Life is funny, right?  Like, how does it work that my kids get older and I get younger?  Yes, I’m cute but totally fucking delusional.

My middle son turned 22-years-old a few days ago (and I’m only 26… see?  Weird, right?) and we wanted to totally embarrass him on his special day.  How do you do that?  You take him out to Montana’s restaurant!  The employees like to sing to you and clap their hands and this? is something 22-year-olds hate.  But?  He got a free cookie.  So, worth it.

Free cookie:

Below, son is smiling but dying inside.  The middle kid is my youngest son – yes, his hair is LONG.  He’s a future rock star.  And the girl on the end, is my 9-year-old daughter, who thinks she’s 23.  Missing, is my oldest son.  He’s busy being a grown-up(ish).

It was a nice dinner… and I think the waiter wanted to hang with us.  I mean, yeah, of course, because we brings the awesome, but dude, get some friends.

Son loves having his photo taken.  Evident.

Didn’t get drunk at Montanas (although photo evidence shows otherwise).  May or may not have gotten drunk at a party the night before.  He admits to nothing.

He said he’s gonna rock 22.  I rocked 22 when I was 22… just four years ago.  *cough*

Damn straight, my kids know how to bring da cheese.  They learned it from the master:

We gifted son with iTunes card, an American Express card and a grocery store card.  All as good as cash, and that makes son happysauce.

Note: Giving your kids what they want will ensure they will not put you in a home years down the road.  I’m always thinking ahead.  Just sayin’.

There are a few things that make me feel glam, but today it was about dressing up in a pretty outfit and heels (although you can’t see the heels, KNOW they ARE there), putting on my best makeup and adding a sparkly flower in my hair.  I mean the sparkling flower alone is glam, right?  Right.  Also, thinking about the man you love while taking the photos?  Extra-awesome.  Just sayin’. *wink*

I was happy with these shots – I’m not normally a fan of my own portrait, you know, because there’s that desire to pick apart every little flawed detail until there’s nothing good left.  But today, I said the hell with it, I’m going to take shots and like them, really like them.  And I do.

These were taken earlier today with my Nikon, no flash, just using the natural light coming in through my bedroom window.

Click images to see full size.

Not bad for an old broad of 42.

Today, I feel glamorous.

Now, if YOU want to participate, go on over to Secret Agent Mama’s.  Do it!  You could win a $100.00 Gift Certificate to use towards whatever your heart desires at Eden Fantasys.

Did I say I turned forty-two? I meant twenty-seven because I lied last year and said I was 26 twenty-seven comes after 26. So, yeah, right.

Some of my family forgot it was my “special” day yesterday. Yes, I said “special,” because clearly it is if they forgot to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY. That’s just how “special” it was. Especially SPECIAL.

To the person who sent me a gift, woot!, thank you, LOVE getting mail that doesn’t require me to drain my bank account or my “services” will be shut off.

To the people who called me, thank you… means more than a present (but, uh, if you WANT to send me sompin’, yeah, DO IT).

To the handful of people who wished me HAPPY BIRTHDAY on Facebook, I do thank you – luckily, I get the messages in my email or I would not have seen them. I don’t do Facebook – much. Maybe once every few months I’ll get the gumption to sign-in, but other than that, I honestly don’t use it anymore. To those of you who are waiting for me to “friend” you, I will, the next time I sign-in. Like next Christmas or something. And to two of the Facebook birthday-well-wishers, I will SEE you in TWO WEEKS. Woot!

To the e-card birthday-well-wishers, spanx muchly (yes, totally real words, with real meaning, y’all).

To the email birthday well-wishers, thanks but I’m not sure I believe you when you said you TRIED to “attach” cash in the email, but it just wouldn’t work. Hotmail and Gmail were “not working properly” you said. Uh huh.

To the person who said they loved me so much (and will love me MORE once I make my first million), thank you for letting me know you are shopping at HOOKERS ACCESSORIES AND MORE for me. I bet it’ll be something special. And probably glittery!

So,you’re asking yourself, what has this clearly insane chick learned in forty-two, oops, twenty-seven years? Let me put you out of your misery.

1. When your daughter tells you, “Mommy, you don’t even look forty-two, you totally look, um, like you’re twenty-four (she’s really pushing it) and when my brothers tell you that you’re ‘old’ I give them dirty looks, just so you know mom,” what she really means is, “I’m totally sucking up bitches so I can get my own cell phone at the age of nine!”

2. When a 20-something dude calls you ma’am, he means it.

3. When you hear yourself say, “Oh, so-and-so and I have been friends for twenty-five years,” you want to bite your tongue off.

4. You probably shouldn’t wear the “JLo” glitter lotion you own, but fuck it, I’m going to anyway. See? At *cough* 42, you don’t care.

5. When your growns sons (see # 1) call you old, they absolutely mean it.

6. You’re at an age where you will most likely attend more funerals than weddings. Sad, but true.

7. It’s possible to become a grandparent (providing you have children), but don’t call me grandma.

8. It sucks when your doctor is way younger than you.

9. It scares the shit out of you to know you have been watching a particular soap opera for twenty-seven years. I mean, I don’t watch any soap operas. Like srsly, EVER.

10. You realize you haven’t learned as much as you thought.

Happy Birthday to anyone who is having a birthday this year. Ha.

Here are the top five ways to give your family a heart attack. Be sure to have cpr training, just in case.

5. Sit them down and tell them you are pregnant. Not to heart attack inducing, right? Your husband had a vasectomy 10 years ago (sure, but sometimes they don’t completely take care of things… but…) and you had your uterus removed 15 years ago. And your tubes. And your ovaries. Oh, ya, now it’s an omigosh, I’m going to have a stroke kind of situation.

4. Tell them you met someone “online” and their nickname is ‘Bubba’ and he makes his living recycling beer bottles. So, right? You happen to be a nun. Nurse, get me the paddles, stat!

3. Tell your family you have sold your home and are making a “big move.” Big, freakin’ deal! Oh, but you’ve sold your current house for $1.89 (and threw in the furniture for good measure… including all of the antiques Aunt Bertha gave you, which you’re pretty sure were worth thousands, but it’s nice if someone outside of the family can enjoy them. You’re a giver, what can you say?). And you’re not moving into a new home, instead, you’re going to make a room at the Y your new living quarters, and to celebrate, you are going to host Thanksgiving dinner this year. Bring me the smelling salts, y’all.

2. Tell them you have sold your shares in the family business to Bubba (see # 4) and he paid you in empties, and are sinking all your remaining money in BETA video tapes, because you’re pretty sure they are going to be the next “big” thing. Dearly departed, we gather here today…

1. Move 3000 miles away from home, across the country, and six years goes by before you know it. Plan a trip back, but don’t tell anyone and just show up at their doors and surprise the shit out of them, thus inducing heart attacks and/or strokes, or at the very least, some fainting. OMG, is that really you? Get out! No way! OMG, look who’s here!

That’s exactly what I did last week – surprised my family members after six years of being away, but luckily, there was not a single heart attack or stroke! There was definite shock and the looks on their faces, priceless. It was so fun, but tiring. I functioned on about 2 or 3 hours sleep each night and with the time difference, it’s a wonder I didn’t have a stroke. Ha.

My BFF Miss Sugarpants her-talented-self did it for me. I gave her an idea of what I wanted and then said, ‘do it betch’ (we talk dirty like that to each other ALL THE TIME). And she did it! She knows me and knows what I like and I say you give her a pat on the back for her fantastic work or send her bags of twenty-dollar bills (actually you can send the bags of money to me and I’ll make sure she gets it *wink, shopping spree here I come*) – or if you need something designed, hire her! She’s worth the million bucks I had to give her. Oh I’m kidding – I just gave her a wet willy and we were even. Ha.

Oh, and I now have an Amazon Wish List, yup, it’s right over there and up, yup just click the button (is it wrong to beg?) —–> so yes, strangers can buy things for me! How awesome is that? I only have six items on my list, but I promise I’ll add to it. I want you to have choices, duh.

Thank you again Karen, I love the new me, it’s so me, pink and all. xo

And what’s more fun than purchasing a great handbag? Uh, winning one! Yes – you get a chance to win one if you go to Handbag Planet dot com! Seriously, I’m not even kidding. If you send your friends chances to win, you get more chances to win and if you blog about it, you get even more chances to win – hence the reason I’m blogging about it. I WANT TO WIN A HANDBAG FROM HANDBAG PLANET. So, go, like, now if you’re a freak like me who loves handbags and gets chills thinking about the prospect of winning one.

Anyway, my BFF called in and although she made Karl ask about my ‘raccoon meatloaf,‘ , and then I had to dish (no pun) the details, and let the world know I suck at cooking, I’ll probably still send her a Christmas gift. It’ll be a lump of coal (aka shit) but it’s the thought that counts. No, I’m kidding. She’s building me a wing at her new mansion, so I’ll at least send her a gift card from the Mercantile – maybe some fake teeth or a whoopi cushion. Hey, maybe both.

It’s Karl’s birthday next week and I’m pretty certain he said to send all birthday gifts and/or cash to me – you know, just to hold for him. I’m cool like that. I’ll post my deets later. Nothing less than a $20 mmkay? And I’m 100% positive that Karl likes silver and precious gems and designer handbags. Oh and pretty shoes. Size 6 1/2 women’s. So? He’s got small man feet – let’s not judge.

Thank you to all who joined in, in the chatroom and I appreciate losing my radio talk/phone/show virginity with such a sexy bunch. Mind you, I couldn’t actually see any of you, but I’m sweet, and will assume you are all hot. Whew, just thinking about it makes me want to have a cold shower. Rawr!

Okay, must go to bed, the butt-crack of dawn comes way too early. *Remember – it’s Karl’s birthday on September 18th but he wants you to spoil me. Aw, shucks!*

In just about two hours, I’m going to be on SecondHand Radio with Karl Erikson and we are going to have so much fun. By fun, I mean I hope I don’t bore the man and his listeners. He has no idea what he’s getting himself into.

I wanted to put my best foot forward (PUN, IT’S A PUN!) so, I am wearing my prettiest new shoes, uh, not that anyone can see me wearing them, but I’ve posted a photo of me wearing them, so you get the idea. I also flat ironed my hair (I do that anyway, so that’s not special, but shhh, don’t tell Karl) and I’ve got new lipgloss on (See my Survivor post below) and my nails are done. Again, it’s radio so you won’t see me, but I’ve given you a good descriptive idea of how I’ll look.

I have to go feed my kids now and then banish them to the – attic?, somewhere, so they’re not asking me to wait on them while I’m busy chatting and boring mesmerizing people who are nice enough to tune in. I have no topics in mind, I’m going to wing it and hopefully Karl doesn’t ask me about the “incident with the eyeshadow and pens.” Not that he’d know about the incident with the eyeshadow and pens, but incase he’s some kind of freak who can see into people’s pasts, I may have to kill him. By kill, I mean deny, deny, deny. I’ll pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about. I’ll just turn it around and make him look crazy, like he forgot his meds. Oh yes, I’m that evil. Muahahahahaa.

Show starts at 10 p.m. EDT – it’s linked above. If you call in, don’t ask me hard stuff – by that time of evening, I’m working on less than half of my brain power. Kthxbai.

Did I say 41? Silly me – I meant 26, seeing as I turned 25 last year. Duh.

You’re probably wondering what I did on my special day. Let me share the exciting details: I woke with a migraine, which, I thought, was a wicked awesome way to wake up and start the day, especially on THE DAY THAT I WAS BORN.

Then, my laptop must have been pms-ing because she (?) was slower than hell and royally pissing me off. My kids didn’t sleep in and my husband was home doing paperwork and small renovations that we are in the middle of, thus causing me to be in a funk because my usual morning routine was slightly disrupted.

None of my children or my husband realized it was my birthday – not that that’s necessarily a bad thing, because once you’re pushing the bone yard, 30, you don’t care as much as you used to about birthdays.

Around noon, my husband comes downstairs and asks me if it’s the 30th. Yes, I say. He says, really? Oh, I didn’t realize it was the 30th. So that means, IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY! Ya, great, it’s my birthday. Then each of my four kids came trickling in with their birthday wishes. My older two said it must be sad getting so old and that I must be depressed. Well I wasn’t but now that you point that shit out, sure, I’m now depressed.

My younger two then wished me a happy birthday, and then my daughter, who is a 55-year-old smartass woman in a 7-year-old’s body, says it must be awful to think you’re still young but when in reality, you’re basically old. Gee thanks. Thankfully my 12-year-old has the innocence of a angel and told me that I’m pretty. He’s definitely in my will. The other three – I’m gonna have to think about that.

I, after getting my work done, decided I’d do some house cleaning because nothing says ‘it’s your birthday and you’re special and you deserve a break’ more than sweating your ass off, dusting, mopping floors, doing toilets and cleaning the cat’s litterbox. Oh I feel like a princess!

I decided to take a nap around 4 p.m. ish as my head was about ready to explode at that point. I got a total of 12 minutes in before my kids decided that mom having a nap wasn’t acceptable and thus told me they were bored and I should really entertain them.

I got up, asked them to go play in traffic (OH I’M KIDDING) and then decided I’d get showered and do my hair, that perhaps I’d feel better. Which, surprisingly I did. And that’s the photo you see above – migraine slightly included. My husband called me – he’d left earlier in the afternoon – and asked if I’d like to go out to dinner, to which I agreed to. We ended up taking our daughter, which was fantastic because it was after 8 p.m., and by that time, she’s tired and crabby and complained the whole time we were out. It was a great way to have a nice meal – I don’t normally like WHINE with my meal but this was super. I had CHEESE with it.

I’m hoping 42, err, 27 is better.

Kthxbai.