Where's George Clooney?

Last Monday I had an experience that all mothers fear...if you are the mother of someone who was dropped on their head as a small child.  My youngest shoved popcorn kernels up his nose...not one or two but THREE popcorn kernels.  I don't remember dropping him as an infant but I drink a lot so who really knows... 
I stayed calm enough to not swear while I freaked the fuck out.  Especially since this same day I was called by the daycare because my oldest son had a 102 fever, and at this same time I had just started boiling chicken and at this exact moment my phone was beeping because the battery was dying and I couldn't get in touch with my husband or my mom or my mother in law or God...
After every unsuccessful attempt at getting them out at home there was no other choice, we were heading to the ER...but not just any ER, the real glamorous one that is located right smack dab in the inner city. Although there is a dire need for hospitals to accept everyone regardless of insurance status you have to be insane to go there.  I get to go there for free thanks to my employer and when shit is free, especially a trip to the ER, that can make you reach the necessary insanity level.  This is that story...
Hudson and I arrive and pass through metal detectors behind a couple that just beat the living shit out of each other and in front of a cracked out criminal with police escorts.  We check in and stand in an area the size of a half bath with the most interesting and intriguing group of people I have ever laid eyes on...one man is holding his finger in a blood soaked rag, an elderly woman is moaning and another lady really just looks like she is waiting for Dr. Feelgood.  Other than the company it all seems pretty uneventful...
That is when we are graced by Mental Patient Marcus who approaches the check in window like he is either going to murder it or eat it.  He explains to the check in girl that he was just released by the hospital and doesn't have his medication. "I can't be released on the streets without my medication...mumble, mumble, mumble..."  Our second guest is Dad of the Year Dave who comes right up on Marcus and yells, "I need medical attention for my son!"  He then proceeds to grab his son's wrist and proclaims, "his wrist be broke!"  His son wails out since the wrist he grabbed is said broken wrist all the while Marcus is still trying to get his red or blue pills (one pill makes you smaller, one pill makes you tall).  Marcus whirls around and says to Dave, "Don't dip in my shit man."  Dave, of course, has a retort, "You best step back man...you need to take your ass to the mental joint next door."  They both are puffed up and I fear are going to start beating the shit out of each other in this 6x6 hell hole and I can't contain myself so I yell, "THAT'S ENOUGH!  There are children in here.  Both of you need to GET IT TOGETHER!"  In all honesty, I think my animal mother instinct took over and I also think it didn't make a damn difference.  These dudes could have cared less that I was going National Geographic on them or that there was children in a 6x6 room they were about to make their personal octagon.  Miraculously, Mental Patient Marcus is summoned by the pill distributor and ironically the gal behind the check in glass says that I better go to another waiting room which I reply, "Umm, you think?"
The other waiting room had a nice little play area that I wouldn't have let my child play in if it was the last playroom on earth...we were joined by a mom who said fuck every other word which if you are at the bar is fine but we happen to be in a pediatric ER waiting room so not really a good look, Dad of the Year Dave joins us where he grabs his son's broken wrist on two more occasions to show the nurse it's broken, and finally a 15 year old who had her ass cheeks hanging out of her shorts and is brought in by an ambulance with another 15 year old that put a bullet in her head...how do I know that, you ask?  Well, as I am checking my son in with the nurse the ambulance driver happens to share that information right in front of me and my THREE YEAR OLD SON!!!!  Thankfully, the popcorn kernels up his nose somehow affected his hearing because he never once asked any questions about that.
We are called back and taken to the curtain rooms of chaos.  We are surrounded by a child with a bandage wrapped all around the top of his head who keeps trying to crawl up his mother while she plays on her phone, a pregnant girl old enough to just be starting sex ed (that's 5th grade) and don't forget Dad of the Year that I hear the doctor ask when the break happened and Pops says around 5pm and the doctor seems perplexed considering the entire wrist has to be reset.  I am overtaken by this overwhelming feeling of dismay when Hudson sneezes and a popcorn kernel pops out!!!  We were starving and really hoped it would have materialized into a fluffy, butter-ific popped corn of goodness but no such luck.
It's then that my angel arrives from the darkness.  He has in his hand the magic wand of kernel rescue and with a graceful flick of the wrist releases the other two kernels that have made their home in my son's nasal cavity.  That is how I remember it anyway and is exactly what I am going to keep telling myself.  No, I did not need to apply my entire weight on my son while this satanic nose utensil gouged and dug in my sons nostril only to cause a severe nose bleed once the kernels had been rescued.  It wasn't like that at all, in fact it was a beautiful experience...like how you would imagine floating on a cloud might be.
All in all, we made it through the wilderness of inner city ER!  We aren't stabbed, or zombies, no one dipped into our shit and I still love my son.  I love him even though three days later he looked at me and slowly put a popcorn kernel up to his nostril...at which point I picked him up and dropped him on his head.  

Women...the shallow edition

How I describe myself...
My boobs are disgustingly gigantic, my upper arms are the size of most people's thighs, my ass is as flat as a pancake, I'm smuggling an inflatable tube above my pant line, I have back fat inherited by every one of my aunt's on my mom's side and I have what appears to be the making of a gunt...I do have nice hands and feet and my face is way better than J-Wow's.  I'm funny and nice to people that are nice to me and sometimes to people that aren't nice to me because how on earth can you NOT like me and be nice to me!?! 


How one friend describes me...

"SUPER AWESOME!  Witty, intelligent, fantastic mother, mediocre housekeeper, can drink like a fish."

~Notice she did not mention my body at all which means she agrees with what is listed above...she totally thinks I'm an Orca and that's hurtful... 

When I said to this friend none of these things affect how I fit in a dress another friend said...
I tell you what… we buy you a Spanx and you will look great in ANYTHING.

~Again, Orca status confirmed.

So, I could not be left to believe that the things I originally said could be true and reached out to someone I know will lie to me, she said...

Your boobs are round, full and natural. Something every small titty woman envies. Something even women with fake boobs envy. Nobody can ever say u have a big fat ass and ur arms are slim and look nice in sleeveless shirts no doubt. Your stomach is of a normal woman who's had one child pop out of her V that u ended up "getting ur asshole reconstructed" wow, and one who had to be removed by cutting ur body open. Your laugh is loud and infectious. People yearn to be around u and to be like u. U make people comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time but its wanted not annoying. Your face is naturally pretty and u don't have to put any effort into looking beautiful but when u do u look amazing.

The liar is my best friend, you can see easily why she wears that title...because she is about as full of shit as I am!  Now, go on and get before I splash water on you with my tail...

The time I blogged drunk decided it wasn't a good look and then read it sober and found it completely appropriate...

So, last week I proceeded to get completely annihilated on a weekday because isn't that what great mothers and wives do?  Oh...  Well, I was raised a little different I guess.  Anyway, I never posted the below because at the time, in my drunken insanity, I thought it was terrible...I read it today and it's soooooo terrible that it's fucking GREAT!  I might just get drunk tonight and go for round 2!!!  The funniest part about the previous sentence is the use of the word might.  Mommy LOVES her medicine!!!!!!!
Side note -  I left the spelling errors because I think it truly expresses what a complete rock star I am on Tuesdays.

Tuesday, August 26th at entirely too early to be this loaded.
This an experiment...
I've been into the sauce and I'm about to blog. It could be a total nightmare or it might be the best 3 minutes of your life...similar to a one night stand.  Let's see how it goes. 
Some disclaimers ~ As I am typing this I have no idea where it might go and therefore am not liable for anything I might say about anything.  In addition, I'm not that drunk, yes I have consumed three very large vodka and tonics on a random Tuesay night but the only thing being affected right now is my ability to find the period button, .  See?  Speaking of periods, I'm on mine...I thought you should know. 
I have decided to purge in this post anyhtign that comes to mind...
Right now I'll have you know I hate smoking, the smell and the people that do it...however, I have just smoked three cigarettes so take from that what you will judgey mcjudgerton...maybe I am more buzzed than I thought.
This is not going well...maybe I should pick a topic.  Hmm, how about people that you manage at work that talk to you like you are a retard.
I have one of these...I tell her a new policy or procedure or something I have handked for her out of kindness and she sits down in her chair, clasps her hands together as if to pray and says EVERYM'FGTIME, "well, I'm not certain how you used to do things but here we...."  She does a lot of eyelash batting and nodding her head back and forth as if hse is going into some epilectic seizure.  The whole time this scene is palying out I smile because all I want to do is back hand that smug look off her face and tell her that if it was being done the right way the million years she has been there then maybe I wouldn't have to tell her a different way of dpoign it. 
Okay, this isn't working out.  As I'm typing this I am thinking to myself, "are you really going to post this shit?"  Seriosuly it's awful and I am having a hard time even typing it...at the same tiume I'm thinking, "I did say it was an ecperiment so they knew what they were getting into."  Let's continue...
I'm smoking another cigarette...that makes four. 
What else? 

This is where it ended.  I might have passed out or developed lung cancer or made a pizza but more than likely passed out as cancer enveloped my lungs while making a pizza...yeah, that's more my style.  I'm a multi-tasker!