July 30, 2007

….forty twenty-five. Hmmm. I thought that little ditty was supposed to rhyme? Not my problem.

I know what you’re thinking. How can someone who’s clearly drunk twenty-five have a son who’s 20? Baffles my mind too people, baffles my mind. Stranger things have happened I suppose.

You’ll never believe what I did today for my birthday. I really shouldn’t be so mean as to make you jealous with the excitement that filled my day but since it’s my party, I’m going to tell you.

I woke at 6am after having only 3 hours of sleep, did my workout, then crawled back in bed while my offspring were still sleeping, woke again, fed my kids, did laundry, cleaned my bathrooms, vaccumed, fed my kids again, did more laundry, took a shower, loaded my dishwasher and then did more laundry. How bad ass is that? I never knew turning 5 years older than my 20 year old son, would be so much frigging fun. Who knew?

My daughter proclaimed to anyone who would listen to her today, ‘how her mom is an old woman now, and how depressing that is’. Gee, thanks for practically telling people I’m ready for the bone yard. Might as well make some calls tomorrow and book myself into a ‘home’. Where’s my flippin’ walker?

On a fun note, my husband took me to Applebee’s for dinner, where we waited an hour for our meal because our smart as a whip waitress forgot to place our order to the kitchen staff. She also forgot the meal of the lady across the table from us, so I guess I shouldn’t take it personally and think there was some sort of conspiracy. Gosh, I feel bad for punching her in the head now. But then she charged us for the strawberry dacquiri that I ordered that I DIDN’T get because they were out of the ingredients to make it, so then I felt like my decision to knock her upside the head was justified. All evens out in the end. We did get free desserts compliments of the manager. Great, now I have to do another workout tonight to combat the brownie I ate. Gee, Happy Birthday.

July 27, 2007

In just a few short hours, I will be living in my fantasy world seeing my boyfriends, Chad from Nickelback and Chris Daughtry from Daughtry. I can only imagine the excitement they are feeling from the anticipation of having me arrested seeing me too. I’m taking my wench, Ang, the wenchiest wench around. She’s so wenchy, they named the town she’s from after her: Wenchville. She’s Wenchy McWenchster, but she’s got big jugs and she loves me. Umm, that didn’t come out right but you know what I mean right? Well, no you don’t but that’s okay because I’m crazy from excitement today. Forgive me.

July 22, 2007

I swear we have the weirdest kitten ever. Don’t get me wrong, she’s the best kitten ever too. She was the perfect kitten when we got her…instantly trained, could climb stairs no problem, does the dishes when asked, mows the lawn when I’m just too lazy…the list goes on. She’s a gem really. She is however, a little freaky.

My daughter decided to climb on the back of our love seat in the livingroom and then proceed to jump off of it, practicing Karate moves even though, technically she isn’t taking Karate professionally. I guess she wants to prepare before she actually takes the class. Good thinking. Smart like her mama. Anyway, the cat thinks she’s a martial arts expert. Ya, there’s only enough room in this household for one incoherent lush martial arts Ninja and that’d be me. You can click HERE if you want to see the pictures in their full glory. I mean, I’m not going to make you click there, I’m just trying to be helpful. Can’t accuse me of not not trying to be helpful. I think. I’m not sure what I’m saying. Listen, just click if you freakin’ want to, and if you don’t, have another hit off the pipe. Or eat some icecream. Help an elderly lady across the street. Punch a clown in the groin. Whatever floats your boat.

July 21, 2007

I bought these sandals back in May. I forgot to tell you and for that, I do apologize. Say it…’you need a slap bitch for not giving us the news’. I mean how could I not boast about them? Sure, it’s not like they’re a new pair of boobs or something, but still, they’re nice. I like them anyway.

I was supposed to be getting highlights in my hair this morning but my husband informed me last night that he had to work today to finish a job so we can eat but really, my hair is way more important but whatever that he was working on. I guess when I go to my boyfriend’s concert next week, I’ll just have to have my plain ol’ red hair minus the blonde highlights. I’m sure Chad won’t love me any less. *Sigh*.

Don’t tell anyone but it’s after 12pm here and I’m still in my jammies. I actually did my workout in them. How loser-ish stylish is that? I’m workin’ it people, workin’ it.

I had to call a certain govn’t agency yesterday for my husband’s business to let them know we’d have the paperwork into them by the end of the month and the conversation went quite well I think.

Hello, you’ve reached the “blah blah blah”, can you please tell me where you are calling from and I need your business number?

Hi, yes, I’m calling from “Insert husband’s business name here” and his business number is “whatever”.

Okay, and your position in the company?

Ummm, well I’m married to the president of the company, so I guess that makes me the first lady. *I snickered quite loudly as I thought it was funny, nothing like cracking your damn self up over your damn self*

*Crickets chirping* Okay. And can you please tell me why you are just filing the paperwork now?

Sure, I think it’s one of those situations of where ‘the dog ate my homework’.

*Crickets chirping really loud now* Okay.

That probably isn’t the answer you want to write on our file, so just put that we were moving during the time we were supposed to file, which we really were moving, so let’s go with that. We don’t even have a dog. You know, you probably don’t want to write all of that on our file either, just put that my arms fell off and I couldn’t fill it out properly until I got my new bionic arms. They’re on now baby. You should see me gripping this phone. *Nothing, nada, zip. This guy was hard to break. Maybe he’s not into insane ladies funny women.*

Okay then. And will the paperwork show a debit or credit? And if a debit, will your husband be paying in full?

I think it will be a debit and if it’s under a million dollars, then yes, he’ll pay it in full. *Again, I laugh to a dead audience* Well, you know, even if it’s like $999,999, we won’t be able to swing that either. I mean, even if it’s like $24,899, we probably can’t pay that out either. Okay, let’s say if it’s under $600 bucks, we can pull it off.

Hmmm, okay. *Paaaartaaayyy pooper*

Okay, so do you still want to keep playing 20 questions? Or are we done now?

We’re done Miss, we’re done. *Click*

No sense of humour or what? Pffftt. Off to get dressed now. Try not to get any drool on my white sandals betches. Peace out.

July 19, 2007

That was my look when I opened my mailbox today and saw that I was a millionaire. Well according to the Publishers Clearing House sweepstakes people. However, after reading the fine print, I think they’re big, fat liars. I might sue them. We’ll see how the rest of my week goes.

Did I tell you it’s still hot here? It’s still hot here. Although today wasn’t quite as bad as it has been and I do have my ac in now, so really I shouldn’t complain about the heat, but since I feel like complaining about it, I’m complaining. Confused? Me too.

I think I have to walk to the bank tomorrow. How exciting is that? I don’t have a vehicle anymore….well, I mean I do but it doesn’t work. At all. So that’s just like not having one, therefore I must walk everywhere I want to go and since it’s summer break, I must bring my children along. You know, children, those small humans that you love with all of your heart and soul, the same ones who can annoy the shit out of you in 5 minutes flat. Ya those ones. I’ll let you know what kind of embarrassment they bring me, because you can bet your last dollar, they will bring it. It’s been broughten. Many times over.

I found out the other day that I have another photograph published in a new book. The name of the book escapes my frazzled brain but when I remember it or get the gumption to look it up, I’ll let you know. I’m sure you’ve got chills waiting. I know how to get you going. Oh ya baby.

It’s 10:38pm and my kids are still up. I’m not quite certain why but I know I must get off of this contraption and place them in their beds. We’ve been together for 14 hours and I think that’s my limit for the day. They’re driving me insane darlings and need their beauty rest and mama needs a stiff drink and a massage to watch her toenail paint dry.

July 15, 2007

I don’t know how this happened, but my oldest son turned 20 yesterday. That’s so weird because, I’m like, only thirty something twenty four but I’ve heard of miracles happening, so let’s just chalk it up to one of those situations. It kinda sucks that I couldn’t spend the day with him but he’s 3000 miles away so that sort of makes it hard to just drive over to see him. We put some cold hard cash in his bank account and he was going to go shopping and maybe to a movie. I want to go shopping and to a movie. Where’s my cold hard cash in my bank account? Hmmm? I don’t see anyone forking over any for me. I’m pretty sure I sent out a memo. Perhaps you didn’t get it. Slow mail day maybe.

We are still in the midst of that, HEAT WAVE thing but my fabulous husband put in our air conditioner yesterday and now, I’m actually kinda chilly, BUT that is in no way a complaint. If you should hear me bitch moaning about being chilled, kick me in the neck and call me ungrateful would ya? Help me remember how much I whined for the past week and a half about how hot I was. And not hot as in ‘fine’ but hot as in, I have a bad rash. Ah, well I don’t have a rash but I’m just using that as a reference. Trying to make a point is all.

I’m supposed to be getting ready to go out but I’m really enjoying the cold air in here (see, being grateful, all is good) and I am scared to leave my chilled lair to venture out in the heat but the thought of shopping (which I think we might do) is such a pull. I LOVE to shop. I really should have been born rich. I would so make a good rich person. Not a snotty rich bitch, because those kind of rich people suck ass but a nice, cute, friendly rich person, who would take her friends shopping whenever they felt like it. I’m not sure if it’s too late to marry for money. Let me talk to my husband and get his imput. I’ll get back to you on that one.

Remember the Speedy Gonzales icecream truck man? Well he was ’round yesterday and my daughter had to put on her fastest running shoes and do the 100 yard dash to catch the guy. I might have to go tell him how to run his business. Slow=more icecream sold…Fast=not as much icecream sold and pissed off children. Take it into consideration buddy. Try it my way for a week and we’ll compare notes later.

Brrrr, it’s………..wait, not going to say it. Grateful, be grateful, be grateful. See how grateful I am for my ac? Okay, must run now (no not to catch the icecream dude) and get off my lazy ass and get dressed dash out the door because I’m allll ready to go. I will be back to do my ‘Sassy Sunday Searchstring’, that I know you all look forward to. Unless aliens take me and want to do an anal probe but this back door is closed for entry, so not sure how much fun they’ll have with me. I know you’re thanking me for the 411. I’m so very helpful like that. Chalk full of information for the masses.

July 14, 2007

That’s right folks. I’m a winner. A winner of what you ask? Oh I’m going to tell you.

I won a Blog of the Day Award. Whattaya think of that? I’m not sure who nominated me, but it was probably one of my children, who feel sorry for me seven thousands of fans. It’s hard to keep track of them all now. I suppose you’re wanting to know what kind of prizes you win for that? I think it’s a new car, some cash and maybe a little bling. Not bad for talking about icecream eh?

*Oh, I just got an email and I know who nominated me*

Oh you thought I was going to tell you? Ha. I might let you you suffer for the whole damn day. Or maybe since I have a big mouth, I’ll just tell you now. It was Bella. She thinks I’m the cat’s meow. Well I’m assuming she does. I mean, why wouldn’t she think that? Sure, she didn’t come right out and say that, but I’m quite certain I’m correct on this matter. I’m never right never wrong. Anyway, thank you Bella, I think you’re the cat’s meow too. You do think that about me right? Of course. And thank you to the judges who decided that I am a loose canon and thought that they’d give me an award so I wouldn’t kick them in the neck with my ninja moves deserved this award. Moving on………

It’s been so bloody hot here, like hot hot. As in, it’s hot. Sure, the west isn’t known for it’s humidity but come on, hot is hot no matter how you slice it. Has my husband put in our air conditioner? No. Why? I don’t know. But I may just light a fire under his ass today about it. Maybe lighting a fire isn’t the best route to go, since, it’s you know, ALL READY HOT here.

I must go for now, since it’s 7:35am and I’ve been up since 5:00am and I plan to park my ass back in bed for at least an hour and then I have to get up and do.my.workout. When oh when will I fall in love with working out?

PS. I do have the award code for the award I won and if I knew how to put it on my blog, like I totally would. I am going to make it my afternoon project, to get that little button on my blog, announcing to the world, that I won. Just try and stop me.

July 9, 2007

….that is if you can catch the damn truck.

Every day so far this summer, we’ve heard the dingle dingle dingle of the icecream truck on our cul de sac. When it first started coming around, there was a young-ish guy driving the truck. He drove it so slow that even a 100 pound lazy ass turtle could catch it. But that’s kinda the point right? I mean, obviously he wants the kids to come running out with money in their chubby little hands to snatch up all the drumsticks and popsicles that they can.

The icecream truck got a new driver the other day. As my husband and children and I were enjoying the sunshine out in our back yard, we heard the ringing of the bell. The kids, whether wanting icecream or not, love to run to the window or the fence and watch the truck go by and see if any of the neighbourhood children are going to buy anything. As we’re walking over to the fence with the kids, my husband and I look at each other and both seem sorta puzzled by the scene we are witnessing.

We look over our fence to see Mr Icecream man, driving his truck waaaaay too fast, like he’s got diarreah and has to put the pedal to the metal inorder to get to a bathroom so he doesn’t shit his tightie whities. At least that’s where MY imagination leads me to.

We see 3 young boys opening their front door and dashing out to stop the icecream truck and their little legs are pumping for all their worth but they can’t catch up with Leadfoot MaGoo as he takes the corner on two wheels. Okay, fine it wasn’t on two wheels but the way he was speeding around the corner, there was no way those kids would ever reach him. Their arms are flailing around, they’re yelling for him to stop and he keeps right on going. Ah, you might want to actually slow down and then stop so you can, oh I don’t know, SELL SOME ICECREAM. Just an observation. I’m not sure if he gets the whole concept of little kids not being able to run like the Road Runner or having Inspector Gadget arms to yank that truck to a stop. He may want to ease off on that gas pedal just a wee bit. I may have to put up speed bumps and rumble strips tomorrow. And maybe a set of traffic lights. Gosh, I’m gonna be busy.

Great, now I want some icecream. All I’ve got is some freezer burned hotdogs and a few ice cubes. Where’s my blender?

July 8, 2007

Oh aren’t you excited? Here we are at my second installment of search strings. You’re just dying from anticipation, so I’d better get started. Should be the most boring thing ever so exciting that you’ll pee your pants. Yuck. You’re gross.

‘Why does my poop look like rabbit turds’?

Because you ate that rabbit. Eat cows or pigs, then you’ll have bigger poo. Just sayin’. Or eat a chicken and then lay eggs. Geez, make yourself useful why dontcha.

‘you come into my yard and you kick my dog’

You came into my yard and peed on my patio set, so I thought that would even things up yo’.

‘I have to poop really bad but it won’t come out, what do I do’?

You get a small shovel and pray. Look, I’m not a doctor, so what’d you expect?

’sassy pencil case’

I have a pencil case and yes, it’s sassy all right. Everything I own is sassy. Don’t ever forget that.

’sassy sweatpants’

Bite your tongue. There are no sweatpants on this earth that are sassy. They aren’t sexy. Or cute. Or pretty. Burn them now.

‘big buckets of poop’

Ummm try KFC’s bucket. It’s not great chicken but it’s better than poo, however, it will make you poo 2.5 hours after eating it. I suppose then you could just put your poo in the bucket and then you’d have a big bucket of poo. Aren’t I helpful?

‘Marnie Cook’

Holy crap…..I think my stalker is back. My Marnie Cook stalker. Read this if you want to know what I’m talking about. I’m skeered.

‘pictures of really bad bunions’

Whatever floats yer boat.

And there you have it. Your day is complete and I’m so thrilled that I could be the one to deliver such joy to you. You can now end your day on a note of pure ecstacy. I must go now because I suffered some sort of heart attack/stroke/convulsion thing due to my daughter going missing earlier today and it tired me out. Ah, we found her and I’ll explain tomorrow when I am not so drunk feel like talking about it.

July 7, 2007

See that kitten? See her kinda ‘I’m pissy and I don’t care look’? Well I couldn’t have done a better job making that face, so I let her do it for me.

Have you ever had a crappy week? I did. It was hot and sweaty here although today has cooled down considerably and now it’s cloudy and maybe going to thundershower later. It’s like why can’t we have a happy medium for the weather? Why can I not control the weather? I think I’d do a much better job than that bitch Mother Nature. You’re FIRED.

I’m tired of rescuing old ladies from burning buildings, wearing a super hero cape that really does NOTHING for my complexion, knocking down criminals with just my beauty alone…..it’s all so exhausting really. I need a vacation from summer vacation.

My kids actually talked me into getting in their pool the other day. They begged me to get in with them, so finally I put on my bathing suit and got in only to have them laugh at me for getting in. Oh the torture. I threatened to get out and then they half cried for me not to get out, so I said fine I’ll stay and then they started laughing again. I can’t win. Punching them was certainly not an option so instead we played ‘I spy’ but with a twist. We didn’t look for certain colours, we instead played the ‘I spy something that starts with the letter “A..etc” version, which was so fun, I can’t even begin to tell you. Actually I could tell you but then you’d have to hang yourself and no way am I going to be responsible for that. So, let me keep my mouth shut on that excitement.

I have to get my workout done yet and I’m feeling very unworking-out-like but I know I have to or then I’ll feel guilty. Can you even imagine feeling guilty because you DIDN’T work out? I do. How creepy is that? If I put off my workout in the morning, which is the usual time I do it, I actually feel bad about it and then rush to get it done before noon hits. What the hell is that about? I must be on drugs. Yet I dont have any drugs so I’m not sure what I’m on. Must be my vodka natural high for life. Yaaaaaaaaaaa.

Guess what was on my front step? Fine don’t guess, I’ll just tell you. I looked out the window in my door and saw some big black blob on the white stair railing, near the bottom of the rung where it joins the actual landing. I’m squinting my old lady eyes and can’t quite make out what it is. I decided to open my door and walk out onto the step and bend down to get a closer look. I immediately jumped back and I think then I threw up. I can’t quite remember as it was very traumatic. I was on the phone with Ang and she started making barfy noises when I told her what it was, which made me feel so much better. She’s a wench like that. Ha. Anyway, I know you’re gripping the edge of your seat wanting me to just tell you all ready, so I will. After this commerical break………..kidding. Geez you’re impatient. I bend down again to look because, you know, once wasn’t enough. I was really hoping to be wrong but since I’m never wrong, I knew I had to be right the first time. It was just as I thought. A big, huge, gigantuous mound of baby spiders. Just writing this out is making me itchy. There were literally thousands and thousands of them, although I didn’t take the time to actually count them but I could just tell. They were all squirming around, I suppose getting ready to fly the coupe. Or spring the web, whatever the hell the right term is for spiders. Fuckers. They were NOT going to get the chance. Now I could have waited for my husband to come home and deal with them but he’s always like, oh you want to kill a poor little spider, that’s so mean, blah blah blah. I knew he’d not do it, and then he might even invite them in to live in our house which at that point, I’d have to kick him in the balls and then he’d be rolling around on the floor and then he’d want me to make it up to him and then while we were busy, the spiders would have set up house in our house and then I’d have to blow my house up. So you see, how I just need to take care of the situation myself even though spiders are my worst enemy on the planet? Exactly.

I tell Ang that I dont have any kind of bug killer per say but that I have Windex window cleaner and some toxic shit that I got to clean the bbq with. She said that should do it. So since she’s bossy the boss, that’s what I did. I put on rubber gloves, sun glasses and a wet suit (couldn’t find my toxic waste suit) and began spraying that spider nest/blob with window cleaner and oven cleaner. Oh it was nasty. The spiders all started moving and yelling, ‘whatta you doin’ you crusty beeyotch’? but I just ignored their insults and continued to spray them. They died. Was I sorry? No. Does that make me hot? You betcha. Anyway, I looked up and saw the mother spider and she looked pissed. So I did what any irrational spider hater normal person would do and sprayed the shit out of her with window cleaner and some oven spray to top it off. She died too. Now her and her creepy offspring can lounge around in spider heaven. At least they’ll all be together. And if I find the baby daddy, he’s going down too.

So how was your week? Kill any spiders? Sit in any kid pools? Have your face slapped? Break a nail? Live through a heat wave? I’m hoping my weekend will be better than my week. So far it’s kinda boring. But I have my workout to look forward to. Ahem. Have a super happy Saturday. And by super happy, I mean super drunk. If you’re going to get drunk, don’t drive mmmkay? Call me, and I’ll come drive for you. Well you know, if you’re like, in a 20 mile radius. Or you know what, just call a cab or if you can swing it, a limo. I’m busy being busy.