Blog Nog

In the spirit of Christmas I wanted to write a little diddy about what I believe gets most people through the holidays...not me though, definitely not me...

To the tune of Jingle Bells (ahem, that's me clearing my throat)

Rushing to the booze
It's the smartest thing to do
Because pretty soon your drunkest aunt
Will begin to molest you

Everyone points and laughs
As she starts to rub your ass
It's much too late to realize
That half xanex won't last

You exit in a rush
Give the door a heavy push
In hopes your pie eyed cousin
Has broken up purple kush

Ohhhhh...
Booze and pills, booze and pills
Wrapped left handers too
Getting through the holidays
Do what you gotta do

(bows to applause...thank you, thank you)

Happy Holidays blogging buddies!  "Just say No" and let's hope 2011 brings me some better material...
<3 ~ SumSum

This will only hurt for a second...

I apologize for my absence...I'm super duper busy at work and that is when I blog...I'm extremely productive!  Want to hire me?

Short and sweet and completely offensive to Catholics (apologies in advance)...

I was driving home from work and I always pass a Catholic school.  This specific evening, I see the priest who is a rather young, dark haired gentlemen with a perfectly styled coif walking with a teenage boy, dressed in a basketball uniform leaving what appears to be the priest's quarters and returning to the school located across the street.  I immediately jump to the conclusion that this child has just paid his alter boy dues.  I concoct this elaborate and rather disturbing story line in my head and then make it my mission to try and get a look at the boys face.  What expression lies there...guilt, shame, sorrow, maybe even acceptance?  This seriously happened in less then 4 seconds as I passed the school.  I was completely sold that in about 5 years I am going to see this kid on A&E's Intervention that I had goose bumps for half of my hour drive home.

What does this prove?  Simply that the scene in Basketball Diaries where Coach Swifty tries to touch Jim's nugs in the locker room has made every grown man with a perfectly side swept, lacquered hairstyle accompanied with a high school age basketball player a pedophile.  Completely reasonable...

Do you want to piss me off?

Here is how...

• Drive with your blinker on.  You can't hear the tick tick tick of your blinker because I'm not even in your car but because I see the light flashing my brain is making the fucking tick tick tick sound!?!
• Talk to me while I'm eating chips.  I can't fucking hear you over the crispy crunchy deliciousness of these fried potatoes so you are just going to have to repeat yourself which also pisses me off...
• Saying something multiple times before you answer me and then suggest that I might be mumbling...I don't know how to mumble!  I am the loudest, most obnoxious chick on the planet!
• Question me on why I didn't do A, B or C task when I was never even asked to do those tasks in the first place and then I have to spend the next 20 minutes searching my archive e-mails to prove I was never given those tasks.  Productivity at it's finest right there!
• Make me explain why my last comment or joke or obscure statement is funny which I will have to do  when you don't laugh at the appropriate time, or look at me with a "huh?" face...you are a fucking idiot obviously and my humor is that of a genius (think Rain Man)
• Yell at me on the highway when you are the one driving like Helen Keller...if Helen Keller had dementia.

All of the above things have happened to me TODAY!  TO-fucking-DAY and it is barely past noon!  So, ask me how I am doing today.

How to piss me off...cont.

• Ask me how I am doing in a real cheery, happy to be alive, dripping with positivity voice when it is apparent that my day sucks donkey ass...and yes, it sucks an ass's ass.

Intervention, here I come...

I was absolutely prepared to write about something awesome and hilarious and completely embarrassing but after this article I decided to quit drinking and take up heroin...for health reasons and the safety of those I care about. 

It's a black tar party!

Now I am too busy falling asleep to, passing out in a heroin induced coma, watching Basketball Diaries for hooker inspiration (either from Juliette Lewis or the Sweet Valley High twins) and figuring out which family member I'm going to steal from to get my next fix.

Thank goodness I gave up booze...

Too lazy to drink...

It's getting colder outside and a new personality is starting to emerge...Slumber.  I'm so lazy!  I think it's apparent considering my awesome blogs have been very sporadic.  I figured today I'd spew a couple of different things I've been thinking of writing about but haven't because...stretch...yawn...sleepy time... 

So, a friend shared a story about another friend attempting to sext with his wife for the first time...he initiates the convo and although I'm not sure exactly what he said I can imagine it went like this...
Friend of friend ~ "when I get home I am going to oil up those titties and watch the oil droplets bounce off your chin while I give it to you"
Wow, I'm pretty good at this!  Don't tell my husband...  Anyway, he is all in and ready to get down and dirty with some super hot sexting action when his wife replies, "yes, I will rub your penis and testes"
SCREECHING HALT!
Better luck next time buddy...and after this story my first thought was your wife is a nurse but she isn't.  I think the point of this story is we should leave the sexting to the tweens.

I'm leaving work the other day and need to piddle before my hour long commute.  I am a first stall user because at some point in my life I read or over heard or dreamt that the first stall is used least and therefore usually the cleanest.  So, I arrive to my landing post and it looks like someone was murdered in there!  WARNING it's about to get gross...there was blood smeared all over the back of the toilet.  How does that even happen?  Seriously!?!  Women bleed out of their vag hole so someone please tell me how it would be physically possible to sit on a toilet and leave smears of blood at the back of the seat.  These thoughts followed me all the way home...I am still dying to know how 1) it happened and 2) this person didn't see the trail of death they left behind.  Thanks alot you dirty, bloody bitch for ruining my first stall theory...

Okay...Slumber is kicking in so that's all I got for now (yawn).  Sorry if you were eating lunch during this post...or maybe I shouldn't be sorry because you're on a diet and I just stopped you from eating that whole plate of cheese fries...in that case YOU'RE WELCOME!

Reality Bites...not a movie review

I've been in a bit of a funk...I'm not walking around writing "life sucks" on my thighs with a sharpie marker or anything but I've realized that aging is not only adding crows feet, laugh lines and gunt flab but it is also stealing my magical gift of making things happen.  I've practiced 'The Secret' way before someone wrote a book telling everyone that it was a secret, and newsflash it's no fucking secret.  You think positive things and believe things will happen and they just do...at least, they used to.  Have I lost you yet?  Yeah I'm a bowl full of sense and positive energy right now...eat it up!
Let me explain...In the past if I've wanted something badly enough, truly believed with all my might that it was going to happen and played it out in my head it usually turned out the way I wanted it to.  I've always thought of it as a tricky little power I have over the universe.  Yes, I am that delusional.  Anyway, for one of the first times in my life the outcome was not at all as I perceived it to be. 
Umm, hello universe...it's SumSum...we aren't friends anymore???
So now what?  Is someone else in charge here because I don't roll to the beat of anyone else's drum!?!  I have even said OUT LOUD, "If people would just do exactly as I say things would run a lot more smoothly around here"...I was greeted with the response, "You'd love that wouldn't you?"  Umm yeah, I would...that's probably why I said it!
Anyway, ADD is kicking in...so is my special power gone?  Has it been eaten away by the bitterness of reality and I'm not some powerful, ESPN having specimen of magic that causes things to happen with my thoughts???  Perhaps I'm not but could it be it's not the bitterness that has sucked it away, or aging that is causing me to lose it rather I'm a batty, ape shit crazy egomaniac that has now realized that the world doesn't spin on an axis called SumSum and sometimes you don't get the job, or the promotion, or walk out of your sister's wedding to see the dude of your dreams waiting outside leaning on his car (oh, Jake Ryan...) and it has nothing to do with how hard you prayed or how much you fantasized about getting the call saying, "YOU WIN!  WE CHOOSE YOU!!!"...sometimes SHIT HAPPENS!
Wait...what am I saying??? Obviously things didn't turn out the way I wanted them too because I am dealing with a bunch of retards that can't tell a diamond from a turd...yeah, that has to be it.  Now, I'm imagining having Panera for lunch...get busy on that request universe!
 

You can take back the bra burning but I'm keeping the weed...

Today a WOF shared that maybe she should go back to working on Fridays because she feels it's not fair that precious husband and father of her children is working seven days straight and they are just making ends meet.  Verbatim:  "I know I'm being selfish but I truly love dropping off and picking up my daughter from kindergarten one day a week and it's nice to be able to have some mom and son alone time while she is at school"
This thoroughly pissed me off...selfish?  It's selfish to want to stay home and spend quality mumma time with your children one freakin' weekday?  Selfish because you should be working 50+ hours a week rather than providing your children with SAHM stability and consistency?
As a working mother that's one of the many things you feel though...am I pulling my own weight financially?  Is my boss not going to give me that bonus/promotion because Skippy has chicken pox (again)?  Is my kid going to be a 15 year old Emo cutter writing poetry about how mommy was never there???  Am I going to make it through another year not being addicted to speed because I don't have energy for it all?
I never asked for this...I don't want to be an equal partner.  I want to stay home with my kids and clean the house and make sure the dinner is on the table and still warm to prevent a good backhand from the husband.  I want to have play groups and walking groups and book clubs and recipe swaps with other mommies while all of our kids play out in the backyard.  I want June Cleaver...with highballs.

I am not in a position to have that luxury so I will continue to say, "You know, I'm just not the type of person that would be truly happy at home all day and that is why I work".  Bullshit!  I work because I have to...I work because someone had a great idea that I should go to college and make as much as a man and have all the same responsibilities as a man. 
That really bit us in the ass though didn't it?  Yeah, we have all the same opportunities as a man but in addition need to raise law abiding citizens who don't eat fast food every night who say please and thank you and don't  upper cut other children on the playground and have clean clothes and good smelling hair and trimmed nails all while ironing our work suit...oh, and make sure not to spank them because then they'll be druggie alcoholics. AWESOME!
Good lookin' out gals from the 60's!!!  

is it awkward...yes, now it is.

I was sitting, lying, passing out on the couch last night watching the Real World...I've been hooked since Andre, Becky, Eric, Heather B, Julie, Kevin, Norman...that's the cast of season one from 1992 for all you baybay's who follow.  Anyway I digress, during the commercial break a PSA of sorts comes on with a group of gals traveling around the country to talk to "famous and normal girls just like us about their periods"...What do we need to talk about?  Are periods uncomfortable to talk about?  Do gals exist that really don't know you can run and jump and even swim (GASP!) while wearing a tampon? 

How about I sum it up for everyone here...feel free to print this out and share with your daughters.

At some point you will start to hemorrhage from your vagina.  When it first happens you will freak out, your mom might cry and then your grandma will give you a card welcoming you to womanhood and all of your aunts will look at you with their head tilted to the side wearing a sympathetic smile. 

You will be frightened at the thought of shoving a cotton swab attached to a string in a place that only pee comes out and will resort to wearing a pad, be thankful it's no longer connected to a belt or something you wash and have to reuse.  Sooner or later though you'll be invited to a pool party during that blessed week (or two) and you'll have to go ahead and insert that cardboard applicator.  Don't worry, there are awesome pictorial instructions included in each Tampax box.  Plus, if your mom isn't a menopausal bitch by this point she can break it down in real talk. 

NO, the tampon will not break your hymen...the senior that takes you to prom as a freshman will definitely try though.  It's not embarrassing or weird but it is a tremendous pain in the ass (NOTE-the tampon does not go in your ass...exit only you freak!) and comes at the worst times.  Please, please, please shower every day (if you don't regularly) while you are menstruating (aka on your period, ragging, aunt flo is visiting, T.O.M., bleeding like a stuck pig that just won't die...okay I made that last one up).  Another good tip for once your sexually active is you might want to take that tampon out before you get busy and if you are too embarrassed to tell the dude your boning that you have a tampon in then might I suggest you keep practicing abstinence darlin'.  In addition, if you don't take my advice and ride that pony with your bloody cork don't ask your friend to try and find it with a flashlight the next day...M Kay?

So, there you have it MTV...looks like I've successfully handled the awkward period topic so let's move on to more pressing topics like how not to look like a 20 year old slut when you are 14. 

of course it is...

I was driving home and this chick driving a big monster truck drove up along side of me...

This truck was soooooo loud, obnoxiously loud, and the whole time I was at the stop light next to her I was irritated.  Who drives a truck like that?  Why is it necessary to irritate everyone else with your ridiculous noisy vehicle?  I hated this chick and if I were Inspector Gadget I would have used my go-go gadget arm to punch her in the throat!

As she pulled away the sound didn’t fade in the distance with her. It was right at that moment I realized it was my truck…the muffler fell off.  So, I punched myself in the throat...

Introducing Scummer...

If you read regularly then you'll know Scummer is my alter-ego.  She is quite possibly the most annoying chick on the planet but everyone loves when she decides to make an appearance...well, everyone with a vagina or anyone who does not have a wedding ring tattooed on their finger that matches my own.  In essence, my husband hates her & my friends and creepy single dudes love her and usually egg her on.  Truth be told, she doesn't need egging...
I thought the best way to explain her is through photos...

This is Scummer in the making...the yellow cup and straw are usually a dead giveaway that she is revving up for an appearance.  Innocent bystanders or gals who have not yet been acquainted have no idea what they are in for. 

Uh-Oh...sure tells Scummer has arrived; someone is fondling her, alcoholic substance in hand, the fucking duck face and she has aged about 60 years...

Don't be fooled by the sweet faces surrounding Scummer, they have all had a hand in her demise and point and laugh as she becomes what we like to refer to as "a situation".  Also, don't be fooled with how together Scummer looks in this photo, she has no idea where she is. 




















But what she does know is she wants a sandwich...and when she gets hungry...

She ATTACKS!

and then goes to sleep...

Oh Scummer, until next time...

Special thanks to a small little valley who made Scummer's appearance possible and to all those who met her for the first time last Saturday, she meant no harm...or did she???

I'd like to thank the little people...

Look!  I got another one of those people not related to me actually read my blog and like it awards!  A chick who I bet has 20/20 vision and can leap buildings in a single bound gave it to me...go check her out at The Opto-Mom.

The first thing I did was google the word versatile because maybe I don't want to own up to being a Versatile Blogger.  The definition read - with many uses: able or meant to be used in different ways as well as changeable: subject to rapid or unpredictable change.  So basically I'm an unpredictable nut case that is meant to be chewed up and spit out or rode hard and put away wet.  Heck yes, that is totally me!!!  So, thank you Opto-Mom!  I have never received a better compliment...

Part of the rules are I have to pass the award on to bloggers I also think are versatile.  I am drawn to folks of this nature:

Yo Mama's Blog - I originally visited this gal because I was surprised to find out my mom had a blog, turns out it's not really my mom...
Wait in the Van - This is one stranger that I would actually get in their van...and wait.
The Un-Mom - She introduced me to random thoughts and a weekday called Tuesday...
Red Means Go - Quite possibly the funniest chick on the information superhighway, also she is not above whoring herself out for fame and that's admirable.
Just Getting Going - She is newer to the blog scene and apparently if I ever get kidnapped I need to provide the po-po her scar history and breast size, good to know!
The Bloggess - This gal is pretty much the cat's ass of blogging...

I think you will see a theme here...anxious alcoholics hiding behind a computer screen and all pretty much AWESOME!

I also need to share 5 random things about myself...
This is starting to feel like work...

1. I bought a pair of jeggings - for those who don't know those are jean leggings, I know, that's just ridiculous, but I try to camouflage my gut by putting the focus on my chicken legs.
2. I tried them on for my husband and his reply was, "we are watching too much Jersey Shore"
3. I wore them for the fist time this weekend and at the first bar we stopped at a tear across my upper thigh neighboring my coochie occurred...by tear I mean gapping hole.
4. I contemplated just cutting them off into shorts, Sammi Sweetheart style.
5. I do watch too much Jersey Shore.

Ahh well, I bet none of those guidette bitches have won a versatile blogger award!  Boo-Ya!

Blog Block...

I haven't written because nothing that horrifying has really happened to me recently...there is usually a clam before my shit storms (that may or may not be literal) so expect great things in the months to come.
I get anxiety when things are going well, I'm getting even more anxiety writing that things are going well (knocks on wood, crushes xanex and injects directly into blood stream). 

ED. NOTE - above should read "a calm before the storm" but when I read the typo "clam" it made me laugh so I'm totally leaving it because if you think of your nether region dynamic there is a clam in front of where shit storms occur...think about it; now moving on...

Things that are coming up which may result in a mental crash and burn...and better posts (no promises)
My dad's one year death anniversary - recognizing the day of death makes absolutely no sense to me, the local paper (& my mom) says it's completely necessary though.  Hi, remember that day last year that sucked worse than when your parents told you your dog and at the time best friend forever "ran away" well write a poem about it and then we will charge you over $100 dollars to print it...oh, you want a picture?  Add another $50, and sorry for your loss sucka...
My oldest starts pre-school - crash coming from the fact that my babies are becoming boys who soon will be asshole men (no way out of that one), burn coming from when he decides preschool isn't really his bag mainly because other kids are there and he is the only child on the planet (that matters).  He totally gets that from his dad...
I've gained 10 pounds and start not eating tomorrow because I have a party where I will attempt to bring sexy back...but probably just Scummer will make an appearance and I'll be loud, obnoxious, a severe pain in the ass to other party goers and super fat (not to be confused with Phat).
More money is about to come out of my account and less money coming in, just in time for Christmas...

Hmm, really glad I started focusing on the horrendous events to come...now I'm super depressed (stirs anti-depressant into red wine glass).  Just kidding, I'm at work and don't have a glass of red wine...more like chewed up anti-depressant and washed it down with cough syrup.

Drugs are getting a raw deal...

People start a war on them.
People raid places that house them.
People stash them so their niece/nephew won't steal them.

What did drugs ever do?  They are just sitting quietly in your medicine cabinet, old coca-cola tin or bejeweled pill box wanting to make you happy, or help you sleep, or take away the feeling you are going to barf every time you have a family reunion to attend.  Heck, they even make some people less annoying.  Isn't it people that abuse drugs???  Let's just wipe out the population giving drugs a bad name!
This train of thought got me thinking about the different types of drugs and how they form.  Do you know that magic mushrooms sprout from cow dung?  Who is all, "let's save cows...cows are so cute and we shouldn't make them into big, juicy, delicious burgers?"  The vegetarians!  So, I am starting a new war against vegetarians because I think it's obvious they are behind the people abusing drugs...

Copy cat blogger...

I've noticed there is a rash of blogs where people tell a little about themselves and what made them the way they are today...considering my favorite topic happens to be me and whatever conversation you are having I eventually circle back to me (it's a gift really) I am going to totally copy because originality is exhausting.

Please do not confuse copy cat blogger with copy cat killer, even though Ted Bundy had some really good ideas...

My dad stuck his shaft in a popcorn box at the drive-in back in the 70's and my mom fell madly in love.  They were married after my dad un-married his first wife (kinda blew it with that chain of events dad)...they did the horizontal tango and this happened...

I became more and more adorable...

I discovered boys and one chap in particular immediately knew I was going places...

I also discovered alcohol, Felix the Cat, Children's Gardens, Candy Kids and a little group lovingly referred to as The Friday Night Posse...memories were made, brain cells were fried.

This was also when Scummer emerged...my co-pilot who takes the wheel when I'm not going to remember anything the next morning.  Many have met her but often times you don't know until it's too late.  She bites and she wrestles and she talks too loud and stands way too close.  I have a soft spot in my heart for her but my husband does not...mainly because when she shows up it means at the end of the night he will be carrying dead weight from the vehicle to the bed.

Oops, skipping ahead...remember that dude who stalked me in high school...err, I mean, knew I was going places...well, we got hitched.  After one engagement fail and a "break" I tricked him into believing that I would be the best thing that would ever happen to him...SUCKER!

He knocked me up...not once, but twice...

If it looks painful, it's because it was...I had one child rip his way out of my vagina (4th degree tear, 100 stitches and the doctor actually mentioned at one point he was rebuilding my sphincter) and the other was surgically removed from my gut....They are wild, in every sense of the word, and definitely all mine my husbands.

 

I love my girls...

I love beer...

I love boys who dress as girls...

I love supporting chicks through medical school...one dollar at a time...

I love The Hoff...

I love being AWESOME...

and ranting...

and most of all I LOVE LOVE LOVE the Craziness that is MY LIFE...most days, some days, today, at the time I wrote this post...

Thanks for being a part of it!  For that, YOU ARE AWESOME!

WT"f" book...and other birthday ridiculousness

We had a birthday bash this past weekend and as I was torching my home and rebuilding it so all my guests would think I was super organized and clean my mom and I came across this in my son's room... 

Not appropriate Scholastic...but look at how excited my mom is about it!  They were really off on the age range for this book.

We had a water slide at the birthday bash and it didn't take long before some freak nasty adults decided to take the plunge.  Beer may or may not have been involved...it was a kid party isn't booze a necessity???

Yes, one of those freaks is me and yes, we are holding hands as we slippety doo dah down to the pool of death (it was scary) and no, children were not harmed or completely mortified during this debacle...at least that is what we are telling ourselves.

It was a good party, my body still hurts from all the good that went down...and apparently my husband and I need to have a talk...

Blind item...it's about poop!

I have been thinking since I heard this story how I was going to write about it and not completely humiliate the subject matter...hence, we have the blind item.  I know this person, hell you might know this person but we aren't going to worry too much with the who, just the what and the how and where we are now...it is not me, please if it were I would totally own it because I live for self degradation.
Picture this, you are in a desolate forest and it is hot...sweat dripping down your crack hot and all of a sudden you feel that gurgle in your gut that says, "Hi, I'm in your guts now but in 2.2 seconds I will travel through your intestine and out your bung hole...ready, set, GO!"  You start making your way back to your vehicle in a butt clenching trot hoping to drive to the nearest Johnny on the Spotty (you're an optimist) when it becomes very, VERY apparent that you need to pooh and you need to do it NOW!  You rummage through your floor boards looking for anything to handle what is about to escape...used napkins, a random sock from who knows when, a lone baby wipe now dried of it's previous moist state...ANYTHING!  You rush into the weeds, hidden from society, and you let it all go.  It's just you, a dried baby wipe and the Hershey squirts...and what happens the next day when you wake up?
You have poison ivy...because Mother Nature is a bitch!

Conversation with someone who cares:

You (but not really you, come on people let's follow along) - I had to go, there was nothing I could do!

Me (really me, I'm the one that cares) - So you crapped in their yard?

You - Yes, but I was miles away from civilization.  No one will ever know what went down there...

Me - Did you lean up against a tree?

You - No, just got one hell of a thigh work out.

Me - Yeah, I noticed your thighs were looking pretty tone
You - ...and that's how I got poison ivy.
Me - when your bum starts a seepin' poison ivy comes a'creepin' arou-ou-ou-ou-ou-ound

I would like to thank my mom for having bi-polar disorder...

I won something freak nasty followers!!!!  Look at me!  I SAID LOOK AT ME!!! (clapping and jumping up and down in excitement but careful not to give myself a black eye Dolly Parton style)!  I have been waiting months for someone in blog land and not related or who I am paying for friendship to say, "Hey SumSum, I noticed you and you're kind of funny...you must have some sort of mood disorder"  and guess what?  Somebody freakin' did!

To check out who currently is in the lead as the President (& also a client) of my FAN CLUB, go here:
http://www.likeshessomebody.com/2010/07/frisky-feedback-friday-winners.html

All you other bitches better step up your game and tell me how awesome I am quick or it is OVER...well, not really, but let's just pretend I am really serious. 

I can help get you started.  SumSum is awesome because...(you fill in the rest!)

Don't hate the playa...

I love playing games...mind games, make believe games, pretending I like you when I think you are a total bitch because we work together and I can't tell you to go eff yourself because I don't have another job yet games and now...blogger games.  This one comes from two gals who are funny and more importantly like to drink. 
I tell you three things, two of which are the truth and one is a lie.  You have to guess what is a lie and I tell you which is which next Thursday and you can win a BIG PRIZE!  Big Prize = A signed picture of me.  See?  Isn't this going to be FUN!?! 
This is going to be rather difficult as I am pretty sure there are some of you reading that have thoroughly dissected all of the skeletons in my closet and also the fact that I am terrible at keeping my own secrets.  Here we go...

1. I don't "hate" anyone because "hate is murder in the heart"
2. I have never murdered anyone with my bare hands
3. I can't stand that people read my blog and don't sign up as a follower and therefore I am only at 20 something people in my blogger fan club.  Newsflash people ~ popularity contests didn't end in high school!

Random Tuesday - You smell like rum...

While driving out to our date night I noticed a cloud that looked just like an alligator so I got excited and said, "oh Todd, look an alligator".  He saw it as well and responded, "and you aren't even on drugs..." I am not sure as I am typing that today really how to take that because I haven't done drugs in like a week...kidding family members who read this, it's been more like two weeks and they were all prescribed by a doctor to someone.

The family went to the Expo this weekend (it's a carnival where the freaks come out and not just at night)... Ryser and I decided to ride this haunted house suicidal crate thing that ended up breaking down right in the middle of the ride in the pitch dark.  Ryser starts whispering, "mumma, let's get outa here..."  Then Crazy Carnie finally emerges and starts to push us out into the light.  The whole time he is moaning and making these awful orgasm noises right at the back of my neck with his cheap rum skank breath enveloping me and my innocent son...I am giggling and keep asking, "do you want us to just walk out?"..."are you sure you don't want us to get out?"..."please for the love of God I'm getting drunk from your breath"..."LET ME OFF THIS F'G RIDE!!!!"  That last part wasn't said because I don't say F'G in front of my son (on purpose) but none the less he finally released us and we walked out and then Ryser and I got cotton candy to forget about that horrendous experience.  Lesson ~ Drunk Orgasmic Carnies are easily forgotten with Fairy Floss...

Right after we ate our cotton candy we went to let the boys ride on this train and the toothless ticket taker said it was off the track...Todd then looked at me and said that if two things are broken it might be a good sign that this isn't the safest family outing...the boys were upset at first until we went through Dairy Queen.  That's how we handle family crisis...eat it Dobson!

4th meal...

If it's 2:25am and you are ordering 8 different menu items at Taco Bell while your spouse is passed out in the passenger seat it probably means 1) you're fat, 2) you must need to crap, 3) you should not be driving.  If it's 8:30am that next morning and upon entering the vehicle in which you had the slop fest it smells like Mexico (not the tourist sections) and you locate 3 of the listed 4 soft tacos in the side door and under your seat it probably means 1) you weren't really that hungry to order almost $15 dollars worth of refried bean, 2) you have diarrhea because you did eat the 5 other items listed and 3) you have given up booze once again until the next time you rope your parent and in laws into an overnight visit with your boys.
Might I add that I had never eaten a Mexican Pizza or a Quesadilla from Taco Bell before this caloric debacle.  Might I also add that I didn't want a freakin' Chicken Soft Taco, I wanted a Chicken Grilled Stufft Burrito and that was all I was supposed to order and then, well, 8 completely different items happened.  That must be how Kate Gosselin felt...

Hugs at work...

I'm a hugger, habitual if you will...I specifically like touching and hugging people that I know hate to be touched or hugged.  I have a certain WOF (work only friend) that cringes every time I rub her arm which makes me want to touch her even more.  So I invented B.O.B (boob on boob action).  This is the most obscene, unprofessional, and awkward hug you can give someone at work.  The next time one of your own WOF's start to complain that they are overworked, underpaid, underappreciated and hate their boss ask them if they need B.O.B.  They will then ask, "what's B.O.B.?"   Don't you dare tell them...just introduce them accordingly.  Walk over to your WOF, go in for a proper hug making sure your boobs are directly on top of their boobs and squeeze.  I like to also add a swivel motion, really grinding my boobs into their boobs.  Most people upon their first B.O.B. experience will shove you away in embarrassment and disgust but believe me they'll come back for more...they always do.  Just today, my WOF shared with me that they had to put their dog down over the holiday weekend and of course I gave her the longest, hardest B.O.B. I could.  She said, "Okay, that's enough" several times but I don't let go until I feel it's enough.  In fact, the next time I see you, I am going to B.O.B. you so hard it will make your head explode.
Until then...

H.Q.B.I.C. - Random Tuesday

Friday started out with a random little carpenter ant in my kitchen that was immediately squashed by my super cute black mary jane...then I noticed that this carpenter ant wasn't so random because they were ALL OVER MY FUCKING FLOOR.  Like, everywhere!  So, I began shuffle ball changing all over my kitchen stomping out the colonized bastards as I'm yelling to my husband, "get the kids...they are everywhere, go get ant killer, oh my gawd they are EVERYWHERE!"  My son in the background reminding me, "mom, we don't say Gawd..."  He couldn't hear me pronounce the W.  I may have squealed at this point I'm not sure and don't judge.  What would you have done if you were standing in your kitchen where you make PB&J's in heart shapes for your children staring down one of these...

Those are PINCHERS people!!!!  Ready and willing to rip apart my flesh and drag pieces of my sweet skin to their wicked little queen bitch which could totally happen if by some freak accident during my murderous dance routine I fell and cracked my head on the utensil drawer knocking myself clean out.  I would lay there paralyzed as they took me bit by bit in a single file line to the one they worship.

Whoa, whoa...settle down there friend.  Everything is fine.  I sprayed the entire house down with insecticide made special for ants (it said it was safe and had little children's drawings on it to prove that point so it must be true!)  The next day I woke up and none of the family had any bites or the beginning of flesh eating disease so all is right with the world...or so I thought.  Once my mother heard of Friday's events she begins to explain that these ants will eat my house from the inside out hence why they are carpenters.  So, apparently these guys have tool belts and everything and they are in the wood on my home just taking things apart bit by bit and presenting it to their head bitch in charge, the queen of their colony.  So, guess who comes today?  Terminex you pinching, wood eating, pillaging, flesh eating, dancing mumma murdering bastards!!  Who is the Head Queen Bitch In Charge now M'fers!!!!  Mwah ah ah...

    

Backhanded Samaritan...

This weekend I watched for the first time Pay it Forward.  It's a cute little flick about an alcoholic mother (most of us can relate), a deformed face teacher and a son who is going to make the world a better place three people at a time.  That really sums up the entire movie so don't put it in your Netflix queue.
This morning, on my way to work and very late as usual I see a young gentleman walking down the side of a rather busy street carrying a gas can with a baby carrier and a very small toddler on a make shift leash.  I drive by like everyone else on their morning commute and begin arguing with myself that I should turn around.  That stupid movie from the weekend urging me to do something nice for this father.  Also how can I as a mother, in good conscience, allow these small babies to be put in harm's way walking down the shoulder of this road?  I put on my blinker and make a U-turn.  This is when every freaking e-mail I have ever received about the newest gang initiation starts flooding my thoughts...the baby carrier is actually empty but filled with some kind of hallucinogenic drug that will make me pass out and this guy will take me in as a prisoner and make me his Kizzie, or I will reach for the gas can and a hypodermic needle with AIDS blood on it will poke me and I will re-live Philadelphia only I won't have a super hot stud like Antonio Banderas to help me put make-up on my scabs, even worse the guy will ask me to stay with his children while he goes and gets gas and he never comes back and I am then left with two more young toddlers when the ones I have are eating away at my sanity.  I pull my vehicle in front of the threesome and ask the obvious, "you need gas?"  I suffer from brilliance...he murmurs "yes" and my head is chanting "rapist, rapist, rapist" but I take my chances and grab the gas can and explain I'll go get his gas and for him to take those babies back to his vehicle (which is very well suited for kidnapping a naive 30 something mother of two).  Fast forward to my drive back to the car with the full can...I call my husband and explain I am helping some dude with two babies and give him a full description of my future captor and describe the car where I will be held for months putting lotion on my skin and as I'm pulling over I do so in a way so I can give him the license plate number.  I get out, preparing for the worst and hand the gas can to the young father.  Not wanting to sound entirely corny and say to him "pay it forward" because he must know I just watched the movie and that is most of the reason I am doing this in the first place I instruct him to, "do something nice for somebody else".
There you have it, my first attempt at making the world a better place.  Eat that Haley Joel Osment!  To the dude on the side of the road, sorry I thought you wanted to kidnap me and make a pretty suit from my flesh.  Pay it Forward!

It's been a while...

This plate directs those that pull behind it to "NVESTIT".  Now, I am not an expert on motorized vehicles but if I am going to take financial advice from a license plate I think it should probably be from a car a little more on the expensive side.  If this plate was attached to say a Bentley then perhaps I would have arrived at work and immediately revised my 401k portfolio but dude, you are driving a Pontiac GTO.  It would be different if this was the GTO The Beach Boys sang about but no, it still has that new car smell you can tell.  Maybe I am way off base here and what this guy is trying to say is that instead of pissing his money away on frivolous things like hot rod road hogs he chose to purchase a more feminine, economical, glorified Cavalier.  Which leads me to an entirely different topic.  Some cars should only be driven by the female population and I am going to add the Pontiac GTO made in a year that begins with a 20 to that list.  So, if you consider yourself a manly dude that is single and ready to mingle consider this a free PSA:

1. Pontiac Sunfire - this car is the biggest offender in my book but if yours is purple you might need to turn in your man card or just come out already.
2. Cavalier - the only time you should drive this is if it belongs to the chick you are dating and it doesn't make a difference if you have a garter hanging from the rearview.
3. VW Bug - old school or the newer version with the cute little flower vase on the dash, run away
4. Pontiac GTO that currently still has a warranty
5. Dodge Neon - over sized roller skate, seriously
6. Geo - any make or model and you shouldn't even be able to fit in one unless your last name is Roloff
7. Mini Van of any shape or size and you are not either a) married, b) a dad or c) working at a daycare

So fellas, if you are starting any of the above engines and have hopes of getting laid in the near future you need to place a 'RENTAL' sticker on the side and explain to any potential wifey that your super charged, super manly, hot rod from heaven is in the shop because it keeps breaking down from pure awesomeness.

so now what...

I have found myself becoming more and more addicted to people and their blogs...I tend to have that addictive personality you hear about on A&E's intervention.  It truly is a miracle I never ended up some pimped out junkie.  Thankfully, most of my addiction need has been filled by being obnoxious, drinking (that's at least legal) and stalking people I have never or will ever meet.  There are some truly brilliant people on the internets.  I ask you to visit some of the blogs I follow, you will not be disappointed!  I also find that all of these funny people are also walking a fine line between normal and completely out of their fucking minds and that has been very reassuring.  I may have even teared up a little reading http://yo-mamasblog.blogspot.com/2010/06/this-post-is-kind-of-serious-i-threw-in.html this morning.  Either because I may be having these same emotional issues or I am a giant pussy.  Note - I AM a giant pussy not my pussy is giant, thank you very much.  So this leaves me with the question of what do I do about it?  I'm riding an emotional roller coaster ride to crazy and although I'm safely buckled in I am throwing very sharp objects at the innocent bystanders which just happen to be my sweet family (I am exxagerating a little bit here on the sweet part).  I remember one morning, I think I was about 8 or 9 and I awoke to my mom, red faced in anger, screaming at the top of her lungs; "WHERE IS MY FUCKING PIC"  (pic-as in hair comb for permed or naturally curly locks).  I never used her FUCKING PIC nor did I know where it was but at 6am in the morning I had to now make finding that pic my one goal in life so everyone could calm down.  Chanting begins...I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and, doggonit, people like me!  Damn you Stuart Smalley!  Now, where is my wallet...uh oh.

Fondly ~ SumSum

There's a pity party here, a pity party there, wave your hands in the air, shake your derriere...

PLEASE NOTE - this is my random Tuesday post but apparently Big Brother and the Inner Party were completely against any illegal trafficking over the Internets yesterday...that, or my time machine just began working and if that's the case here I come Woodstock!!!!!

I don't feel random today...in fact I'm having one of those really awesome days where your mind let's you know that you are getting ready to have your period...have it or release it, I'm not sure the best term but I'm moody and may have cried a couple times just this morning.  I wonder if I can get my hands on one of those wire hangers for a back alley hysterectomy.  Dear hormonal imbalances, it's not working out...

I drank myself to sleep last night (one fish bowl did the trick so don't worry family, my alcoholic doppelganger scummer is not coming back into town) and never put the load of laundry I had sitting on the couch in the washer.  When I awoke this morning and saw the basket of clothes I thought they were clean...needless to say I am wearing A LOT of body spray today. 

I am doused in a body spray titled Pure Seduction...The bottle states I'll imagine I am standing in a lush garden of sensual fragrance but to be honest there is nothing lush or sensual about the fragrance I am emitting.  This is garbage chic at it's finest people...

The turtle is still alive and I'm actually starting to like the little bugger.  He has been the easiest to care for...he doesn't scratch at the back door to go out or whine because he hasn't eaten in a couple of days, will these kids ever give me a break?

We are having a party for my youngest son in July and my mom asked if there was anything I still needed.  I shared my list of still needs and then added, "Oh you know what else?  I need water balloons!"  To which she responded, "I can definitely get those.  They have a huge bag of them at the dollar store...they are called water balloons."  Yes mom, yes they are...

Fondly ~ SumSum

Am I in 1984?

Big Brother is obviously keeping a watchful eye on my internet voyages and has certainly sabotaged my afternoon blogging.  I don't understand what the big deal is...sure, I am clearly not obeying the electronic communications policy set forth in the employee handbook but it's not like I'm the one knee deep in porn (today).  I'm not the one sending love e-mails to the married person I'm having a lucid affair with in another department (yes, that is really happening and it is as juicy as it sounds).  I'm not spending 20 minutes 3+ times each day in the handicap stall suffering from wicked IBS (we have code words for when not to enter the facilities; RED=do not enter/PINK=subtle shat scent/CLEAR=proceed with your own dump).  I'm not traveling from cubicle to cubicle spreading my halitosis around the entire floor (I really think this person has a serious medical condition and their breath is screaming a warning to deaf ears).  I'm certainly not the one sitting at my desk all day picking at acne on my neck and then going into the kitchen to grab cookies brought in for the whole office (no one touched the casserole this person brought in during the Christmas pot luck).  I blog and if that's a crime, damn it, sue me but don't fire me because as much as I don't want to admit it I need this gig...at least until Andy Samberg stumbles upon my blog and wants me to write the follow up to Dick in a Box, Twat in a Tote.

Fondly ~ SumSum

How not to make an asshole...

I have no special instructions on such an accomplishment but rather this is a call for advice.  How does one make a boy child turn into a grown ass man without the hole?  Don't get me wrong, my guy is better than average (that's in case he reads this) but like most men has random and sometimes extended stays into assholedness.   Sometimes I push him to it and some days he just takes the trip there on his own.  From what I find 99.9% of women can say the same.  Sometimes they are selfish assholes, absent assholes, deaf assholes, worthless assholes, polio ridden assholes, drunk assholes, dumb assholes but all with one thing in common ASSHOLES.  So, if it is common knowledge that most (if not all) men are assholes then how do I make sure my sweet little baby boys don't wind up with the same nickname whispered by their wives as she takes another load of laundry up the stairs as he sits and watches UFC 1500?  I think it's impossible, all of our sons will wind up being assholes.  We won't think they are just like our MIL's don't think their sons are but they will be.  So, instead of a call for advice I guess this has progressed into an apology to my future daughter in laws.  I'm sorry that you are such bitches that drive my sweet baby boys into assholedness.  Maybe if you would serve dinner a little bit warmer next time or rub his feet before bed he wouldn't treat you like the son stealing twat that you are.

Fondly ~ SumSum

Tuesday can suck a big fat...

It's already Tuesday...hmm, one week closer to death or if you're the positive type another day to live life to the fullest (barf).

I was told back in middle school by a very trusting OUIJA board that I would die at 19 in a car accident.  I guess I got one over on Satan because I'm still busting a move in my early 30's...come and get me Lucifer.  Something doesn't feel right about taunting the devil...WWJD? 

Well, in addition to deflated boobs, rippled belly and peeing a little every time I jump on the trampoline after my two pregnancies I have acquired allergies.  I don't know if being pregnant can create allergies but I am going to blame it on my spawn.  Those little bastards!  My nose is leaking like a broken faucet, I've been sneezing 7 to 10 times a day, and my eyes are itchy and watery.  I feel like a freakin' Claritan commercial.  Uggh, I want my pre-baby self back only let me keep the babies...although I do pump my fist in aggravation at the things they do driving me to break down and ask the doctor for xanex, I do love the little buggers and think they are awesome!  Someday, Ryser and Hudson, when you  are reading this that should make your heart smile.  You're welcome!

I'm wondering if I buy running shoes I will actually start running...I'll keep asking myself that knowing I will never buy running shoes so I will never start running. 

Back to the trampoline...I used to rock the trampoline in my youth and my boys just recently got a trampoline so I finally got on and gave it a whirl.  My insides felt as if they were literally going to just fall out of my vagina with each jump.  Also, as previously mentioned, I pee myself a little here and there.  AWESOME!  I'm doing my kegels right now.

Fondly ~ SumSum

The fungus is among us...Random Tuesday

So, my eye started to itch and leak something fierce yesterday but I didn't think too much of it...I'm dealing with unexplained fevers and being sexually harrased by pediatricians so I don't have time to worry about my oozing cornea. Anyway, I get home and my super concerned and caring husband blasts me as having the plaque and insists I go to the after hours clinic. Great, I'm still scrubbing myself in the shower from the last doctor visit...make my usual long story short I don't have pink eye but it does appear I have a virus in my eye. Yeah, I'll let you rehash that for a minute because if I have a virus in my eye isn't it pink eye???


This picture is kind of like that movie The Ring, now that you've seen it you will have pink eye in 7 days...

That's as random as I can get today because I need to get back to feeling sorry for myself for having pink eye - CORRECTION - a virus in my eye...

Fondly ~ SumSum

House calls are for perverts (aka I miss house calls)...

So, Ryser ends up coming down with the "unexplained fever" last week that Hudson had the week before but Ryser's lingered without explanation for over four days. So, I called the pediatrician's office and asked the nurse the dreaded, "Should I bring him in?" question so she could reply, "Yes" and I would then have to stop off at the nearest chug and choke corner to make a few extra bucks to afford the copay. Just kidding, I had money left over from amateur night from the T&A showbar. Do you really think I'd roll a couple of johns while my sick, feverish son was watching TMNT in the back seat of the MOMtana. Give me some mf'g credit people.
Anyway, I leave work early and take Ry to the doctor because according to the on call nurse a fever that lasts that long must have turned into a sinus infection. I'm thinking we would walk out of there with some antibiotics and get on with our lives and all would be right with the world again. However, this happened to be the day that Dr. Feelgood was on staff and he was not concerned with making anyone other than himself feel alright.
He talked the entire time in baby talk, to me and to my son. He says, "eaws awe cwean, nose is cwean, throat wooks good...nope, no big bad sinus infection just a weally bad head cold...YUK". Well, I'm pissed because I want to load my kid up on antibiotics and so I ask if we just continue on with the Motrin and Tylenol but not Motrin and Tylenol because they have been recalled again and that is when he rolls his mobile bar stool type seat over to my chair and places his hand on my thigh...my sweet, creamy, very virginal if I were a virgin thigh. I can't tell you what he said after that moment because I was too busy having this conversation in my head...

"Why didn't I flinch when he put his hand on my thigh?"
"Did I flinch?"
"Should he have his hand there?"
"How long is he going to keep his hand there?"
"OMG am I being assaulted?"
"Will they be waiving my copay?"

Fondly ~ SumSum

Stupid Giraffe...Random Tuesday

I hate the turtle...this animal has already cost more of my time than most humans. I feed it, turn the heating light on and off and fill the water when it gets low. The other day, I was replacing the water with a cup I use for the boys bath and all of a sudden I noticed a film on the top of his water (remnants of no tear shampoo...oops). At first I was going to blame BP and just go on with my life but I couldn't fucking do it!!! So here I am at 6am, when people like Snoop Dog have bitches in the living room gettin' it on, cleaning out the damn fish tank. I want the turtle dead but it can't be by my own hands...I need to let the boys play with it more, perhaps while balancing over sulfuric acid.

Hudson spent most of last week battling an "unexplained fever" because doctor's go to school for all those years and make all that money to give you that kind of diagnosis. I can't wait to pay the bill for that office call. Anyway, so the boys spent a lot of time with grandma and grandpa so I could still bring home the bacon. Ryser comes home on Friday with a gash between his eyes that grandma so nonchalantly referred to as a paper cut. I ask, "Ryser, how did you get that boo boo on your head?" He isn't familiar with the term gash yet...and he responds, "Beau threw a stupid giraffe and hit me in the stupid head" I correct him and explain that his head isn't stupid but high five on the correlation between stupidity and giraffes. Have you ever seen a giraffe do a trick? Exactly...I'm basically raising a genius!

Shirts that cost under $20 should not have dry clean only as a care instruction. You should also not wash said shirt if you liked the way it looked upon purchasing it.

A point to support my "Stupid Giraffe" movement:
- Lions and large packs of hyenas, are the giraffe's enemies.
- A lion can die if kicked by a giraffe.
If a Lion can die by being kicked by a Giraffe then why would it be listed as one of it's enemies? Because Giraffes are stupid...

..and apparently, much like us women, love screwing an ass...POW! I'll be here all night.

Fondly ~ SumSum