad. You're going to hold that against me too aren't you.) I will never again be able to go thru the drive thru at Taco Bell with the same sort of anticipation and over active salivary glands.

I have gone on line and gotten a sopapilla recipe....okay, I've gotten several recipes....and was just wondering which was the yummiest so that I may eat that one first.

Sante Fe Style Sopapillas

6 c. flour
1 1/2 tbsp oil
1 tsp salt
2 tsp baking powder
1 1/2 warm water

Put all dry ingredients in a mixing bowl. Add oil and rub through hands until blended. Add water a little at a time until dough is firm (like regular bread dough). Let stand 10 minutes before rolling.

On a well floured board, roll egg-size pieces approximately 6 inches in diameter. Fry in hot oil until golden brown on both sides. Serve immediately.

** This recipe can also be used for tortillas. Fry in lightly coated cast iron skillet until it blisters - turn and cook other side.

Sopapilla Recipe

6 c. flour
3 tsp of baking powder
3 tsp salt
5 tsp of shortening
3 c warm water

Add and mix all ingredients and slowly add water while mixing. Dough should roll, be elastic and not stick to your hands. Let sit in a covered bowl for approximately 45 mins.

Work your dough on a lightly flowered counter. Cut out balls and cover. Roll your balls into the shape of a tortilla. Cut in to triangles, squares, or whatever shape you wish and fry at approximately 420 . If the sopapilla drops to the bottom of the pan and bubbles slightly, discard and wait for the oil to heat up.

Another Sopapilla Recipe

1 env. dry yeast

1/2 c. warm water

3 c. flour1 egg

1/2 tsp. salt

1 tbsp. oil

1 tsp. sugar

Shortening or oil

Cinnamon

Honey

Dissolve yeast in warm water. Mix with other ingredients. Knead several minutes and set aside in warm place until dough rises (about 2 hours). Roll flat. Cut in 1 1/2 inch squares. Allow to rise again (1 hour). Drop squares in deep grease or hot oil.

Cook to a golden brown, turning once. Drain momentarily and dip in sugar and cinnamon mixture. Serve hot with honey. Especially good after eating hot seasoned food.

I also found this recipe...could you tell me if it's any good?

Sopapilla Cheesecake

2 8 oz pkgs of cream cheese
2 pkgs of refrigerated crescent rolls
1 c. sugar
1 tsp vanilla or almond extract
1/2 c margarine or butter, melted
1/2 c cinnamon sugar

1. On 9x13 baking pan, unroll one package of refrigerated crescent rolls and line the bottom of the pan.

2. Flatten

3. Combine cream cheese, sugar and extract

4. Spread over crescent rolls

5. Unroll the other can of crescent rolls and place on top of cream cheese mixture.

6. Pour melted butter or margarine over top and spread with brush.

7. Sprinkle with cinnamon sugar mixture.

8. Bake at 350 for 30 minutes.

Also, while I have your attention Lord, I was wondering....could you somehow find it in your heart to make my husband like mexican food? Thanks

Goodbye

2007-04-24T08:49:00.000-04:00

You know, a few months ago, rumor had it that someone had voted me a thinking blogger. I'm not gonna say who it was....because then you'll be bombarding her with requests for her to share her crack with you.

I freely admit to not being a serious blogger. I think that life is serious enough. I need the frivolity of silliness, snarkiness and nakedness....uh, scratch that last one it has nothing to do with you - to ease the stress of everyday life.

I've gotten a funny post award and thinking blogger and a couple of others. I have never acknowledged them - but it's not because I'm being a bitch - it's because I didn't know quite what to say. I'm not good with the modesty thing...so while you saw no "THANK YOU"'s or "THAT'S GREAT I DON"T KNOW WHAT TO SAY"'s - I do deeply appreciate it and did the happy dance - accompanied by being insufferable in varing degrees (hush Carm).

I have gone from blogging every so often, to blogging everyday, to blogging intermitantly, to trying my best to put something up on Monday Wed and Fri.

I had quite a few readers once upon a time ago....used to get regular emails from a few....and even happily blog surfed to waggle my ass at someone in their comment box...but I don't do that much these days. The site meter would register a couple of hundred hits a day a few months ago and that used to be what would make my day...but not any more. The ol' bloggin engine is winding down...and I'm ready to go...and I think it's past time that I did so.

The 'ol blog just isn't as snarky as it used to be....and that's a good thing...because my snark usually equals anger...and I'm not as angry as I was even a year ago. I used to walk around constantly pissed off at everything, and this has given me a great place to really say what I wanted to say and learn from others...and I've learned quite a bit from all of you.

I guess really what I've been trying to say here is this:

Thanks for reading...and letting me read...and talking with me.

See you on the flip side.

Angela

Walter is THE Man

2007-04-19T10:58:00.000-04:00

Have you seen this?

Make sure there's nothing in your mouth when you watch it.

Flied Lice

2007-04-17T10:21:00.000-04:00

ATM, this link is for you.

Chinese Food Song

Oh don't give me those hurt little puppy dog eyes. You can click on the link too.

Interview

2007-04-16T10:00:00.000-04:00

Mamatulip sent me some interview questions. Now let me shine my light on you all and answer them for you (HEY! who threw that rotten egg? Was that really necessary?)

1. Which celebrity -- and I mean any celebrity, dead or alive -- can you most easily relate to? Interesting question. I don't relate to any celebrity. I like several...but I can't really "relate" to any of them. To be honest, I don't really pay any attention to them...unless they are just fine as hell and then I think about....never mind what I think about. Next question please.

2. Name the top three things that really fuckin' piss you off. You're really limiting me here you know that don't you. Why do you have to limit the hate? Here they are, in no particular order(but I do reserve the right to alter this list at anytime with no prior notification):
WOMEN DRIVERS
POLITICIANS/POLITICS
CONDESENDING/RUDE PEOPLE

3. What was the first blog you started reading? Do you still read it?
It was USED KITTY LITTER...and it's been deleted. The second one I started reading was Cheaper Than Therapy - and yes I still read her.

4. Tell us one thing you really love about your husband and one thing you really don't love about him.
ONE? You're killing me. Love - his ability to NOT talk down to me. I've found that most men do that to women with out realizing it. He has never done that to me. Not ever.

Hate - He doesn't pick up after himself.

5. Beer, wine or hard liquor? Hard liquor. I'm a tequilla chick. Tequilla sunrises - easy grenadine. Yum. No tequilla shots please - I'll get really drunk REALLY fast. I have no alcohol tolerance you know. It's a bit sad really....but it does save money.

Advised Needed Please

2007-04-13T13:24:00.000-04:00

Today, we are going to take a break from our intermittently scheduled rants, snark and little kids stories for some serious discussion in which your advise is needed.

This will be a bit of a reader but please stick with me.....

I was talking to my sister in law on the phone the other night and she has a bit of a conundrum...her son. LOL Okay, not really her son, but her disciplining of said son.

David, (my nephew) is 18 months old and we were talking about disciplining our kids. Now before you all scream and cuss at me...understand I hit my children. I believe in physical discipline. I don't beat the ever living' crap out of them, but I do pop hands when there is touching of items that they shouldn't be touching...but I only hit and pop as a last resort after sufficient warnings - so believe me when I say we talked about it, she's tried it, and it doensn't work.

She needs advise on everyday disciplinary stuff. Stop climbing on that, don't do that etc.

I recommended counting and using her voice as a tool to help show David when he was sinking in ever deepening doo-doo with his mom. She advised that she tried the counting and when she would say "ONE" he would say "TWO" - thinking that mom was teaching him to count.

I personally send my son to bed for a minute. It's a terrible thing for him to be there and he comes out with hugs and kisses and "I SORRY" and says he won't do it again...until the next time.... IE Throwing himself on the floor because he didn't get his way.

Me - Connor, I said no more cookies and I mean what I say.

Connor - *throws self on floor*

Me - Connor, get up.

Connor - *screams and cries*

Me - ONE

Connor - *looks at me crying*

Me - TWO

Connor - *screams no mommy no*

Me - THREE. Then I go pick him up and put him to bed and I set the timer on the microwave for one minute and I then go check on him yada yada yada. We have progressed to the point that all I have to do is ask him if he wants to go Night-Night and he'll straighten up...the key factor here being I always have to be ready to follow thru on my threats of putting him to bed..and he does call me on it from time to time....testing limits.

For Connor, I have found this to be a very effective discipline. Spanking doesn't work with him, and was/is seldom needed with Lauren....

Counting worked great for Lauren, I rarely ever had to physically discipline her. She was so sensitive and people pleasing, all I had to do was look at her and tell her "Little girl, you're getting ready to have a bad day" and that would be that.

The problem here is Marla is at a loss of how to discipline David. He laughs at her if she spanks him...it doesn't bother him to be sent to his room.

The only other thing that I can think of is time out..and he seems to young for that.

What advise can you Moms out there give .... no flogging isn't an option.. Seriously, she needs a hand here. What do you and your friends do? Do you know of any good blogs or websites that deal with this sort of thing?
_____________________________________________

I apologize for being gone for a full week, but I've been looking up some things on the internet and got distracted. NO! IT'S NOT PORN. you sicko.

You Always Told Me It Built Character

2007-04-11T10:30:00.001-04:00

Why don't you just shut up.

I'm so damn sorry your leg hurts, but what the fuck do you want me to do about it?

Should I pour on the sympathy? I get sick of that really quick you know....and you're worse than the kids with you whining sometimes - you know that?

I didn't see you feeling bad for me when I had tendinitis from my ankle to my hip and could barely walk.

I didn't see you feeling to terribly bad for me when I broke my poor little pinkie toe and I hobbled around for a bit.

I didn't see you feeling bad for me when I had multiple hairline fractures thru my feet and legs and was in a lot of damn pain.

I didn't see you feeling bad for me when I was at home with the kids and ALL of us had a nasty stomach virus. You went to work and left me at home to take care of everyone - vomit and diarrhea all around. You just fucking left me there feeling like death to take care of everyone - including myself.

...and now you want me to take care of you. AWWW. Poor baby.

Suck that shit up and drive on.

I don't feel bad for you.

Take some Extra Strength Tylenol and go away.

I have two children, not 3.

....and make your own damn Dr.'s appt. You have 2 - two - cell phones. Pick one of those bad boys up and make your own fucking appointment. I have a job too.

Feel The Love

2007-04-06T10:16:00.001-04:00

This is my Pimp.

This is my Pimp on drugs.

Okay, okay, in all seriousness - he's not my pimp. That's my son..aka The HEATHEN. Hero. Midget Man. Little Dude. Mean Baby. Little Baby. Belly Man. Cuteness. Stubborn. Jr. Little Daddy. The walking - MAKE MOMMY SCREAM MACHINE.

Look deeply into his shockingly hazel eyes...you can see the love he has for his mother if you look really hard and relax and clear your mind. Enjoy the peace of your surroundings. Everyone coming together in friendshit...er friendship and peace. Your eyelids are getting heavy and you're getting sleepy. So very, very sleepy. No, this isn't the time for a Red Bull. Just relax and feel the baby love. Now just relax. How do you feel? Good. That's very good.

Now I want you to think about your bank account....yes, that's good....very good. Now I want you to tell me about it...just so you can release your stress from thinking about money and bills and just give all that stress to me. Let me have your stress. Let me help you with your bank account.

Yes, that's right. Let me help you. Let me do this for you. Don't you feel better? Feeling that stress just melt away like purged poison.

Now take a deep cleansing breath, and tell me your routing number.

That's good, but give me just a minute...I need a pen. Okay, once more please. That's very good. You are a very good girl aren't you. That's right. Tell me about your savings......I meant lack of savings. No, we don't need to talk about that any more.

Enjoy the peace of mind I have given you....take another cleansing breath and feel the the tension and angst leave your body thru your finger tips. Now I want you to take those same finger tips and sign this Power Of Attorney. That's very good. Very, very good.

Yes, you are a good, good girl. Let me pet your head. ..... Don't use so much hairspray next time, I cut my finger....but you're still good aren't you.

Now I want you to wake up very slowly. Slowly slowly slowly. When you wake up, the only thing you will remember is the cute baby pictures I showed you earlier, and you will awaken with intense feeling of friendship and love for me. No, not that kind of love....*ahem* I didn't know you were that way....the friendship love. Yes that's right.

Nothing but love and friendship and shopping.

And powerful baby love.

Things That Just KILL Me - aka ANAL RUBS

2007-04-04T17:34:00.000-04:00

I have a few things I need to get off my chest - and I'm not talking about my boobs.

I haven't had a good rant in a while and I'm do - so shut your trap about it.

First - Why in the hell didn't somebody tell me that eating healthy would make me fart so damn much? I'm not talking about a little "poot" here and there - saying I "poot" would imply that they are somehow lady like and non-offensive. No so I'm afraid - I'm talking I can blow the windows out of a vehicle with bullet proof glass. I get around on my own jet propulsion. I don't have to buy as much gas because MY gas is a suitable substitute once liquefied (now if that isn't a sick thought I don't know what is). I'm loosing friends. I'm using WAYYYY to much air freshener...and it doesn't even really work - my office smells like a shitty spring breeze and you don't EVER want to go into the bathroom here because it seems I'm always just coming out of that bad boy and the walls have mysteriously turned from white to green - but I'm not claiming responsibility for that. - I'm blaming you.

Second - The cats around my house....AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH.

I love cats. Really I do, but I'm gonna kick some kitty asses. Granted - I was the dumb ass that left my windows down the other night so the kitty could get in my car. BUT THE FURRY LITTLE BASTARD DIDN'T HAVE TO SPRAY IN MY CAR. I had a meeting with several other people in offices all around the state and I smelled like cat ass....and the first person who laughs and tells me I smelled like a Pussy is going to get the stomping of their life. I guess I'm lucky cause nothing makes a good impression like stink lines and and the odor of cat ass.

Third - You people are some twisted fucks you know that? No, really, you are. I'm not kidding. There is no way I could count the times that people have clicked on my link when they google NIKKI THE NEXT DOOR PORN or some such shit. Apparently, there's a very popular on-line porn chick named Nikki, and I can tell you, this girl is LLLLOOOOVVVVVEEEEDDDD. I have also been found by someone who googled hairy armpits, people who are looking for the advantages and disadvantages of having CURVES, and some poor dumb shit who is apparently stressing out because her baby keeps sticking his tongue out and she wants to know how to stop it. Who ever you are lady, you really need to chill the hell out. If your BABY is sticking out his tongue and you are stressing out over that - you're gonna have a friggen break down when he blows chunks all over your new white shirt. Take some Valium and get back to parenting already - your kid will thank you.

Forth - Don't send me an email full of questions and then call me and ask me all the questions you just sent me before I can respond to you. HOLY SHIT. DON'T DO THAT AGAIN. I mean really. What's the fucking point of doing both? Do one or the other for Pete's sake. Try not to show the world that you're a dumb ass humm?

Fifth - I finally flipped out today in traffic. I let a dumb bitch in traffic and the little trick didn't even wave her thanks. After sitting in a traffic jam for 90 mins, and only going 8 miles, I had had it. I pulled up beside her - motioned for her to roll down her window and proceeded to education her tarty ass in some fucking driver courtesy. That little bitch. I was nice enough to let her in, she can be nice enough to throw her bright pink claws in the air to say thank you - that is - if she can wave and pop gum and the same time - the stupid little shit.

Sixth - Why in the hell don't people around here know that when another driver flashes their lights at them it could mean a couple of things - turn your lights on - or the most obvious one - THERE IS A COP UP AHEAD! SLOW DOWN OR YOU WILL GET A TICKET. Okay, I have to be fair, some people do know what it means, and 2 or 3 of them have actually waved thanks...but do you know what really kills me?????

I was flashing my lights at on coming traffic on a sunny morning to alert them to a cop up ahead, got waves of appreciation from a few, when the DUMB BITCH IN FRONT OF ME SLAMMED ON HER BRAKES!!!!!!! Now, I wasn't tailgating her - she was a good 7-8 car lengths in front of me (AND SHE HAD PASSED THE COP TOO!!!!!!) and apparently she got upset that I was flashing my lights at her. ... ... What a stupid bleach blond bitch. I told her oh so nicely that if I had been flashing my lights at her - I would have been riding her ass and not giving her so much space in front of me...and then I had to explain why I was flashing my lights. OMG.

I fucking HATE women drivers. Women seem to be so much more in tune with the popular TV shows, trendy fashion, and where the best sales are on cute shoes...but are friggin oblivious - OBLIVIOUS to the rules of the road and driver courtesy.

He Learns From the Master

2007-04-02T12:37:00.000-04:00

My life is complete now.

I have everything I need. I have done what I intended to do on this earth and I can now go meet THE BIG CHEESE with a clear conscience.

I have taught my son to cuss.

Yeah.

I try not to cuss in front of my kids, but it doesn't always work...and really it could have been anyone who taught him that word, but I really think it was me. I mean, he used it with such CONVICTION and FEELING - it had to me - there aren't to many people out there that can use vulgar language like I can - it's my medium.

Reminded me of the time when Lauren was about his age...I put her on my lap to show her how the computer works so she could play some simple games, she turned around, put her cute little baby hands on my face and said "Mommy, you are such a bitch."

Now, while that may be true...she's not allowed to point that out until she's a teenager.

Connor took a completely different approach to try and get my head to explode from shock.

Let me set the scene for you.

Happy baby in the living room playing with stuffed animals...kiss-kiss, kiss-kiss - throw, giggle. Happy baby takes off clothes and beats himself in the stomach while yelling BELLLLLLLYYYYYYYYYY. Happy baby looks a picture book. Happy baby plays with big Tonka truck - picks it up and drops it on his previously happy baby toes. Happy baby is no longer happy and proves this by saying. DAMN! DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN MOMMY! while stomping his feet and then kicks Tonka truck again hurting his un-happy baby toes. Another chanting litany of DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN follows.

I can not move. I'm in shock - I'm totally shocked. I'm shocked he didn't say Fuck. That is, after all, the word I use the most.

All Kinds Of Stuff

2007-03-30T09:30:00.000-04:00

OMG!!

BWWWAAAAAHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA *deep inhale* hahahahahahahaha

*wipes tear* haha....ha

I found this blog yesterday and I can't stop laughing. It comes to us via Trouble - maybe some of you know her...she had started this blog and I had NO idea.

Annie is always referring to morons on her dating message boards and what not - and now I have a glimpse of idiotic advertising....or is that advertising for idiots...or maybe idiots looking more idiotic to attract other idiots....hmmm, I don't know....but I'm gonna read every last damn one of those adds because I LOVE to laugh.

Thanks Trouble.

_________________________________

Our blogging bud Mel in Orygun needs your vote to get paid to blog. Chickie needs some love - so get to clicking on the badge and vote for her - she deserves it.

________________________________

Lauren asked me what a "dick" was the other night and almost had a damn coronary. After I could breathe,I was sorely (excuse the pun here) tempted to show her a picture of her father...but she asked what a dick was - not a dickhead. There's a fine line there.

WHAT????!!!!!

_________________________________

Charles got all mushy on my last night and told me he thinks about me all the time. I told him that plotting of ways to kill me doesn't count. He said that was fine - because he was thinking of ways to maim me, not kill me.

Thoughtful fucker isn't he.

Feet Feet

2007-03-28T11:35:00.000-04:00

Connor's vocabulary is finally starting to take off now that his ear infections seem to have mostly cleared up.

It's unbelievably cute.

There are some limits of course...I mean, he's not even two yet.

Almost all the body parts he's got. He can say feet, knows where his toes are, knows what I'm talking about when I tell him to put his arm in his coat and will pull his own hair on demand (what little bit he has), will poke me in the eye while pronouncing loudly EEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE etc etc...but now we're getting into the good stuff...animals.

On our trip to GA, Hero noticed some weird looking things in that big blue thing over our heads and he said his famous words...."What's 'at?" while pointing crazily. It took me a minute to get the clue that the Midget was pointing at - a bird in flight.

"Bird" I said.

"HUH?" - this is also a famous Connor phrase

"Bird" I repeated

"Huh?"

"Bird"

"Huh?"

"Bird?" - okay this is a little repetative.

"Huh?"

"Bird"

PAUSE "BIR"

"YES!!! BIRD!! VERY GOOD! GIMME FIVE!!!" Man I was proud. Little Dude said Bird. "Birds say Tweet Tweet"

"Huh?"

"Birds say Tweet Tweet. Birds sing and say Tweet Tweet"

"Huh?"

"Birds sing Tweet Tweet"

"Feet Feet Mommy! Feet Feet!"

Makes you pause for a moment doesn't it....I am so damn magnificent that the birds sing their praises to my feet.

You may now bow. ...no, all the way down...keep going. Yeah, okay, that's fine...but keep praciticing.

Admit It

2007-03-23T09:19:00.000-04:00

I entered the poem below in the AMERICAN MIDOL contest over at Cheaper Than Therapy. It was a competition of crappy poems, and while I agree that several people out there submitted crappier poems than mine - I still don't thing it was recognized as a truely crappy poem - and that's important to me.

Read it and weep - then tell me what you think.

Boy, does Post Partum Depression Suck
I wish I could get mad, but I have no truck
with the doctor, that cad
or the ambulance driver that was, to say it nicely, bad

But next time I'll know what to do
when the mailman tells me "The next Publishers Clearing House winner could be you."
I'll slam the door in his face
and put that sneaky sucker in his place

He didn't profess love undieing
nor did he ever stop trying
he looked at me with eyes so innocently
and I hadn't had any carnal attention recently

So I couldn't resist
and before I knew it I had been kissed
and it culminated in urgent lovin'
and putting a bun in the oven

Now what do I tell my husband true
this baby growing inside me belongs to you
never mind about your vascetomy
I know you've been meeting the preachers wife at the rectory.

Come on now, you know it's terrible. Fess up.

I've Been Gotten

2007-03-21T11:21:00.001-04:00

My evil wench daughter knows all about revenge. I've taught her well it seems. Unfortunately, I'm the one she has gotten revenge against.

Damn it.

Me - Connor! Give Mommy kisses.

Connor - No!

Lauren - Say "EEEEWWWWWWWW" Connor!!!

Me - Lauren, don't do that. You'll teach it to him!

Lauren - *giggling* I know She turned back to her homework still giggling.

I rolled my eyes and smirked. "She has no idea how hard headed this kid is. He won't say it just to spite her." I thought to myself, and turned my attention back to the little kid entering his terrible two's who was currently rolling around on the floor giggling from my tickling fingers.

Me - Come ooooonnnnnn Connnnnerrrrrr! I sing-songed and tickled while he wriggled and giggled and tried to get away.

Connor - No Mommy! No!

Me - PLLLEEEEAAAAASSSSEEEE!! Mommies need kisses from little babies.

Lauren - Say "EEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWW" Connor! Lauren said giggling.

Me - Blond child! (meaning Lauren) I'm gonna put you in the head lock. Lauren giggled and stuck her tongue out at me and turned back to her homework. She was having trouble immersing herself in the wild adventures and undiscovered territory of Ponce DE Leon.

I looked at Connor who had curled up in a protective ball to keep my probing fingers away from his belly, but it wasn't very effective in keeping me away from his ribs, feet and back. I paused for a minute - the poor kid was having a hard time catching his breath. I let him get a couple of good breaths and I walked my fingers up his back and watched him squirm.

Me - Coooonnnnnneeeerrrrrrr. Mommy really needs a kiss. Why don't you give Mommy all of your baby kisses. I couldn't help but laugh. He was curled up in a ball face down with his forehead on the floor and was squirming so hard I was afraid he was going to get rug burn on his face.

Connor - No MOMMY! *giggles* No! EEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. Icky Mommy! Yuck! *giggles*

Lauren jumped out of her chair with a resounding YYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!! and did a victory dance singing "oh yeah. Uh hu. Oh yeah. Icky Mommy. Nice and yucky. oh yeah. that's right. I said it. Can't stop it. I got it. You can't have it. Oh yeah." ...and just for your visual of her - she was dancing like an Egyptian and snapping her fingers with a pencil behind her ear and a piece of apple in her mouth.

I looked at Lauren "I'll get you later Shrimp." I said with mock menace. "Do your homework" and turned back to Connor who was watching his sister grove like she'd been taised. I picked him up and buried my face in his little neck and nibbled.

Me - Connor. I want my kisses, and I want them now little baby. I said softly.

Connor - *giggling* EWWW Mommy. No. No kiss. No.

Lauren - *snicker* I told you.

I'm A Bad, Bad Mommy

2007-03-16T13:51:00.000-04:00

Let it not be said that I discriminate. I enjoy torturing all members of my family regardless of age or sex, because I'm an equal opportunist like that.

When Lauren was smaller - about 4 or so I guess, we took her to the Olive Garden after being duly lectured on behavior in a pubic in a very nice restaurant. Why not? She knew how to act in public places, and I had won a gift card for a free dinner so we went.

We were seated in a booth, cool glasses of water by our hands, warm crusty bread in a basket and the waiter comes to our table for our order. To be honest, we hadn't really looked at the menu. We had gotten caught up talking about everything - since we rarely saw each other with our work hours.....and this would be the 3rd time that the waiter has come to our table.

Waiter - Have you decided on what you'll be having this evening?

I look at Charles, he looks at me, I pick up the menu and he shrugs.

Charles - You have steak?

Waiter - Yes sir

Charles - I'll have one of those, medium well please.

They go over the choices for side items and the Waiter turns and looks at me expectantly.

Me - I'd like (what ever it was that I had ordered)

Waiter - And what would the little lady like madam?

I looked at Lauren, she looked at me and shrugged her shoulders.

Lauren - what do they have?

I looked at the waiter.

Waiter - we have hamburgers, chicken noodle soup, chicken fingers....

Lauren - Chicken Fingers?

Me - Yes baby. You like them.

Lauren - No way*shakes head firmly*....and chickens don't even have fingers.

Me - Yes they do Lauren. How else do you think they pick up the worms?

Getting Even

2007-03-13T11:05:00.000-04:00

My dear, sweet, would never hurt a fly, Aunt Debbie has egged me. She virtually egged me, but she egged me none the less, so I must, in the interest of keeping the ever important standard of one-up-man-ship - retaliate...and expose her for the hostess of evil that she is.

I present to you - Her Bunny Collection

**Arthur's Note** - All of the Bunnies are real. These are not figments of my imagination or creativity. They assume guises of statuesque cute and cuddliness while I am near, but I know what they are. They may be roaming in your neighborhood today as she periodically lets them out of the house precisely at midnight. If they are spotted, run to the nearest corner and cower there until the danger passes.

First I would like to present BLOODY RABID BUNNY. It's a shame really. He was so sweet and then he went and caught rabies and killed all the townspeople's children. tsk tsk

BLOODY RABID BUNNY

They eventually caught him and this is what's left of him. Ironic justice don't you think?

REMNANTS OF BLOODY RABID BUNNY

This was his younger brother ....YUMMY BUNNY(and friend). I think the picture says it all really.

YUMMY BUNNY (& FRIEND)

I would also like to meet ARSONIST BUNNY.

ARSONIST BUNNY (WITH MATCH)

He comes from a long line of loving and lovely bunnies that we would all like to have over to the house to warm our laps. You may have heard of a few of his kin....there's ALCOHOLIC BUNNY(no picture available due to the massive amounts of weaving and falling over)

MASS MURDER BUNNY (who was eventually caught and stewed)

MASS MURDER BUNNY

and one of the more well known of his relations:

PROSTITUTE BUNNY(alias' include "Hooker Bunny", "Skanky Bunny", "Trashy Bunny", and "Got That French Disease Bunny")- who is almost single handedly responsible for the population of bunnies world wide. Trust me - they don't ALL mate like you keep hearing.

PROSTITUTE BUNNY

I have had to presume to responsibility of protecting all the bunnies in her area to keep her evil from spreading to them all. They even did this for me to show their appreciation of my guardianship.

ME

Incidentally, you can buy the above poster by going here.

...and just in case you were wondering....they made a picture of her too......

AUNT DEBBIE

I'm Human

2007-03-12T08:53:00.000-04:00

Hmmmm

Should I apologize? No, I don't think so.

Admit to feeling a little guilty..well, maybe.

What can I do? I just don't have the time, that's all. I don't have time to read all of your blogs.

I'm a bad blogging buddy, but it doesn't mean that I'm not interested. It means that I can't respond to all of your comments because my computer won't load the new blogger, so I have to go to my email and click on the links from there. It means that if I get struck with writing inspiration, then I have to go to my email and save it there under draft and transfer it later. It means that my dial up takes forever. It means that I have to wait for free time at work before I can stop by.

It means that when I'm not reading your blog:

I am working, playing with my kids, cooking dinner, and straightening the pantry and closets. I'm doing laundry, I'm mopping the floor, I'm changing diapers, and catching up on my mountainous reading list. I'm talking to my mother, writing a short story, playing baby games, checking homework, meting out punishment, praying to GOD for patience. I'm screaming in my head, I'm feeling lonely, I'm agonizing over what to cook for dinner and talking to my man on the phone because he's always working. I'm chopping wood, cutting down trees, planing this year's garden. I'm checking the fire, buying new clothes for the kids, coloring my hair and discovering an Undercover Mary Kay agent in one of my blogging buddies. I'm discussing and helping design a jewelry box for Lauren's birthday that Charles is going to build. I'm drawing up plans for a coat wrack, and coffee and end tables that Charles is going to build. I'm taking Charles to Lowes to buy a Router to build all this stuff with. I'm having parent teacher-conferences with my daughters teacher. I'm searching for art classes for my daughter. I'm balancing the check book. I'm grocery shopping. I'm making appointments for work and personal life. I'm answering random pressing questions from both children ranging from - How do we know there's really a God - to - What's 'at?. I'm planning my exercise program and setting goals for myself. I'm stuffing my face with chocolate. I'm sleeping, I'm playing with my children. I'm thinking about tearing out the boarders that we put in around the house and putting something else in. I'm thinking about finally decorating the INSIDE house, old friends, and how badly I need a pedicure and manicure. I'm buying shoes - occasionally for me, but mostly for my kids. I'm drilling multiplication and division into one kid and the ABC's and 123's into the other. I'm fighting traffic, listening to funny noises from the car, I'm buying a new radiator. I'm buying new flower seeds, thinking about compost and praying The Thing (aka the tiller) will work this year.

I'm human.

Don't get pissed if I don't respond to you. I'm not ignoring you. I know you're there and I love it. I visit you, though not as often as I like and comment if I can. Besides, mostly what I'm doing when I'm not reading is having outrageously good sex with my husband....and I like yall and everything....but there is a line.

The Workings In The Mind Of Baby Einstein

2007-03-09T09:24:00.000-05:00

CONNOR SAID HIS FIRST COMPLETE SENTENCE THIS MORNING!!!!!!!!!!

He said "Daddy, what's 'at?"

How cool is that? I am doing the funky strut this morning (quite a turn around from yesterday - and thanks to those of you who chimed in - I appreciate the lurrrvvvv)

This is a true milestone because to Connor:

Everything liquid is "Milk". He takes a bath in "milk", he never drinks anything other than "milk" and he even pees "milk". ..and the cup that he drinks out of is also "milk", and so is the cup I rinse him off with in the tub. So let me see here...My son drinks milk from the milk, pees milk, takes a bath in milk and gets rinsed of with the milk in the milk. ...but he doesn't just say "MILK" it's "Mil-milk". What can I say...my child is gifted.

Everything with wheels is a "Truck" (beep beep truck!) It doesn't matter if it's a bicycle - hell, it could be a UNIcycle and he'd still call it a truck. Correction is futile. "Look Connor! A bus!" "No! Mommy. TRUCK!" and in all honesty he really can't say "truck" all that well. He doesn't have the teeth for it yet - so it's really a "CRUCK" - so sayeth Connor and his word is absolute. Sorry yall. You'll have to correct your vocabulary from here.

All animals, with the exception of puppies and kitties (he calls the kitties "Maows"), are "bears". It could be an armadillo or a komoto dragon and he'd still call it a "bear". OH! but we have progressed to "bird" and when the birds sing they go "feet feet".

I'm trying to get him to say "I love you". I'm constantly whispering it to him, calling it to him, telling it to him, kissing it to him...and he just nods his head....like he already knows that I love him and that's all that the universe needs. He may be right...but I can't wait to hear it. He will at least blow me a kiss and I do loves me some baby kisses.

So there you have it folks. Connor is exactly 22 months old today - and he said his first complete sentence. Finally.

Hold your applause please....we're getting ready for the potty training thing.

Nikki's Pity Party - Come On In

2007-03-08T15:33:00.000-05:00

I just spoke with my Mom a little while ago and I've gotten semi-depressed (it's just the PMS hormones I'm sure) so excuse me while I have my own little pity party and make myself feel all better.

I miss my mom. I just saw her, but I never really get to spend any time with her. We are never around each other long enough, in an environment that both of us are comfortable in, for us to be rested and at ease and we can just go do something, like go to the bookstore, or hand out our phone number to hot guys leaving the gym. You know, stuff that regular mother-daughter types do. She lives all the way out in NM and I'm here in VA and I miss the hell out of her.

I miss my brother - bitch that he is. He got back from Iraq in November and has now gotten out of the Army and started his civilian job. I've never met his son, my nephew (who is only a few months younger than my son) and I think that just sucks large amounts of ass. I don't have the money to go visit him, he doesn't have it to come visit me, and I fuckin' miss his sorry ass and I'm pissed at no one in particular that I haven't met his son yet. They're in TX.

These two are my only family (this of course doesn't take into account my own nuclear family) and we all live hundreds of miles away from each other, don't see each other with any regularity and I miss the times growing up when we would sit around the kitchen table and talk...even though that was rare for two teenagers ready to get the hell out of the house and their mother.

I want us to be able to see each other at least on the weekends...or once a month, or even once every couple of months - I'd be happy with that!...but I haven't seen my brother in a few years, and I just saw my mom for a couple of days, saw her for 1 day last year and before that she came to stay when Connor was sick, and I slept for most of her visit, and God only knows when I'll get to see her again.

I would really like to be able to go to mom and her husband's house, meet my brother and his wife and son there and all of us grown ups (or those in grown up bodies) to talk about something and nothing and let our kids play and cement familial bonds (though the children will have a harder time at it since they can't have beer. heh) and I would like to do this with some sort of regularity.

I miss my mom, I miss my brother, and I want to play with and get to know my nephew. Little Guy is growing up and I'm missing out.

I'm missing out.

Cause Mom Asked

2007-03-07T16:01:00.000-05:00

Okay, my Boo-full Mommy called me and wanted to know how the whole servicing the treadmill thing worked out (other than the deliciously hot service man). I was just going to call her back and let her know, but I know that I was really surprised by the cost of servicing a treadmill and figured there might be one or two...okay fine...ONE of you out there that may be thinking of purchasing a treadmill either new or used and should be armed with as much info as possible...so I'm spilling my guts here in the hopes that it'll help you be better prepared than I was.

I called Sears to come and service my treadmill (remember, my mom gave me this treadmill, and it has been in climate controlled storage for the past couple of years). I choose Sears because when I was shopping for a treadmill just before the whole "Charles has to have a TV as wide as my ass to make him happy and it's going to drain all money out of all accounts" drama, I had gone looking there and they had the exact same treadmill that my mother gave me (incidentally - it's also the very one I wanted, so I was snoopy dancing when I saw they were the same).

They were honest with me on the phone when I made the appointment. Before they booked me, they told me up front that it was $96.00 just for them to come to my house. They made it very clear that NO repair work was included in that figure - it was just for the truck roll. After I picked myself off the floor, I told them to go ahead and schedule my appointment and made it clear that I didn't want any repairs done, I just wanted a service...IE - lube it up and/or tighten the belt, and maybe take a look at it and tell me what may be about go so I could budget etc. They said okay and advised me that the service guy was going to call me the night before the appointment to confirm it with me and that if I didn't answer the phone, my appointment would be cancelled. I acknowledged that I understood, gave them my cell phone number as an alternate number just in case.

Deliciously hot service guy showed up and was very professional and knowledgeable (and I'm not just saying that because I lust after his bod) and he was more importantly HONEST. He impressed me. He made it clear before he ever touched the treadmill that the service I wanted done would be in ADDITION to the 96.00 I was being charged...something that the people on the phone didn't bother to tell me...and the cost of that was 88.00. I almost shit myself....but I wasn't exactly in the position to tell him "Never mind, I'll make another appointment" because they only accepted appointments on Tuesday (a work day for me) and not during lunch or before or after work, and would only give me an appointment block and I had already spent 96 friggin bucks for him to show up and tell me that it was going to cost a MINIMUM of another 88 bucks - so I told him to go for it.

He took the time to go over the machine for me, exactly how everything worked, yada yada and praised the treadmill mom gave me as the best one on the market - wide base etc and said that it was in very good condition. Then said that the biggest draw back at this point was that the chest strap used to monitor the heart rate was extremely inaccurate (even more inaccurate that the things you grab on to to check your heart rate) and if I wanted to fix it, it was going to be at least another 150 to upgrade. I told him forget it, I can take my own pulse.

Then he told me the drive belt was really, really loose and needed to be tightened and it was going to be 50 bucks for that. After much debate, I told him to go ahead and do it, but for him to show me how since it was simple (only took him 5 minutes) and I could do it the next time should the need arise.

Then he told me that the roller was getting ready to go out. He said it wouldn't be anytime in the next couple of months, but if I use the thing with any regularity, I'd be calling him before the year was out to come fix it, and that was going to be 200 - and then the truck roll fee of 96 bucks on top of it, and then he would need to charge me for anything else it had screwed up when it went out. My jaw was hanging open the entire visit with this guy and it wasn't just because he was packing (and I don't mean he had a gun). The bill was getting out of control, and there was no way I could afford it and I told him so.

He was upfront and said something along the lines of "Most people can't and I'm the only one who services these things and I want you to know about cost and maintenance ahead of time because I'm the one who's gonna have to deal with you, and nobody likes a mad woman" I cracked up. He went on to say "Most people who buy used treadmills don't know about the service and maintenance costs, and treadmills aren't only expensive to buy, they're expensive to maintain"

Long story short, I bought a service plan for 2 years and he walked out of there with 435.90 - that included the service plan and all the work he had done (96 truck roll, 88 maint. & service, 50 to tighten drive belt, and the service plan for two years and tax)...and I don't have to pay another penny if I see him again in the next 2 years, and it includes an annual check-up and all costs of parts, labor, and what ever else.

Buy-bye savings.

The Treadmill Is A Go

2007-03-06T15:47:00.000-05:00

The guy came out and serviced my treadmill.

SERVICE GUY WAS HOT HOT HOT.

Italian HOT. Jet black hair and BLUE eyes hot.

Oh my. Oh my my my my my.

Shit, who needs the treadmill? He could just stand in front of me and I'd work up a sweat.

Hello Hot Service Guy, I'd like to treat you like an ice cream. *ahem*

Yes, I'm happily married. Shut your pie hole. Just because I'm married doesn't mean I don't look and talk a lot of shit...and if you say you don't you're fibbing.

Expecially after seeing Hot Service Guy.

Jeez.

WOW.

Me likey.

BAD ME.....BAD

UPDATE

2007-03-05T09:33:00.000-05:00

Thanks to one of my blogging buddies, I realize that I have been remiss in keeping everyone up to date on family....and that is part of the purpose of this blog (keeping my family up to date on my family....yeah, I make sense).

So, I'm going to put aside the post planned for today and update you all instead (now's the perfect time to slam one of those RED BULL things)

I'll start with Charles...aka Boogerhead, Victim, Slave, Perfect Man, Shit Head or Fuck Face. (Hey Grandma, please don't read those last two). He's doing very well. He keeps his sugar in line like a good man so I don't beat him.....what?.......you know he's scared of me.......I have children and I know how to inflict pain. We are doing very well. He keeps me laughing and we have a good time together.....and then he gets dressed.(on second thought grandma, please don't read this entire paragraph)

Connor is doing very well. He's mid-thigh on me now and is saying so many new words, it's hard for me to keep up. He is such a STRONG willed person. STUBBORN as the day is long. Time-out doesn't work for him and it concerns me that I have to pop him as much as I do, but at the same time I'm glad he's that way. It makes me happy to know that he won't be anyone's doormat, but it sure makes teaching a lot more difficult. He still only has 9 teeth and he'll be 2 in early May. I'm just about to the point where I'm going to take him to the dentist to see if he was born with anymore teeth buds in his gums...I'm really getting concerned now...no, I'm not kidding. Poor kid can barely eat a cracker. He can't chew it. It just sits in his mouth until it gets soggy and then he swallows.

Lauren...I don't know where to start. I had done 6 or 7 lengthy paragraphs on her and deleted them. Let's just say that she's a lot like her mother was at that age and I'm not enjoying it. I would like to send out a big raspberry to my mother for cursing my children to be just like me. I'm on the look out for gray hair.

She is up to my shoulder now and she's only 8 (I'm 5'7") and yesterday I looked at her pants - the ones I had bought her in Dec (they were a little long)and they are high waters....OMG.

In other news.....

I am getting a guy to come and service the treadmill on Tuesday to make sure everything is A OK with it so I can start exercising a bit. I know it runs, I've already turned it on...but it's been in storage for a couple of years so I want to make sure there's no problem before I put my over weight and lumpy ass on it. I'll be going out today at lunch to buy walking shoes and a sports bra (I hope they make them in extra huge - nothing like a huge uni-boob to turn your man on). I went this weekend and got a pedometer....my only concern now is if I'm going to show up on the Richter scale.

The plan right now is to get up earlier and do my thing then. The alarm goes off at 6 am and I don't usually drag my butt out of bed until later - about 6:30 or sometimes 7 when I've been staying up with Charles The Night Owl....but I'm going to have to get out of bed at 5 or so to do this. I'm excited. I'm ready to look great and feel better and have more energy....and to be able to do this with out surgery and crystal meth ....well, it's an overwhelming feeling I can tell you.

That's about it.

Love you all

Angela

Moving Day

2007-03-01T10:54:00.000-05:00

The trip to Georgia went well.

We got lots and lots of cool and expensive stuff we would never have been able to afford on our own. I would gladly post pictures for you so you could see my pretty new Thomasville leather furniture, but I've been to busy sitting on it naked, making farting sounds (real and imagined) and leaving ass prints on the cushions. (your welcome for that visual)

We drove back home on Saturday night, and got home about 5:30am. Super Kid decided that he didn't want to go back to sleep, so I stayed up with him after driving all night. Then Charles woke up about 10:30 (or more to the point, I woke him up) and he decided to move the truck (big moving truck - 16fter) around to the back of the house to get everything in thru the sliding glass doors...and THAT is where the problems started.

You see, when we were in Savannah, we spent the days outside in short sleeve shirts soaking up the sun (it did wonders for my psoriasis- practically cleared it up in just a couple of days) and enjoying the breeze. When we drove home, it was sleeting - there was a quarter inch on the ground when we pulled up the driveway...quite a change wouldn't you say.

By the time Charles emerged from the bedroom, we had an inch of snow on the ground on top of the sleet and more snow was expected.

Charles, with is deft maneuvering capabilities did his thing, and promptly got the moving truck stuck in the yard. I don't mean it was kind-a stuck, a little stuck, sorta stuck, can push it out with a firm breeze stuck, that bitch was plain stuck.

The 2 inches of ice that we had had 2 weeks ago had just melted a few days before and then the sleet and then the snow, but it wasn't cold enough to freeze the ground and that big ass truck SANK into my back yard - all 4 wheels, especially the back 2.

He tried backing it out, digging it out, putting boards underneath the back wheels to help it out and he even kicked it a few time and cursed at it in a strange tongue to try and motivate it out...but nothing worked. The only options left to use were:

1 - call towing company to come and pull it out

2 - use his work truck to try and pull it out.

We chose option 2.

You've seen those white work vans around haven't you? That's Charles' work truck.
Imagine if you will, a puny,pasty white van pitted against a 16ft Budget rental moving van loaded with: a fridge, a washer and dryer, a treadmill, a TV, a TV stand, heavy couch and 2 heavy chairs with ottoman (footstool to those folks I grew up with) and one redneck in the cab. That redneck BTW was Charles.

Budget Truck We Rented

VS

Charles' Work Truck

I was in Charles' work truck. He had tied the two trucks together with some straps and chains that we use to cut down trees and told me "Go slow."

So I went slow, slow and steady, and listened to all the creak-creak-creaks and groans from his truck, petrified that I was going to rip out the undercarriage and he was going to remove my ass at the neck for messing up his work truck. While I did that, Charles slammed the Budget truck in reverse and put the gas pedal on the floor....and that wouldn't have been so bad...except that he had the drivers side door open and was leaning WAAAAAAAYYYYY out to look at the back of the truck...and he got mud all in his face and all over the inside of the truck....and that really hampered my ability to drive...because tears blur my vision and I almost lost conscienceness due to my inability to take a breath.

In the end, I pulled him out of the hole in the back yard...and when I went to go look at it...I saw this.....

China

What in the hell do you say to that?

2007-02-21T16:54:00.000-05:00

I was in my bosses office talking with him about a client. Bossguy was sitting, I was standing - standing very innocently I might add, with my hand in my pockets.

I bent over his desk to get a better look at his computer screen.

"Hey Bossguy, can I use your mouse?"

"You can't touch my mouse Nikki. I'm a married man."

Toodles

2007-02-20T11:47:00.000-05:00

Well boys and girls,

I'm gonna be gone for about a week.

I'm heading down to Savanah GA to see my mother and her husband. While I'm there, I'm stealing a whole bunch of her shit out of storage...okay, I'm not really gonna steal it...she's gonna give it to me...but if I say I'm stealing it, it makes me sound much more tough and hard assed don't you think?

Maybe not.

I don't know when we're leaving because we are waiting on hearing from her to see what her schedule is like, so you'll probably see me around for a couple more days...or maybe not. I don't know.

We'll be traveling at night so Super Baby will sleep and I hate traveling at night. My bedtime is generally 9 and it's gonna suck sweaty donkey balls having to drive 8 hours at night. ( DO YOU HEAR THAT? That teeny tiny little violin in the background? )

At anyrate....I'll be seeing you all in a bit.

Don't cry.

Crack, Caffine, THC

2007-02-19T09:20:00.000-05:00

I hate spiders.

Most of you know this. I think they are disgusting...but I have to say, in the context of wildlife and Mother Nature, I'm interested in them and believe that they have rights like any living thing (the right to die).

I came across this video and it really upset me (snicker). Experiments like this are just wrong (but funny). Someone should do something (like make a lot of copies and send one to PETA).

Somebody call PETA (but what you call them will never be repeated by me).

BITE MY ASS AWARD

2007-02-16T09:22:00.000-05:00

It's not often I present this award. As a matter of fact, this is only the second time I have done so, but I feel that it has been earned.

I ran into a girl I used to work with this morning. We were never the best of friends, but we got along alright in the office environment of big corp. company I used to work for.....translation: I left her alone, she left me alone, and we greeted each other occasionally and laughed at something together a couple of times.

We saw each other and stopped to chat a bit and somehow, someway, she brought up that she thinks I'm heartless.

"No shit." I said snickering "What makes you say that?"

"You remember So-and-So?"

"Yeah"

"When we found out she had cancer, you just shook your head and said it was to bad for her kids and then you walked away."

"Well, it is to bad for her kids. I don't see how expressing my sympathies for her kids make me heartless." I admit it, I was chuckling at her logic thus far.

Turns out, because I didn't chip in and send her flowers, and write a mushy message on a card I was heartless.

"Uh-huh. Look. I know you guys liked her, and that's all well and good for you. But I knew her better than you guys did considering I worked more closely with her - as in the same country! and I picked up more than my fair share of her work that she slacked off doing because she was a lazy piece of shit. I never liked her, and wasn't going to make all nicey-nicey with her when I found out she had cancer, just because she had cancer. I felt and FEEL bad for her two girls because it's gotta be a hard thing when you're mom's sick like that, especially since they were so little and probably didn't understand a thing about what was going on....but I'm not going to be a friggin hypocrite and send her messages of love while she's sick when I couldn't stand her when she was well. If that makes me heartless, then what the fuck ever."

Girl I Used To Work With is obviously offended by what I had to say. "You know she died don't you." This pissed me OFF. She was clearly trying to take me to task by telling me in the way she told me. Hand on hip, eyebrows making a V in her forehead, eyes narrowed. She wasn't letting me know friend to friend, she was trying to put me in my place.

"No I didn't know she died. I DO feel sorry for her daughters. It's gonna be very hard for them to grow up without a mom and if I could do something for them I would, BUT - regardless of whether or not she died - I still didn't like her, and while I don't like speaking ill of the dead, I'm not going to suddenly profess to be her best friend and sing her praises either. I can see that you're getting pissed and offended by what I have to say, that's just to bad for you and I don't give a fuck. Get the fuck over it." I walked away, and that was the end of the conversation.

Because of this conversation - trying to guilt me into mouthing words of friendship and respect I didn't feel...I would like to present to Girl I Used To Work With the BITE MY ASS AWARD. Frame it and hang it baby.

Have a nice day.

Wow

2007-02-15T11:11:00.000-05:00

My husband sent me flowers. A dozen long stemmed red roses, with a vase and a little teddy bear to go with 'em.

He sent them to me at work.

I'm BLOWN away.

We've been together for 10 1/2 years, and this is the first time that has happened. He's picked me up a couple here and there every couple of years, but they have never been delivered, and never have I gotten any at work.

My office is filled with their sweet scent. My credenza is suddenly the most beautiful piece of furniture in the room.

The card that came with it read:

TO THE LOVE OF MY LIFE. FROM THE MEN IN YOUR LIFE. CHARLES AND CONNOR.

......

He can have the damn TV that reaches to the ceiling. I've got flowers...and a perfect man.

Odds and Ends

2007-02-13T11:12:00.000-05:00

The washing machine is half dead, it no longer has a spin cycle. Well, that's not entirely accurate. It has a spin cycle..it just doesn't spin. It guess it would be more accurately described as the sit there and be soggy cycle...much better than the sit on it and spin cycle.

Our 36" TV went to that big repair room in the sky. Charles is terribly upset and obviously forlorn. We replaced it with the 19" TV from our bedroom that has the unfortunate habit of losing it's picture from time to time. Unfortunately, it loses it's picture more frequently these days and for longer periods of time. We used to be able to restore the picture with a light tap to the side, these days, it sounds like the percussion section in the high school band trying to get the damn thing to work.

The ice dispenser in the door of my fridge is only there for decoration now. I have to actually open the freezer door and reach into the tray to get my ice these days. WTF is that? If I wanted to do that, I would have just picked up the fridge that the Salvation Army had put out on the side of the road with a sign that said "Free to a good home"

My dog has the unfortunate habit of humping my cat...we're expecting kuppies any day now.

The age old question of why the chicken crossed the road will never be answered. The dumb bird got squished by a passing motorist just a few feet from my house. There's feathers everywhere (I'm not kidding).

I just read a news article that said a lot of people in a certain overseas country believe that jumping up and down after sex will prevent pregnancy. I don't know about you, but I think if you still have enough energy after sex to jump up and down - there's nothing to jump up and down about...and I have found that a solid punch to the face when initiating sex is the best birth control method I've encountered thus far - but my eye still hurts from the last time.

I'm still trying to figure out why in the hell the Capri Sun people have named one of their drink flavors "Cool Breeze" or some such shit. I think that it's marketing code for "this doesn't taste nasty enough to veto and we've spent a whole lot of time and money developing it so we'll put it on the market anyway...but we don't have the balls to say that it actually tastes like the flavor we were aiming for..so we'll just make some shit up to make it sound cool and the kids will want to drink it."

My daughter and I were sitting in the car waiting to go thru the car wash, when the guy in front of us opens his door, presses a finger against one nostril and blows the other nostril clean onto the concrete, reverse, repeat. I took the entire box of tissues out of my car and took them to him. If you're going to be disgusting enough to do that, I'm going to be rude enough to give you a box of tissues while trying not to blow chunks in your face.

We went shopping for a TV over the weekend and it was no surprise to me that Charles wants a 57" boob tube. He's been saying for years that once the 36" goes, he wants to move up to the 50's. What is the point of having such a big TV? I hate the idea. hate it. hate it. hate it. hate it!!!!!...but he never asks for anything...so I'm going to shut up about it, and we're going to spend the money that I wanted to use for a treadmill on a friggin TV, and the electronic monstrosity of a television will consume the entire living room and I will want to wretch everytime I look at it. I'm pissed about it...but I guess I'll get over it...in about 3-5 years, because that's how long I've been wanting a friggin treadmill. whaaaaaaaaaaa DAMN IT.

6 Weird Things About Me

2007-02-07T13:12:00.000-05:00

Jazz tagged me with this one....and now I must add her to my "To Be Drawn & Quartered" list.

1. Whenever I buy a new book, I have to get a new bookmark to go with it. It MUST match. I would never be able to handle having a blue book cover with a brown bookmark. ALL of my books have their own bookmark. If there is a series that I am reading or have read...they DO NOT share...each book has it's own bookmark.
I started doing this a couple years ago. It had gotten to the point where I would loan out a book and it would be returned to me having the spine broken or the pages were dog eared. I hate that crap, so I started buying bookmarks for each book and it rarely happens anymore. I have however, lost a few bookmarks.

2. I can only use a towel ONE time in between washings. I know most people just hang up their towels and use them again the next time they shower...I DON'T. It grosses me out. I may hang the towel up to dry, but it will go in the laundry basket after it's dry. There are however, 2 exceptions to this rule. a) - I can wear my tericloth bathrobe at least 2 times and be okay with it. b) I can use the same towel to dry my hair twice. That is all.

3. This may be TMI but I'm having a hard time coming up with things that are weird so I'm putting it in....
I always wear a bra. Even when I'm at home in a ratty t-shirt and shorts bumming around or doing housework. I don't sleep with it on or anything (at least not regularly) but as soon as I get up I shower, brush my teeth, put on some anti-stink and the bra goes on....before the panties even. I have got to have one on...at all times...period. Jiggle Factor does not make you cool.

4. My pantry is kept in a strict discipline of neatness at all times. Have you ever seen Sleeping With The Enemy and she has to have the cans turned facing front and everything has to be just so? Yeah, well, that's me.

5. I can't put my laundry away unless it is folded in a particular way, or hang the clothes in my closet unless they are all facing the same direction.
For example, shirts. If they are to be folded, then you pinch the seam at the shoulder where the shoulder and the sleeve meet, shake out the shirt with a good POP, fold the shirt back so the shoulder seems that you are pinching touch - and the front of the shirt MUST FACE OUT, smooth the shirt to get at least most of the wrinkles out, grab the cuff of the shirt in your right hand and make sure that the sleeve is laying flat on your arm (doing the same with the other sleeve over the top of that one) and then fold AT THE SEAM WHERE THE SLEEVE HAS BEEN SEWN ON. DO NOT - OMG! - NO NOT FOLD THE SLEEVE SO THAT THE CUFFS ARE TOWARDS THE HEM OF THE SHIRT. FOLD THE SLEEVES TOWARD THE OPPOSITE END OF THE SHIRT. If the sleeves go over the shirt, fold them back on themselves and then fold the shirt in half so that the sleeves are between the top and bottom halves of the shirt. The front of the shirt should be facing to the LEFT, no sleeves should be poking out of the folded shirt. Lastly, smooth the top and you're done.
If you are hanging the shirt, it should face LEFT and have the top button buttoned. (let's all say a quick thankful prayer for hangers shall we hummmmmm?) I'm not kidding when I say that I have gone behind Charles a million times refolding the clothes that he has folded, though I try not to be obvious about it. I could be a little anal retentive on this issue, what do you think?

6. I can't stand it when someone where's their hat inside. In today's day and age of the ball cap, so many people are doing this and it's now considered normal. What is wrong with you people? Show some frigging upbringing. NO, it's not okay to wear it into Walmart - you're still INSIDE...and if you walk in MY door with a hat on your head, you had better be undergoing some serious chemo treatments. I won't even say Hi to you...the first thing I'll say is "Please take your hat off."

I'm all done now. Don't worry, I won't tag you....but you're still weird...weirder than me even.

Quinch Your Thirst

2007-01-31T14:55:00.000-05:00

"So, you want to go out to dinner?"

"Sure. Where do you want to go?"

"You pick."

"Okay, how 'bout Applebees"

"Sounds good. I'll see you about 6?"

"Okay, I'll meet you on the front steps."

The commander dismissed us late that day but I've always been fairly low maintance, and only had to shower and change and brush my hair and I was ready. I had a no nonsense hair cut - short to save me time and harrassment about my hair touching my collar and I didn't wear make-up then (I miss the flawless skin of 21). I was ready in 20 minutes.

I meet him on the front steps to his barracks, which were across the quad from mine, and he drove us to Applebees in his silver Thunderbird that he treasured.

We talked and bantered and bullshitted. Somewhere in all that smack-talking, Charles told me that I had better watch out or he was only going to order a cup of water for my dinner. I laughed and gave him a look that said "Yeah sure."

We arrived at Applebees and seated ourselves. The talk flowed about all the different dishes we loved there and how it was a favorite restaurant of both of us. I told him to stop copyin' me. He threatened me with a cup of water. I smiled and lit a cigarette.

We were in the back of the restaurant, hiding in a booth, enjoying the dim emptiness and we were easy with each other, relaxed and we talked about work and people at work.

The waitress arrived and gave us menus and asked for our drink order. I quickly interjected "I'd like a Coke please. He'd like a glass of ice."

Her eyes almost popped out of her head...just like Charles' were.

"A glass of ice?"

"Yes please." I don't think she could quite grasp what was happening....and for that matter...Charles couldn't either...his eyes were on the verge of rolling down his face and landing in the condiment organizer. She flicked her eyes to Charles and then back to me.

"Just ice? No water or anything?"

"Hmmmmmm" I said, pretending to think about it "No, he just wants ice."

She nodded her head vaguely and muttered something that sounded like OK, but I could be wrong, and walked away.

Charles was still sitting across from me with bulbous eyes and a slack jaw. I grinned and waggled my eyebrows at him.

"You ordered me ice?" The incredulous look on his face was giving me endless joy.

"Yes, I did."

"Think you're funny do you?" he couldn't stop the smile.

"Yep. You deserved it and you know it...threatening me with a glass of water. You're just mad that I thought of the glass of ice and you didn't."

It was then, at that moment, that both of us knew that we'd be going out more...but we didn't know that the other felt that way at the same time until years later when we rehashed that infamous first date.

I liked it that he could take a joke.

He liked it that I joked with him.

Apparently, we're perfect for each other.

My Midget Is Cute

2007-01-28T14:44:00.000-05:00

I took Connor to the Dr on friday. He was way past due (at almost 21 months) for his 18 month well baby check-up.

In the midst of all the Dr. visiting we do (and we do it at least once every two weeks, sometimes more), I didn't schedule Connor for his well baby check-up because I figured the Dr had checked him enough. Not so, said the nurse...and I had a hard time believing her because he had been sick so much that he still had not had is 15 month shots!!!

Being the chastened mommy that I was, I called to make ANOTHER appointment (even got to say Hello to Lin - I know she still loves me)...only to find that Connor's pediatrician quit to start his own practice 3 counties away for the poor and underpriveledged with no access to health care. (DAAAAAMMMNNNN) While I admire him for what he's doing and wish him well, I wish he wasn't going...but, there's nothing I can do about that, so I switched his primary Dr to another Dr he had seen on several occasions and scheduled an appointment to come in.

I showed up for the appointment 5 minutes early....and waited 30 minutes after the appointed time to be called back to see the nurse...because we all know the Dr. doesn't show up until later.

I liked the nurse...she seemed a bit scattered, but nice enough, seemed to know the drill and Connor liked her...which is important to me...because kids can smell a bullshit artist a mile away. She did the standard height, weight and head measuring and asked me a million questions and then asked me if I had any questions. We spoke for a bit and then I asked for his percentages.

She plugged his info into her portable laptop. First, his height (he is in the 25th percentile for kids in the 18 month age group) then his weight (75th percentile) and head measurements (again, 75th percentile).

I had to pause. Basically what she was telling me was that I had a short, fat baby with a big head.

I laughed a little, and then felt guilty for laughing.

So I kissed my short, fat baby on his big head and tickled his distended belly and miniture ribs.

There now, all better.

Groups of Three

2007-01-28T13:36:00.000-05:00

Me has tagged me with a MeMe. mememememememememeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee (sorry I was trying to warm up so I could sing it to you..but I'm going to save it for my American Idol audition (NOT).

Things That Scare Me

1. Spiders
2. High up places
3. Spiders in high up places

People That Make Me Laugh

1. Charles
2. Lauren
3. Connor

Things I Love

1. Deodorant
2. Bug Killer
3. WD40

Things I Hate

1. Spiders
2. Dishes
3. That burnt hair smell (and unfortunately, I'm familiar with all three)

Things I Don't Understand

1. How I've managed to keep my sanity
2. Why I have to keep paying the utility bills. Wasn't once enough?
3. Why with every breath my husband takes...he must exhale thru his buttocks.

Things on my Desk

1. A sign that says "Would you mind terribly much if I asked you to take your silly little problems down the hall?" (okay not really - but I really, really want one)
2. The COM-PU-TER (duh)
3. An assortment of different colored post it notes stuck everywhere.

Things I'm Doing Right Now

1. Yelling at my hard headed children (notice how I don't confess to beating them)
2. Watching it sleet/snow outside
3. Fending of my husband who was an octopus in a previous life. (Oh, who am I kidding? He's an octopus in this life)

Three Things I Want To Do Before I Die

1. Become financially stable.....no, scratch that, I want to be well off.........ah, okay, I'll be honest...I want to be filthy rich so I can buy all the plastic surgery and chocolate I want. (and I've got to have one to have the other)
2. Travel. I want to see the world and experience different cultures...and then open a McDonalds on every street corner.
3. Paint the town purple (because red is so over done)

Things I Can Do

1. Smoke heavily
2. Snark mightily
3. Fart gustily (still want to meet Annie?)

Things You Should Listen To

1. Whatever you want. It's a free country. One of the reasons I became a soldier is to defend the freedom for all the weirdos in the world to listen to that crappy beargrass music.
2.
3.

Things You Should Never Listen To

1. I'm not going to revisit this topic.
2.
3.

Things I Would Like To Learn

1. How to cook
2. How to drive without my hands over my eyes
3. How to beat my children without breaking limbs and leaving bruises in obvious and visible places. (Hello child services)

Favorite Foods

1. Chocolate
2. Sour cream
3. Paint

Favorite Beverages

1. Dt. Mt. Dew
2. Tequilla
3. Paint

TV Shows I Watched, Books I Read as a Kid

1. The Price is Right
2. The Jeffersons
3. Little Golden Books (I'm still on this reading level)

People I Would Like To Tag

1. Pendullum (ha ha got you back)
2. Mr Fabulous
3. Robin Williams (though I don't think he'll do one)

Fear Me

2007-01-26T22:10:00.000-05:00

I'm not a serial killer...but my brother's name is Jason.

Does it matter that I have a chainsaw?

No, no. Really. I'm not kidding. My father-in-law (who I love to death) gave us two of them...expressly for me. (I'm touched..it's just what I always wanted.)

One is dead (the chainsaw smarty pants, not the father in law and no, it wasn't me who killed it) and we use it for parts for the other chainsaw that is exactly like it. They are terriblely old. Apparently, they are the same ones that Charles and his brother Brian used as kids. From what I understand, the chainsaw that I use is the exact same one that Brian used when he was a kid...and damn near cut his leg off with. (I don't know about you...but I'm comforted by that thought.)

Now, I can swing an ax. I don't LIKE swinging the ax, but I can if I need to, which is silly really, 'cause if I need some wood cut I just send Charles to do it for me (he he he). But every once in a while, we need big pieces for Charles to chop up into little pieces and I now have my trusty rusty chainsaw to help (I'm a good bitch for helping- what can I say).

The first time I used it....I felt empowered. I AM WOMAN!!!! WATCH ME VIBRATE!!!! Okay, maybe "empowered" isn't the correct word...I felt...abused. Yeah, that's the word...abused. (the thought of me being abused while I vibrate is probably giving a couple of you your jollies - do NOT bookmark this page if that is the case - thanks)

You know, I had always thought that using a chainsaw had to be easy. You just lay that bad boy on the log and let it do it's thing right? Well, don't tell Charles...but I was wrong. (I would lose a bet that I don't plan on losing...and I would really mess you up if you told). You gotta push that thing into the wood. You gotta work to make it work. You gotta pray that the tree you're getting ready to chop up is dry enough to make the cutting easier (oak is a nightmare btw, and that's mostly what we have).

OUCH OUCH OUCH OOOUUUUUUCCHHHHHHHH

MOMMY! IT HURTS. Please make me a really big heating pad...nevermind...I'll throw a body suit in the microwave and save you some trouble.

No wonder Charles is toothpick skinny. I mean, if I painted his head red, he'd look like a match...and I say that with love and not an ounce of jealousy or envy (cough).

Who needs the gym when you go tramping around in the woods on a weekly basis cuttin' up trees, loading the pieces in the truck, driving back to the house, choppin' em up and then stackin' em?

Answer? NO ONE.

All that is needed is A WHOLE HELL OF A LOT OF PAIN MEDS and a microwaved body suit...and hot showers...and massages because you're sore...and pity from your significant other...and chocolate...and sleeping in because you're sore and it should help the body get all better....

Damn, I gotta do this every weekend!!! This is the BOMB!

Or maybe I should open my own business...a retreat for the wealthy and over priviledged to come and experience some real life...like those ranches you hear about (like the one on City Slickers with Billy Crystal). Or I can always kidnap a couple of hunky, muscular mid 20's men and have them do it for me....

HMMMMMM Decisions, decisions.

I Can Read Dr. Joe Like A Book

2007-01-25T14:50:00.000-05:00

My dear friend Dr. Joseph McCrumble has written a book....he got it published and everything.(The Wonderful World of Dr Joseph McCrumble - Celebrity Parasytologist)

I don't know if you've ever clicked over that way and read his blog...but he is very entertaining...he cracks me up with all of his misadventures. He's much better at screwing up a situation than I am LOL (sorry Joe). For example...if he had been to a gentleman's party and his fly burst open...he'd probably ask the guy next to him to zip it...and for the poor guy to try not to feel jealous while he was doing it....at least that's what I'm guessing would happen. (snicker)

I clicked on the link to read about the book and this particular except caught my eye...

"we begin a tumultuous adventure with more twists and turns than an amateur plumbing convention"

and of course, I took notice of this....

"This edition of the diary also contains a 70 page story called ‘Five Days in Denver’ — an entirely fictional and racy account of scientists behaving badly at a scientific conference"

Now, Dr Joe is a celebrity (not like Paris Hilton - he's much more hairy), and in keeping with throwing crumbs to the little people from afar...most proceeds go to charity. (And this one is a very good charity I would think)

...and just FYI to all you cyberstalkers out there...if you read the book and want to have his baby...I will laugh at you.

The book is titled The Wonderful World of Dr Joseph McCrumble, you can get it on Amazon...or click here to take a look and read a few pages.

I can't wait to get my copy....Dr Joe never fails to get me giggling with a dropped jaw at some of his exploits....

Go buy the book...or at least go tell him how much you think it's going to suck. (love ya Joe)

Out With The Girls

2007-01-20T23:44:00.000-05:00

I just got back from a ladies party...you know what I'm talking about....where a group of women (no men allowed) all sit around and talk shit, make bad jokes, and discuss sex and talk about their man's staying power...or lack there of (snerk..chuckle..giggle)and buy....uh...marital aids (blush).

This is only the second one I've been too and I have had a really good time at both of them. Women are really funny when it comes to sex. I have heard some stories at these parties that have made my jaw drop and some that have made me laugh so hard I couldn't breathe. You could blame all the silliness on the alcohol or you could blame it on.....ummm...never mind....blame it on the alcohol.

Well, I learned the last time I went to a party, to make sure you dress NICELY...women can be very critical....and to make sure you SHAVE YOUR LEGS....and NOOOOO, I'm not going to tell you why.

So, I shaved and showered like a good girl. Did my hair, and my make up and went a made the dip I promised I'd bring (one 8oz cream cheese softened, one 8oz sour cream, put in mixer, mix until creamy, add one packet of taco seasoning. I use old el paso myself - it's always a big hit. Top with cubed tomatoes and green onions), and stuffed it in the refrigerator. Then I went and got dressed.

I had pulled a pair of jeans out of the back of the closet that I hadn't worn in a while and had forgotten about, and a nice purple sweater that seems to keep me at just the right temperature, and is casual and slightly dressy - and better yet, it comes down far enough to hide my hips but still shows a little ass. To finish, I slipped on some casual dress shoes (my shoe of choice) and beat feet to the party.

I was feeling pretty good. I felt like I looked pretty good and I was desperately in need of a night out with the girls (something I haven't had in many, many moons)...and I was on a high...just a feel good, be free for one night high. I damn near busted the speakers and strained a vocal cord on the way over to Old Friends house.

The evening progressed and we were shown various items and smelled stuff in bottles and were shown books and games and a whole bunch of other stuff that set a bunch of half drunk grown women with children - some of them married 15 years or more - tittering like school girls in sex education class in high school. We had all had a great time....

...and then it happened. That moment of keen embarassment....that OH SHIT moment....moments that are becoming more frequent to me the older I get.

I was sitting in the corner in a chair - in full view of the room, holding product samples on Q-tips... samples that are meant to go...uh well...uh...you know...down there......and then my fly burst open. No shit. My fly burst open.

Now, you could say that it was a sign that I needed to buy those products.

You could say that I had gotten to fat for my pants....I'm sure you, dear reader, could say a lot of things...what you couldn't say however, was that I was in a good position at that point...no pun intended.

Luckily, my sweater was covering my fly - remember I told you it was a little long...and it's a damn good thing.

I was sitting there with the samples in my hand, my fly wide open, and THEN the "Romance Enhancement Specialist" (aka the sales lady) pulls out a double sided dildo and announces we are going to play a game with it.

Oh SSSHHHIIIIIIIIIIITTT.

As I was desperately trying to figure out a way out of this situation, a vague memory of WHY THE DAMN PANTS WERE IN THE BACK OF THE CLOSET came to me. They were in the back of the closet because the lock on the zipper was broken and the frigging things would unzip all of the sudden...just like they had tonight. (I couldn't bear to throw them out and was just going to wear them around the house but forgot them instead).

I'm sitting there...slap dab in the middle of this oh shit moment, the sales lady is waving this double sided dildo in my face, my fly is open and the other half drunk ladies are urging me to go try out my samples in the bathroom.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

So I did what any one would do in that situation. I pretended I stubbed my toe and walked bent over all the way to the bathroom and zipped up my pants....after I went pee - because high stress moments like that make me have to go.

I emerged from the bathroom victorious. I had found a safety pin to keep my zipper up...and I was just drunk enough to smile about it...because safety pinning your pants when your drunk isn't easy...and all the other ladies agreed that the samples were great....I just let them think what they wanted. There was no damn way I was going to tell on myself. Would you?

I had forgotten all about the damned samples. Who gives a shit about samples at a time like that? Frankly, it scared me when she waved that double sided dildo at me. I had never seen one before, and I can safely say, I don't care to see another one...and definately not up that close.

So What Did You Do With Your Sunday Morning Part III

2007-01-18T14:29:00.000-05:00

There wasn't much I could do to help Max. I just kept calling him and patting the floor.

I was getting frustrated. I didn't know what to do to help him. I walked away and tried calling him. I put wet cat food down. I even considered calling the dog over, pinning him to the floor so he would be free to attack him if he felt so inclined...but decided against it...Max is bigger than my dog.

I watched Max twist and turn and scoot around and we were both getting terribly frustrated. I decided it was time for a cig.

I inhaled the highly addictive nicotine with pleasure, closing my eyes to savoir the feeling of it entering my blood stream. Feeling it causing cancer in the interesting and medically inaccessable areas, then I went back to Max.

He was resting, curled up in the duct and I tried to look him over again. I didn't see anything wrong. No scratchs or cuts or gouges. I reached my hand down and lightly petted his back...he didn't move.

"Max. Kitty kitty" no response. He wasn't moving and like a thunder clap - it struck me that Max was dead. I had failed to get him out and he was dead. He was dead in my duct with my children just a few yards away...baby needing a diaper change and everyone needing breakfast....oh shit.

I felt like hell. I couldn't believe it. I was in total shock. I stoked his back and tried to figure out what in the hell to do. No way I could let the kids see this. It would be one of those horrible childhood memories that would be relived at the shrinks office when Lauren grows up and blames me for everything that is wrong with the world.

I called to Charles and told him the cat had died. He sat down at the dining room table (just a few feet away) and took off his supper heavey steel toed boots and dropped them on the floor.

I don't know what in the hell happened or what was going on, but Max came up out of the vent like a shot, climbed up my legs and fused with my shoulder. I almost shit myself. I was screaming like a mad woman - screaming for all I was worth - screaming and dancing and swatting at the dead cat and tried to run - but ran into the wall - and I kept hitting and hitting and hitting him and screaming and screaming. There was a dead cat climbing up my body with claws that were REALLY REALLY SHARP and suddenly visions of PET CEMITARY were flashing thru my mind..

...but he was fine. We had him checked out and he got a clean bill of health. There just wasn't enough room for him to move his hind legs like he wanted to.

We fixed the duct that he had torn apart to get in and made sure that no more kitties could get in under the house.

I'm scarred from the whole experience....his claws were REALLY sharp and he didn't like it when I kept swatting at him for some reason. ouch.

So What Did You Do With Your Sunday Morning Part II

2007-01-15T21:34:00.000-05:00

I couldn't believe that Charles was going to shoot the cat...and then I listened to Max go "raon raon" a couple more times and thought that maybe he was right.

I had visions of the cat bleeding out in my vents, or maybe had a broken leg or was severely hurt in some way. What if he went ape shit when we got him out? What if we couldn't get him in the cat carrier to take him to the vet? What if he died while he was in there?

I kept calling and calling and he kept calling back.....Charles made a pot of coffee....Lauren came out of her room "Mom, the cat woke up Connor." and then it struck her that mom shouldn't be on her hands and knees in the den calling to a cat thru the vents. "What's going on?"

"Max is caught in the vents hon." she started tearing up and freaking out.

"None of that hon. He's okay, he's just trapped and we have to figure out a way to get him out." she started working herself up in to a frenzy, face stretched in the pre-panice grimace.

"Lauren, get a hold of yourself. He's not hurt honey. He's okay. We just have to figure out a way to get him out is all." She calmed down and peered down in the vent and called to Max....Charles sipped at his coffee and looked at me over the rim of the cup....the baby started crying.

"Lauren, could you go amuse Connor for a bit honey until we get the cat out?"

"Okay" and she was gone. As soon as Connor's door closed Charles said "There's really something wrong with him. I've never heard a cat meow like that unless he's hurt." I nodded my head in agreement with him.

I needed to get him out of there quick. I looked down in the vent, I still couldn't see him. I thought about sticking my hand down there and waving my fingers around a bit so he could see where to come out at...but didn't want him to attack me if he was in pain...but I couldn't think of anything better...so I stuck my hand down the vent and waved my fingers a bit and prayed for the best.

He didn't attack me, but I could hear him coming closer. "Go load the gun honey" I said. If he was really hurt, I didn't want him to suffer....we live 30 minutes away from the nearest vet (which was closed)..and 45 mins away from the nearest animal hospital and that doesn't include catching him and loading him in the cat carrier.

Max's head popped up the vent and he looked at me and Raoned raoned for all he was worth. He didn't look hurt from what I could see but the rest of his body was still in the duct...I couldn't get a good look. His back legs were twisted at an odd angle and I was terrified that he had broken his back. He went back in the vents and turned around, dragging his hind legs behind him. They weren't moving.

Charles emerged with the gun, and I pushed the cat carrier to the side. If his back was broken, there wasn't going to be any need for it. I grabbed some towels and laid them out to wrap him in and some thick leather gloves to keep my hands from being gouged with his claws.

I called to him and his head popped up once more. I tried my luck again and patted the carpet next to his head to encourage him to come out. I could see him trying to pull himself up. I petted him on the head and he paused for a moment. I tried to give him some comfort and he seemed to be soaking it in. I looked at Charles, he looked at me..."Are the other cats in the house?" "Yeah" I said quietly, and Charles slipped out the back door. I looked back at Max and he quietly MEOWED.

I felt like the biggest asshole in the world. I think Max knew what was going on. I think he knew we were going to shoot him.

I tried to slip my hands under his front legs and help him out, but he didn't like that...he never scratched me though.

Charles came back inside and Max finally got his front legs out of the the vent with his paws just resting on the edge of the carpet...then I saw his back leg move...just one, and I prayed that maybe his back wasn't broken....maybe he just didn't have enough room to move.

To be continued............

So What Did You Do With Your Sunday Morning

2007-01-14T22:33:00.000-05:00

RRRRRAAAAAAOOOONNNNNNN

RRRRRRAAAAAAAOOOOOOONNNNN

What in the hell is that? I looked around and listened.

RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOONNN

Max? (the cat that Stinky and Redhead left behind) How in the hell did Max get inside? (I knew it was him. He has a very distinctive meow - which isn't a meow at all ... he says "raon". Friggin weird cat.)

So I got out of my comfy cosy computer chair - where I had made a very comfortable ass imprint - and went to go get him and shoo him out the door. I emerged from my cave (aka the computer room) and called to him.

Kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty! Maaaaaaaaaaxxx. Here kitty kitty.

Immediately, the floor answered me RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOONNNNN.

It was deep throated, a distress cry and he called over and over again. He was stuck under the house. My first reaction was DAMN IT! HOW'D HE GET UNDER THE HOUSE???? my second was THAT FURRY LITTLE BASTARD, LET HIM STAY THERE FOR A FEW MINUTES. and my third and final reaction was DAMN, I GUESS I BETTER GO GET HIM BEFORE HE TEARS SOME SHIT UP. So I turned around to put out my cigarette and again I hear

RRRRAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNN.

...and then it struck me....the cat wasn't under the house...he was in my VENTS. The reason that the floor answered me was because the furry little bastard was IN my floor.

THUMP THUMP THUNK tick tick tick scratch RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNN

He had traveled across the room to the other vent and proceeded to scream in kitty language "GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!!!!!! AND COULD YOU AT LEAST TURN OFF THE HEAT - IT'S BURNING MY FACE AND CHAPPING MY ASS"

I panicked. Holy SHIT!!! That was the only thing running thru my mind at this point. I ran and got Charles....or more to the point, I awoke him gently by barging into the bedroom and yelling excitedly CHARLES! WAKE UP! THERE'S A CAT IN THE VENTS. WAKE UP!!! YOU GOTTA GET HIM OUT!!!! ....because I'm considerate like that.....and ran back into the den to listen to Max cuss at me in a whole new language.

OH SHIT!!! What should I do???!!!! ... and then that little voice inside me spoke..you know the one...the one that you want to slap the shit out of for making you feel stupid in times of crisis..... "Get a screw driver you dumb shit. Undo the screws, remove the vent and the cat can crawl out of the ducts." I nodded my head "Good idea" I said to the voice.

Normally, finding a screw driver in my house wouldn't be a problem. Charles keeps a liberal sprinkling under each sink so "They are there when you need them"....but I had had enough a few weeks ago and told him to get them out from all the cabinets before the baby got them and stabbed himself in the eye or his cute little baby belly...and like a good man he did it....he dutifully took them all out to the locked shed....and put them in the locked tool box...and I was shit out of luck when I needed a screw driver.

The voice said "butter knife" and I nodded my head again and set to work. I laid the vent beside me with the screws and called to him again and again and he swore back at me again and again...and then CHARLES THE BEAR emerged from the bedroom and he was not a happy bear...but to give him credit he looked at me as kindly as he could and said "Listen to him...he's hurt or something....I may need to shoot him when we get him out."

My jaw dropped.....

To Be Continued

CHA CHING!!!!!!

2007-01-12T11:51:00.000-05:00

To all of you who have made fun of me for hoarding old statements on things I have paid....

I have only one thing to say to you.....

Click me.

Happy Anniversary To Me

2007-01-10T09:46:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was my anniversary. I've been married for 9 years.....9 long, painful, smelly years.

Years filled with flatulence, burping of the ABC's, and dirty underwear on the floor right by the hamper. Years filled with the toilet seat up, the toothpaste cap off, and beard and mustache trimmings in and around the sink.

Years of having to put up with wads of papertowel all over the house, shoes in the middle of the floor and hogging the remote control. Years of enduring the torture that is Nascar...or most any sport really. Years of him swatting me on the ass and saying "Good game."

Years of playing "What will my farts smell like if I eat this?" and "How many body parts can I grope while she runs past me?"

Years of watching him walk around in his old stretched out Hanes he won't let me throw away while scratching his ass. Years of him shaking his willy at me to "get me in the mood", and offering to help me with my headache.

Years of him telling me "You're fucking special" and kissing me on my forehead. Years of him laughing at me when he claims I did or said something stupid (that doesn't ever really happen btw).

*sigh*

It's a damn good thing the sex is still good huh.

Quality Time With My Man

2007-01-06T22:51:00.000-05:00

Hubby and I went to town today. That's a big event in my house. Hubby never wants to go anywhere on the weekends and he SUGGESTED it. I wasn't going to tell him no. I'm usually the one asking for us to go together and he's usually the one making up excuses not to go.

We went and got Super Baby a new pair of shoes, a new ballist for the kitchen lights, a filter for the shop vac, and a few other things that needed to be picked up.

It was a wonderful day. Lauren was spending the day with S next door making soap, going to the movies and eating large quantaties of junk that I don't let her eat, and Super Baby was in a very good mood and kept smiling and he even tried to wink at me while we were having lunch.

It was warm and sunny and had just the right breeze and I had my husband with me and my son, and my daughter was living it up raising cane and I felt full inside you know?

That is until after lunch.....

Charles farted the smelliest fart ever to explode from any human's ass EVER ...I even gagged a little....and we were in the car...and my window wouldn't roll down, and we were moving in heavy traffic so I couldn't just throw the door open. Even he was making that "ick" face (and you know it's gotta be bad when a man thinks his own fart stinks cause they usually don't seem to mind...they just sit in it and try to rate it on their own personal scale of Odoriforousness). The other windows in the car were already down, but the Green Cloud of Doom would not be dispersed and hung around like 70's fashion on my 6th grade english teacher.

My one good eyebrow started to twitch involuntarily - that quick jumpy twitch that you usually get in the corner of your eye and the only way it will stop is if you pull on it until your eye turns to slit and then you suddenly realise you shouldn't be doing that because you're over 30 now and wrinkles are starting to settle in and you're HELPING them by doing the eyeslit manuever so you put up with the jumping and contemplate some form of suicide instead - you know what I'm talking about. (that is possibly the biggest run on sentence in the history of man - no applause please)

"DAMN CHARLES!!!! You made my EYEBROW twitch!!"

He was suddenly so happy. He started laughing and clapping his hands and yelled "YES! YES! I CAUSED NERVE DAMAGE!!!"

I hope I left a really big, PAINFUL bruise...on his privates.

........

2007-01-05T08:29:00.000-05:00

Well boys and girls,

I have only one thing to say...

Ticketed for 62 in a 45mph zone.

Ain't that a bitch.

When The Smart Ass Attitude You Learned From Mom Goes Terribly Wrong

2006-12-31T12:49:00.000-05:00

My daughter Lauren is 8, and the girl has snark and zing - and she is QUICK. She even gets me sometimes...I'm so proud.

For instance, my beautiful and precious angel bear (Lauren) was watching the boob tube yesterday and her room was a manifestation of hell.

"Lauren, you need to clean your room honey. It's scary in there."

"No I don't. It's not scary enough yet."

"Oh it's plenty scary, and you had better get moving before you upset me instead of sitting there giving me lip."

"Lip? What do you want one of my lips for?" She asks this with a totally innocent look on her face - like she didn't know what I was talking about.

"You're pushing your limits Lauren. This is the last time I'm telling you - go clean your room - or I'm going to wear you out."

"Okay - you can if you want. I've got buns of steal"

.......

Turns out, buns of steal or no buns of steal, they still hurt when Mom gets ahold of em.

I Love A New Haircut

2006-12-28T00:09:00.000-05:00

We got one of these thingies. You can visit their website HERE

It's a woodburning furnace that sits outside, and it has done WONDERFUL things for my electric bill I can tell you. Last year at this time my electric bill was almost 500 - A MONTH, this year it's 180.00. Charles and I are pretty happy with that number....we don't have a heat pump, and it's all just forced heat and it really made our power bill go crazy..but this little baby has made it all better.

One of Charles' relatives had gotten one as well a few years ago and he used so much less electricity that the power company came out to make sure that he still lived there/make sure the meter was working correctly. That's how good this baby works.

It heats the house, and all the water, and ever since we've had it, we have NEVER run out of hot water...and that was with 8 people living in the house. It's been bliss. This coming year we are going to get an adapter put on the dryer so that the heat from the furnace will be used to dry clothes instead of the heating element...and they won't smell all smokey either - just the heat will be used.

I feel like I've gone back in time. Cool crisp weekend mornings with Charles waking up early (meaning he wakes up with the rest of us), fixes himself a cup of coffee and goes out back and chops wood all day. It just has that country "I've got things to do today and I'm going to get them done" feeling - you know? Well, maybe not - but it's a good feeling and I stay motivated all day just watching him swing his axe (today's secret word is BICEPS- can you say BICEPS? Tomorrows secret work will be Icy Hot)

I generally look after the fire on the weekends that he's not chopping...make sure there's a nice bed of hot coals and throw some wood on top to keep everything going. It only takes a few minutes and that's it.

That's what happened a few weeks ago, I was getting ready to cook breakfast and decided to go throw some wood on the fire. I was suffering from a severe case of BEDIOUS-O-HEADIOUS but decided that it didn't matter because our neighbors live far enough away from us that they wouldn't be able to see me even if there weren't a thousand trees seperating me from them...so I left my hair sticking out in all crazy directions and went and threw some wood on the fire.

Charles and Stinky had cut down a couple of trees on the property the day before...they were infested...one tree had 5 (that we found) queen ants, and another had beetles. I threw a few pieces of the wood in the furnace....and man did they stink. I decided to talk to Charles about that ... I didn't want to burn stinky wood....no need to torture the neighbors.

I went back in and started cooking a big breakfast for all 8 of us...pancakes, sausage, bacon, (yeah, I cooked both) and as I was cooking the eggs, Lauren walked up to me.....

"Mom, when is breakfast going to be ready?"

"In a minute sweetie, it's almost done."

"Mom, you hair looks funny in the front."

"I know sweetie, I haven't done my hair this morning. I figured you might want breakfast first."

"No Mom, it looks REALLY funny right here." and she reached up and pulled a huge chunk of burnt hair off the front of my head - right where the bangs go..er...were.

That would certainly explain the smell now wouldn't it.....turns out, the wood didn't stink at all. I just got to close to the fire...it also burnt off most of my eyelashes....I now have eyestubs - and one eyebrow went adios.

I'm still attractive...in that hairless, scary looking, had to get an interesting new hair cut, and had to learn how to draw my eyebrows on kind of way.

Merry Kwanza, Happy Christmas......

2006-12-20T08:52:00.000-05:00

Our house guests left last night to go back to TX where Stinky has found an obscenely high paying job and I called my mother to let her know and to thank her for sending me money for Christmas (because money is the only truly good gift at my house).

I put Lauren on the phone to talk to her, chitty chat with grandma for a bit......

"Grandma, I got my ears pierced for Christmas and they're shaped like flowers and they are real crystal and the petals are all different colors and Mom says they're beautiful and that they look magnificent on me."

Grandma responds with the appropriate oooo's and aaaaaaah's and asks her if we have our Christmas tree up.

"Yes ma'am. We put it up a long time ago and we even have some presents under the tree already. Do you have presents under your tree Grandma?"

Grandma responds with - No honey we don't have tree.

This didn't surprise me, my mother doesn't put up a tree and hasn't for years - not since my brother and I moved out of the house....of course, Lauren had something to say about that.

"Why don't people in New Mexico celebrate Christmas Grandma? Do you celebrate Kwanza and Hanukkah instead?"

I think I need to talk to this child....you know, clue her in that we are not African American Jews and we don't celebrate Kwanukkah.

I Have Always Wondered.......

2006-12-14T09:03:00.000-05:00

The kinky side to Santa

Just In Case You Were Wondering

2006-12-06T21:30:00.000-05:00

I'm not dead...

....but I do smell like burnt hair.

I'll explain later....maybe.

Stop Nagging Me Already

2006-11-03T09:10:00.000-05:00

Yes yes yes. I know....I'm a bad mother and didn't post any Halloween pictures for you....so live with it. I sent a couple to my mother via camera phone and that's it.

Connor went as a Lil' Devil. I tried explaining to the people who oooooohed and aaaaahed that it wasn't a costume but they just laughed.......I wasn't kidding.

Lauren went as an Angel, complete with great big white wings (purchased), one silver halo (made- that promptly broke as soon as we made our first steps), one long flow-ee shirt trimmed with silver medallion thingys (shirt purchased, I sewed the medallion thingys on), and one really long skirt in a nice silvery-white, trimmed with more silver medallion thingys (I made the skirt and sewed the medallion thingys on - my sewing machine resisted all attempts to be operated by a sewing idiot...but I eventually put it in the head lock and it gave in), outfit completed with tights and tennis shoes (she wanted to wear a pair of her sandals that she had this summer that had heels - I told her she was smoking crack and to go get her tennis shoes on).

I was supposed to dress up as a witch but that didn't work out unfortunately. Charles wasn't feeling very well so I didn't have time to get all made up...I had even gone out and bought some warts, and ugly nose and a long chin to glue on, and some witch's make-up. Charles was supposed to go as a convict (black & white striped costume) - but instead he was a prisoner of the sandman.

Boys 1&2 both went as NINJA's, and I can tell you, it was funny as hell watching them trying to creep up on a couple of the houses and sneak some candy. They were gotten back by one man who had dressed up as a zombie and was propped in the corner of a porch (think floppy looking...like a scarecrow) with the bowl of candy on his lap....they went to grab and WHAMMO!!! instant screaming and crying Ninja's. They didn't take it well.....and yeah, I may be cruel....but I'm STILL laughing at that.

Stinky and Redhead were there too. Redhead led the way and made sure no children got to far ahead. Stinky at candy while fussing at the kids that they couldn't have any until it was inspected *chew, slobber, gulp*. (I fussed at him - his response? - that piece was okay).

All the kids fell asleep on the way home - except for Lauren, and we stopped by our neighbors house S & J and then we were home again. Boy 2 (4 years old) wouldn't wake up and was tucked in to bed in his costume, Boy 1 (6 years old) briefly regained conscienceness for just enough time to remove his costume, slip on some pj's and was off to bed.

Superbaby (18 months old) woke up when we pulled in the driveway and was immediately stripped, wiped down, dressed and put to bed....er...crib.

Lauren (8 years old) however, immediately dumped her bucket of candy onto the dining room table and sorted everything in little piles of all candy that was the same and hovered over it until I inspected it. I was expecting her to devour at least a couple of pieces, but she was content that only 3 pieces got the heave-ho and put it all away again after looking at her sugar treasure once more, counted it carefully, and put it all back in the bucket. She took a shower and went to bed.

The adults just kind of looked at each other and went to bed. All of us were in bed by 8 pm.....a true sign that we're all getting old.

Hope you all had a great time...I'm going to sneak some candy.....see ya later.

Thanks Mom, I Love You

2006-10-27T21:30:00.000-04:00

Mom, I know you read me everyday, and I just wanted to tell you thank you.

Thank you for letting me be me.

Thank You:

for giving words of encouragement.

for giving guidance as a friend and a mother.

for never expecting me to be perfect.

for always being there when I need a helping hand.

for having a great sense of humor.

for being a strong person, but more importantly, a strong woman.

for kissing away the hurt in my boo-boos when I was a kid.

for holding my hand - even long distance thru my hurt as an "adult".

for letting me climb into bed with you all those years I had those terrible nightmares.

for holding me and giving me kisses while I was sick.

for being the loudest to stand and cheer for me.

for kicking me in the ass when I need it.

for letting me make my own decisions.

for supporting me even when I made the wrong decisions.

for helping me when Connor was sick.

for loving and accepting Charles into the fold of our family without blinking an eye.

for never saying anything about my parenting skills or lack there of sometimes.

for helping me when figure out something to calm Lauren when she was sleep walking so much.

for helping me to be a better mother thru you.

for helping me be a better wife thru you.

for helping me be a better person thru you.

Thank You for being my Best Friend.

Thank You for being You.

I love you.

Hey, Thanks For The Memories Asshole

2006-10-25T09:22:00.000-04:00

Dear Mr. Postman,

Thanks to you, I know my neighbors much better than I ever wanted too.

I know that one of my neighbors has a thing for all things Victoria's Secret....it's a dude...an old, greasy haired dude that has about 3 teeth and drives some monstrosity of a car that spews blue exhaust due to that amount of oil it burns.

My other neighbors love them some Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes (you too could be the 10 Million Dollar winner) and get frequent invitations to all things having to do with BINGO.

Yet another neighbor has things mailed to her in discrete brown packages....and that is kinda scary for me - because she weighs so much that she has to use a walker to get around. Reminds me a bit of the Michelin Man....and yet I'm stuck with the knowledge that ADAM AND EVE know who this lady is, and she is apparently one of their best customers.

Another neighbor is deeply religious (guessing from the amount of mail I see coming from Pat Robinson)....and I know I'm bad, but I think it's funny as hell that they live next to the ADAM AND EVE lady.

I would really like to thank you for giving me this insight into their day to day lives...but could you do me a favor?

PUT THE CRAP IN THE CORRECT BOX FOR CRYING OUT LOUD. I KNOW YOU'RE NEW, BUT YOU'RE REALLY STARTING TO TICK ME OFF.

My daughter is crushed that I won't let her check the mail any more. I don't want her handling a package from ADAM AND EVE for Pete's sake. That's just friggin sick. When she asked me who that was...I told her it was from some sort of religious organization. What in the hell was I supposed to tell her? ....and I hope to hell the ADAM AND EVE lady is a frequent hand washer because I had to touch her mailbox to put the package in the correct receptacle.

It creeps me the hell out to know that the old dude beside me could be thinking of Victoria's Secret undies while at the community picnic, and his smile is all of the sudden that much more creepy.

Thanks for the nightmares you dumb shit.

You keep this crap up and I'll make the cat piss on your Christmas cookies.

Seconds from Disaster

2006-10-18T12:19:00.000-04:00

Boy 1 is 6 yrs old, Boy 2 is 4 yrs old.

Squish Boy 1 and Boy 2 in the same room with the baby, just across the hall from only girl child - must be older (preferably with Mommy Syndrome), stir well with general bedlam and chaos, throw in a few pets for spice (add a pregnant full blooded Cocker Spaniel with separation anxiety if available), sprinkle with more than a dash of motion sickness from each child, generously add extremely curvy back roads. Sit back, watch everybody scream, fight and puke. You now have a day out of my life.

Envy me.

STOP TOUCHING ME! STOP TOUCHING ME! MS. NIKKI! PLEASE TELL HIM TO STOP TOUCHING ME!

Cue rolling eyes and heavy sigh.

This used to happen everyday on the way to and from Daycare/School. Now, noone is allowed to touch anyone while we are in the car.

LEAVE ME ALONE! YOU'RE BOTHERING ME! BE QUIET! GO AWAY!

Cue clenched jaw and frustrated look.

Again, this used to happen every morning on the way to and from Daycare/School. Now, we play the QUIET GAME and noone is allowed to talk to anyone. I get to turn the radio on and sing along - rather horribly I might add - with the music. I have a feeling that they think their punishment has gone on a bit to long, and is a bit to severe. Ms Nikki never threatened to sing along with the Beatles and Nora Jones. They all - even Connor - shoot accusatory looks at me from the back seat.

IT'S MY TURN TO BE UP FRONT! STOP IT! YOU RODE UP FRONT LAST TIME! YOU'RE TELLING STORIES!

Cue banging head against anything available - as long as it will draw blood - then I'm happy.

This stops after I threaten to stuff them all in the trunk or strap them to the roof of the car. To bad I can't banish them all to the back seat. There's only room for 2 plus Connor's car seat and then one in the front. I have to strain to remember who sat up front last - and to find out who sat up front while they rode with Redhead. Heaven help us all if I get it wrong.

MOM! BOY 2 HAS HIS THUMB IN HIS MOUTH! MOM! TELL HIM TO GET AWAY FROM ME! MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM!

Cue searching for anything sharp to cut my wrists with.

The only response here? "Lauren, you're grounded anyway. Why are you out of your room. Don't let me catch you again, or you'll stay in there another 3 days. (gives crazy mom look) Try me."

I TOLD YOU TO GET YOUR SOCKS ON. WHY ARE YOU STILL RUNNING AROUND BAREFOOT? WHERE ARE YOUR SHOES? WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING? LAUREN, WHERE IS YOUR BOOKBAG? WHERE ARE THE JACKETS? WHO MOVED THE JACKETS? WHY IS THE DOG OUT OF HIS KENNEL? PLEASE TAKE THAT FROM THE BABY....I SAID TAKE IT FROM THE BABY, NOT SNATCH IT FROM THE BABY. GIVE HIM A HUG AND KISS AND TELL HIM YOU'RE SORRY. YES, I KNOW HIS CRYING HURTS YOUR EARS.....OMG! WHAT WAS THAT! YOU DIDN'T BRUSH YOUR TEETH THIS MORNING! DON'T GIVE ME THAT! I DON'T BELIEVE YOU - YOU HAVE DRAGON BREATH...NO, I DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHAT COLOR DRAGON YOU ARE, GO BRUSH YOUR TEETH. CONNOR HONEY, STOP PULLING ON THE CATS TAIL.

This is me. This is my morning.

Please, Please, Please, Please...somebody, anybody...shoot me.

How do mothers with more than 2 cope? How do mothers of 2 with kids in the same age range cope? You are goddesses. You can do anything. I wanna be just like you. Goddesses can do everything and anything.....and hey,since you're goddesses, can you supply me with a winning lottery ticket - we need a nanny.

Thanks. 'Preciate it.

This is Owed

2006-10-17T13:25:00.000-04:00

Oh Mighty Quinn and Sayre - winners of the Operation: Lose That Ass challenge.

I bow to your greatness.

I am but an infinitesimal worm compared to you.

You wit is greater, your will power more strong, and you snark is more snarky than mine.

How have I lived without knowing you?

How could I ever continue to live and breath with out your advanced knowledge and wisdom due to your ADVANCED AGE. *ahem*

I will never be as good as either of you.

I will strive all the days of my life to be held in the same high reguard (won't take long though).

Please, pat me on my little head as you pass me in the hall or on the street so that I may have inner peace.

I will take comfort in the fact that you acknowledged someone as lowly as I am and will dance with joy shouting and jumping around the fire - because I will then be considered "COOL".

I will be one of the chosen.

um yeah....I meant every word of it too. Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom to vomit....damn, I didn't make it.

I Lost

2006-10-04T11:51:00.000-04:00

Well, I've been waiting and delaying posting this trying to get pictures uploaded but it's either my computer or blogger that's not cooperating and I'm already late. I need to get on with it.

Operation Lose That Ass

I lost.

I didn't meet the goal I had set for myself. Yeah, I got in a size 12, but to me, it doesn't count. I shouldn't have to suck it in that hard to get the zipper up causing a rather scary and overly large muffin top to emerge from the waistband of my pants. They were rather handy arm rests though.

So the next thing I should do I guess is start visiting others blogs to see who I have to post some major ass kissage posts about. *sigh* It's my own fault, so I shall endure with good grace (me? have good grace? yeah - that describes me)

Okay victims, I'm off for a visit.

_____________________________________________________________

Should we all vote or should we get Nikki M to decide who the winner is?

Give Me Furniture Or Give Me Death

2006-09-29T10:32:00.000-04:00

Man oh man!

I need some living room furniture in a bad way. I am absolutely fed up with it.

I would like to be free from fear - fear of sitting on the overstuffed armchair - scared that it's going to try to eat me again. Last time I tried to sit in the damn thing I sunk way down deep in it and COULDN'T GET UP. I felt like those old people on that commercial for Life Alert and wished to hell I had one. It was not pretty - especially since I was at home with just Connor and I was stuck - practically folded in half and pinned by a chair. (Yes,I have grace - what can I say)

*Grunt Grunt uuuugghhhh!*

"Damn it!!!! Son of a...hi sweet baby, mommy will be up to get you some milk in a minute. No, nonononooooo, please don't cry. Mommy will get you some milk, I promise. NO SCREAMING. Connor, look at that toy over there honey - isn't it cool."

*More wriggling and squirming*

"Sorry peice of shi...come here baby, give Mommy a kiss ...NO NO! Don't play with the vacumn cleaner honey, that's not a toy. I said to put it down. Connor Allen! Boy, you're getting ready to have a bad day"

*wriggle squirm wriggle squirm*

"Connor - SON! you're going to break it! Go play with Elmo, that's right Elmo. Elmo likes to dance. There you go! Dance with Elmo!"

*I try to dance along folded in half and trapped in the chair - the fluffy jaws of death had me in a firm grip - I could not get leverage to get out - it just wasn't happening.*

"Connor honey, don't throw Elmo. Pick him up. Connor, I said to pick him up."

*Connor toddles happily away*

*Son of a bitch - sorry rat ass bastard of a chair! I'm gonna burn this thing...if I ever get out of it."

Grunt, wiggle, squirm, cuss

"Connor! Connor! Come back in the living room sweetie! Do you want to sing the Itsy Bitsy Spider? Connor!"

Then suddenly without warning - the chair released me....I was free, and I haven't put my ass in that thing since.

No one else has had any problems with that damn chair. The frigging thing is out to get me.

I'm going to visit the Basset store....and I'm not buying any stupid overstuffed armchairs either

HAHAHAHA! Yes!!!!!

2006-09-27T10:51:00.000-04:00

YES! YES! YES!!!!!

No, I'm not faking it - I'm talking about....I FIT IN MY SIZE 12 SHORTS!

HA HAHAHAHAHAHA MY BITCHES!!!!!!!!!!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Granted they're a little tight (okay, a lot tight) but I can get in them.

Color me a shocked fool.

I'm also fitting into a rather form fitting shirt - AND I LOOK GOOD in it too!

*does stupid dance and scares people*

I just hope I can lose enough by monday of next week to actually be able to zip them up without holding my breath LOL.

NOW!!!!

To the person who found me by googling "mom takes it up the rearend"

PPPPPTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

It certainly seems that way sometimes, but don't go getting any ideas.

I Said This Too

2006-09-22T23:32:00.000-04:00

The whole Pledge of Allegiance thing is really twirling around my brain. (see comments - previous post). If this is not a subject that is interesting to you - aka - you don't give a shit - please click the "NEXT BLOG" button and get the fuck off my blog. This is my blog - my space - and I can damn well say what I please.

I am at a loss at how - EXACTLY HOW - can saying or hearing The Pledge or hearing the National Anthem bother or pissoff any American?

There are MILLIONS of people every year that break their ass trying to get here or stay here because we DO live in the greatest country on the face of Earth. We have more freedoms, more rights, more liberty, more opportunity than any other nation. People from other countries may bash us, but remember - it's the people from other countries that are trying to get here.

I am a Veteran. I was in the Army. I jumped out of helicopters and worked hellishly long hours in constant training to make sure that if the need were ever to arise, I could protect your family and mine...I could help protect our country. My job in the military was telecommunications, I was signed for MILLIONS of dollars worth of equipment, I carried the M16, the SAW (an automatic weapon), the M60 (the bigger version of the SAW). I have numerous awards and plaques from my service and I am PROUD of them. I am PROUD to be a Vet. I am PROUD to be an AMERICAN.

As soldiers, ALL of us had to train to understand and know what to do in case of Nuclear, Biological or Chemical attack. We were trained on how to give buddie aide - meaning, if a fellow soldier was hurt - shot - or maimed - we would all knew how to help him with some basic medical knowledge so that he/she WOULDN'T DIE.

I missed my daughters first steps doing what my country called me to do. My husband missed my daughters first steps doing what our country called him to do - he left and she wasn't even crawling - he came back and she was running - leaving me to be a full time, working, military, single/married mother in a forgeign country where I didn't know anyone and had no support. My brother left his infant son when he was barely 2 months old - missing first Thanksgiving, first Christmas, first Birthday, first steps, first tooth, first word, to do his SECOND tour in Iraq doing what his country called him to do. How many soldiers have left home to fight to protect us? How many soldiers have died? How many soldiers have to listen to demoralizing bullshit about people bashing what they are doing?

Don't pull that bullshit on me about how you're upset with what's going on in Iraq because all the people are dying and that's why you're against it - cause I don't want to fuckin hear it.

Do you know why they are dying? The are dying to keep us safe - your family - my family - ALL of us. They are puttin their families on hold - their everyday lives on hold - putting their lives on the line to keep another 9/11 from happening. Don't belittle the sacrifices these soldiers make by saying "Thanks but no thanks" - why don't you fucking hit them instead - I'm sure they would probably take that better than being snubbed in such a petty, shitty, condescending way.

Don't sling that mass media crap at me about how we aren't being effective and doing what we need to be doing. Go here,and here and it will tell you what's really going on over there.

For fucks sake - when you hear the National Anthem - when you hear about amber waves of grain, purple mountains majesty and fruited plains from sea to shining sea - your heart should be damn near to bursting from the love that you feel because THAT IS America - that is where we live. When you see the flag waving lazily in the breeze, or popping in a sharp wind - BE THANKFUL - be PROUD.

You will never, EVER hear me say war is a pretty thing, and I wish to GOD - HOW I WISH! - that we didn't have to be there - but I believe in what we are doing - I believe in us. I believe that we can make things better and safer for us and for them - not by forcing our culture on them - but removing the crap from the fundametalist bastards that has been forced onto them.

It frankly disgusts me that someone - ANYONE - can't even bring themselves to say The Pledge of Allegiance - or cringes when they hear the National Anthem. That's just a bunch of shit. PERIOD - and if you think otherwise, please feel free to delete my link and don't fucking bother me again with shitty comments. I'd really rather not have you here.

You can disagree with the politics of the Nation, you can disagree with the wars (Iraq and Afghanistan) and you can disagree with any fucking thing that you want - but if you disagree with THE PLEDGE....then get your sorry ass out of my face.

Yeah, I Said It

2006-09-21T14:03:00.000-04:00

Yeah, the comments were gettin ugly on that last post, so I turned them off.

The whole point of the post I think was missed.

I was meant to be a humorous jibe at what a difficult and low paid job teachers have and how they are not allowed to pray in school for guidance on a particularly horrible day (ie - dear powers that be, please keep my hand from stabbing this kid in the eye with this pencil - or - oh no, here comes Little Johnnie's mom - please grant me patience so I don't tackle her at the knees) or even thank the powers that be on a good day (ie - whew! sure am glad that kid moved - or - I sure am glad I don't have to go to that stupid meeting).

BUT! Since the subject was broached, I'm going there.

I do believe in the separation in church(or mosque or temple) and state, but I also believe that it should be okay to pray OUT LOUD in school regardless of your religion.It shouldn't be a problem because most of the worlds population believes in a higher power of some sort.

Whether you believe in GOD - no matter what language we worship him in, there shouldn't be a fucking problem with loving him. There also shouldn't be a fucking problem if you believe in GODS or anything else.

The issue here with me is this.....

If we believe in a higher being, why shouldn't we be allowed to show our love for him/her/them - as long as there is no sacrificing/mind control/torture/moral problems/etc.

I don't believe in pushing religion of any type down anyone's throaght - it's all about letting us do our own individual religious thing.

Why is there such a problem with this?

What in the fuck is wrong with people? Are we all so damn narrow minded that we can't accept what other people believe? It's not a matter of embracing everyone's beliefs, it's not even entirely about understanding them, it's having the the fucking decentcy to embrace people for who they are, regardless of how/who they worship.

YOUR approval, MY approval - it's not fucking needed.

I was just talking to Bossguy about this and he said that back in the day, it was a mandatory part of the day for the teachers to read a passage out of the bible, pray out loud and say the Pledge of Allegiance.

I can totally see how this would bother someone who is Jewish, or Muslim, or Buddist etc. - with the exception of the Pledge of Allegiance. (I do believe the phrase UNDER GOD should stay btw. - I can't see how this would bother anyone - unless you're atheist - and you can just skip that part)

Comments are open on this post. Come be a bigoted asshole - Please.

It's Either Prayin or Cussin - you pick

2006-09-20T20:52:00.000-04:00

Someone emailed this to me and I just had to post it:

After being interviewed by the school administration, the teaching prospect said, "Let me see if I've got this right:

"You want me to go into that room with all those kids, correct their disruptive behavior, observe them for signs of abuse, monitor their dress habits, censor their T-shirt messages, and instill in them a love for learning.

"You want me to check their backpacks for weapons, wage war on drugs and sexually transmitted diseases, and raise their sense of self esteem and personal pride.

"You want me to teach them patriotism and good citizenship, sportsmanship and fair play, and how to register to vote, balance a checkbook, and apply for a job.

"You want me to check their heads for lice, recognize signs of antisocial
behavior, and make sure that they all pass the state exams.

"You want me to provide them with an equal education regardless of their handicaps, and communicate regularly with their parents by letter, telephone, newsletter, and report card.

"You want me to do all this with a piece of chalk, a blackboard, a bulletin board, a few books, a big smile, and a starting salary that qualifies me for food stamps.

"You want me to do all this and then you tell me...

"I CAN'T PRAY?"

OTLA UPDATE

2006-09-19T10:41:00.000-04:00

Weight - 187

Ass - bigger than ever

Scale - squished flat

You may now rub it in that I gained weight. I blame this entirely upon Stinky. I have had bar-b-que ribs that fell from the bone in tenderness, chicken and dumplings, home made mac and cheese, meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans cooked in the traditional southern way with bacon in them, and ice cream - all in the past week.

Like I said...it's all Stinky's fault...if it didn't taste so damn good, I wouldn't eat it.

I think you all put him up to this. You are all partners in crime. You're in cahoots, I just know it.

Damn scheming wenches.

Hello My Bitches

2006-09-18T02:02:00.000-04:00

I thought I'd stick my head in the door to show you I still have all my hair and let you know how things are going.

First of all, Stinky tells me I have a lot of loyal readers in the land of big bad TX. (The grand state where people will kick your ass for making fun of the freaky road systems and they are infinately proud that Texas could break up into 5 smaller states at any given time - why I don't friggin know, but I know that you are proud because every time I meet someone from Texas, they make sure they tell me all about it). May I eloquently say "What's up?" with a nod of my head and thank you for subjecting yourselves to this particular torture.

Secondly, I would like to say a heart felt appreciation to everyone who left a comment on my blog about the "Cat Punting Incident" as I have come to call it. Everytime I logged on to take a look-see around and check my comments...saw there was more comments....I sweetly told him he had more hate mail. I would like to thank you for you words - seriously - he has sworn to me that he will never lay his hands on my animals again - and Charles doesn't break his word. Your words with mine seem to have brought him around and both cats have come home and gotten cleared by the Vet. It took several days before Night-Night would be coaxed and cajoled back into the house, but I finally got him and he hasn't left yet. That's just fine by me. He's very soft and makes an excellent head warmer while I'm sleeping LOL.

Thirdly, Carmachu wanted to know the history on my cats....

All three of my cats are rescues. Back in Feb 2002, I went to pick up Lauren at daycare and a very small cat (not kitten) tried to slip into the building behind me to get out of the cold. I said something to one of the teachers about the little kitty outside and she replied that the cat now lived in the bushes outside the facility and had been there for several days...to her knowledge, she had not eaten. Lauren looked at me with her sweet little girl face and asked if we could keep her (she's an animal lover like her mother). I went home, got a card board cat carrier and went and got her. We named her Jezebel, started calling her Jazz, and she's been one of the best cats I've ever had. I think someone had her and turned her out because I never had to teach her to use the litter box, the scratching post and she has never ever jumped up on the counter or the table. She is full of manners and is almost prissy....she's also very skittish but I've never had a more gentle and sweet natured cat. She pats me very gently on my face with her paw when she wants me to pet her, and she has only scratched me once the entire time I have had her, and that was on accident when we were playing with her feathers. She was starving when we took her in. I could clearly see her ribs and the vet recommended I turn her into the shelter because of her condition. I didn't, and she sleeps at my feet every night.

A few months after we moved into this house, around Thanksgiving (this is about 2 years after we got Jazz), I kept hearing a kitten meowing over at our property line with our neighbors (not the neighbors I've told you about before) and figured they had either gotten a cat or had taken one in (as we had a colony of feral cats here). For 3 days, I kept hearing this kitten and finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I went outside and called and he trotted right up to me. I thought that Jazz was skinny, but this cat was half dead. I can honestly say, I had not, up to that point, seen a cat in worse condition than he was at that moment. We named him Tom (after begging Charles to let us keep him) and he and Jazz eventually learned to get along well. He likes to curl up in the crook of my arm or my knees when I sleep.

That very next year, again in the winter, Charles and Lauren and I were in the living room and I happend to look outside through the sliding glass door. I was shocked to see a cat looking in. He was laying down with his feet tucked underneath him and was looking directly at me. I said "Charles! Look at that! Have you ever seen a cat do that - a cat that you don't know?" "There might be something wrong with him. That's not normal." I was inclined to think he was right. Tom is very territorial - even after being neutered - and does't allow cats around the house. But it was cold, we had just had a bit of snow with a thick layer of ice on top and he looked kind of thin - at least insofar as I could tell with dim porch lighting. "I think he's cold and hungry."

Lauren finally perked up and wanted to know what we were talking about. I pointed out the cat on the back porch and she of course wanted to keep him. We both told her immediately that it was out of the question since we already had enough pets and couldn't afford any more vet bills...but I kept looking at that cat. It was late, and animal control wouldn't be able to come out our way until they cleared the roads, and that was going to take a while since we live so far out in the country - days.

"I'm going to check him out honey. At least give him a box to sleep in or something and give him something to eat."

"God NO!" We can't afford what we have now! Don't feed him or he'll keep coming back."

"I know we can't keep him honey, but I just feel so bad for him. I'll give him a look and something to eat, you know he's cold. When Monday rolls around, I'll take him to the shelter myself." (we have no kill shelters here)

Charles finally agreed and I bundled up and opened the sliding glass door to go check him out. He ran in the house and made himself as at home as much as we would let him. He REFUSED to be coaxed into a cat carrier to be taken to the vet and animal control never came. He had pretty bad frost bite on his paws (and his over all condition was terrible - I think he would have been dead with in a few days or less if we hadn't fed him - his general condition was aweful, just so hearbreakingly terrible) and he needed to be looked at...but I have never had a cat get ugly with me like he did when he saw that cat carrier. I called the vet, he remembered me from Jazz, Tom and my dog Spud and knows my neighbors S and J (which is how I got his name - S is a big animal lover)and he stopped by...free of charge. (Yes, I almost had a stroke) The vet offered to take him then, but Charles had made the fatal mistake of becoming attached to him and let me see it.

Neither Tom nor Jazz are lap cats. Night-Night is, and that's what Charles likes.

It was so weird when the vet offered to take him, the cat just looked at me like he KNEW what was going on and was asking to stay. I looked at him and said half jokingly "Don't look at me! If you want to stay go talk to him" - pointing at Charles. He trotted up to Charles, jumped in his lap and preceeded to lay on the love. Lauren and I looked at each other and went "AAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW" and Charles told us to stop because we weren't keeping the cat - the whole time rubbing him and loving on him and I could see he was melting like hot butter.

We spent two days picking out his name. He's the one that sleeps on my pillow.

GOAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2006-09-09T22:27:00.000-04:00

We now have four adults, 4 children ages 8,6,4, and 17 months, 2 goldfish, 2 hermit crabs, 3 dogs and 4 cats in my house. Oh, correction, make that 2 cats (one is mine, one is Stinky and Redhead's). It seems that Charles treated our 2 Tom cats as furry little footballs last night. Punted them right off the back porch, and he kicked one so hard that one even landed on the grill (or actually slid down the lid). Then he showed true man wisdom by telling me about it.

I won't even go into the "conversation" that ensued. Let's just say that he won't be doing that again because he wants his testicles to stay attached to his body. I'm still mad...seething actually.

I know some of you may find this funny when you visualize the cats flying through the air with stunned expressions on their faces and then hearing the "THUNK" of one of them as he made contact with the grill. Rest assured, I don't find that shit in the least bit funny.

My poor kitties. I love my cats - treasure them even. I even had a cat rattle when I was a baby. Me and cats are a package deal. If you don't like cats - then you can pack your shit and go 'cause I'm gonna have me a kitty...PERIOD. I let them sleep on my pillow and pet them in my sleep... SHUDDUP.

Both of the kitties that Charles scored a goal with just showed up at my house one night. The first tom cat (who we ingeniously named TOM - a beautiful tabby cat) came out briefly from underneath the house today and I was able to check him out. He didn't seem any worse for wear. I'm sure his ribs are a bit sore and I'll be taking him to the vet to be checked out as soon as I can coax him in the cat carrier. I was foiled in my attempt to do that today when Charles came out on the back porch and the cat saw him. Apparently, it was to much for Tom (flashback for him I guess...like a bad trip on acid...or so I hear), and he beat all four feet getting the hell out of dodge. Can you blame him? I shot Charles the stinky eye and shoved him, and I don't mean I shoved him in any playful sort of way either.

The other tom cat - black as pitch (we thought about naming him "Midnight", but that name has been done to death, "Turd" had also crossed my mind but I didn't want Lauren going to school telling her friends that she pets her Turd, so we named him Night, which very quickly changed to Night-Night)and looooves to eat. He came to the edge of the yard (about 20-30 yards away) and sat there looking at me and slunk away when I called him. I'm guessing he's the one that became intimately acquainted with my grill...what do you think?

In my house, there are a few things that are just sacred. ONE - my animals. TWO - Charles' Nascar races. THREE and FOUR - don't pertain to this conversation.

There will be a reckoning, you can bet your sweet ass on that. NO ONE TOUCHES MY ANIMALS. I have this funny feeling that all his Nascar races are going to be deleted from the DVR, ALL VHS tapes will be erased and his fucking #3 Dale Earnhardt throw cover is going to mysteriously disappear, along with his favorite Nascar mug, his sorry ass Nascar collectible bullshit that is collecting dust sitting on top of the mirror of my dresser,the fucking latch hook Nascar Checkered flag I've been doing for him, and just for fun, I will purge all traces of "Adult Entertainment" from this house just to piss him off. He will tune into his race next week to find that I have locked his sorry ass out of it and only I have the password. I'm also going to screw around with his Nascar bullshit that he keeps on line.

Oh yeah, I'm a pissed bitch. You just don't treat animals that way. He WILL learn.

Oh, and I'm sure you are wanting to know why he kicked the kitties....we finished cleaning out the den late last night and found that one or both of them (definately not the other one.."Jezebel" we call her "Jazz" - she's very skitish and won't go anywhere in the house except for my bedroom)had crawled into a couple of the boxes and used them for a litter box. We also found a couple of piles of kitty poo one on some folding chairs and one on his very expensive golf bag that he never uses. One of the boxes that was treated with such malice was family pictures...some of those are baby pictures of Lauren that had been blown up AND FRAMED and they can't be replaced. We had some of them professionally done. I'm hoping the frames afforded some protection, I'll be taking a look later in the week. I just can't bring myself to look right now.

To be honest, I'm pissed about it myself, but that doesn't excuse his behavior as far as I'm concerned.

Maybe I wouldn't be so pissed if he had taken the cats and showed them what they had done and put them outside or whatever, but he just went into the bedroom, snatched the cats off the bed where they were sleeping, and watched to see how far they could fly.

Mini Humps

2006-09-08T16:32:00.000-04:00

Hey Everybody.

I'm going to be taking a bloggin' break. My friends are moving in this weekend and it's going to take a while getting everyone and everything settled. I'll still be doing my Operation Lose That Ass updates and I'm sure a sporadic update here and there.

While I'm gone, I've got some of the blogs I read for you below.

Please don't be upset if you're not on this list. I tried to get to everyone and there was just no way for me to do it. I apologize Rain, Sophia, Rev, Wayne, Mama Tulip, Mama C, and about 50 more that I read. You guys rock too (except for Rain) and just didn't have time to do more.

A Bug's Life - Pan lives in Milan Italy. She's a teenager - 18 now I think. She's very sweet and I really like it that she takes a look at herself in an intellectual sort of way, and she's a lot of fun. My favorite posts of hers are of the signs.

Beer Drinking Scale - 0 - Sorry Pan, but here in the States, you're underage.

A Tykes Progress - St Jude is a woman among women. Gracious, thoughtful, funny and very down to earth. I quite like her and wish to high heaven that SHE had been my mother in law instead of this demon woman I'm cursed with now. My personal favorites of hers are her Experiments. Don't know what I'm talking about? To bad for you, cause they are FUNNY.

Beer Drinking Scale - 5 . She's just one of those people that you'd love to sit down and chat with.

An Allegorical Life - Kat is the woman! I love her quirky sense of humor. The woman has brains and sometimes just shocks me. She has kindly pointed out that I am not a fuckity fuck-fuck. She's such a sweetie.

Beer Drinking Scale - 5 - cause I would love to get this woman drunk and hear some of the stuff that she would come up with. Hey Kat..do you guys do confessions? ..and if you do, I'll get you really really drunk just so I can hear some of it. LOL

Call Me Soccor Mom and DIE - I love Christina - in that special non lesbian way. She constantly takes me by surprise. Her humor is so great. A gar-un-teed giggle if you go visit her - that is - if you have a good sense of humor. A real and gen-u-wine person.

Beer Drinking Scale - 4 - only because she's a preachers wife and it would freak my sinnin ass out...uh never mind, make that 5 cause she's funny.

Desert Odyssey - I love this guy. I have ribbed him endlessly and he has taken it with real grace and good humor. I mean, really, some of the shit I have talked to this guy...(snicker). I really like it when a man can take a joke and I just can't seem to fight off cracking on how a guy named Lucky Humped me and how good it was for me. (MUST. FIGHT. WISECRACKS)(wipes sweat from forhead)Lucky has a brain. His posts are intellegent with a sprinkle of "little kid" all at the same time. I enjoy his blog.

Beer Drinking Scale - 5 - because I think he's be a laid back kind of guy. I'd buy. (no this is not an attmept to get him raving drunk to take adv...sorry Lucky - I caught myself LOL)

DILLIGAF - this guy is fucking hilarious. I found him thru Lucky's blog. His blog title stands for - DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A FUCK. If you want to laugh up roarously, go visit him. To me, he gives off a real - I DON'T GIVE A FUCK attitude, and I respect that. He doesn't seem to be one of those people who secretly give a fuck but try to hide it. I get the distinct impression that he really doesn't give a fuck.

Beer Drinking Scale - 5, and I would buy them all, just to get him to tell me some stories and to hear him talk shit.

Dirty Laundry - OMG OMG OMG. This chick makes me knee slap sometimes. I distinctly remember one of her comments on my blog that made me laugh manically "so i'm immature, so blow me" I have loved her in that special non-lesbian way ever since. I like that she says what she means. I'm very excited about her being pregnant because it's such an awesome thing - even though it can be difficult and painful and piss you off because your body goes to shit. Don't sweat it - that little person is well worth it. Go read her blog. It's not all about pregnancy and what not - she just tells it like it is. (btw -- I'd be happy to make a baby blanket if you would like - just tell me the colors)

Beer Drinking Scale - 0 - sorry Becka, but the whole preganacy thing means no. I will however have several large cups of water with you and watch you run to the bathroom every 10 seconds.

Dooce - If you haven't read this lady you are really missing out. She is so so so funny. I don't read her everyday, I check in on her about twice a week and usually get a good giggle.

Beer Drinking Scale - 0 - this chick is on some meds and I don't want to introduce alcohol into her system. No thanks. Her writing is funny, but I wouldn't want to hang with her.

Dribblingwitt - This woman tells some of the best stories I have ever read. I don't know how to explain it other than that. I love her writing style and she comes across as secretive, but open at the same time. A great writer.

Beer Drinking Scale - 5 - cause I want to write like that one day.

Eva Las Vegas - What can I say about Kristin that most of us don't already know? She's great and now is a writer for MONEY. Say it with me kids...say writer for MONEY. ALL HAIL KRISTIN! You go with your bad self girlie.

Beer Drinking Scale - 5 - cause if I get her drunk, maybe I can talk her into getting me a job doing that same thing....oh wait, there's no publication out there that allows swearing...never mind...but I'd still drink a beer with her.

Fun With Hand Grenandes - Dread Cow takes you on a journey with his blog. I have read all of his archives up to the current day. He's a soldier deployed to Iraq and tells it like it is. I visit him often, though I rarely comment. This blog is important to me in a way since he and my brother are over there at the same time, though I don't think in the same place. He's currently on hiatus, but he's still worth your reading time. It'll open your eyes to what's really going on over there - sans mass media bullshit.

Beer Drinking Scale - 5 - cause he's over there doing what needs to be done, protecting all of our families. Dread Cow, I'd buy for you and all of your buddies if I ever have the chance.

Heather's Small Space -Heather is a gamer and she keeps her blog mainly to let her family know what's going on with her. Very nice person and can kick anybody's ass any day of the week with her crosstitching ablility.

Beer Drinking Scale - 3 - cause I'm jealous that she can cross stitch like that and the only thing I can do is tangle the thread.

If It Wasn't This It Would Be Something Else - one of the very few open and giving to a fault people I know, in or out of blogland. I'm proud to call her my friend.

Beer Drinking Scale - 5 - no further explination needed.

Jennster - this is the most fun chick out there. She's not about being a bitch or whatever, she is who she is. A very bubbly natural personality - very gen-u-wine. But don't go visit her if you don't want to be called a Fucktard or a Whore, cause she'll make you cry.

Beer Drinking Scale - 5 - cause I would love to see this chick drunk..er..as long as she doesn't puke or anything LOL

Kevin Charnas - you are missin out if you haven't read this guy yet. He is fuckin hysterical. There has been more than once where I have spit something on my computer screen. He's genuinely funny. He doesn't give me the vibe where he has to stretch it - he just is who he is.

Beer Drinking Scale - 5, but only if he brings Will and that chick he keeps talking about that over heard the conversation thru the bushes. SUCK IT SUCK IT. Don't know what I'm talking about? to bad for you. It's one of the funniest posts ever.

Memoirs of Misha - My soul sista. Misha is a truely twisted individual that somehow makes the rest of us believe she's normal (yeah right). She's a belly dancer!! (Go Misha! Go Misha) She's also one of the biggest smart asses on the face of the earth. LOL I love her humor.

Beer Drinking Scale - 5 - cause she is friggin hilarious and I can see a table full of us bullshitting and hurling spit balls at men.

Mhitheag - a photo journal. They take a pink bag with them on their travels - great theme.

Beer Drinking Scale - 1 - I don't know them, but would like to sit down and have them tell me all the places that they've been and all the things they've done. A bit scary though, since I don't know them at all.

Now What The Hell Do I Do - Nikki is an absolute trip. She can talk some shit buddy, let me tell you - a trait I rather admire LOL. She's all about her son Aaron and loves her some Elvis sighting Wednesdays.

Beer Drinking Scale - 5 - she's just cool like that.

Oh, The Joys - I enjoy - really enjoy that she is not afraid to make fun of herself and is very honest. She just gives me that "I am who I am" vibe and I like it. She talks a lot about butts and poo b/c she has wee ones and that's what moms do. But, I have to say, in my opinion, no one else could talk about butts and poo and make it funny like she does. Not gonna happen. I also think is terriblely funny that she claims to love to cuss, though I have never seen her do it. LOL

Beer Drinking Scale - 5 - cause I think she is friggin hilarious and anyone who can make butts and poo sound fun ...I wanna drink a beer with 'em - then tell them the terrible, horrible truth about how butts and poo are icky and gross and she really needs to get a grip on reality...nah, never mind, it'd fuck up her blog.

Only Happy When It Rains - Claire takes some really beautiful pictures and has a great photo blog. I just love her photos. We've shared a couple of emails and I really have to say that she is such a lovely person, one of those people that you enjoy knowing.

Beer Drinking Scale - 5 - even though I'm afraid if I got her drunk, I wouldn't be able to understand what she was saying because of her accent. LOL

Rhonda's Ruminations - I've touched on her before. You will have a hard time finding someone who will touch your soul like Rhonda can. She has a true gift. She can get inside you sometimes and give you the shivers and make you cry. I love her blog.

Beer Drinking Scale - 5 - cause I want to write like her too.

Seriously My Vay-Jay-Jay - This chick comes up with some of the most off the wall stuff I have ever run across. She's a nurse, which is what originally got me reading her. My mom's a nurse, thus the initial interest. The penis postings are by far my favorite, just because NO ONE ELSE ON THE FACE OF THE BLOGOSPHERE has post 2 or 3 back to back postings on biological man leashes. She will trip you out.

Beer Drinking Scale - 3 - because nurses see some scary shit and have to tell you all the gory details and I'm not quite sure if she's that type of drunk or not, so she scores a 3 just because of the unknown factor. LOL (mom, you've scarred me)

Single Life In Your 30's - I'll never forget the first post I read of hers. She mentioned GAYDAR - as in radar for gay men. That is so funny to me. I laughed so hard. OMG. If you haven't read her yet - poor you. I especially like her comments because her (actions) are so visual for me. On the posting I did of the practical joke hubby did to me, she put in (unpacks bags) and I saw her do it in my head. I love that shit.

Beer Drinking Scale - 5 - cause she's funny, goes to a lot of bars, and we could probably get in free at the majority of them. That's my kind of drinkin buddy right there. LOL

SHHHHHHHHH! It's A Secret

2006-09-05T00:31:00.000-04:00

Sorry, I forgot to put up my OLTA update yesterday.

I gained a pound damn it. Sayre and Factor - HUSH. LOL

It really isn't my fault. I blame Charles. He came back from NC with a German Chocolate cake. He also came back with Out Of This World Cookies. Everything was home made and scrumptious.

I didn't want to eat all of that stuff. He made me do it. He forced the yummy moistness of the cake past my lips. He crushed cookies into itty bitty crumbs, shoved a funnel down my throaght and made me swallow.

I was outraged. I couldn't believe he would sabatage me in that way. I'm hurt beyond all words (are you buying any of this? I'm curious - cause I'm laying this on pretty thick).

I took drastic measures to lose some of these terrible calories that have magically turned to fat and attached themselves to my rearend. Do you want to know what I did?

I SHINGLED THE ROOF ON MY SHED. I'm not kidding.

I have often passed a group of builders swarming over a skeleton home and knew that it was hard work, and felt sorry for them working in the heat, but never really gave much more thought than that to it. The only thing I can say at the moment is OUCH.

OOOOUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

My ass hurts. My legs hurt (specifically my hamstrings). My wrist hurts. My back hurts. My knees are killing me. I'm one big ball of whiney pain.

Do you feel sorry for me?

NO??!!!!

You are wrong. Just wrong.

Huh? What was that?

SHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! Don't tell anyone it's really all my fault. I'm looking for sympathy points here. What do you mean you aren't giving me any?

Fine, see if I share my cake....I MEAN...see if Charles shares his cake with you. Yeah...his cake....

East Coast Living

2006-09-04T12:20:00.000-04:00

I had thought about breaking this up into 3 different parts, but that is going to take entirely to much effort and I have shit to do. Read some now, and come back later and read the rest if you can't stand to read it all in one go. (lazy ass)

I love living here on the east coast. Really I do. I've lived further inland and have visited as far west and north as Montana - and it was beautiful, but I like living here. Lots of trees, lots of green shit all over the ground (the animals have upset stomachs) and I can grow an ass load of flowers and shit if I can ever manage to keep the friggin Japanese Beetles from killing every damn thing (notice how I blame them).

There are a few disadvantages to living over here:

1 - Inbreeding. Laugh if you must, but it's a friggin reality. You know the story of somebody's cousin gettin' hitched to one of his cousins? Yeah well, I have a distant cousin that did that. I'm not kidding. They are second cousins and they have offspring. No shit. They were fully aware when they tied the knot. Apparently, it didn't matter. Their kids have 6 toes (okay, NOW I'm joking - or maybe not - I've never met their kids or seen their feet - of course, If I had seen their feet with out actually meeting them that would imply that they are detachable or they've been severed and either thought is just a little to "out there" for further contemplation)

2 - The BUGS. Oh My God. I have wolf spiders around my house that are as big as my palm. I'm not kidding or exaggerating. It's plain nasty.

We also have Japanese Hornets, Yellow Jackets, Bumble Bees, Carpenter Bees, Honey Bees, Wasps, stinging flies, biting flies, horseflies, gnats, mosquitoes, fleas, ticks, a BILLION species of moth, Black Widow spiders, Brown Recluse Spiders (I just found out the other day from one of my clients that there have been a rash of those biting people here lately), red backed spiders, regular black spiders, garden spiders, Japanese Beetles, cicadas, Katiedids, June Bugs, Beetles, cockroaches, termites, grasshoppers, crickets, camel crickets and any other kind of insect that "The Big Cheese" decided he wanted to torture me with. (Thanks for that God - 'preciate it).

I live in a cloud of DEET, go through endless cans of bug spray and I'm starting to seriously consider having an affair with "Bubba" (cause that is one guy the can chew some Hubby Bubba - even if he only has one tooth) the pest control guy to cut down on the monthly costs of treatment. Hey, it's all about home economics and tightening the budget belt. This is just one of ways they don't teach you in school or talk about in expose magazine articles. I mean, I've already seen his crack - you'd think he was a damn plumber with the way he shows it off or something, and you really know a lot about a guy after you've seen his crack.

3 - Storms. I hate storms. I'm scared of Thunderstorms. (insert wussy jokes here) I hate it when the storms roll in with low hanging clouds and the thunder shakes the house. I'm constantly walking to all the windows in the house - back and forth, back and forth, to look out of the windows. My x-bastard said I looked like a caged puppy - to wit I responded that I wouldn't be waggin' my ass in his direction anytime soon.

Hurricanes and all Tropical Storms suck big donkey dicks. They throw out tornados for fun and that just doesn't endear them to me. I want to keep my shit thank you. I won't appreciate having to crawl out from underneath the ruins of my homestead and walking a mile down the road with the baby on my hip to pick up old bank statements and deny that any of the other rubbish is mine so I don't have to pay to have it removed.

Ernesto the Pesto hit here this past friday. It wasn't to bad. I was expecting worse to be honest. It turned east before we got the full wallop and so we were spared the horribleness of the eye of the storm.

I worked all day and left at exactly 5pm. I was worried about some of the low spots flooding out on the roads for me to get home, so I drove as fast as was safely possible and beat feet to the house. I stopped by the little country store that is 2 1/2 miles away from my house and picked up a gallon of milk and a couple packs of cigs and went home. No worries.

I walked in the house and there was no power, no phones, no nothing. DAMN.

You may remember that Charles has been out of town in NC. We were also still expecting the worst of the storms in a couple of hours. So there I was, in the house with Lauren (who is also scared of storms) and with super baby, a dog, three cats, and I'm sure an endless variety of creepy-crawlys that had managed to squirm, wriggle and bore their way into my sactuary to get out of the rain. Did I mention it was starting to get dark? Yeah, the fun factor went right off the scale.

Like I said, it wasn't to bad. We got a lot of rain - which we needed and that was about it...except there were no lights and no phones. Super kid had mercy on me and went to sleep for the night at 7pm - an unheard of phenomenon. Lauren and I made a great big pallet on the living room floor and I read her some of The Hobbit until the lighting was bad enough I had to stop before my eyes exploded.

We made shadow puppets in the flickering candle light and watched the storm whip the trees around a bit.

The lights came on about 9ish and Lauren jumped up and down and yelled "MOVIE!" - so that was the end of the quality mother-daughter time.

The phones didn't come back on until about 6 or so Sunday night. Did I mention I have dial up? Did I mention that I read blogs EVERY DAY???? I was about to DIE. Hello, my name is Nikki, and I'm addicted to the internet.

I was FORCED - do you hear me? - FORCED to spend quality time with my family. Now they think I love them or something.

A Meme

2006-09-01T11:48:00.000-04:00

Pendullum tagged me with this meme.

I've hired a PI so I can start stalking her. Love ya Bella...er..Shania...what ever your name is.

Things I Want To Do Before I Die

1 Travel - I want to see Ireland, Scotland, England, India and Egypt. I also want to see the Pacific Ocean. I really want to joke on as many people world wide as humanly possible.

2 Take my honeymoon. Charles and I never did get to go on one, and he wants to go on a cruise. Whatever - we can go on the cruise baby, if that's what you want...but don't plan on sticking your head out of the door to often, you're going to be awful busy.

3 Raise my children to be responsible, intelligent adults. I don't want them to resemble me in any way.

4 Hold my babies baby's. Just thinking about this chokes me up. One day, I'll be holding a baby that I love beyond words, and I can give it to someone else to change the diapers. MAN! I'm looking forward to that.

5 I want to be published. I write quite a little bit but I have never had the balls to submit anything. I'm chicken shit, what can I say.

Things I Can Not DO

1 Cook. I do cook, you can eat it and you won't die. However, the likelihood of you accepting another invitation to my house for dinner is extremely slim. If you should accept for some odd reason - ie, you're a glutton for punishment - you'll probably want it in writing that Charles will cook dinner that evening.

2 Stop being a Smartypants. Of course, this isn't a trait or characteristic I'm looking to get rid of either. It's way to fun.

3 Forgive easily. That bitch who cut my hair last time is on my shit list. She better hope I don't ever find her - I will key her fucking car so deep that the metal will curl up like ribbons hanging from presents.

4 Hula-hoop...but really, at my age, who would want to? It looks ridiculous when adults try to do this - at least that's what I tell myself.

5 Not kill spiders and insects. They have to many legs - mother nature should go ahead and admit that she screwed up and get rid of them all. It would damn sure save me a lot of paper towels picking up their squished little bodies.

Things I Can Do

1 Spot a spider with in 50 feet. I have "Spidar" and it is my mission in life to eradicate as many as possible.

2 Give a good massage - I reduce Charles to a quivering mass of jelly to get my way.

3 Snore - and I'm really good at it too - don't be jealous.

4 Laugh at myself - I do some stupid stuff sometimes and I can't help but laugh. Don't worry, I laugh at you too. (I don't want you feeling left out now do I)

5 Play a good game of cards. I love Gin Rummy, Spades and Hearts, but I can't play poker.

Things That Attracted Me To My Husband

1 He had the respect of those around him, and it wasn't because he threatened to kick their ass.

2 He's easy going. It's my job to stress out over everything, I didn't want anyone trying to do it for me.

3 He's tall. I like tall men. Back when I was dating, you had to be a minimum of 6ft tall - I just feel like I should be looking up into your eyes when we get ready to kiss, not vice versa.

4 His hair - He has salt and pepper hair that he keeps short. I thought that he was older than I was and I've always had a thing for older men. Turns out he's 6 months younger than I am. I'm still thinking about kicking his ass for false advertisement.

5 His sense of humor. I've got to be able to laugh - and he makes me laugh all the time...except when he's nekkid.

Things I Say Most Often

1 Well Damn.

2 I love you

3 Check your Sugar, Booger. (Talking to Charles - one of his many nicknames is Boogerhead)

4 Lauren!

5 Little Dude, please let go of my knees!

Books I Love

1 The Hobbit

2 Harry Potter series

3 Wheel of Time series

4 The Grapes of Wrath (I love me some Steinbeck)

5 Where The Red Fern Grows

Movies I Love

1 The Green Mile - I love the thought that God - or fate - or chance - sent/created some one so purely good the way John Cofe is.

2 Phenomenon - and not just because John Travolta's in it. It's a good movie and I think it brings a good question - what sort of unlocked potential do we have in our brains?

3 The Shawshank Redemption - I can't say I care very much for Tim Robbins politics but I really loved the way he stuck it to the Warden in this movie. I also love Morgan Freeman and his narration of this movie was great. I really love his voice.

4 Forest Gump - I think this movie really says a lot about how fate can take us places we never dreamed of.

5 Driving Ms Daisy - A good "coming together" story of two people who live in a world segregated, not only by color, but by religion and socioeconomic status.

Hummmmm....Whom should I tag?

Christina and Super.

Have fun ladies! *throws kisses*

Famous Quotes

2006-08-30T22:12:00.000-04:00

Being a wife and mother (as so many of us are)

I have heard myself say interesting things:

Lauren, pick the wedgie out of your butt for goodness sakes. If you're so hungry that your butt is eating your underwear, grab an apple.

Connor, Honey, Sweetie, Baby, could you save the whole peeing all over a parent thing for Daddy?

No Lauren, a poncho, a sweater and a pair of shorts with sandals doesn't match.

(Talking to my brother when Lauren is a month old) It's hard to believe that one day, this beautiful person is going to call me a bitch.

No honey, that's not a poop stain on my underwear.

What was that sweetie? Oh, it's because Mommy is a republican. Can you say RE-PUB-LI-CAN?

Charles (using last name)if you slap me on the ass and tell me "good game" one more time....we're going to have a problem.

Who knew my mom was so smart?

I would LOVE to take a nap.

Gitchie, Gitchie, GOO!

WOW! I've never heard anyone fart quite like that. (talking to Connor)

Um, Charles? Is this supposed to happen to baby boys? REALLY? Well uh...which way do I point it so it doesn't break off?

Go.....son......just..... AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! (to prevent swearing in front of the kids)

I hate it when the dog humps the stuffed animals.

No, it's not a special occassion. Put that away.

I know you've got a couple. Come clean.

I Think I'm Going To Puke ... On Her

2006-08-29T13:29:00.000-04:00

Is it just me? Or do you think she's a bitch too?

I'm all about slinging a little bullshit and joking around, but I can't tolerate a condescending bitch.

In her blog, she says that she just left her husband a little while ago, I say he's better off.

Found this through Mommy Has A Headache

Operation: Lose That Ass - Week 3

2006-08-29T09:13:00.000-04:00

Yes, I know I'm a day late. Sorry. Home and work have kept me busy.

Let's see. My weight - I've lost 1lb. LOL But my pants do fit so much better. I've put my 16's away and am now firmly in my 14 - did you get that? I said FIRMLY (I have a very active imagination). LOL

Sorry for no picture. Last week it wouldn't load and this week I didn't take one. Or rather Charles wasn't around to take it. He is with his parents this week in the mountains of NC.

I'm sure that weight loss would have been better if I could have gotten up on time to work out. I have to do mine in the morning and I slept late almost every single day last week, but never fear, I'm back on track.

I gave yoga another try this morning and I really liked it so I plan on doing more of that. The pilates hate me, but I'm trying to make friends.

Lauren woke up early this morning and walked in on my working out. "Mom, what ARE you doing?"

"excersizin' baby"

"You don't look like that lady on TV"

"I know Sweetie, that's one of the reason's I'm doing this."

"Well, not just that, but you aren't doing it like her."

"I know sweetie. I seem to have some trouble getting into the Warrior pose."

"Warrior pose?"

"Yeah, I think that's what this one is called."

Pause

"You're weird Mom."

"Thanks sweetie. Now go back to bed, you don't have to be up for another hour."

"Weird-o"

Mama! Mama.

2006-08-27T04:00:00.000-04:00

"Mama! Mama. Mama"

I hear him from the computer room and I go to check on him. It's early morning, 2am and he's sick again.

I put my head in his room and find him in the darkness. His room lite only by his small night light and the light seeping in the the bathroom across the way. He's asleep on his tummy, knees tucked beneath him, his favorite sleeping position. He had been calling me in his sleep, like he always does when he's sick. He's a bit wrestless and I watch him for a moment.

He has kicked off his blanket. I debate the wisdom of covering him up. The slightest touch might wake him and he needs his sleep. I cover him anyway and he's immediately awake. He stands and stretches his arms up to me.

I pick him up and he rests his head on my shoulder, my right shoulder and lets the rest of his body go limp. I give him a snuggle and he's warm. Not just sleep warm, he's got a fever. I carry him to the kitchen and open the medicine cabinet and take his temperature. It's not bad, 100.1, but I take out the medicine anyway.

I'm concerned and worried. Connor hardly ever runs a fever, even when he's really sick. Is this a sign of bad things to come, or is this better, showing me that his body is fighting it? I can't decide and can feel my forehead crease in a frown.

I offer him Tylenol, cherry flavored. He tastes a bit, takes half and then shakes his head no. I offer again, he shakes his head no.

I sit on the floor, Indian style, and he sits on my calves. He loves doing that, it's like his personal baby chair, and wraps my arms around himself and leans back into me. I rock him for a minute, from side to side and give him kisses and snuggles. I decide to try again with the medicine and he shakes his head no. I try again and he shakes his head no.

"Okay sweetie, let's change your diaper and we'll try again in a minute."

We pass the drain board and he sees his favorite cup.

"Mama. Mama" he says pointing to it.

"Just a minute baby. Let's change your diaper first."

All fresh and clean, I return to the kitchen and fix him some cool water. He backs away from the cup like it's a viper. I can't for the life of me figure out why he doesn't like water. It's a rare drop that has ever passed his lips. I decide not to offer milk...not with his fever, that's just asking for trouble.

I offer the medicine again and he shakes his head no. I lean back slightly and sit on my haunches and put him on my knee. I offer again, he shakes his head no. I try soothing words and comforting sounds, but he shakes his head no.

"Sorry little man, but half isn't gonna do it. You have to take it all." I force the medicine dropper past his lips, squirt a little medicine in and he pushes it out with his tongue. I sigh, because I know what I have to do next. I tilt his head back, forcing him to stay that way and push the dropper pasts his lips. He swallows.

I wait for a moment to see if it's going to come back up. His gag reflex is very sensitive and this wouldn't be the first time I've worn his medicine. I look at him, he looks at me and rests his head on my shoulder. I wish Charles were awake. I hate forcing him to take his medicine. I'm always afraid that I'm going to choke him, or that he'll throw up, but he seems to be keeping it down okay.

I pick him up and he puts his head on my shoulder, my right shoulder this time and pats my arm.

"Night-night. Night-night"

"Yes baby. Night-night" I give him a little snuggle and rub his back and he goes limp.

We walk back to his room and I rock him and sing. I sing the ABC's, and This Little Light of Mine, and the Barney song. He squirms a bit and switches from shoulder to shoulder and I rub his back.

"Time for night-night" I whisper. I've rocked him for half an hour and he's not going to sleep.

"Night-night" he whispers back. I lay him down in his crib, on his tummy like he likes it, and he tucks his knees under him. I cover him up and tuck him in lightly and rub his back for a few seconds and tell him Night-night one more time.

He lifts his head to watch me leave the room and I expect him to cry. I wait for it while walking away, but there's no sound but him settling in and getting comfy.

I linger outside his door, just out of sight to listen to him, to make sure he's okay, and I hear him whisper "night-night" one more time and he's asleep.

Cleanin House - Changing Things

2006-08-24T12:56:00.000-04:00

I preppin' the house for some long term guests to come and live.

Over the 8 years hubby and I have been married we've accumulated a lot of "stuff" and never really dealt with a lot of the paper stuff. We've just let it stack up and collect dust, squirreled away in boxes, boxes stacked in the backs and corners of closets.

When we moved in this new house, those boxes moved into my Den and have stayed there quite happily, never bothering anyone (except me when I walk by) with their peaceful and carpet protecting existence. Over time, they have gotten friends to keep them company. The bassinet that Connor grew out of, the Christmas ornaments and Christmas tree boxes (to make room in the closet in Connors room when he moved into his room), and any other sort of bit that your house collects and you just can't bring yourself to really go through and throw away.

Now that I have friends coming to stay for quite a while, they have to go. The Den needs to be cleared out so that we can have room for all 8 of us that will be living in my house, room for the furniture they'll be bringing for extra seating.

I have cleared out eight boxes so far and have found an old CD that I bought six years ago and could never find. I've gone thru and saved obscene amounts of military documents and have even put away old military uniforms that Charles wants to keep for some reason. I found all the old awards for Charles and I and he wants to put endless amounts of holes in our walls in the computer room to show them off (called a vanity wall - one for him, and one for me). I have found numerous stray pictures that have somehow not gotten into the photo box and I can't resist looking at them and feeling the memories and smiling at most of them.

I found the letters that Charles wrote to me while he was deployed to Albania, and the ones I wrote to him. I have found the frillies and sexies that I used to wear pre-babies and ker-trashed them. A ton of Lauren's pictures and papers from school and daycare and craft projects galore, most of them dated for saving. I found a love letter from an old boyfriend, the one and only man that really broke my heart - not even my ex-hubby did that - and I kept it too.

I found a couple of issues of my high school newspaper that I used to write for, my by-line proudly showing. I found a plethora of recipes and patterns for things I've always wanted to try, things I wanted to do. Old jewelry has surfaced, things that I had thought lost forever. Pictures we still haven't hung and decorate-y things that I don't want anymore.

I have given all the baby clothes that Connor has out grown to the daycare center that he goes to and have also given them his old bouncy chair/walker thingy. I gave his old baby swing to the director there, she just had her first grandbaby and carries a picture of her around in her pocket at all times.

In the mean time, school has started so I'm back to my hectic schedule of rush-rush home, play, cook, clean, check homework, take care of cats, take care of dog and do it all RIGHT NOW! RIGHT NOW I SAY!

Lauren has fallen into the old routine of giving me drama when I tell her to go take a bath and grumbles about having the earlier bedtime with no movies to watch at night.

Connor has moved out of the baby room on to the toddler room at daycare and I can't help but feel sad and happy and sad again. My last baby is growing up and it's going to fast.

Charles is still working hellish hours to make sure we stay caught up on the bills, getting home between 9-12 every night 4-5 days a week.

I'm feeling a bit melancholy - it's probably just the damn hormones.

The PMS Post - RUN!!!!

2006-08-23T12:07:00.000-04:00

I really don't have that much for you today (dry your eyes). I'm busy making friends with people that matter. LMAO - you know I'm kidding for Pete's sake. I'm PMSing and I'm not in a good mood so here's some fluff.

I got the doll link from Nikki's site. It's pretty fun. Something to screw around with a make all cutsie.

Also, go here. Send an Isreali (is that spelled right) - you get the drift - a soldier from Isreal, a piece of chocolate. They're fighting a war damn it - the least you can do is point and click and give 'em a yummy. If you don't, then you're a piece of shit - and I mean that. It's a fucking peice of chocolate and it's not costing you a penny so send it already. (ahem - it's seems I'm PMSing rather hard - forgive me). I got this from Carmachu's site.

Excuse me while I overdose on Midol and Pamprin.

Week Two - Operation: Lose That Ass

2006-08-21T20:45:00.000-04:00

I really want to say that having you guys all here has really helped me stay on track with my diet. (cheeseburger) Charles is a great cheering section (Blizzard) and Lauren thinks I'll look funny if I'm able to get rid of my floppy mommy belly. (chocolate cake)

Being able to go to your blogs and talk a little trash and giggle (peanut butter cookies) has really helped keep this in the "good fun" category instead of the "Bite My Ass" category. (potato salad)

Thanks for letting me dish out snark (cheese cake) and dishing it back, all in the name of fun. (smoothie)

That being said, (M&M's) here are this weeks numbers: (chili cheese fries)

Weight last week - unknown

Weight this week - 183

How my pants are fittin' - snug in a 14 and loose in a 16 - but slightly better than before ... or is that my imaginary-nation?

I'm working out a bit with Denise Austin doing most aerobics. The Yoga just didn't do it for me - I'm not that bendy. LOL

To all the lovely participants of Operation: Lose That Ass

I'M GONNA WIIINNNNN

nanny nanny boo boo

(smoothie)

Well Damn

2006-08-19T21:25:00.000-04:00

I'm a very happily married woman. I love my hubby deeply, but I enjoy looking. Why? Because I'm human that's why. I'm not dead. There's nothing wrong with looking at the menu as long as I don't order anything, and to be honest, it's a rare day when any man makes me take an extra long look, I'm just picky like that.

Every once in a blue moon,I see a man and think to myself "WOW. Must have a little pinky to be such a fine man." But I have been known to occasionally act like Lucille Ball from "I Love Lucy".

I'm sure if it were someone else doing this crap I'd laugh...okay, I laugh too, I can't help it. Some of the stuff that comes out of my mouth sometimes is so damn embarrassing, I can't help but to crack up while turning so red in the face, I look purple.

Classic example:

A couple of months ago, I had a client come in my office. My first thought was "WOW! You are one FINE man. Please don't be stupid and ruin it." Well, he wasn't stupid. I could only trip over my words and look like a dumbass. He came back after a couple of weeks - with no appointment, so I was unprepared for his visit. I had no time to "Psych myself up". I walked into the lobby to meet an unknown client asking for me and it was him.

His shirt clinging to his chest and hair spiked with sweat, shorts, and I'm prepared to swear in a court of law that he wasn't wearing underwear, or he stuffs his Haines. He looked at me and I looked at him and the first thing that popped into my head is what came out of my mouth. "You look HOT." I wish I could say that it was said innocently, but I oh so cleverly included hand gestures while nodding my head in a way that made it unmistakable what I meant. A far cry from the usual hand shake and mundane greeting of "Mr So-and-so, it's good to see you." don't you think?

Oh yeah, I was embarrassed as hell. My eyes immediately bugged out of my head, I gasped, and my hands flew up to cover my face 'cause I could already feel the burn in my cheeks. The burn spread ALL OVER my face - even my chin (has you CHIN ever blushed?) and I doubled over and laughed hysterically while fumbling for the words to try and explain.

From behind my hands I tried to talk to him. "I mean, you look like you've been working out. NO!! I mean that you look really sweaty. NO! OH GOD NO!! I meant that your shirt is sticking to you and... OH MY GOD!!!!! NOT LIKE THAT! NOT LIKE THAT!!! I only meant that - OH GOD!!!!!!" I was to embarrassed to go on.

I was still bent double and all of the sudden realized that I had a rather low cut blouse on that day - modest enough when I was standing up straight, but I wasn't standing up straight was I? He was getting a show while I talked about how hot he looked. (Now THAT's professionalism at it's best right there. Don't deny it.)

I stood up so quickly it must have looked like I was having a seizure.

I tried to regain my composure. I took my hands down from my face, put the death grip on my pants to keep them there, looked him square in the neck - and apologized in a most professional manner while my face glowed a lovely deep purple. I must have looked like some sort of weird bug.

"Mr. So-and-so. I am terribly sorry for any misunderstanding. It was not my intention to offend you in any way, shape, form or fashion. I apologize profusely for my unprofessional behavior and can only hope that you will except my apology."

He graciously accepted my apology - all the while grinning like the cat who ate the canary and ribbed me endlessly the whole time he was in my office. When he left he said "I'll tell my wife you said 'Hello'"

Greaaaaat. I'm looking forward to that call....or visit.

Just Another Day In Paradise

2006-08-18T10:31:00.000-04:00

MA MA! MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA!

I looked down and there was my cute little man, arms stretched high, wanting me to pick him up.

He's feeling kinda puny so I walk over and pick him up, give him a snuggle. He puts his head on my shoulder and pets my arm - like a dog.

He sits up, looks at me, and pukes warm, chunky, wetness down my front. It runs down my shirt, in my bra, down my stomach, down my legs and pools at my feet.

"Lauren honey, get me a towel NOW please. Connor just threw up." Connor starts to cry.

"What Mom?"

"Get me a towel please."

She brings me a dish cloth. "No honey, I need a towel." She runs over with a snow white, relatively new towel. "No Lauren, I need an old ragged towel, please hurry" Connor stops crying and puts his head on my shoulder, the one not covered in vomit, and pets my arm. "Ma Ma. MAMAMA" more arm petting and a kiss on my shoulder.

The smell of vomit is starting to get to me, and now the wet warmness is turning to wet coolness and I can feel chunks of something in my bra - and it has nothing at all to do with what God gave me to put in it. I was still in my work clothes - a new white shirt.

Lauren arrives with an old towel and runs like hell for the other side of the house holding her nose. I semi-spread out the towel on the floor and stand on it, at least we were in the kitchen and not on the carpet.

"Lauren, please, could you get me another one?"

A look of horror fills her face.

"Lauren, I need another towel please and I don't want to get this on the carpet. Please get me another towel." I'm starting to get upset. I'm the one that got thrown up on after all and she's horrified I want her to bring me another towel.

She comes back with another old towel, pinching her nose for all she's worth with her thumb and forefinger, the rest of her fingers are curled claw like and digging in her face. She's pinching her nose so hard, the tip has turned fire engine red, like she's trying to rip it off. I roll my eyes at her.

I put Connor down on the towel on the floor and strip him, laying his clothes beside him, throw the diaper away, and dry him off. He lets me know what he thinks of this idea by showing me his tonsils and testing the highest note he can hit. I strip as well, down to my birthday suit, some of the vomit had gotten on my underwear somehow and I gag. I dry off and bundle the clothes in the second towel, pick up Connor and head for the washing machine, leaving the other towel on the floor until I can scrub it.

Next I head for diaper station, no need to tempt fate for additional ickyness.

"Lauren, could you please unplug the fryer? I don't want the food to burn" I laid Connor down and he knows what I'm getting ready to do. He protests and it hurts my ears. I get a better view of his tonsils.

"Mom, you're naked"

"Yes Sweetie, I know. Please unplug the frier."

Lauren unplugs the frier and stands watching me. I wipe Connor down with a few hundred wipes, no time to give a bath now, I'm cooking dinner.

Freshly diapered, fresh long shirt, Connor is happy - for now. "Keep an eye on him please Sweets, I need to put some clothes on." She looks at me in that "Mom has lost her mind" kind of way - she's not used to seeing me stroll around the house naked and is scared that Connor will hurl on her. "He'll be fine Sweetie" I say, and hope it's true. I don't want to find out if Lauren is a sympathy puker tonight.

I go wash quickly in the sink, get dressed and head back out to the short people. Connor is sitting in the bean bag with Lauren reading him a book. I plug the frier back in. I hope the squash is okay. Fried squash is a pain in the ass to fix, it takes so long, I damn sure don't want to have to redo it.

Connor walks over to me and throws his juice cup at my feet. If I didn't know better, I would think he was offering me some. HA! He looks at me, he looks at the cup, he looks back at me. I can just see the words in his face "What the hell is taking so long mom? Fix me some juice already." He's so full of charm, even at this young age.

I give him some Pedialite, he's had loose stools all day. He throws the cup down at my feet again. I look at him, he looks at me, and goes back to Lauren with another book in his hand, leaving the pedialite at my feet. That boy is his daddy through and through. I wish he liked popcicles.

I put the chicken in the oven and get the vegetables ready for steaming and scrub the floor.

Charles arrives home just in time for dinner. I hand him the baby as soon as he walks in the door. "Please give him a bath, I need to shower and then we can eat."

Charles kisses me on top of the head and asks one of those questions that only smart people can "Bad day?" "Can't you tell by my freshness?" I say.

Baby all fresh and clean, Mommy all fresh and clean, we arrive in the living room together. Lauren is asleep on the couch.

"You know that you get to stay home with him tomorrow don't you." I say.

"Just another day in Paradise baby." he smirks.

Yeah, lets see if he says that when a diaper explodes and the baby pukes all at the same time. I'll make the appropriate noises over the phone, and hang up, glad that's not me.

The Cold Hard Truth

2006-08-15T22:42:00.000-04:00

I'm working out in the morning with Dennis Austin doing aerobics. I have also tried pilates and yoga for the first time ever. None of it was pretty. I've been thinking of going running in the mornings but I live down very narrow country roads and I'm afraid I would go squish by some ass-wipe in a jacked up truck with extra big wheels sporting those ridiculous KC lights on a chrome roll over bar with rusted out wheel wells.

As far as the exercise - it feels like I'm back in the military doing PT (physical training) waking up at 5 a fucking clock in the morning to go to muscle failure and torture myself (you can't have all the fun now can you). I don't want a repeat of basic training, so I've been taking it easy, breaking myself back into the routine, to the walking around like an old lady but keeping the benefit of being able to lift my arms to wash my hair (which is a good thing).

In relation to food - you must understand something. I'm anorexic. I'm the only fat anorexic I know, but once anorexic, always anorexic. I never really obsessed about my weight until I joined the military. They had a scale - something I never really got on, and they said I could only weigh so much - and I weighed 4lbs over that when I joined the Army. They sent me to "Fitness" - basically a fat camp and it shamed me. It shamed me to the CORE. The Drill Sergeants were hoovering over us at all times, making sure we weren't eating anything we weren't supposed to and smoked our asses 3-4 times a day (definition of "smoked" - making a subordinate soldier do so much exercise that they would often physically collapse from muscle failure). I stayed there for a bit and finally proceeded to basic training, where I slimmed down considerably but gained more weight from all the muscle. I met the taping requirements with no problems (this is where they get a tape measure - like the one's used for sewing - and measure your neck, wrists, hips...and something else, I forget ((different spots for men))) and they measure your body fat. I moved on to AIT (advanced individual training) and was able to relax a bit, however, I was still not making the height/weight requirement and had to get taped - a stigma of the sloppy female soldier that I DID NOT want, but didn't know how to go about doing what they wanted done.

I met another female soldier, Shay, and she advised me to skip a couple of meals. I took her advice, got off the tape, and was so pleased with my results, I continued to not eat. I'll give you an idea of how much weight I lost - I went from a size 14 to a size 10 in 6 months, most of that size change came in the last 2 months. I moved on to my Permanent Duty station and one of the high ranking section Sergeants made a remark that he didn't think I heard. He said "Why does the Army have to send us FAT females" After that, it was on. I ate about every 3 days or so. I'd have a slice of pizza - a small one and be so full because my stomach had shrunk to half the size of my fist. The only person who had a clue (including my hubby) was the First Sergeant. Why did he know? Because the scales were in his office and I would often sneak in his office to weigh myself - EVERY DAY. He caught me a few times and made a remark that it seemed I had a problem with my weight. I laughed it off and never went back. That left me bereft of scales. I didn't dare have them in my room, some one might become suspicious because I was so thin. I did without - and it didn't do me any favors.

I now had to GUESS how much I weighed. Can you say MENTAL TORTURE???? During this time, I was doing the required PT in the morning and additional PT in the afternoon they also required. Basically, I was running about 8 miles a day or more and working out my abs, my upper body, and any other muscle group I could. When I got to go back to the barracks for the evening, if my room mate was out, I would exercise MORE. Always more. MORE MORE MORE. It was never enough. I couldn't tell how much I weighed. I couldn't take the risk of having a scale. I plummeted to a size 8.

I looked like a walking skeleton. My spine protruded, and it really hurt when we would do sit ups on the concrete at PT. I lost almost all fat stores. It didn't click with me that it shouldn't hurt to sit on cushioned surfaces, or that I looked sick, even when a couple of people commented to me that they thought I looked sick. I chalked it up to them seeing things and continued doing what I was doing. My chain of command was happy. I wasn't another fat female, I did PT with the males and I was Air Assault Qualified (I jumped out of helicopters). My numbers made their numbers look good, I didn't cause to much trouble, and they left me alone.

How did I get this under control?? Well, I didn't really, but when I found out I was pregnant with Lauren, I stopped this cold turkey. The only problem was, I no longer knew how much to eat and it be okay. HOW MUCH WAS THE CORRECT AMOUNT????!!! I didn't have a fuckin clue. I was terrified of not giving her what she needed, so I over ate and gained 100lbs while I was pregnant. I lost all but 30 lbs of that weight (NOT doing the anorexic thing), which was a good weight for me, and gained it all right back with Connor.

I finally went and sat down with a Nutritionist after I got pregnant with Connor. Problem still there, still not fixed, but much, much better. Charles gives me "the eye" if I say I'm not hungry, and I don't want my daughter thinking it's okay not to eat.

Yeah, I have food issues, but hubby keeps his eye on me and I want to live a long long time. I want to grow old with my man and watch him dandle our grandbabies on his knees. I want to be there for Lauren when she needs that shoulder - that mommy shoulder, even when she's 30.

So don't freak out - I'm being good. Charles is helping me do this the right way, again.

Week One - Operation: Lose That Ass

2006-08-14T00:00:00.000-04:00

Yes, my ass is a very scary thing. You may run now - to the nearest mental help facility. Just keep in mind, they will not be able to get rid of this aweful image that is now burned permanently into your brain. NAY! Not even tears will wash it away.

Yeah, I was getting ready to vacumn and remembered I needed to take these pics. I kept my oh so glorious orange tee-shirt on just for you....no, those are not pumpkins in my shirt...nor are there any animals in a blanket wrestling down my pants (I checked).

Age - 32
Height - 5'7" (and some change)
Weight - don't know, my scale seems to have gone kerflewy. I'll have it posted for you in the morning.
Pants Size - 14, almost 16
Target Pants Size - 12

Curteousy of The Blair Bitch, she has sent us some weight loss tips, seems she has been here, done that, and made her own kick ass T-shirt. I have listed them for you below.

Dieting in front of your kids can have an effect on how they eat and see food so eat healthy foods with small portions and show your kids how they should eat all the time.

What you want to eat are the right sized portions. That's what you should check when you're deciding what to eat, not calories.

A side salad with lunch and dinner. Your digestive system won't thank you right away for all the ruffage (sp) but it will make you feel full and you won't want to eat your entire meal.

An 8 ounce glass of water while you're preparing meals. Water fills
you up.

5 meals/day. 3 doesn't cut it. Snacks inbetween don't count as a meal.
5 SMALL MEALS/DAY. A serving of meat of your choice, vegetables, fruits,
etc..

Eat whatever you want. Yes, I said WHATEVER YOU WANT! Just eat it in moderation. So if you have a craving for a sweet, you eat a small piece of it. If you want cake, you have a sliver. You nibble these and eat them VERRRRY slowly and I assure you, this will satisfy your craving.

Asparagus is a diuretic. You will lose water eating it so eat lots of it.

You don't have to spend a ton of money on fresh veggies, canned and frozen are just as good and will last you longer, too.

FISH over chicken any day. You metabolize fish faster than chicken or red meat.

I Can't Believe It's Not Butter spray. 0 calories if you're worried about calories.

Do NOT leave out carbs just reduce how much you eat. Carbs are brain food and if you don't eat them you won't be able to focus and you will feel fuzzy-headed and "off". But stay away from breads and pastas if you can. Melba toast is good.

NUTS!! Almonds, especially. More antioxidants.

If I can think of anything else I will let you know.

I also have the sidebar done up for Operation: Lose That Ass. If I missed you, please let me know and I'll fix it right away.

K, that's it...snark away.

Dear Little Miss Dumb Shit,

2006-08-11T09:19:00.000-04:00

Get the fuck out of my office. You condescending little bitch. If you knew how badly I wanted to smack you right now, you'd run for the hills.

I'm not even a little bit interested in the "all oak" steps in you house that lead up from the basement. I don't give a shit that all rooms in your home have ceiling fans. I give a flying fuck that you have hardwood floors in the kitchen.

You have two children who are spoiled little brats, and even though I have said something to YOU and to THEM, you still do not correct them. You ignore them, so much more focused on your shiny new house than their behavior. Never mind the fact that they are climbing up my filing cabinets and could be crushed if one came down on top of him. I have told them both, the youngest one 3 times, to get down.

Your husband is a nice guy. Why in the hell he would want to be married to you - I have no idea. You're a materialistic bitch who isn't even remotely interested in raising your kids and you screw around on your husband. I saw you - you fuckin whore. I had to go into town late one day last week and there you making out with some guy in the parking lot. IN THE PARKING LOT AT WALMART!!!! Could you have picked a more public place?

If you were even partially human, I would be happy about your new home with you. I would ooh and aah and talk about all those features you are so obviously obsessed about and offer your kids some candy - but I won't.

You are a sub-human, sub-mother, sub-wife bitch and I would love to jack your jaw just one time. And let's not forget the fact that you really are dumb. I'm not kidding. You're fucking dumb. Dumb in away that says that you couldn't finish high school and had to drop out because the "How NOT To Break Your Crayons" class was to complex for you.

...and just incase you didn't notice, that hair that you keep flipping...yeah, your blond highlights have turned green hon. Go get that shit fixed.

Dear God,

2006-08-09T09:36:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, you let really good things happen.

Like yesterday, when I went to CVS I found two really great books for Lauren. Journey to the Center of the Earth, and Around the World in 80 Days. They were only 2.99 a piece! I snatched them up and did a funny little dance. They were hiding behind one of those displays that hang from the aisle on those plastic doo-hickeys, on the bottom shelf. I just happened to drop my keys, bent to pick them up and something caught my eye. Hard backed with an illustration every few pages, I was taken back to the first time I had ever read them. I hugged them close and grinned at the cashier as she tucked them in crinkly plastic bag and pushed them towards me.

After I picked up Lauren, I showed them to her and teased her just a little bit. I made airplane noises and pretended they were flying over her head while she jumped for them. "Sorry" I said "These two books are only for people who really love to read...only for people who love a good story about adventure. I wonder who I'll give them to hummmmm?" She almost tackled me. She has devoured several pages of Journey to the Center of the Earth already. "I'm going to leave these in the car mom, right here, beside my seat, so I can read some every afternoon and every morning." So that's where they live now,in my console, eagerly awaiting her return, so that she may discover the treasures inside.

Thank you for giving her the love of reading. Thank you for giving her the imagination to enjoy them. Thank you for my daughter, she's my angel.

My mother is now living in Montana. She and her husband have been dreaming of finally being able to live there for many years, and you finally made that happen. I miss them but she's happy, so it's okay. I get to talk to her all the time. What's even better is that she has now got a camera phone so I can send her pictures of my short people all the time. Last night I sent her 2 showing Connor slinging food from here to there and my Lauren looking beautiful and sweeter than sugar.

Charles got that nice raise and now, all of our medical bills are paid off. We no longer have to worry about bankruptcy. I don't pace the floor at night any more, and cry in the shower where no one can hear me. I don't squish my kids in extra hard hugs because I feel guilty for not doing better by them. I squish them extra hard because I love them and treasure them.

We will finally get to take the kids places instead of just being homebound - not even being able to afford gas for free activities. I'll be able to take Lauren shopping for school clothes instead of just a shirt or pants and shoes here and there, skipping enough lunches and saving every single penny to save up for them. I don't have to worry anymore if I need to take Connor to the Dr, if I have enough money to cover the co-pay in the bank, and how I'm going to afford the prescriptions that he always gets. I don't have to worry about the electricity being shut off and people taking me to court. I don't have to worry how I'm going to afford a new car battery if the one I have now suddenly dies. I don't have to worry about making the tank of gas I have streeeeetch as long as possible because we don't have the money for any more, I can turn on the AC and not feel guilty.

I'm still deeply in love with my husband. I love him more and better than I ever have. We are constantly re-discovering each other and spend countless hours depriving ourselves of much needed sleep talking and joking like teenagers. We talk of important things and issues in the world and sometimes, we talk about nothing at all and fall asleep at night holding each other.

Thank you for sending him my way. Thank you for sending me a man that loves me for my intellect, my spirit, my sense of fun. Thank you for sending me a man with a sense of humor, who is capable of such sweet, fierce love and believes his word is his bond. Thank you for sending me a man that respects me, my opinions and decisions.

Thank you for sending me a MAN.

Connor is doing so great! I never drempt that he would be doing this well after he was so sick for so long. Even now, he has dual ear infections, but I can't tell. He's not cranky, or fussy. There's no fever, no loss of appetite or pulling of the little ears. He's happy. He giggles and likes to face dive into the bean bag and baby wrestles with his daddy. He gives such sweet drooly kisses and when he hugs me, he squishes his whole baby sized body against me and snuggles into my neck. He pats my arm and makes adorable baby noises and it makes me feel like I couldn't possible take another breath and have it better than the one I was holding right at that moment, only to find that it is better, that it is some how sweeter and more life giving.

I couldn't even imagine this a year ago.

Thank you for my son.

Thank you for being there with me though all those really tough times. When I was in the shower, the washcloth pressed firmly to my mouth, tears mingling with the spray. When I hit my knees, for the first time ever, when Connor was going in for surgery, not even 2 months old. How I screamed and prayed and shouted in anger at you when he would stop breathing, getting ready to do CPR on my infant son, who we had tried for so many years to have, who I was was watching slip away in front of me. When Lauren was 8 months and then again at 2 and she was soo, sooo, sick and I didn't know what to do. When things between Charles and I got so ugly, I packed his bags for him and told him he either needed to get himself together, or get out, all the while I felt my heart had been ripped from my body and I was bleeding freely, leaving a big pool of love on the floor. How he hugged me, and held me and took his suitcase back in the bedroom and we talked for hours and slowly got ourselves back together and things have been wonderful ever since, even after all this time.

Thank you for all you have done, because I realize that while life doles out challenges to us all..to me and mine...you have been beside me, and in me, and I was never alone.

Thank you.

Rules and Links for Operation Lose That Ass

2006-08-08T10:00:00.000-04:00

Okay Ladies

Here are the ground rules so far:

1 - We begin 14 Aug with a post on our own blog with pictures (you may skip them if you aren't comfortable with them). Included in this post you should have your current pants size, and your target pants size. You may include any other information that you like. Talking shit is encouraged.

2 - Be honest. It's obvious that we can't monitor you in person and you'll just fuck up the whole game if you're a liar. Don't be a selfish bitch like that.

3 - Do this healthy ladies. I don't want you passing out because you wanted to get skinny before some chick you've never met before does. Anorexia and/or bulimia is not the way to go. Trust me on this - I know. Remember to feed your body. If you don't eat, your body saves every teeny calorie, it screws up your metabolism and leads to other health problems. Do this the right way, or please bow out.

4 - NO diet pills.

5 - Cheer the other ladies on if you are so inclined. It is great motivation to keep us all going. You may also talk shit at this time - if you are so inclined (snicker) - NIKKI

6 - There is not set work out regimen or anything. You do what best fits into your schedule/budget. If you want to go to the gym, by all means go. If you want to work out in front of the TV - that's fine too. If you feel the best way to get into those pants is to take a dump...just remember - laxatives aren't allowed either. ew.

7 - NO PLASTIC SURGERY - just wanted to put that in there - it seems a couple of us are smart asses - Nikki

8 - updates every Monday with the progress that you've made on your blog.

9 - remember that we are all made differently. Even if someone is the same height as you, the same weight may not be good for the both of you, just as the same pants size may not be good for both of you. No jealous bitchyness please - unless it's done in a purely fun way - Nikki (snicker)

10 - Share you receipts and tricks. Don't be a selfish bitch. LOL

I've included a couple of links for you below to help with your calorie intake and what not. There's also a link Kim's blog. He's lost a lot of weight - he's been there and done that and got the T-shirt. He's also a pretty smart man and I have never seen him be ungracious to anyone. He has kindly extended the offer for us to go have a look-see at his blog that he keeps in reference to loosing weight.

If you can think of anything that needs to be added link or rule wise - please let me know and I'll put it up.

I'm also going to make a sidebar for those of us participating so that we can just click on each other instead of me having to gather all your info every week. Feel free to make a sidebar if you are so inclined - I don't have the market on them or anything. I'll hopefully be getting the sidebar up today, and I think Nikki M. already has hers up.

Links

Kim - Losing a Hundredweight

Height and Weight Table

Calorie Counter

Diet Tips and Articles

How Many Calories Can You Have?

How to lose or gain weight

15 Common Myths About weight loss, nutrition, and diet.

Operation: LOSE THAT ASS

2006-08-07T14:40:00.000-04:00

Nikki (over at Now What The Hell Do I DO?) and I are having a little competition.

I say that I'll be in my goal pants size before she will.

We have given ourselves 2 months to lose 2 pants sizes.

The loser has to blog about the others Greatness (snicker).

Anybody else want to play?

We'll be starting on the 14th - posting before pictures and info.

This is the perfect thing I've been waiting for. A partner in crime - someone to help me loose the heftyness that has accumulated about my person. A person, who isn't afraid to talk a little shit and joke around - MOTIVATION AND FUN!!!!

Who's interested? We can warp you mind too...if you're interested.

(don't everybody flock to join at once now)