September 6, 2007

About 12 years ago, my husband and I and our 2 oldest boys, who at the time were 8 and 7 went for a drive. It was a perfect May Sunday, warm, sunny and the promise of summer just around the corner. We decided to stop at the dam lookout. There was a big grassy hill that the kids could run around on, and over the hill and fence was the dam, water rushing into the basin and the kids would love to watch the spray splash over the rocks.

The boys were running ahead of us, and as my husband and I were walking around the guardrail in the parking lot, I see Matt bending down to pick something up. Sean is also kneeling down and they look deep in thought. I can’t see what exactly they are admiring. In about one minute it will become crystal clear.

I watch in horror as our 2 sons are skipping back towards us and they have a new friend. I don’t like to be judgy but she wasn’t very pretty. Had a little too much makeup on. Arms and legs just flailing about. And her mouth was just a little TOO BIG. And OPEN. She sort of looked like this chick:

That’s right. She was the kind of friend who needs to be blown up inorder to ‘participate’ in the ‘friendship’. My mouth is now hanging open and my brain is in overdrive, picturing the barf inducing bacteria that MUST be now growing on my childrens’ hands from touching this dirty bitch. I’m going to hurl I just know it. The boys rush over to us, asking us, what exactly is ‘this’?

I don’t know.

Mom, you must know what this is?

It’s a giant Barbie doll. And you should put her down. Like now.

It’s sure an ugly Barbie doll. Like really ugly.

Can we keep her?

Ummm no.

Why not?

Ah, ah, umm, because it probably belongs to someone *insert vomiting noises here*.

It seems a bit big for a little girl to be playing with it, dontcha think?

Yes. Can you please stop touching it? It’s germy.

So why can’t we keep it? How germy could it be?

My husband pipes up at this point, because honestly, the man just doesn’t believe in beating around the bush……ah perhaps not the greatest choice of words on my part. Anyway, I digress. So husband says, ‘oh you can’t keep it because some weirdo has been having sex with it and it’s got gross stuff on it’. Nice touch sweetie.

The boys immediately throw dirty bitch down and start screaming and making throw up sounds and I am screaming at them to not touch their face or their eyes or their mouth and we decided it was probably best to go home and fumigate the boys and have them tested for diseases, you know in our lab, because, you know, we’re scientists and such as.

Now I must go shower because after talking about dirty bitch, I feel dirty. Where’s my air pump?

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 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 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?

June 11, 2007

…That’s what Paris Hilton told Barbara Walters on the phone. Ah okay. So she’s saying she’s not really dumb but just pretended to be dumb? Hmmmm. She said ‘that act is no longer cute’. Wow, now I beg to differ. Who doesn’t love a dumb person? Especially when they’re over the age of 25? Not this chickie. Show me the dumb, people, show me the dumb. Cute and sexy. I want me some dumb.

Enough about Paris already. Like we have more important topics to cover such as my 11 year old, who by the way, is a Selective Mute and who also acted like he wasn’t one at Walmart the other night.

We’re loading stuff from the cart onto the counter and as my sweet boy is helping me, he picks up a box of tampons.

Tampons? Tampons? Mom what are tampons? His part is all said in a loud loud voice with lots and lots of people standing in the lineup behind us. All snickering. My speaking parts are in part whisper, part hiss through my teeth.

They’re for mommy okay?

Ya but what are tampons? Holding box up, looking at it from every angle.

Just something for mommy okay?

Ya but what are they? WHAT THE HECK ARE TAMPONS? WHAT THE HECK DO TAMPONS LOOK LIKE? SHOW ME, SHOW ME, SHOW ME!

I’ll show you but just not right now, in the checkout, in front of the nice people staring and laughing at me now. Thank you.

SHOW ME THE TAMPONS, SHOW ME THE TAMPONS.

Aren’t you a selective mute? Huh? What happened to that?

I wanna know what the heck tampons are and we should just OPEN the box mom!

Ummm look I see the real Scooby Doo over there. Go pet him.

We went on a picnic yesterday and I took a picture of two dragonflies gettin’ it on.

Sweet isn’t it? Look how their little bodies made a heart shape. Awww, say it with me. I wonder if the girl dragonfly then eats the boy dragonfly? Or maybe they just go out to dinner, you know, go eat some mosquitoes? Or maybe she punches him the nutsac and says, ‘thanks for nothin’. Things to ponder.

Oh, I have a hangnail. And I painted my toenails a new dark red colour. Oh and I love broccoli salad. And I cooked bacon on Sunday too. I know I shouldn’t make you so jealous of my life but it can’t be helped. I’m sorry. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…………

Ooops, sorry, dozed off there for a minute. It’s the excitement, keeps me awake at night and then I get tired in the daylight. Good times, good times.

Ah, okay, well my licquor cabinet couch is calling me because my tv wants me to watch it. I’m going to watch America’s Got Talent and pray that they really do.

*Edit* For some reason, my picture is not showing…could be wordpress, could be aliens. I dunno but if it doesn’t show by tomorrow sometime, I’ll just moon you and then we’ll be even. In the meantime, you can have naughty dreams about dragonflies.

*Edit again* Okay it’s now showing, so that means no moon show from me I guess. Aww shucks. Maybe next time.

May 21, 2007

Okay, what the hell is with a migraine that never fully goes away? I practically gag at the thought of popping one more pill but what can I do? Short of loping my head off, which, quite frankly, I kinda need, I’m not sure what the solution is. Perhaps if someone would kick me in the ass, then my concentration would be on my butt and therefore, I’d forget my head pain. I’ll sleep on it.

I took my kids to see Shrek 3 this weekend and I personally thought it was really funny. The ‘critics’, whoever the hell they are, said there wasn’t ‘enough donkaaaay’ but let’s remember people, the movie is called Shrek, so if Shrek appears in the movie more than the donkey, then duh. I thought all the characters were funny and laughed quite alot, so there. Bite it.

My husband bought me a lawn mower and a weed whacker/whipper snipper/thinga-ma-jiggy, so I’m guessing that means my job is to mow the lawn. However, I don’t mind because I like a nice lawn and I know I’ll hire the 12 year old across the street anyways do a great job and make everyone proud.

We hit a few yard sales on Saturday but since it was the long weekend here, they were few and far between. We did find a handful of good deals though and as well, did see a whole lotta shit out there too. One lady was selling trophies. As in, someone, perhaps her son, won for hockey or golf or some such thing. Ah, ya, his name was on them too. So I guess if a Randy Stairs comes along and wants to pretend he won some stuff back in ‘85, then maybe he’ll snatch those up. Another person was selling an old rotary phone from like 1980. In beige. Okay. It’s between an antique and out of date. So basically it means, it’s a piece of shit. Throw it out. Noone is going to buy it. Another lady was selling wire hangers. For $10. There were 7 in the pile. Listen, it’s a yard sale. People want deals. If you want to go into business with your wire hangers, fine. But selling them in a dirty cardboard box in your back yard isn’t going to make you rich. Just sayin’.

I did get 2 brand new picture frames for a dollar and a very nice lady gave my daughter a like new stuffed dog with a red leash and she was on happy high for the rest of the day. She called him doggie. Very original. My son got 2 hockey games, one for his computer and the other for his XBox, so he was also floating. Amazing how you can put a smile on your kid’s face for under $5 bucks. Dollar store here I come.

Oh speaking of Shrek again, I tried one of those McFlurry things from Rotten Ronnie’s today, the fudgy sludgy pudd n’ pie Shreky minty ones with pieces of fudge and candy in them. They look very green in the picture and claim to be mint flavoured with pieces of fudge. Sounds good in theory. Not so good in real. First off, the guy waiting on me, only gave me half of the small that I ordered. Sure I don’t necessarily need more jiggle to my ass by eating a whole small McFlurry but dammit, if I’m paying for the fucker, then I want the full small. Not half a small. Get it bud? Ya. Second, he didn’t mix it well enough, so most of the green coloring or whatever it was, toxic dayglo shit for all I know, was all clumped at the bottom of the cup. Third, it did not, I repeat, did not taste the least bit minty. False advertisement people! Unless dinkledorf forgot to mix the mint flavour into it, which based on his skills performing his tasks, is entirely, very possible. And lastly, the bits and pieces of ‘chocolate covered candy’, were in fact, rock covered candy and I’m pretty sure I broke a few teeth. I highly recommend NOT eating one no matter how much you love Shrek. Or maybe just don’t order it from the Mickey Dee’s at the Walmart I go to. Beware is all I’m sayin’.

It’s midnight and that means my pumpkin is going to rot or my stage coach is going to turn into a pumpkin or my bed is going to melt into pumpkin pie……..see, I’m tired and can’t even get that right. Sweet pumpkin, err, dreams.

May 14, 2007

Oh right, moms work 24/7, even on, you guessed it, Mother’s Day. I forgot. So even though this was ‘my’ day, I still had to be a mom. Funny that.

We couldn’t decide on what to do for our family day. We had wanted to go to a movie but there wasn’t really anything playing that the kids wanted to see. So after much humming and hawing, we decided to take the kids to the Shrine Circus, to which Ryan proclaimed that he hated circuses.

You’ve never been to one though. How can you hate it?

I hate the circus.

After much protesting, we convinced him to go. It said on the website, that the show started at 1pm. We arrived at about 12:54 and my husband kicked me out of the truck to go stand in the insanely long ticket line while he parked. He had tossed me his banking card. The line is moving fairly quickly, so I’m thinking that I’ll get the tickets before one and we’ll get half decent seats. I finally make my way to the front of the line, get to the ticket window and ask the guy if they take debit. Nope. Just cash.

Ah, can you make an exception?

Right.

So out of the line I get and go find my husband in the parking lot. I tell him the great news, that I stood in the mile long line up for nothing and that we need to have cold hard cash or we ain’t gettin’ in that damn big top.

We go into the mall and as we’re looking around for the debit machine, he’s telling me to get back outside and get back into the line. Fantastic. I head out and hop back into the now even longer line up, again waiting for my turn. I look to my right and see a frigging bank machine set up just outside the circus tent. Good Lord, couldn’t the guy at the ticket booth have maybe, oh, MENTIONED THAT?

I called my husband on his cell and tell him to forget searching the mall for a cash machine, that’s there’s one right in front of me. He comes back out and I see Ryan smiling. Oh, good maybe he’s got a better attitude about going to the circus now and we’ll actually have a drama free afternoon in a hot, giant tent. While standing in line, there were people passing out coupons that would save us a few bucks on the admission price, so I took 4 and that would only cost us $40 bucks to get in. My husband brings the cash over to me just as I get to the front of the line again and I hand the girl the 4 $10 each passes and the forty bucks. She carefully counts out the tickets THREE times and then says, ‘that’ll be forty dollars please’. Ah, ya, well I just handed you forty dollars, so I’m not about to hand you another forty. ‘Oh you did’? Yes. ‘Oh, I guess you did’. Ya think?

As we’re making our way to the front entrance of the tent, my son turns to me and asks if he should go to the truck now?

What? Why would you go to the truck?

I’m not going to like this. It’s stupid.

I can hear the panic setting in now, so I bend down to his level and explain that there are no scary clowns (I hope to God there aren’t), no man eating tigers nor will anyone call on him to perform in the big ring, so not to worry.

We get in and find some seats and then the crying begins. I see my husband talking to Ryan but whatever he’s saying it’s not working. I get Ryan to come over and sit beside me, where I let him lean on me and tell him to relax and that the circus might be fun and he might actually find parts of it entertaining. He’s not buying it however and is begging me to let him leave. Well since you’re a 5th grader and not in college, sorry but that will not be taking place. After much hugging, back rubbing and hushed tones to calm him, he settles in to watch but assures me that he’s going to hate every minute of it and that he’ll never go to another circus again. Fine by me because as I’m sitting in the hot, dark tent, remembering how I took Sean and Matt to the same freakin’ circus 12 years earlier, I forgot how much the circus tent smells like sweat, B-O and urine fun it really is. You know buddy, I’m thinking I’ll never go to another circus again either. You might be on to something there.

After two and one half very long hours, the show is finally over and Ryan lets me know that he hated it (even though I caught him laughing at things several times during the show) and he was relieved it was over. I can’t say as I totally blame the kid because after inhaling the nasty scent of what seemed to be stale pee and elephant shit co-mingled, I was sorta relieved that the circus was over too.

All in all it was a nice day even though I had to work overtime to console a weepy, paniced kid, smell elephant body odour/pee/poo, listen to tattling, put up with some whining, break up a fight and clean up a few messes. I also got some nice hugs, a phone call, some kisses, homemade pictures, a new purse and a whole lot of ‘I love you’s’.

April 11, 2007

Tonight my 6 year old daughter wanted to know ‘if I think any of the products we have in our house have been stolen from other countries and brought here by pirates’. Ah, no, I’m pretty sure that’s not the case. She said she’s ‘going to investigate it’. Okay Nancy Drew.

I received a phone call from some independent firm, who wanted to do a short survey with me, about the company who provides our electricity. Ha! Oh, you mean the same people who were heartless and totally not understanding at all? Ya, I’m going to give you the time of day. I said, it was not a good time to do the survey and I was probably NOT the best person to discuss said power company’s customer service. You won’t like me very much if you listen to my opinions. I was asked what would be a better time to call back. Oh, let’s see. How about 3034. I will probably be dead by then and not give a shit either way.

My husband was teasing our 11 year old son, saying how could he let it snow again last night and son’s reply was, ‘what do I look like, the weatherman’? I guess not. Those damn weathermen, always giving us crappy weather when we just don’t want it. Bastards.

I did some more clearing out in the storage room. God it’s creepy in there. And why do I we hang on to so much stuff? Shameless really. I’ve now lost count of how many boxes/bags of stuff I’ve gotten rid of. I have boxes of school work from Sean and Matt, that I’ve been saving since they were in elementary. I mean sure, keep a few things here and there but honestly, their entire decade plus of school things? Just plain crazy loving. That’s me though. I can’t let go of all the math sheets and spelling tests. I did find a funny gift that Matt had made me when he was about 8, for mother’s day. It was a thingy (not sure what it’s actually supposed to be) made out of toilet paper rolls, tissue paper and part of a cereal box. I’ve not any earthly idea what it is but it’s very creative. I’ll give him that.

Hey did you know I’m totally hooked on HGTV? I’m so into all the real estate shows and all the home reno programs. Very weird, because I’ve never had much interest in that kind of stuff previously. Maybe it’s because I’m a new home owner and it’s put me in some kind of house trance. I guess that’s possible. Or maybe it’s all the alcohol sit ups I do.

Aren’t you glad you came here tonight to read? You’re all comfy in your jammies or naked, whatever floats your boat, and settled in your chair or couch if you have a laptop and can, you know, put your computer in your lap and were entertained beyond belief by my story telling? I know, I amaze you and honestly, it’s my pleasure to be so fasinating to you. I live the fast life and although you often get heart palpatations from reading about my exciting life, that you’ve actually had to go to your doctor to get pills to control that, I thank you for risking your safety to continue to read me. Now go take your pill before you have a stroke or somethin’. I’ll try not to do anything too exciting for the rest of the evening but if I do, you’ll be the first to know.

March 25, 2007

Eleven. My favourite number and now the age of my youngest son. Where does the time go? I guess it flies when you’re like a super hero, smart and pretty awesome like I am. But I digress, this isn’t about me.

It’s hard to believe I was punching nurses in the face and screaming obsenities calmly pushing out a 7lb 12oz human 11 years ago. True story people,true story.

Ryan didn’t want to turn 11. He liked being 10 so much that he begged us not to let him turn eleven. Ah, well son, what would like us to do? Stop time for you? Honestly, I would if I could but I’m not authorized to do so. You’ll have to suck it up and get over it. But don’t worry, when you’re my age 39 25, time does stop and you’ll stay young and hot just like your mother. I kid you not. Would I lie? No.

We had a party for him yesterday (Friday was his actual birthday), and although my son is normally quiet, let me tell you, my ears bled from the noise. I’m now suffering from a migraine but that’s what moms do for their kids. Let them have friends over to help celebrate their special day, terrorize adults with the loudness of their play and destroy your home. That’s insanity love.

Happy Birthday Ryan and listen, if you fall in love with being 11, just like you did with being 10, I’ll give you a hundred bucks. Or maybe I’ll just give you a hug. I’m broke right now.

February 16, 2007

See that Barbie? She’s cute right? Sure.

And this is the cat that comes with the Barbie. That’s cute too. If you’re into plastic cats. And who isn’t?

And Barbie’s cat comes with a litter box. Of course you have to have ‘litter’ to put in the litter box right? So the Barbie people put in little bags of sand. Not regular sand though. Special sand. Sticky, messy, goopy sand when you add water. Because you add water to the plastic cat’s back so you can then squeeze the plastic cat and thus make it pee in the litterbox. Genius really. And by genius, I mean fucking stupid. Who bought this toy? Oh right. Me.

This is me when I saw this in my sink:

Not only was the fun, goopy sand in my sink, it was all over my counter, the floor and a trail from the bathroom led me to the diningroom table. Count to ten. Count to ten.

After counting to ten, ask the Calgon gods to take you away. Far, far away.

And by far, far away, I mean bring on the vodka cookies.