In which my neighbor's true identity is revealed

I firmly believe that my neighbor is indeed, a superhero.

How can I know this, you ask? Well, I'll tell you...

Around Halloween, I happened to glance at his front window (this is a bedroom with a window that faces the street) and I saw what I can only imagine to be a poster featuring Batman, The Riddler and The Joker (I think). I didn't really think anything of this as it was Halloween and people do some weird shit to their houses around this time of year. Did I mention he is really, really weird? No? Well, that won't do.

He only wears sweatpants and muscle shirts with tennis shoes. This would be okay if he say, worked at a gym or spent alot of time at the gym or...was an 80's Jazzercise instructor. To my knowledge, he is none of these things so this behavior becomes weird and slightly disturbing. He also wears a fanny pack.

A fanny pack. You read that right. My theory about this is that he distracts bad guys with its weirdness and then does his superhero thing.

He's also probably in his 50's. And by his own admission, stays up most of the night and sleeps very, very late the next day. Not quite feeling the weird? I can fix that.

He combs all his (grey) hair up to the front of his head and then does a weird sort of poofy thing right at the top of his forehead. It sort of resembles a pompadour which looks super hot on say...

Sean Connery (you're welcome)

or...

James Dean (again, you're welcome)

or even...

John Travolta (while he's not my favorite, he still rocked the pompadour. oh, you're welcome)

Does my neighbor look anything like this? Well, of course he doesn't. He just looks weird. Oh! I almost forgot the event that confirmed my suspicions. I was in the backyard and glanced over his fence. I had a direct view of his dining room window and what do you think was hanging in this window? Bedsheets with ninjas on them. Ninja sheets, folks...it doesn't get any weirder. Ninjas added to the Marvel comic character poster (which is still there. In December.), could really only mean one thing. He is, in fact, a superhero. 

Because really, what other explanation could there be?

In which I'm traumatized at the grocery store

I'm a huge fan of flip-flops. I've been known to wear them in the rain, in 30º weather...to weddings. You get the point. However, there should be rules attached to wearing flip-flops.

Take for example the man I saw in the store last night. I went in for tortillas because I was going to make fish tacos. Mmmm, fish tacos. Is there anything better than fish tacos? No, the answer is no. Unless, of course you don't like fish or are allergic to fish, then I can well imagine you can think of many things that are better than fish tacos. Like my friend Marisa who is completely in LOVE with avocados, I bet she would say that avocados are better than fish tacos. I would vehemently disagree with her though because I think avocados are right up there with beets and peas and head lice. Not that I would eat head lice, but you get what I'm saying.

Where was I...right, the man wearing flip-flops. While waiting in line, I happened to glance down at his feet and was treated to the nastiest thing. Ugly toe nails. Now, before you get all hopped up, let me clarify that there is a difference between toe nails that aren't attractive and UGLY toe nails. These were ugly. I would even go so far as to say they were fugly. Fugly nails, people. They were a weird brownish-yellowish color and they looked like they could take a layer of skin off if they were to attack you. Needless to say I was not only traumatized by this but I was also unable to look away. It was like a train wreck, you don't want to look but you can't stop looking.

It was wrong. So very, very wrong.

So, the rules...well, it's only one rule, but I think it's a pretty great rule.

If you wear flip-flops, please make sure you don't have toe-nails that look they belong on some pre-historic beast.

Am I asking for the impossible? No, no I'm not.

Toilet paper, the media and keeping your butt clean

The media subjects us to all sorts of things, don't you think? We get to hear about every medication for every ailment and all their glorious side effects. We are privy to the fireworks intended to represent orgasmic climaxes, compliments of K-Y Jelly. We get to hear about incontinence and constipation. We are so eloquently educated on the perils of not wearing the "right protection" during Aunt Flo's monthly visits. Good times.

As much as I hate every single one of these commercials, there is not one of these that compares with toilet paper commercials.

Really, toilet paper? Have we devolved enough as a society that we don't know to grab some toilet paper and wipe our asses? Not only do we have to be told to do it, we have to be told to do it by a family of bears, which in my observation spends a freakish amount of time taking a dump.

You know the ones I'm talking about. The ones that make taking a shit a family affair. Disturbing at best.

To add insult to injury, the logo is currently "Enjoy the Go". Seriously, it is, I checked the website. The moment you open the site, you are treated to a cute little video extolling the relief, the calm of "going". Especially after morning coffee, "talk about getting things going!".

I may vomit.

Just one more reason I drink

I had no idea that when I signed up to be a mom that I would be required to also act as warden, cop and referee. Well, the referee part I kind of expected because my sister and I were almost always at war with each other. The warden part wasn't a surprise either because in general, children tend to act like little criminals...but perhaps with not as much malice as your common criminal. But the cop part? Really? For all my enforcement, I should have a badge. And a gun. And a bullet proof vest. And a Taser gun.

What do I police, do you ask?

You name it...dirty clothes, dinner time, homework, showers, bedtime.

Bedtime in particular. How fucking hard is it to just go to bed when I ask you to? This is what generally happens in my house come bedtime.

Me: Please go shower, brush your teeth and get your jammies on.

Minion: *ominous silence*

Me: Get up and get in the shower.

Minion: I'm hungry.

Me: Move. Now.

Minion: Do I have to take a shower?

Me: Yes. Go. Now.
Minion: Do I have to go first?

Me: You do now, just for asking that. Move it.

Minion: *flounces down the hall, slams the door*

Me: Where's the wine?

40 minutes later

Me: Seriously? Get out of the shower and go to bed!

Minion: Mommmm, I am!

Me: Wine?

Minion: Why are you mad? Gah!!

Me: Shoot me.

All in all, the whole ordeal takes at least an hour. And usually ends up with me having to shadow their every move in order to make sure they are doing what they are supposed to be doing. It also ends up with one or more of them looking at me like my head is spinning around on my shoulders and asking why I'm irritated. You can't imagine? Really?

In which we Journal

I'm not sure how many of you have discovered Pinterest. For those of you that have, you know of its greatness and for those of you who haven't...well, either stay in the dark about it or be ready for an instant addiction!

On the down side, I am now guilty of spending a HUGE amount of time pinning and re-pinning. Huge, I tell you. I'm not even going to admit how much time I spend on there because it's almost embarrassing.

On the upside, I have tried several recipes and made several crafts from the site. I have plenty more to try but in the meantime, I'm going to let you peek at one of my favorites so far.

I went to the Dollar Store and bought a composition book, whipped out some pretty scrapbook paper and cut it with some pretty scissors. Then I stenciled "you & me" and attached it to the front of the book (I used photo squares).



On the inside, I needed to cover the name, address, phone number, subject stuff. I typed up a little something, cut it down to size, then glued it in. This is what it says...

You and Me

These pages are a safe place to talk with me about anything.

Anything under the sun...

Happy thoughts

Angry thoughts

Curious thoughts

Scared thoughts

Frustrated thoughts

Dreamy thoughts

Sometimes it's hard to speak our thoughts and sometimes it's hard to find the right thing to say. Here, you can write to me anytime you want to and I will always answer.

No matter what words we might say or write to each other, always remember the most important words of all...

I LOVE YOU

I now have a journal with both my girls and I have to say, the things my 13 year old has written to me are both heartbreaking and priceless.

Heartbreaking because I remember feeling the way she feels now...Middle School sucks. Priceless because sometimes I feel that I'm doing a shitty job as a mom and it gives me great encouragement to hear that she thinks I'm pretty fine.

Composition book $1.00

Time spent creating journal 20 minutes

The opportunity to have open dialogue with my girls...Priceless.



And so it goes

So, I was thinking the other day...

Wouldn't it be funny if...

I was driving to school and I saw...

..
.......


Fuckity fuck. I've got nothin'.

Decisions, decisions

I'm having a hard time right now. There are some hard decisions that I have to make and to be quite honest...I don't want to make them. Seriously, I NEVER want people to tell me what to do, but I would welcome some bossy moo-cow into my life right now for the sole purpose of telling me what to do because I can't see things clearly enough to decide for myself.

*sigh*

Hooking 101

So, I ended up on the wrong side of town today. Wait, that didn't sound right.  I was driving to the cheap but geographically challenged Walmart today. Um, let me try again...I was in my car at a stop light, in a seedy part of town today. *sigh* Any way I put it, it sounds bad.

Moving on.

While in my car waiting at a stop light, I happened to glance out the window and saw a woman standing at the corner of a business plaza. Now, I use the word "plaza" in a very broad term as "plaza" might imply some sense of elegance or class. At the very least, graffiti free walls and a garbage free parking lot. But stay with me.

So, I really don't pay this woman any attention because people are not at all an unusual occurrence. At least, not where I'm from. I sat patiently, waiting for the light to turn and didn't give her another thought until I heard, "Well, that's not working. Who wants to buy some ass?". Now, remember, I'm in my car with the window barely cracked, a full 2 lanes and a sidewalk away from her and I can hear her as if she is in my backseat. Thankfully, she was not in my backseat as I would have immediately needed to take the car to a detailer and have them clean the seats. I possibly would have even had to sell the car.

Phew, dodged that bullet.

So, she's yelling, "Who wants to buy some ass?". Now, I can only imagine what her tactic had been up until this moment, the one that caused her such distress that she had to abandon it and get out the Big Guns. Let this be a lesson to you, if at first you don't succeed, shout to the Heavens that your ass is for sale.

She sure got my attention! But as I am in fact, a girl, married, fearful of STD's and generally against one selling their body for money, I had to resist her ever so tempting offer. Instead, I chuckled and shook my head as one can only do in times of extreme disbelief. Apparently, she saw this and took offense because the next words I heard were, "That's what you have to do when you have a family!"

Soo, if you have a family, you have to what? Sell yourself in front of the local pizza joint? Damn, I've been taking the wrong approach all these years! Here I thought that working was the way to go. How could I have been so misled?

I very calmly drove though the intersection and didn't say what I wanted to say, which was, "Get a fucking job!" or "Lay off the crack!"

Good times. And my husband wonders why I want to move.    

Hey Snooks...

You know what I don't get? The public's fascination with Snooki. It seems like every time I turn around, she's being talked about. People discuss what she's wearing, who she's sleeping with...uh, the book(s) she wrote??? WTF? Apparently, she's not as dumb as I think she is (actually, I'm really quite sure she's not all that smart), she just plays one on TV. Seriously, she told Matt Lauer, "I think [on the show] you see more of like, the party side of me, which I call Snooki. It's kind of my alter ego," she explained. "That's what you see on the show, but right now you are talking to Nicole. It's like the soft, calm, business-ready person.". Really? You're so smart and business minded that you...what, need an alter ego so people aren't intimidated by you? So that they will appreciate your funny, party side and not just see you for a "business girl"? Huh. Sure, that makes sense. Throw them off the business scent with your ridiculous hair, pouty kissy face and exposed boobs. That will make the think twice before they take you serious again!

Let's review...

This is what we are talking about...

Not, oh I don't know...curing cancer, stopping domestic violence, saving our fragile earth. Nope, we're talking about Snooki.

This.

Oh, the humanity.

In which the need for an umbrella is strong

I wonder about people. I wonder if some were deprived of oxygen when they were babies or if they hit their heads one to many times. Seriously, I do, because I've decided that there has to be a reasonable explanation for all the stupidity I see. For instance...

My family was at an amusement park the other weekend. Good times, right? Sure, up until we were almost vomited on.

We had just exited a ride that flips you upside down, several times. Now, this is not a ride that is shrouded in secrecy. Nope, it's out there in plain view for all to see. If you get on the ride, you are going upside down. Period. Not rocket science. So, we were exiting and the exit ramp parallels the landing that you step out onto after you get off the ride, but it's at a lower level. So, you are almost underneath the landing. With me? Good. As we begin to walk down the ramp, I look up and see a boy (maybe 10, 11) leaning over the landing railing. I don't think much of it until I see a long line of drool hanging out of his mouth. Then, I hear his mother (who is standing next to him) shout to someone waiting for them, "He's getting sick, do you have any water?".

Let's pause for a moment.

If your kid is getting sick, do you call for water? Do you have him hang over a railing that overlooks an area where people are walking?

The answer is no. NO.

The correct response should have been to rush him away from everyone and perhaps find a bathroom or possibly a bush. But did this mom do that? Nooooo. She stood by and watched him vomit. Over the railing. Near the people. Awesome.

I really want you to experience what we experienced. So, I drew you a picture. You're welcome.

The "new me"

As you might remember, I recently left my job at my beloved Jr. High school. This has actually been such a blessing in disguise, I can't even begin to tell you. Anyway, I still do some sub work for them and was there just yesterday and something fantastic happened. Did you note my sarcasm there? No? Let me try again...While subbing yesterday, something "fantastic" happened! Better? Bueno.

Like I was saying...

I got to meet the new me. Alright, technically, she's not the new me because technically, my old job was eliminated and technically you can't let someone go and then turn around and hire someone else to do their job. This is not to say that this person doesn't do exactly what I did (but not as good, but that's just my bad attitude talking), working out of my office, seeing my kids for the same reasons that I saw them. But, these are just little, inconsequential details, right? Right?? Sure.

Don't distract me.

So I met "the new me but not really me" and I really intended to like her because she is working with great people, great kids and ultimately the situation that I found myself in was not in any way her fault. I was doing really well with her obnoxious accent, ridiculous "dress code" and lack of courtesy. Really, I was. Don't laugh.

Then, after I told her who I was and that I used to do what she was now doing (but not really *wink wink*), she said, "Oh, so they found something for you to do here then?". This was accompanied by the ever so sympathetic head tilt and concerned pinch of the eyebrows.  May I also point out that with these displays of "aww, that's too bad" there was a definite inflection of "Well aren't you the dumbest thing I've ever laid eyes on and it's no wonder you couldn't keep your job you uneducated piece of shit".

I didn't say, "I hope the kids eat you alive" or "Bitch please, you couldn't do HALF my job" or even "Your accent makes me want to shove hot pokers in my ears".

No, no, I smiled sweetly and walked away. And then I came home and blogged. Karma's a bitch folks and she's gonna spank this chick. And not in a good way.

Rabbit season

What is the world coming to??? Today, I saw:

• A personalized license plate that read, "SXEGRAN". First of all, I firmly believe that there are very few truly "sexy grandma's". This is not to say that women can't age gracefully and look beautiful at any age but quite frankly, the two words tend to represent the complete opposite of each other. Secondly, I don't care what age you are, if you need a sign claiming you are "sexy", you probably aren't. Period.
• Two young gentlemen/gangbangers wearing Elmer Fudd hats. I had an intense desire to confront one of them and A) Try to kill the animal that had clearly taken up residence on their heads.    B) Take a picture of them, show it to them so they could see how utterly ridiculous they looked (then, post it to the Internet...I'm not dumb) or C) Ask them if their goal was to make themselves look like complete assholes and thereby less threatening in order to throw their prey off guard. You should be proud, reader...I did none of these things. I settled for laughing hysterically. When I got to my car. And locked the door...Like I said, I'm not dumb.

For your viewing pleasure...

"Shh, be verwy quiet..I'm hunting Wabbits"

Limp is never a good thing...

You know what I don't get? The Limp Handshake. You know what I'm talking about. When you reach out to shake someones hand and you get...fingertips. What, are you too delicate to use your whole hand? Do you possess superhuman strength and you can't trust yourself to not rip my arm off my body and that's why I only get the fingertips? Are you hiding a hand buzzer and waiting to zap someone else and don't want to give yourself away? Do you have "palm hair" and am embarrassed by it?

Wait, that was a ridiculous question because if I had palm hair, I would definitely be embarrassed and would attempt to hide it all cost. I withdraw the question.

Or is it me?

It's me, isn't it??

You find me repulsive, don't you? I knew it. Seriously, I shower every day, I wash my hands after going to the bathroom. I'm not dirty, I swear.

What's that? It's not me, it's you? Sure. Sure.

Either way, I find your limp handshake both superficial and weird. Personally, I think that if all you are offering in return for my proffered hand is the equivalent of a dead fish you A)Need a warning sign and B)Should have to explain yourself after each handshake fail.

CDA

Sometimes, when my kids touch me, I want to shout, "2319!" Especially in public.

In which I share my talent

I am soo talented. Seriously, my talent is unrivaled. Observe...

I never fail to choose the one bathroom stall in the ENTIRE bathroom that has just been used to make an incredibly malodorous deposit. True story.

I am also quite adept at picking the shopping cart that has 3 squeaky/rusted/misaligned/missing wheels. Or, I consistently find every single microscopic piece of debris in the store and proceed to roll over it, rendering my one good wheel completely immobile.

When I do finally make it to the check out line, I attempt to employ my keen wit and wisdom in choosing which line is best for me. All I can say is this - It's a good thing I didn't have many birth control options back in the day because if I chose birth control like I choose check out lines, I would not only ALWAYS be waiting in the longest line ever, I would be doing so with a shitload of kids.

I have a knack for standing/walking/sitting/being breathed upon by the one person in a 15 mile radius that has chosen to not shower, brush their teeth or apply deodorant.


See? Told you. Talent...I have it.

A fly's revenge. Or, how I mangled the keyboard.

I was working the other day and was being harassed by a fly. Naturally, I did what came...well, naturally. I murdered it. In cold blood. Gleefully grinning the entire time.
Unfortunately, the fly had its revenge because as I completed my downward swipe to end its miserable little life, I hit the keyboard of my laptop. Oops. I completely knocked off the "f" and "g" keys. My bad.
Although, my good friend Aimee told me I didn't need to swear about it, I could have just said "stinky g key".
Bah ha ha ha ha!

Speak!

Words are pretty nifty things, don't you think? I mean, I don't like words like homework, vomit, taxes, cancer...words like that. But on the whole, words are way cool, right?

I was thinking the other day about words that I especially like. Of course, that sort of thinking brings me to a list. Why? I LOVE lists!!

Words I like:

• Chortle - This just sounds fun, don't you think?
• Martini - Think of all the ways you can describe this...Shaken, stirred, dirty, dry, olive, no olive!
• Snafu - Now I wonder, is this really and truly a word? An official word? I really don't care either way, just wondering...
• Mrs. Nezbit - Okay, okay...I know this is a) two words and b) technically, not really a word at all, but really, is there a cooler sounding name? I think not.
• Fritter - As in, "He frittered away all his money". Doesn't this sound so much better than "wasted"?
• Hankering - I would rather have a hankering for something rather than a mere craving. If you're craving something, I imagine a drooling, wild-eyed mess. Whereas, when you have a hankering for something, you could be roping cows and shearing sheep while wishing you had something! This sounds much more exciting.
• Porcupine - No reason, really...I just like the way it sounds. ;)

Ahh, words...little words, big words, silly words and serious ones.

The List

Apparently, I'm at a point in my life where I'm examining events and choices I have made in the past...This brings me to a new list.

Let's call this one, "Things I would do differently" or :Stupid decisions that I can't take back". Either way.

1. I would have worn sunblock and stayed out of the sun. Seriously folks...Cancer sucks (I don't have it, but I still know it sucks.)
2. I would have actually paid attention and put an effort into school. Instead I did awesome things like, setting the classroom on fire, throwing things, writing notes, daydreaming, ditching...you name it.
3. I would have learned how to sew and cook. I taught myself to cook and that has come in pretty handy. Sewing...I don't have as close of a relationship with this one, but I would love to rectify that.
4. I wouldn't have gotten involved in drugs and alcohol. There are whole years I don't remember, thanks to my escapades.
5. I wouldn't have gotten married at 19. I would still have married The Mr., but later :)
6. I would have finished college the first time around because I gotta tell you...going back to school at 30 is no bueno. No bueno at all.
7. I would have dated more. Now, before you jump on me, let me 'splain. I would not have had more boyfriends, I would have dated more. You know, dinner, movie...Seriously, I think it's important to date, otherwise how are you going to know what you like or don't like??
8. I would have moved away from my family. Not because I don't love them, but because I think we gain a certain amount of maturity and wisdom when we live away from our safety net.

I'm sure there is more that I could add to this list. But I wont.

A whole new...thing.

My daughter discovered planking.That is all.

Disneyland and my unmentionables

The Mr. and I went to Disneyland this past weekend...just the two of us. Ahh, it was bliss. We walked hand in hand through the park. We sat close to each other on the benches and gazed into each others eyes.

We also gleefully shot past families waiting in line when we heard those magic words, "Party of two?" That was US! A party of two! It's not often we get to be a party of two and we intended to enjoy it to its fullest. We also took great satisfaction in knowing that any crying children we saw or heard were NOT ours and even took to laughing maniacally when any ride instructions directed riders to "please, watch your children". Ha! What are these children you speak of? We don't have any children!

Ah, good times...

We went back to the hotel that first night tired and happy and ready to sleep deeply so we could enjoy another blissful Disney day.

I showered, brushed my teeth, combed my hair, put on my jammies and then...WTF? Where's my panties?

TMI? Sorry folks, but if I had to endure, so do you.

I forgot to pack clean panties for myself. Wow. This was definitely a first as I truly understand and appreciate the importance of clean underwear.

After tearing my suitcase apart to make sure I didn't pack them in a secret compartment that even I didn't know about, I sadly came to the conclusion that I was indeed, pantie-less.

No bueno.

After I recovered from my shock and despair, I did what any resourceful wife and mom would do. I busted open the hotel soap and had a little laundry party in the bathroom sink. Pretty good, eh? I thought so too until I woke up the next morning to find that my panties were just as wet as they had been the night before.

Now, as much as I appreciated The Mr.'s offer to "wear his" underwear, I decided that men's boxers just weren't for me. Again, I did what any resourceful wife and mom would do.

I went commando.

That's right, you heard it here first.

Coffee, school and aliens

I think there's something wrong with my kids.

This morning, they were all ready for school but we still had about 10 minutes before we needed to leave. I decided to use this time wisely and by wisely I mean sitting down with my book and a cup of coffee. Right before I sat down, Zippy went to the front door and said, "Can we leave now?". No, mom needs coffee and her book.

I sat down, opened my book, breathed in the delicious, life-changing elixir of fresh coffee...

"Can we leave NOW?"

Really? I can't sit for 5 minutes and drink my coffee? Come on! It's bad enough they were hassling me but they were hassling me in order to go to school. Early! Who does this??

I never wanted to go to school. I dreamed up all kinds of reasons why I shouldn't have to go to school. But oh no, not my children. My children not only want to go, they want to go early. These same children wanted to leave Disneyland so they could go back to school. Kid. You. Not.

Disneyland.

So, the logical conclusion I have arrived at is

a) There's something wrong with them

or

b) They are, in fact, aliens.

I'm going with "b"

Dress code

There is a disturbance in the force. I came home from bringing the girls to school, pulled into my driveway and was accosted by the sight of the man 2 doors down running amok in his underwear.

Okay...maybe not actually running, but he was definitely outside the safe zone in his chonies.

People please, put your clothes on!!!

This ranks right up there with going to the store in your jammies, walking around in your bunny slippers, women going "commando" and unfortunate public displays of Spandex.

All I ask is this, think before you walk out your door. Think to yourself, "Would I want my picture taken in this? Would I get arrested for wearing (or not wearing) this? Would this get-up enable me to catch the attention of the opposite sex?" Let's clarify that, shall we? I use the word "catch" in the sense that it would elicit an appreciative whistle or perhaps a classic, "How YOU doin'?", not "catch" in the sense that it would result in any of the following: a restraining order, a jump from a Taser or a faceful of Mace.

The guidelines are pretty clear, before leaving your safe zone, you should have the following:

1. Shirt - If you are a man with a washboard stomach, please feel free to skip this step.
2. Bra - Men, most of you can disregard this step. However, if you have moobs, please, please reconsider.
3. Underwear - Now, not all underwear is equal, you know it and I know it. Underwear should be just that..."Under Wear". Do we want to see your chonies? No. If this confuses you, please refer to guideline #4. Keep it covered, folks.
4. Shorts/Pants/Skirt - Keep in mind that at no time should your ass be visible. Period.
5. Footwear - Notice, I said "footwear" not "sleepwear.
6. Deodorant - I realize that this is not technically clothing but I feel that it is just as important.

Follow these guidelines boys and girls and we will all get along just fine.

Geek alert

You might remember my fully awesome math class as described here. My good friend Marisa asked if I had found "The Geek" yet and at that point, I hadn't. You will be happy to know that "The Geek" has finally made her appearance. She has been there from the first day of class but apparently was hiding her little Geek Light under a bushel. She started in before class even began with tales of her escapades in math lab where she cornered some poor, unsuspecting tutor and then "worked ahead 2 whole chapters!!". Little did we know, she was just getting warmed up...

She was fairly bursting with her need to fly her Geek colors and shortly after class started, couldn't contain it any longer. Her hand shot up in the air and she started firing off questions left and right, "Will we need to do the Austrian Method? When will the first test be? Is it alright if I worked ahead? I hope so, because I worked ahead 2 chapters!".

You should be so proud Intrepid Reader, I put my hand over my mouth and didn't say a word. Not a word.

Spam, it's what's for dinner!

Dear Credit Card Companies, Cable Companies, Religious Organizations, Life Insurance offices and other assorted tree killing, paper wasting, mailbox spamming people:

First and foremost, I am not "Our Friend at...". Seriously, I have enough friends and the ones I do have know my name. Secondly, if I want your credit card, cable service, insurance or ticket to Heaven, I'll let you know. Third, I don't appreciate the false hope you give me every time I open my mailbox. Let me 'splain...When I open the box I see envelopes, lots and lots of envelopes. Naturally, I think to myself, "They like you, they really like you! You have friends! People want to talk to you!" And then...nothing. Turns out, the only people that want to talk to me are: A) people I owe money to or B) people that want me to owe money to them. Finally, if you would put as much money into, oh, I don't know community services, education and health care that you put into printing and postage cost the world might be a better place. So, in the future, keep your "Last chance!", "Final offer!", "Act now!" shit to yourself, m'kay? Because frankly, it's only going to end up here...

Very truly yours,

Your Enemy at...

In the car or short trip to crazy land

My family took a mini vacation this Labor Day weekend. We traveled about 7 hours to Southern California and spent some time on the beach and with family. First and foremost, you need to know that I don't like the beach. I know, I know...what kind of crazy person am I? But really, sand in unfortunate places? No thank you. Anyway, The Mr. and the girls LOVE going, so I brought along a book and a chair and enjoyed the beachy weather while they swam. But that's not what I want to tell you. What I want to tell you is that strange things happen when 4 people are in a car for long periods of time. For instance...

Little Bit, "Mom, she bit me and she licked me"

Zippy, "Mom, she bit me and licked me first"

Little Bit, "Mom, she took Mr. Bumble (this is her Pillow Pet...clearly not to be touched). Let's take her to get the cheapest, ugliest pillow pet, then she won't take mine anymore"

Kid. You. Not.

I was also privileged enough to hear the Happy Nappers jingle, reasons why boys are dumb and a running monologue of Little Bit being Tour Guide Barbie for Mr. Bumble.

But seriously folks as much as I was glad to be home, we had a great time. Not as good of a time as I plan to have on my birthday trip to Disneyland with The Mr. but that's another story ;)

Here's your sign

I actually laughed great big belly laughs with some of these. Wait a minute, does that count as exercise?Because if it does, I'm set for life!!

Free of charge, no less!

 Don't hold your breath, m'kay?

It's every man for himself!

It's called homeschooling...

Bah ha ha ha ha ha!

If any of these gave you a chuckle, head on over to Domestic Diva, that's some funny

stuff right there, I don't care who you are!

Dressed for success

Because I clearly have too much time on my hands, I was thinking of shirts I should have custom made for myself. They should include but not be limited to:


Beer and Burger Girl

Motherhood makes me drink

Would you like fries with that?

You lost me at Mommmmm...

Is your homework done?

Of course I would like to pick up your dirty socks

Math is my frenemy

Mmmmm, coffee

Shhh, I'm reading

Mommy's in time-out

Don't touch my nose. Or my feet. Or my wine. Better yet, don't touch anything.

I love the smell of Bleach in the morning!

Where's the Maid?

What? That's good music right there!

When will we be there? Any minute now...

Tattoo? Yes please :)

I typed LOL, but I'm not really LOLing. Sorry 'bout that.

I breathe, I eat, I blog.


Maybe I'll check with Threadless and ask nicely ;)

In which I engage an automated phone system

I wonder, is it normal to engage in an argument with an automated phone system?

No?

Dammit.

I called a financial institution this morning, not my favorite thing to do. I was immediately greeted with a female voice that was a) too damn chipper and b) probably meant to be soothing but never fails to sound like nails on a chalkboard to me. Let's reminisce, shall we?

Bank voice (Let's call her Myrtle): Tell me, why are you calling today?

Me: Operator

Myrtle: Iiittt sounds like you want to speak with a representative, is that correct?

Me: Yes.

Myrtle: In order to direct your call, I need to know why you're calling.

Me: Gah! Alright, payments.

Myrtle: Alright (BTW, she sounds like I'm her new best friend and she's sooooo glad she's helping me), would you like to hear about your last payment?

Me: No.

Myrtle: Hmmm (shit you not, she says hmmm), tell me, why are you calling?

Me: Operator!

........................

This is when we repeat the entire first section of the conversation not once but twice while I angrily press "0" repeatedly.

Myrtle: Iiittt sounds like you want to speak with a representative, is that correct?

Me: Yes! Dumbass phone system.

Myrtle: I'm sorry, I couldn't quite catch that. Would you like to speak to a representative?

Me: DUH!!!!! YES!!!!!


I finally got who I needed and was able to chew out the appropriate person (yay me!). But it left me wondering, what does it say about me that I willingly engaged with an automated system that couldn't care less what I say and furthermore won't be properly chagrined after I fix her wagon?

Nothing good, I bet.

It's a jungle in here

As you may remember, I'm doggedly trying to finish my college degree. I'm happy to inform you that I am 3 classes away from graduating (Yay!) however, the 3 classes I have left are math, math and math (not yay!). Math has been the enemy my entire life. No bueno. Anyway, my semester started last night and I thought you might be interested to hear about some of my classmates. *grins wickedly*

First we have "The Talker". His natural habitat is the very front row and his innate behavior is to talk to the prof like they are old friends and to also weigh in on anything anyone else has said with his superior knowledge. Awesome.

Next, we have "The Latecomers". The Latecomer needs to make an entrance. What is this "on time" you speak of? We don't need no stinking schedule! They were excused ever so politely from the class ;)

As there will always be in a college class, "The Jock". He rolls in 45 minutes late to class because there was no one to remind him to be there. Lucky for him, he had his coach's business card and handed it over to the instructor with an attitude of entitlement with a splash of little boy holding an excuse from mommy note. Naturally, he was allowed to stay. Midway through the class, he also claimed the role of "The Sleeper".

We are also blessed with "The Joker". The Joker always has some smart-ass thing to say and then looks around to make sure everyone else appreciates his superior wit. This particular species is also prone to say "Fuck" under his breath. Repeatedly. Classic.

These are the main characters but there is a fine mix of minor players. The chick wearing an apron. Look, I get that you just got off work as a "Barista", but really...take the apron off, it's not doing you any favors.There is also the "Hip Mom". Now, make no mistake, this is not the mom who manages to look classy yet fashionable. This is the one that has her hair in pigtails and wears a Minion shirt.

Heaven help me...

I almost forgot...there's the guy with so much swagger, it's a wonder he hasn't had to have a hip replacement to fix all that excessive rotation.

As a whole, I think the class will be good for me. The instructor seems interested in teaching and is convinced that we are all math-minded, whether we realize it or not...because, "Even chickens can count to 13, and they're dumb!"  

Mom

We took my parents to a theme park awhile ago and I have to tell you...I remembered why I don't travel often with them. My dad rode shotgun while The Mr. drove and my mom sat in the back with the girls and I. Our trip took us through my mom's old stomping ground and I kid you not, she was like the father-in-law from Forget Paris. Do you remember him? No? Let me illuminate...

Everything we drove by, "I remember that!", "This wasn't there before, wow!" "See kids, I drove through there, right there!"

Oh my...

Love her dearly folks, but I learned my lesson.

My big toe

Little Bit informed me this morning that she bit my husband's big toe (through the blankets, thankfully) and it got me to thinking...after I was completely grossed out of course. Life sometimes give you a big ass chomp on your toe and then what? You whine and cry and bitch a little and then you move on because really, who wants to sit around holding their toe all damn day?

Life bit the hell out of my toe.

I won't bore you with the gory details, instead I will share the sunshine that peeked through the clouds. Since being bitten, I have re-discovered that I enjoy spending time at home, cleaning, cooking, organizing. It's funny, I had forgotten that I really enjoy those things, they had just become one more chore in the chaos of everyday life. I have also re-gained time to go to school and finally finish that degree...I'm so close (3 classes!!!). I can return to work in Little Bit's classroom and make a general nuisance of myself with my Jr. Higher. I can have lunch with my girlfriends. I can blog. I can breathe.

Ahh... that's nice.

So, sorry about abandoning you in the recent months. I can't promise I won't do it again but if I do it will be because I am doing something fun, selfish, fulfilling, pointless...you get the picture.

In the eternal words of Wayne and Garth, "Game on!"

Thoughts on shaving

Day 10 (of 30ish)

Just one more reason having kids is fully awesome!

Little Bit: Mom, why do people shave their legs?
Me: Maybe to make them look and feel nice.
Little Bit: But people don't shave their arms.
Me: Nope.
Little Bit: But they shave their armpits. I wonder why?
Me: Because people don't want to be hairy monkeys.
Little Bit: I guess so.

*a very long pause*

Little Bit: People don't shave their butts either.
Me: Uh.....
Little Bit: I guess most people don't need to shave their butts because their butts are naked.
Me: That would sure explain it.

In which I ponder great things

Day 9 (of 30ish)

What's my word?

I was watching Eat, Pray, Love the other day. Can I just say that I LOVE Julia Roberts? Anyway, in one of the scenes, she was talking with friends and they were talking about Rome. One of the friends said that the word for Rome was SEX and New York was ACHIEVE and so on. Then Julia's character, Elizabeth is asked, "What's your word?" Her response..."Now that, I definitely could not answer."

I know how she felt.

What's my word?

Is it Mom? Or Wife? Or daughter or sister? Is it friend or student or confidante?

These all describe what I am, but not WHO I am. I have often wondered who I really am and what my purpose is. Sure, I'm a wife and a mom and I LOVE every single day. But in the grand scheme of things, who am I? What am I good at, what's my talent?

Sometimes, when I get caught up in this way of thinking, I have to stop and tell myself that what I do every day is important even if it doesn't feel like it. I know, I know...I'm important, I'm worth something, blah, blah, blah. I know I'm not completely useless.

But haven't you ever wondered where your true talent lies? Or are you one of those lucky few that has found your great love and gets to live it every day?

*sighs*

Maybe I should just pick one out of a hat...

EXTREME

SATISFIED

WAITING

SEEKING

Maybe one of these days, I will wake up and realize what I'm meant to be doing. Or maybe I will happen upon an event that will re-shape my life. Or maybe I won't and I will be left wondering...What's my word?

The Urinator

Day 8 (of 30ish)

Things I will pretend to have never seen:

While waiting for a train...the car in front of me was a mini-van. While waiting for the train to pass by, I observed the sliding door of the van open. A young boy stepped up to the threshold of the car and with all the grace of an Olympic Urinator, sent an arcing stream of urine high up in the air. You read it here first, folks.

To be or not to be

As much as I LOVE Summer vacation, there are moments where I find myself terribly bored. This is not to say that there isn't a million things I should or even could be doing...I just don't want to. So, for your reading pleasure, may I present my "I should be doing this, but instead I'm doing that" list.

Things I should be doing:

Laundry - because somehow the laundry fairy always misses my house.
Dishes - I think the dish fairy is in cahoots with the laundry fairy.
Cleaning the bathrooms - I'm not even going to comment on this one.
Vacuuming - I hate doing this. I'm campaigning hard to replace the carpet with a hardwood floor.
Reading a book - Don't get me wrong, I LOVE reading. The problem here is that I'm on the couch and my book is not and until it learns to grow legs and walk to me, we have a problem.
Balancing my checkbook - Now, before you think I'm on top of this, think again. My idea of balancing the checkbook is writing down what I've spent, calling the bank and crossing my fingers when the current balance is announced.
Taking a walk with the girls - I do actually plan to do this. Later.
Going to the Library for more books - See? I love me some books.
Sweeping and mopping - I don't actually mind this because I love the smell of Pine-Sol :)

Things I am doing:

Playing Poppit on Pogo.com


See my problem?

Bleach, Ice Cream and other yummy things

Day 7 (of 30ish)

I feel the need for a Top Ten.

Like Letterman...but better.

The Ringmaster's Top 10 (in no particular order because my brain is already starting to hurt)

Books - I love books. Books are like tiny, little movies in my head. They make me happy!

Ice Cream - Let's face it, ice cream embodies all that is amazing in this world.

Disneyland - Normally, I hate crowds and don't have the patience to wait in line at the grocery store, but somehow, as soon as I walk in the gates at Disneyland nothing bothers me. It's my happy place.

Flip Flops - I would wear flippys all day, every day!

Coffee - Do I really need to expand on that? Coffee is the elixir of life and should be celebrated daily!

Bleach - My goal when I'm cleaning is to make the house smell like the community pool. Only better.

Just about anything by artist Jack Vettriano - In my opinion, he is one of the most talented artists I have ever seen.

The word Fuck - Sorry for you sensitive folks but really...is there a more versatile word out there? Fucktard, Fuck me! Get the Fuck out! UnFuckingBelieveable! See what I mean?

Flowers - I like almost any kind of flower. Smell-good ones, funky ones, classy ones.

Shoe Store Smell - C'mon, don't tell me that you don't like that wonderful smell of new shoes? I'm telling you, if Scentsy carried Shoe Store, Bleach and New Tire I would stockpile like nobody's business!

There you have it.

Blog Madness (not to be confused with Space Madness)

Day 6 (of 30ish)

Why Do I Blog, You Ask?

So, I was talking to my dear friend Weltha Jane and we were talking about blogs. It got me thinking...what the hell am I doing here? Really and truly, there is absolutely nothing productive or world-changing about it. Although, this would not be the case if people would acknowledge that I am indeed the best person to rule the world. I'll keep you posted on that. *said with GREAT snarkiness* Anyway. It doesn't change anyone's minds or impact our crappy economy. However, it does soothe my soul and allow me the opportunity to vent my spleen every now and then.

For instance...

My blog allows me to tell you how very, very, very, very angry I am that my girls were not included in the photo collage at my father-in-law's memorial. Never mind that they spent lots of time with him and it was obvious to a blind and deaf person that they adored each other. Never mind that my mother-in-law specifically asked me for pictures and then didn't include them. Did I mention that I am furious?

My blog also allows me to share the never-ending escapades of my family. Things like Little Bit doing the Jumping Spider down the hallway. Eh? What's that? You don't know what the Jumping Spider is? May I present for your viewing pleasure, The Jumping Spider. Good times. I should have got it on video and put it on YouTube. Sadly, I was far too busy falling out of my chair laughing. Go figure.

So, Intrepid Readers...I blog because I wanna. I blog because it makes me happy. I blog because I think we need to share little tiny pieces of ourselves sometimes.

I blog. I'm a Blogger.

P.S. If you got the title's reference to Ren and Stimpy's Space Madness...46,000 points for you

Bite me

I'm pretty easy going about stuff...That is to say that I have learned to pick my battles and try with everything in me to not get bent over stuff that a) I can't do anything about and b) in a million years, it's not going to make a difference.

That being said, I am fierce when it comes to my kids and The Mr.

Scary fierce.

I am currently hanging on by a thread to not take someone apart.

Stab them with a dull spoon.

*sighs*

Self-control sucks.


p.s. I'm trying desperately to respond to comments, but apparently Blogger is having issues. Hmmm

Say what?

Day 5 (of 30ish)


Parenting brings many joys (said with extreme snarkiness). No really, joy is an every day experience! As is confusion, frustration, exasperation and just plain silliness. The girls never cease to amaze me, many of you might remember "The Great Gender Debate" as recorded here. Now, for your reading pleasure, may I present other delightful things that come out of my mouth in response to motherhood.

Things I never thought I would say. Ever.

• Quit sitting in the garbage can
• If you plan on calling my daughter anytime soon, you better sit down and read a book this weekend (said to a boy who likes my daughter)
• Don't lick your sister.
• Go into the bathroom, turn the water on, take your clothes off, get in the shower, get UNDER the water. Apply soap, rinse it off, turn off the water, get out, dry off, put your clothes back on. (in response to the smarty pants who stood in the shower, fully clothed without the water on. Why, you ask? Because I told her to jump in the shower. awesome.)

And people wonder why my bloggy name is Ringmaster...

Secret Spy stuff

Things I call the cat.

His name is Shadow but because he is secretly a highly intelligent government operative, he goes by many names...

Señor Tiny Paws
Monsieur Pointy Ears
Sir Fuzzy Tail
Colonel Claws

Keep it to yourself. Okay, if you HAVE to tell someone, make sure that they don't tell anyone because that's how secrets get out and rumors get started.

Also, I will deny everything...

We all scream...

Is it just me or does the ice cream truck creep you out? The music reminds me of something the witch in the gingerbread house would play or the truck that snatched kids away in the night from a movie that I can't for the life of me remember the title of.

I can imagine the truck creeping down the street blaring out the warbling sound of a slightly unsettling nursery rhyme with the Mom from Flowers in the Attic behind the wheel ready to hold children hostage in the attic and slowly poison them all for the sake of a little cash and a roll in the hay.

Does anyone find the idea of the ice cream truck just that much disturbing? I mean, come on...you're buying FOOD from a stranger. Not only is he a stranger, but he's a stranger luring your kid to his scary child molester van with sweets. What, so we tell the kids never to accept food from strangers except the greasy weirdo behind the wheel of a rolling Kid Snatcher? "Don't even worry about him kids, I'm sure he's a very nice man who just happens to get his kicks from enticing your sweet little faces as close as possible to the open door of his van while playing Disney music and waving ice cream around. I'm sure he's juuussst fine."

Oh, and the prices suck too.

Shhhhhh

You know you need a vacation when a Jr Higher comes to the office for some stupid complaint (again) and the thing you want to say most in the world is, "Listen here, you little Fucker..."

Between friends

Day 4 (of 30ish)

Things I love

In which I tell you about my other BFF ♥

My friend Kat is probably one of my favorite people in the whole world and I'll tell you why.

Just about everything she touches works out. I don't know how she does it, but I am in awe.
The more kids she has around her, the more she thrives. It's all I can do to make it through the day with 2 and she make 4 and sometimes 6 kids look like a walk in the park.
She is completely comfortable in her own skin and if you don't like it, tough.
She has been my friend since High School and even though there have been times when we weren't close, we always return to the comfortable friendship that only true friends experience.
Family comes first for her. Always.
She's ballsy. In a good way.
I know that I can call her anytime, anyplace for anything and she will always be there.
She's one of those people that subscribes to the mentality that if you fuck with one of us, you fuck with all of us. I like that.
She loves me for me. Not who I could be or who I could be for her. Me. Just me. That's awesome.

You should go visit her at Kat

Riddle me this

Day 3 (of 30ish)

Things that baffle me

Fashion trends I just don't understand:

Skinny jeans for boys. Really? I wonder if that could make you all look any more awkward than you already do?

Super low slung jeans. Personally, I believe there's a problem when the distance from crotch to button is 2 inches. I live in fear I'm going to see things I shouldn't. Cover your goods, girls!

Really big, curly hair on boys. This is wrong. It was wrong when Afro's were the thing and it's wrong now.

The "Comb-Over" for girls. Have you seen this? Teenage girls that start their part above the ear and sweep it up and over their head? WTF is this??? Save the comb-over for when you're old.

Big Ass Urkel glasses. Or for you younger whipper-snappers, Napoleon Dynamite glasses. The girls are wearing these and I cannot fathom what would possess them to do so. They look retarded and they make you look retarded.



Maybe I'm aging myself and I fully understand the whole concept of fashion trends but come on, some things just shouldn't be tolerated. Stop this weirdy shit at once!

Behold, the dark side (of the wind)

*Taps the microphone*

Hello? Hello? Anyone there?

Sorry, I have completely ignored you and there really is no excuse for me so I won't even try. I will however give you a tiny little treasure to cherish today.

Me: "Hello, I'm calling because your child is absent from school today"

Parent: "Yes, my child has chapped lips so I kept him home today."

Me: "Wow. Really?"

Parent: "Yes, he has to put on chap stick all day long, so he couldn't come to school today."

Me: "..............Alright then."


The above is a true and accurate story, because really...you can't make this shit up.

On friendly terms

The Truth According to Me

Day 2 (of 30ish)

Things I love
I have two friends that I cherish most of all. One I have known since we were obnoxious teenage rebels. The other I have been blessed to know for only a few years. I don't know how I would make it through the day without either of them. Rather than reward you with the pleasure of both their company at once, I'm going to tell you about one, but save the other for later. Bwah ha ha ha ha....

I love my friend Tracy.
I love that she says "Fuck" All. The. Time.
I love that she is fiercely loyal
I love that sees the good in people (even if there isn't any)
I love that her family comes first
I love that she teases and gets teased by The Mr.
I love that she says it the way it is
I love that she has tattoos
I love that she calls me up to go out on dates
I love that we can sit out in the neighborhood, drinking and swearing and it's a damn good time
I love that she is going to be an amazing nurse
I love that she would kick someones ass for me
I love that I can call her up and cry or rage or whine like a little girl
I love that she uses words like "Ding-a-ling"

I have often wondered how I made it through life until I met her. She is an example of a true friend and I think she's just swell ♥

I which I tell you how it is

So, I've been thinking about the 30 Days of Truth that Weltha Jane is doing over on her bloggy blog, and I have decided to do something about it. Now, as much as I think the 30 Days that Her Highness is doing over there is completely awesome, I'm going to do mine a little different. Why? Because I can.

So, play along if you like and hang on tight.

The Truth According to Me

Day 1 (of 30ish)

Things I Love
My pastor (who is absolutely amazing by the way) spoke once about how we as people overuse the word LOVE. I never really thought about it before, but he is right in a big way. Think about it...I LOVE coffee. I LOVE my boots. I LOVE Artichoke Cappellini. Do I really love those things? Probably not. Since hearing this message from him, I have made an effort to curb my use of the word Love, in order to preserve its precious meaning. As part of this Truth series, I was thinking about things that I truly love and why I love them.

I love my husband. Now, you might be thinking, "Well of course she loves her husband. What a dumbass." But seriously folks, think about how many people don't love their spouse. I can truly say that I love this man. He makes me absolutely furious as times and sometimes, I can't stand the sight of his face, but that does not change the fact that I love him. It's been 17 years and my heart still flutters for him and I'll tell you why.

I love that he works like a madman in order to provide for his family
I love that he doesn't give me a hard time when I go out and play with my girlfriends
I love that when Zippy was a little girl and was obsessed with the movie Shrek, especially the wedding scene, The Mr. let her "marry" him over and over and over...
I love that he puts me and the girls first. Always.
I love that he looks at home and gardening magazines and books with me and tries really hard not to fall asleep
I love that he cheers me on when I get frustrated and exhausted with school.
I love that he will defend me to anyone, anytime, anyplace
I love that he loves me whether I'm fat or thin
I love that whenever I leave the house, he asks me, "Do you need money?"
I love that he will play games with the girls and I

He is not a perfect man and we have had our share of fuck-ups, but you know what? At the end of the day, those don't matter. What matters is that we made it through another day and tomorrow, we will choose to do it again.

Roy G Biv

I was thinking the other day about women who have a "Signature Color". How does that sort of thing come about? Do you wake up one day and decide that fuchsia will be your color? Does someone tell you one day that purple looks great on you and then that's all you wear? Are you pre-disposed at birth?

I could completely see myself, in all my rebellious glory, deciding one day that I was only going to wear the color green. Then I would refuse to try on, buy, borrow or steal clothing of any other color. That would have frustrated my mother to no end. Dammit, a great idea too late in the game. That's okay, never fear...I have decided that my Signature Color will be black. And gray. And white. And sometimes purple. And on the weekends, I want it to be green.

That wasn't so hard after all.

A Queen's addendum

When I assume control over the world, the following shall join my initial set of rules:

• If a woman is enjoying a glass of wine, she is automatically "off limits" to children, spouses, debt-collectors and salesmen. No exceptions. In the event of an emergency, dial 911 and inform the operator of this rule. (Marisa is in charge here)
• There shall be an immediate ban on ALL sales calls. Forever.
• If you can't behave like a sensitive, courteous human being, you are not allowed into the movie theater. Furthermore, there shall be absolutely no children allowed in a movie that has a rating greater than "G". (Weltha is in charge here)
• There shall be roving squads of "Stupid Patrol". If you are found to be behaving in a way that is deemed stupid, you will be subject to heavy fines and the possible removal of whatever appendage that was being misused at the time. 
• Fitting room mirrors and lighting will be subject to rigid standards. Standards set forth by normal size women. 
• All financial institutions shall be re-structured to actually do what they were meant to do...hang on to your $ until you need it, not attempt to screw you six ways from Sunday. And, they will all be run by women because we all know that women are more logical and organized than our counterparts.
• Every time a women gives birth, she shall be offered (for no additional cost) a nip and tuck. And lipo. and a boob lift.

I think this would get us off to a good start, don't you?

If I were Queen

I told my boss today that I should be in charge. Of everything. Seriously. I have a plan if this dream was to ever come to fruition:

• If you can't be a sensible parent (note I didn't say good parent because oftentimes we are not. but sensible is not too much to ask), then you are to be subjected to a series of fines and if you can't get your act together, you will be sterilized to avoid future births.
• Politicians shall be replaced by moms and only moms. Why? We are great at multi-tasking, we can give you an ass-whupping and then slap a band-aid on when you whine about it. Don't you think this approach would solve a multitude of global problems?
• If you drive like an idiot, you shall be treated by an idiot. By this I mean your license, your car, your fuzzy dice and possibly your driving foot shall be taken away from you. No exceptions.
• There shall be no more starving models walking around making the rest of us feel like big piles of poo.
• If you can't play nice with the country next door to you, you shall be grounded with absolutely no privileges until you can play nice. If you are a repeat offender you shall be declared a menace and will be subject to punishment in the form of sewer scrubber. Forever.
• Reality shows shall be declared unfit television and will be removed from existence. With the exception of  Who do you Think you are?, Hell's Kitchen  and most things on HGTV. Why? Because I like them.

See? A few basic rules and the world can be a better place.   

In which I explain my absence

I feel I have neglected you, Intrepid Readers, my apologies. Sometimes in life, you just have to stop and take a breath...this is one of those times. In the past week, there have been events that have occurred that have changed my own little corner of the world. Whether these changes will be for the good or the...not so good remains to be seen. If there is one thing I have learned in my life it's not to panic, even when I want to. So, friends, if I go MIA for a few days or seem slightly distracted or *gasp* less than witty, this is why.

I know that things always have a way of working out and that no matter what happens today, the sun will rise again tomorrow (hopefully).

BOHICA!

I have officially experienced the epic waste of government money. Remember that I was serving on a jury last week? We're done now and I can give you the scoop. We sat in a court room from 10 to 4 for four days listening to attorneys... Objection! Can we have a sidebar? Can we have a 5 minute recess so I can get some water? Would you please just answer the question? And so on and so on... What was the big hulabaloo? This guy took a bunch of muscle relaxers, got behind the wheel, drove recklessly, got pulled over, failed 5 out of 6 field sobriety tests, admitted to taking prescription drugs and was arrested. In 2009. Because he pled not guilty, our job was to determine whether he was driving while under the influence of a drug. Did I mention that the night he was arrested, he had a blood draw which later revealed the presence of both the drugs he admitted to taking that night? I cannot express to you the utter stupidity that was this trial. The guy was clearly impaired, admitted to the drugs and his blood test ratted him out. Needless to say, we deliberated less than an hour and returned a guilty verdict.

Because of this amazing journey, I missed 4 days of work, paid $8 a day for parking, $7 a day for lunch and close to $40 total for gas. I figure that when all was said and done, I actually paid out of pocket to be a juror.

Tax dollars at work, folks!

Jury Duty

I'm currently serving as a juror at the county courthouse and all I have to say at this time is this...

While I can appreciate the importance of every defendant's right to a fair trial, I also have to admit that I am completely bored by the tedious nature of the courtroom. If the defense isn't calling for a sidebar, the DA is objecting to something. If one of the two isn't doing that, the judge is calling for a recess. I'm trying real hard to do my civic duty but I can totally see why people avoid this like the plague.

I'll let you know how it turns out when they release me back to the wild.

It's elementary my dear Watson

I got to thinking today as I was playing with my phone and listening to music and feeling the heat coming out of the vents in my room...modern stuff is great! Then my little brain started to make a list...naturally.

Things I could live without, but wouldn't like it very much

My cell phone. I love my phone. It's the prettiest shade of blue, it has cool ring tones and games and quite frankly, I just feel awesome and incredibly important when I use it.

Migraine medicine. I would willingly give "favors" to the medical team that invented Maxalt. Not only was the pain gone within 30 minutes, but I then went on to enjoy a delightful little tingle all over. *sigh* (BTW, an extra bonus here was when I got to tell my mom that the medicine made me feel slightly high. She still freaks out a little whenever I mention my sordid history of recreational drug use. Yes, it makes me slightly evil that I get pleasure from shocking my mom, but really...she makes it so damn easy.)

Air conditioning. I don't like being hot. As a matter of fact, I HATE being hot. Sweating is nasty and I hate that too. It makes me cranky and I don't like being cranky. I love my air conditioning. Love it. ♥

The Internet. Not only do I use it to take college classes, I love being able to open the magic screen and look up anything I want. I also love Facebook and Goodreads and blogging and iTunes and Etsy and Cakewrecks and Pogo and Netflix and All Recipes. You betcha, the Internet sure is handy dandy.

My washer, dryer and dishwasher. Really, do I have to say anything here? Just think of the alternatives...washboards, clothes lines, dishpan hands. Does this sound like a good time? I didn't think so.

I'm sure there's more that I'm not thinking of right now. I know this because The Mr. enjoys pointing out that I wouldn't have survived very long in the "old days". He seems to have the idea that I am high-maintenance, which I disagree with completely. I'm not high-maintenance, I'm just smart enough to take advantage of my surroundings. Is that so wrong? Is it? It would be wrong of me not to acknowledge the achievements of others. So, in reality, I'm a humanitarian who champions those who dare to dream of what could be!

Did you know that? Now you know

My parents are great. Really, they are, but I have to admit that with their greatness comes some...issues. I didn't know it at the time, but my sister and I were raised really different than other kids we knew. It wasn't until I was an adult that I figured out that things were a little weird in my house. It is a constant source of discovery (for me) and entertainment (for my husband, brother-in-law and best friend) to come across new and interesting things I didn't know before.

So interesting, in fact, I decided to make a list! (If you haven't realized by now, I REALLY like lists.)

Things I didn't know:

• There should be meat in things like tacos, lasagna, spaghetti. Growing up, we had "mock" lasagna made with spinach, cottage cheese and a little bit of sauce. Tacos were cheese, lettuce, tomatoes and olives.
• There is a whole array of medicines that treat all kinds of things! Nausea medicine, heartburn medicine, diarrhea medicine. It's like tiny little miracles in every single bottle!
• I didn't know that you should mop the floors. Frequently. Don't even get me started.
• I didn't know that 7-up, while not necessarily beneficial, can taste like nectar from Heaven when you are sick. Instead, we had awful shit like Pau d'Arco Tea which looked, smelled and tasted like boiled dirt. There are no words that can describe this atrocity.
• I didn't know that bread should only crunch if it's toasted. We had bread that had nuts and other large, crunchy stuff in it. And it was so heavy, it could double as a billy club in a pinch.
• I thought Bologna was the coolest thing EVER. We didn't have stuff like that so when I went to a friend's house I always hoped they would serve bologna. On white bread. I was probably the easiest kid to please, just throw me a couple pieces of bologna and white bread and I was a happy camper!

These are the greatest hits of my childhood. Jealous much?

Lights out

I ate too much for dinner and am pretty sure that if I lay down now,  I will never get up. I mean never, folks. I rarely overeat (this would hard to believe if you could see me but truly, I have bigger issues with snacking than all out overeating but this is not at all the point...so moving on) but tonight was an exception and let me tell you, it's no bueno. No bueno.

So, here I am blogging.

It's been storming here today and it got me thinking about electrical failure. Then I got to thinking about times or places that an electrical failure would be unfortunate. So, thanks to my dinner, may I present for your reading pleasure.

1. While getting a tattoo. Talk about unfortunate. "So, I see you have a 1/2 tattoo. New trend? Statement? Well done you, bucking tradition! Defying the norm! What an inspiration!" "No, no. Power failure."....."Well, that's lame, isn't it?"
2. While sitting in the movies. Unless you are there with your sweetheart and the kids are with grandma and you have no dinner reservations and the theater is practically empty. Eh? What's that? When's my anniversary? Umm. Tomorrow. 
3. In an elevator. I can't even comment on this one. 
4. While taking an online class exam. Because I don't have enough to worry about.
5. Anywhere, doing anything in the airport. As if airports aren't already a pain in the ass enough.
6. The subway. Granted, the closest I've been to the subway involved choosing my bread, toppings and drink but I can't imagine that being underground with a bunch of strangers (some of who probably don't use deodorant) is not my idea of a good time.
7. In the shower ready to rinse off. I think I might start taking speed showers. Just in case. 
8. On a ski lift. Hanging 30 feet above the ground with nothing holding you there.
9. On a roller coaster. Now this could actually happen to me as I am an avid coaster rider. However, I choose to believe that since I am in fact, a superhero, I am impervious to situations like this. 

I'm sure there are more, but my dinner has settled now and my bed is calling to me. That and the Mr. is snoring on the couch and it's driving me absolutely crazy.  

In which Zippy begs for mercy

I am not a fan of school, I never have been. This is funny (not in a Ha Ha sort of way...more like if I don't laugh I will cry sort of way) because I am currently a college student and let's just say I am no spring chicken.

ANYWAY.

I don't like it...but my kids do. Huh.

My oldest has been sick for about a week with a nasty bronchial thing that makes her cough. Alot. This is no bueno. Especially since she has Reactive Airway Disease and colds tend to settle in her chest and stay there. So, she's been sick and I made her stay home from school yesterday. Now, any ordinary kid would be like, "Whooo Hooooo!", right? Yeah, not my kid. She was not happy with me because she had to stay home. I got the eye roll, the "Moooommmmm!", the "stare", the stomp down the hall. The whole bit. Because she couldn't go to school.

It gets even better.

Today, I took her to the Doc, just to make sure it wasn't something more serious (and it's not ☺) but our Peds Doc wanted her to stay home a few more days. Holy cow Batman, you would have thought he asked her to give her right arm! "Please, please let me go back to school, I feel fine!" So, he dutifully changed the date to tomorrow. She may have well won the lottery, she was so happy.

So, intrepid readers, I ask you...no, I can't even ask. I'm just going to go with it.     

S-E-X

Let's talk about sex, shall we?

This is not about sex as in, "oh, it's so fabulous, but let's not get into details". This is some serious shit folks.

I've been married 15 years this month (in 6 days actually) and I have a serious complaint about sex. Why is it that men and women don't want it at the same time? Really? God couldn't come up with a better plan for sex and the longevity of relationships? Okay, I can agree that when we were teenagers, my husband (well, then boyfriend) and I were on the exact same wave-length about sex. It was completely forbidden so naturally, it was the thing we thought about all the time. All. The. Time. We crafted ingenious ways to be in a secluded place in order to have it. We snuck minutes here and there and amped ourselves up for that moment when we could commandeer a corner or closet or truck bed or (I'm almost ashamed to admit) a friend's bedroom. Life was good.

Fast forward a few years. We have a new baby and my time is totally consumed with her. I'm nursing and staying at home full time and as far as I'm concerned the whole world revolves around her (mostly because I don't know any better). The Mr. can't understand why I don't show any interest in him and I can't understand why he can't get that I can't turn my "faucets" from the 24-hour Dairy Queen to a playground in a matter of minutes.

So, we were at an impasse.

Fortunately, I made new friends, realized that the sun did not rise and set with Zippy and started to feel better about myself.

Fast forward a few more years. We have 2 great girls, a successful business. I go to school and work part-time at a job that I LOVE and life is good.

And then there is sex.

Really?

I'm pretty sure it's God's little joke that I want it when he doesn't and vice versa. Or one of us is wiped from the day. Or one of us is sick or the kids are sick.

I'm pretty sure that I read somewhere that men reach their sexual peak at around 18 and women reach theirs at around 35. Are you kidding? This is the dumbest thing I have ever heard and I work with junior highers, so I hear some DUMB shit.

Why can't men and women be on the same schedule? Is this really too much to ask? Is the lack of synchronicity perhaps because if we thought unblinkingly about sex at the same times of our lives that little to nothing would be done in our daily lives? Or is is because God wants us to work extra hard at making our marriages work?

Whatever the reason, I think the whole thing stinks.

Dear me!

The girls and I were on the way home from dance class last night and this is the conversation they were having. I didn't really contribute much as I was trying not to laugh...

"It kinda sucks being a girl."

"I know, right?"

"You have to have periods and your boobs have to hurt when they grow."

"And you have to be pregnant."

"Yeah! And sometimes they have to almost rip open your stomach!"

(At this point, I did intervene and ask them which was better, to have your stomach "ripped" open or to die. They both agreed death was the least sucky option)

"I know, I really don't want to get pregnant, but I really want to adopt."

"Yeah."

"Then after you have kids you have to stay with them all the time."

"And drive them everywhere."

"And do all their school stuff with them."

"And boys expect you to stay skinny!"

"I know!!"

"Being a girl is hard."

"All boys have to do is have private parts and get money."



And there you have it.

None Shall Pass

Because sometimes, you just have to laugh ♥

Rawr

Disclaimer: This post has bad words. Really bad ones. If you don't like it, go away. :)

I think I'm a pretty nice person. Most of the time. Well, 4 days out of 7, which statistically speaking is pretty damn good. The point is, I try really hard to be nice and for the most part it works. Anyway...

I can put up with a lot of shit. For reals. I'm fairly easy going, and I am not seriously bothered by a lot of things. Don't mistake this for me being a push-over, because I'm not. When I'm bothered, you know. However, I really think I have alot more self-control than I used to have. Mostly.

The one place that I really can't tolerate any bullying or general "asshole" behavior is where my girls are concerned. Seriously folks, fuck with my girls and I'm coming for you. There is no where you can go that I won't find you. I don't say this to sound all scary and shit. It's just the way it is. I'm not "psycho mom", I can carry on a rational conversation, but make no mistake, if you think you get to mess with my kid and suffer no consequences, I really think you should reevaluate.

Moms are scary and this is not a bad thing.

Asphinter says what?

As I previously mentioned, I work for a Junior High school and I absolutely love it. Truly, I do. I love the little buggers (most days), I love the girls I work with and I love most of the teachers that I provide support services for.

Every day is something new and it's a rare thing when we are not smacked in the face with blatant ignorance. Most of the time, it's the parents providing me with endless entertainment. Sometimes, it's my teachers. However, I have a new source of amusement...the yard duty.

Now, before you get all up in arms, let me just say this. I wouldn't work yard duty for anything. They put up with a tremendous amount of disrespect each and every day and for that I will always be in slight awe of them. That sentiment notwithstanding...I have to wonder where in the hell do they get these people?? I'm pretty sure that some of the requirements for this job include all of the following:

1. Must lack any social skills whatsoever
2. Must lack stellar personal hygiene skills
3. Must be unspeakably weird and slightly creepy
4. Must not be able to spell correctly

To properly school you (pun totally intended) on what amuses me daily, behold the following office pass that a student was given today. Seriously people, you can't make this shit up.

My bleeding ears

Something terrible has happened. I'm not sure if I will ever be the same.

My daughter and I don't share the same taste in music anymore. This is really bad, folks. I try to impart to her the beauty of great musicians like Nina Simone and Louis Armstrong. The classic muscle of The Eagles and Credence Clearwater. The defiant rock of Guns N Roses and Aerosmith. Even the husky sexiness of a new favorite, Michael Grimm. But no, what does she want to listen to? Crappy ass stuff like Flyleaf and Evanescence. It's crap I say!

This is wrong. It's so wrong. Something must be done.