June 30, 2006

I must make a confession.


I’m not really a girl. Naaaaaaaa, I’m just yankin’ yer chain. Had you worried didn’t I? Actually, my confession is………..I watch the Bold & Beautiful. I can’t help it. I’ve been hooked on it for over 20 years now and I can’t pull myself away from the Soap Opera crack.


I do, however, have enough brain power to realize, that soaps are really fucking kinda far fetched (like people really make out with tongues when they first wake up BEFORE brushing their teeth…blech). And really, people don’t talk to themselves that much. And it’s really quite humerous, how everything is a mind blowing event. The music…….you know…….the big, booming ‘dun dun daaaa’ whenever something horrible/frightening/weird/omg I figured it out/I’m having an alien’s baby, happens.


I’ve decided to change a conversation with my husband to a soap conversation, and have changed our names to protect the innocent. Huh? Don’t ask, just read:


Stone: *Walks in with a strut in his step* What’s for supper Lily?


Lily: Oh Stone, you’re home!!!!! I don’t know what’s for supper. What do you want for supper Stone? You make my heart melt like cheese in a grilled sandwich Stone. *Wraps arms tightly around Stone, while humping his leg and looking into the camera, blinking, licking lips*


Stone: Lily, I want to have a steak. Can you do that for me Lily? Can you? I’m begging you with every fiber of my being Lily. *Stone raises one eyebrow and squints slightly, thoughtful*


Lily: Stone, you know I would do anything for you. I will make you a steak. I have to tell you, that I think the baby I’m having, belongs to Ridge. Do you want steak seasoning? DUN DUN DAAAAA. *Looks down and raises eyes up slowly to give her husband, a baby face/feel sorry for me kinda look*


Stone: What??? Steak seasoning? No, never! DUN DUN DAAAAA. The baby you’re carrying is Ridge’s? He’s my brother’s uncle’s sister’s twin baby brother’s cousin’s grandfather’s half sibling. How could you Lily? How could you just blurt out seasoning like that? *Looks perplexed, or could be that he’s constipated*


Lily: I’m sorry Stone. I should have never offered to put seasoning on your steak. Can you forgive me? Do you want to help me raise this baby even if it’s not yours? Stone! Stone! Stone! I love you. More than a fat kid love cake. Please, I’m begging you, don’t leave me. Do you want salad with your steak? *Looks sad, puts head down, twistes hair around her finger, makes lips pouty*


Stone: I don’t know. That is a really hard decision. I will need time to think about it. Salad with steak, is not something you just commit to without first pondering what all is involved. And yes, I will help you raise this baby even if it turns out to be Ridge’s. *Stone raises his other eyebrow since the other one is kinda sore from being raised for so long*


Lily: Oh Stone, my heart is a flutter, knowing that you’ll at least think about having salad with your steak. That gives me such hope Stone. DUN DUN DAAAAA. And thanks alot for raising this baby with me. I will await your decision about the salad with baited breath. *Looks adoringly at Stone while placing the steaks on the grill*


Stone: Lily, I must confess. I had salad with Felicia the other night. And she seasoned my steak. DUN DUN DAAAAA. *Stone squints his eyes again, placing his hands in his pockets*


Lily: Oh my God! Salad? And steak? With Felicia? DUN DUN DAAAAA. *Lily throws herself on the floor of the deck, sobbing*


Stone: She means nothing to me! Her steak was tough and her salad was limp. It’s you I love. You and your creamy salad dressing. Oh and the baby. *Stone reaches down for Lily, picking up, her seemingly lifeless body*


Stone: Oh Lord, are you dead Lily? *Lily’s body is limp, her eyes closed*


Stone: *Gently places Lily back on the floor* Oh well, that bizatch will come back to life in the next couple of weeks. I’m gonna eat out. *Lights dim, Stone turns to look at camera, smiles*

June 28, 2006

Being the freak sweetheart that I am, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to leave the picture in color or have it in b&w, so I did both. See, isn’t it great to be able to have the freedom to create what I want, when I want? Ya, I thought so. Happy HNT.

June 27, 2006

See the post below? I said I’ve seen it all now. Well scratch that. I’m going to say one word to you………WHY???????????????????????????? Oh I’m going to say another word………..EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. And wait, one more………..BLEEEEECHHHHHHHHHHH. Oh and one more for the road….THATISFUCKINGGROSS. Yes that is one word.

That could be grandpa’s freakin’ pubes for all we know. I threw up a little in my mouth. Like right now.

I’ve seen it all now. While randomly surfing the world wide web, I came across THIS. I’m going to leave you with this inspiring quote……

“The pubic hair design phenominam has definitely come a long way thanks to some of the great tools that have been developed to make our lives easier!”

June 24, 2006

It all started around 4:35pm yesterday. That is the time that my 10 year old son arrived home. I should have just locked them in the bathroom and ran away. But no, I just had to be a (insert air quotes here) good mom (insert air quotes here) and let them play and run free. Someone smack me upside the head.

Ryan and Maddy are outside playing on our deck, taking turns laying on my hammock. That lasted all of 5 minutes when they decided they would remove the chains from the base of my hammock and throw them somewhere and then claim they had no idea where they went. Ryan insisted on taking all the cushions off of our new patio set chairs and threw them on the floor of the deck. That meant, all the peeling paint from the deck ended up on the nice, spanking new cushions. I was so not impressed.

I go out and put all the cushions back and try to locate the chains for my hammock. No luck in finding them. Then the two spawns of satan angels, decide to have a screaming match with each other. I go back out to break that up and at that point, pulled them both in the house to take a time out. My son starts acting like a diva and throws himself into his room, telling us that noone loves him. Ya we do, now get over it.

After the crying stops and some, slight, sort of semblance occurs, they decided to trash the playroom. Well, okay, it is the playroom so I try not to have a complete mental breakdown at this point. It’s not quite working. They are being loud and loud and loud. Did I mention they were loud?

My husband and son show up from work and by then I’m sitting on the couch, in a trance with drool dripping from my lips. The kids are running around me, doing some kind of rain dance.

What exited my lips next, shocked even me. I suggested we go to Applebee’s to eat. WTF? I must have hit my head at some point and didn’t know it, that’s the only thing to explain such foolishness. With them my husband asks me…….and to my amazement, I say yes. He reluctantly agrees and we get ready to go. By this time, it’s after 7pm. We get to the restaurant around 7:40 and are told there is a 20 minute wait. No big deal, and since they are paging people, even outside, we’ll go wait out in front.

Right beside Applebee’s is Second Cup coffee shop and they have a little patio area so we decided to sit along the wrought iron fence and wait. The 3 of us, me, hubby and 18 year old all stand and watch in horror as the two freaks younger children we brought with us, rearrange the chairs on the patio. And the patio floor is cement. And the chairs are metal. So you can imagine the scraping noise the chairs make on the cement. Not pretty. Not music to your ears. It actually caused our ears to bleed. Ya. I’m not even kidding.

There was another couple with their 8 & 10 year old waiting outside as we were. They were speaking French. And although my French is limited to ‘vous la vous couch avec moi se soir’, I just know they were saying bad things about us. Oh ya I know. And we kept getting dirty looks. Listen, if anyone is gonna trash my kids and roll their eyes over them, it’s gonna be me dammit, not you. So pfffffffttttttt.

My children continued running around, moving chairs, climbing the ledge outside the windows of the coffee shop, all the while, my husband and other son are questioning my sanity. Quite honestly, I’m questioning my own sanity at this point. I tell my husband to punch me in the neck and face and gut if I ever suggest taking these kids to a restaurant after 5pm again. Or ever for that matter. Maybe when they’re 20 and 24 or never. Something like that.

The 20 minutes has long past so I send Matt in to ask them how much longer. The chick at the front said, oh we called your name a long time ago. Ummm ’scuse me? You were going out front to call people’s names and decided not to do that when you came to our name? Nice. Super. My kids have had an extra 40 minutes to wind themselves up. Well then, any situations that may arise due to their being able to run amuck for like almost an hour, will be on your head, waitress girl. Be warned. You should have called our name outside like you did for everyone else. It won’t be pretty lemme tell ya.

We get a seat and I’m thinking, whew, okay we can do this. They give out little activity books and crayons, so that will settle them down. No sooner had we sat our asses in those chairs, we notice Ryan and Maddy are not in theirs. Now where the hell did those little monkeys go? We are about to go searching and they come running back with balloons. They had gone back to the front of the establishment to get their apple shaped balloons. Great. Now sit on your butts and don’t move or speak until we get our food and eat it. Mmmmkay?


Surprisingly, they are well behaved for the duration of waiting for our food, during our meal and for a few minutes after. There was a little spot just before we got our food, that we had to tie them up speak to them. Ryan did a few too many loud ‘woot woots’ because he solved his word puzzle and he also helped himself to too many cocktail napkins to draw on, but hey, whatever will keep him occupied. Then Miss asked me to take her to the bathroom. That would be the public bathroom. I’ve got a fear of taking her to the bathroom while dining out or at a mall etc. Why? Ha. Well if you click here and here, you will get an idea of why.


Anyway, I take her and I’m silently praying to the bathroom God, don’t let her talk to me while we are in there or better yet, let us be the only 2 people in there. Of course, neither prayer was answered.


Miss: Mom do you have to pee?


Me: Nope. Just do your thing. Let’s be super quiet okay? Like mice.


Miss: Mice? What do you mean? Mice aren’t super quiet, they make squeaking noises. Silly mommy.


Me: K, mommy is silly. Now let’s be sooooo quiet.


Miss: Mom, why do cats have different kind of diarreah than people?


Me: Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.


Miss: Mom, why do they? How come cat’s poop is like different, especially when they have the diarreah? Here we go.


Me: I have no idea. I’m pyscho whispering. Let’s sing a song.


Miss: No I don’t want to. I have to poop so I can’t really concentrate on singing. Plus my poop is going to make a splash, so that’s not being quiet.


Me: K. Let’s just be quiet. Can we do that?


Miss: Ya I can but my poop will make noise and I still want to know why my diarreah would be different from a cat’s. I guess ’cause we eat people food so we get people diarreah and they eat cat food and get cat diarreah.


Me: Ya. Can we just be swallowed up now?


We get finished our meal and by then the kids are being very antsy and squirmy. Our waitress is taking forever to bring our bill. I suggest to hubby to take them to the van and I will stay and pay the bill.


Matt and I go out after paying the bill to find that my husband has apparently forgotten that he was supposed to be parenting our younger two and has gone to the van, while Trouble one and Trouble two are standing in the middle of the roadway in the parking lot trying to squash and bust their balloons. Hmmm. Maybe hubby had told them to go play in traffic and they actually listened. I highly doubt it though (that they would actually listen) but hey, miracles can happen.


We get them buckled up and head to the grocery store, which is closing in about 30 minutes. I tell my husband that he must not let them out of the van, that I’m going in with Matt and the 2 demons will be sitting with him. He says fine. I go in and there’s not a cart or a basket to be found. I go over to the fucking old old woman who is standing at the front of the store (she’s there to give people change or answer questions or be stupid) and tell her there’s no carts and no baskets. She tells me that the carts are outside all over the parking lot in the cart corrals. Ya, I know that but it would be nice if there were carts inside for customers to use. Then she tells me there should be some baskets at one of the cash registers. Ya, that’s dandy but as a customer, I want to walk in and grab a basket at the front of the store where they’re supposed to be. She chuckles. Oh now that’s super helpful.


Matt goes back out to get us a cart and we pick up a few things. We get finished as the store is closing and as we got out into the entrance of the store, old bitty is standing there, directing people to only use the left hand door. Since we only had a few bags, and hubby was parked just outside the door, I wanted to put the cart back inside and not go way over to the cart corral outside. There are still no carts inside but there are chain/locks attached to the wall so I can still get my $1 coin from the cart without there having to be another cart to do so.


Bitty says to me, as we are taking our bags out of the cart, “you have to use the left hand door”. I nod my head that that’s fine. Then she starts talking again and by the end I want to, oh I don’t know, choke her maybe?


Bitty: You have to put your cart back.


Me: Yes I plan on it. I wasn’t going to take it home with me. Give a fake laugh, to make her think I actually like her.


Bitty: Well you have to put it outside.


Me: No I don’t. Smile. Keep smiling.


Bitty: Yes you do. There are no other carts in here so you won’t be able to get your change back out of the cart without another cart to attach it to.


Me: Ummm, there are chains on the wall so I can use those to get my money back.


Bitty: No you can’t do that.


Me: Why can’t I? Why can’t I choke her? Cause you’ll go to jail. Remember that.


Bitty: You need another cart to do that.


Me: No I don’t. *More fake laughing, like we’re now friends or some bullshit*. Some cart has to be the first cart in the line of carts, therefore that’s why there are chains attached to the wall, so that the first cart in the line up can be hooked to it, thus releasing the $1. So I’m going to do that because I don’t want to go all the way out of my way to put the cart back outside. Keep smiling. No. Choke her. Choke her. No. Keep smiling. No. Choke her. That would be wrong. I don’t care. Keep smiling. Choke. Smile. You’ll go to jail. She’s not worth it. But it will make me happy. Keep smiling.


Bitty: Oh yes you can certainly do that.


Me: Oh can I? Thanks for suggestiong that. She must be on old people crack.


Bitty: Good thing they have those chains there so people don’t get upset that there is no way to get their money back out of the carts.


Me: Good thing. *Blink Blink Blink*


So today I’m drinking heavily lemonade and enjoying the sunshine while my kids gear up to put me in yet another drooling trance. How’s your Saturday going?

June 21, 2006

I had a long, tiring day and well, I just want a hug. Got one? Happy HNT.

June 20, 2006

…….my brain that is. I’m not sure where or when but I know it’s going down a slippery slope and probably won’t make it back up.

I bought a teepee hammock yesterday (I’m scratching out teepee but that’s what I’ve been calling it……and I don’t know why). It came with pretty simple instructions (I guess) on how to put it together. I’m told it should have taken me about 20 mins to complete. It didn’t. I started it around 2pm and finished around 10pm. Now mind you, I did take time out to eat lunch and supper and play on the computer here and there, oh and clean and stuff, ya. But still, it was waaaay longer than 20 mins to finish. And when I say finish, I mean uncompleted until my husband came out on the deck at 10pm to help me.

I managed to get the frame completed in about an hour. Apparently that part should have taken about 10 mins to finish. So basically I’m dumber than a frozen turd from a monkey’s ass. I did get the frame part, that screws into the base for the canopy completed as well, which by my standards is like performing brain surgery for a well seasoned physician.

Flash forward to later on in the evening. The mostly completed hammock is sitting on my deck and I decided I was going to put the mattress part on just to see how it comfy it was. So I go to hook it onto the frame and holy shitfuckers, the bed part is too short! Great. I holler to my son and his gf and tell them my dilemma. I’m going on and on and on and on about how I’m going to have to take it all apart and then drag it back to the store and exchange it for one that isn’t defective. And how stupid the manufacturers are because of how they designed this stupid hammock. Blah blah blah. My husband arrives home and comes out on the deck and surveys the situation for about 3.5 seconds. He asks me if I’m forgetting anything? No. Well I think no. You’re sure, he asks. Ya I’m sure. Geez, I’m not retarded. How can they give you like a 6 foot long frame and the mattress is like 4.5 feet and they expect it to fit from end to end on the frame? Now that’s retarded.

My husband is staring at me. I think maybe I was leaking. Leaking brain fluid or something. I’m staring back, like what is your deal buddy? Then it dawns on me. There are 4 chains in the box. Chains that go on the frame and then hook on the mattress to make said mattress ‘dangly’ as most hammocks are set up to do. Be all dangly and shit.

So listen, here’s the deal, if you want a personal shopper, I’m your gal. If you want a handyman kinda gal, well you’re shit outta luck. Below are pictures of said hammock. And a close up of the chains that someone (not mentioning any names) forgot to put on and wondered how the hammock makers could be so fucking dense as to make the mattress way too short to even work. *Blink Blink* *Blink*

***Edit***Blogger won’t let me post any pictures, so I will try later. ***Pulling hair out now***

June 19, 2006

Good Monday morning. Well take out the ‘good’. It’s morning and it’s Monday but it sure as shit is brown ain’t good.

I have the migraine from hell. I swear there are tiny gremlins in my brain, hitting me with jack hammers. I want the little fuckers to die already. I spent most of my day on the couch yesterday, lying around like some half dead slug. But I just couldn’t move. I woke up this morning around 5:30, from, I might add, a very fitfull sleep, but my headache wasn’t quite as bad. It actually felt like it was almost gone. So I did a very brief happy dance and thought, wow, this is going to be a good way to start the week. Wrong. So very wrong.

I walked my daughter to school and as I’m walking home, I could feel the damn gremlins starting up again in my head, making me feel sick. So here I sit, in front of the computer screen, which by the way, I’m sure is totally good for my migraine. But alas, I can’t help myself. Can you say addiction?

Okay, so let’s back track a bit shall we? Ready? Good.

Saturday, I spent the day cleaning for a couple of my wenches friends, Crazy Newfie chickiepoo and Sex Goddess (sheesh, little stuck on yourself or what? Muahahhaha), as they were bringing their families for a barbeque on Saturday evening. I cleaned things I didn’t even know I owned, mowed the lawn, helped my son put our new patio set together (which FYI would have taken ONE normal, capable person about 20 mins but took us TWO not so capable people about 2 hours), slung orders like Squidward does at the Crabby Patty for my bread bitch to get his ass in gear and make some homemade brown bread so I could impress my friends with the cooking that I did not do. Come on, get a move on.

The barbeque was a hit and I’m sure mostly because I cooked nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero. I was the serving wench apparently. That I didn’t mess up. Yay me. My friends brought their yummy salads and my husband did all the cooking. I’m sure there would have been lawsuits had I done the grilling.

My Friday was exciting. And by exciting I mean I wanted to rip off my own hangnails because I was so bored. That’s just how exciting it was. I was at the end of my rope with being a SAHmother. Don’t get me wrong, I love my children more than anything but I’m human and sometimes I need a stiff drink break from them. Luckily for me, my son Matt said he’d stay home with the little ones, while hubby and I and the other 2 teens went out do some shopping. We only went to Walmart but lemme tell ya, just to walk around without having to drag someone to the bathroom (my husband is totally capable of going himself), not to hear any ‘can I have this? please? just one?’, over and over again, to be able to actually look at the different brands of feminine hygiene products (Who knew there were wings of all sorts of lengths and styles?) without having to grab the first thing my hand can reach while being pulled in 4 different directions, not to hear ‘clean up in aisle 9′ because one of my monsters children has knocked over something glass and liquid. Heaven I tell ya, Heaven.

So back to today. Now if I could just get the maid to finish cleaning, then………..wait, I am the maid. Fuck. That blows monkey ass. This is totally off topic, but I just got a wiff of myself and I must say, I smell fiiiiiiiiiiinnnneeeeeeee. I love my new perfume. I got it from my son for Mother’s day and it’s devine. Anyhoooo, back to the maid, which is me. I want to clean out my storage room but I’m skeered. It’s packed like sardines in there with boxes that I’m sure noone has opened in like 3 years, so why oh why are we keeping them? That is the question. And that is why I must brave the dreaded storage room. I’m not 100% sure I will tackle that today since all I feel like doing is lying in my bed, with drool running out the side of my mouth while I slumber in dreamland. We’ll see how that goes.

Okay, well, I’m not going to enjoy my Monday but I hope the rest of you out in blogland do. Is it Friday yet?

June 14, 2006

This is me. This is what I’m thinking: Oh Lord I’m being made to cook for my family. Don’t make me do that. I suck. But I’m cute. So it all even’s out in the end.

Here’s my feet. On the wall. Because that’s where you normally put your feet. On a wall. I am Spiderman. Oooooor am I? I think it’s the booze talking.

Here’s my feet again. This time on the floor. I’m wearing my favorite jeans. I love my ass in them. But I posted my feet instead. Aww shucks.

This is me again. Like you didn’t know. Anyway, I’m thinking: I love when my kids whine. It makes me get this look on my face. It’s the ‘give me some good drugs, tie me up, punch me in the face and cart me away in a white jacket’ look. I think it’s a nice look. For a crazy person.

Happy HNT.

Here is a recipe that my BF (again it’s best friend, not boyfriend) Karen showed me today. And I’ve also included how I interpret it. Thus the reason I try to avoid the kitchen at all costs.



Recipe from Kraft

1 lb. boneless skinless chicken breasts, cut into strips Chicken boobies cut into stripes

1 medium each: green and red pepper, cut into strips Rainbow veggies again cut into stripes


1 medium onion, cut into thin wedges Ewwww I’m not giving an onion a wedgie, that’s gross.


1/2 cup KRAFT Original BarBQ Sauce Squirt most of the bottle into the bowl


8 flour tortillas (6 inch), warmed Oooo 6 inches warmed…..wicked.

1 cup KRAFT Tex Mex Shredded Cheese I don’t have time to fly to Texas for cheese.


1/2 cup salsa I would love to learn to speak Spanish.

1/4 cup sour cream If it’s sour, I don’t want it. I like ice cream. Ooo la la.

PREHEAT grill to medium-high heat. Toss chicken and vegetables with barbecue sauce. Let stand 5 min. to marinate. You have to preheat a grill? Marinate? Is that like urinate? I’m not doing that to my meat.

GRILL chicken and vegetables in stir-fry basket 7 to 10 min. or until chicken is cooked through and vegetables are crisp-tender, stirring occasionally. Huh? You cook it in a basket? What? Sup? Where’s the phone? I’m ordering out.

SPOON mixture evenly onto tortillas; top with cheese, salsa and sour cream. Roll up. Why is spoon written like SPOON? Why are they yelling at me? What does that mean? Is that code for ‘run the stove is going to blow up? What if I want to FORK it? FORK me? FORK you!!!!! And roll up? I prefer to stand upright. So naner naner naner.

See. I’m just going to let my husband continue on doing the grilling. I don’t even know how to turn the barbeque on. Or light it. Or whatever it is that one does to preheat a grill.