Why am I your friend................on Facebook?

Who knew that someday we would be able to build a page filled with everything about us and connect to old high school friends, elementary bullies and one night stand nightmares?  It's the most bullshit world out there on the Internets but we love it and we continue to build our friend list with a shit load of people that we could really care less about but really need to know if they are fat/skinny/single/gay/rich/addicted or just plain interesting.  I've spent more time then I care to comment (or like) looking through people's pictures and judging or looking through my own pictures as if I were someone else judging.  I check my news feed daily  and some folks tend to follow the same pattern so this post is going to call out a handful of status types and my interpretation of the people behind them...


The let's save every damn animal on the planet status - Good for the person who wants to make a difference but you know what would really help?  Going and volunteering at the humane society, not blowing up my news feed with the fact that I can adopt a pit-bull now.  Don't get me wrong, I love animals and I used to really love my two dogs until I got new pets in the form of children.  You want to help out a dog, come get mine because I don't have time for their dog food needs and outside potty breaks.  These people probably go through a lot of peanut butter.

The I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and darn it people like me status - People don't really like this person that's why they have to keep telling themselves that.  Also, this person might want to check into therapy because at least then someone has to pretend to be interested when they share how they want to be even more good enough and smart enough.

The OMG!  I have the best husband/wife/BF/GF and here is why - This person is either a beard or surrounded by cats, never even touched by the opposite sex but you wouldn't know because they posted a bunch of pictures photoshopped with awesome looking people.

The who knows what the hell you just said because no one knows how to read Ebonics status - dis dat stat gurrrrrl where peeps gots to read bout tree diff times cuz it don't make no since...SN SMH LMAO.  These people need to be beat about the head and torso with a book, preferably one titled Learn to write English Clearly and Correctly.  They also need a belt.

The I just got back from or getting ready to leave on another awesome trip for an extended period of time status - Fuck this person and the jet liner they flew in or out on...

Last but not least...

The I'm so fucking funny status - this lonely soul thinks they are the funniest person alive the only problem is all their jokes and sarcastic comments have been heard about 17 million times by their family and touchable friends.  These posts wouldn't even get a smirk from their significant other but on facebook it's thumbs up all day.  They live a make believe life of awesomeness via status updates and usually talk to themselves on the car ride home from work laughing at things they think or say aloud.

I mean, who talks to themselves and laughs at their own jokes?  Not me!
What Summer?  Oh, just saying how I'm so glad I don't have to try to be funny and it just comes naturally and everyone loves me and always wants to be around me and I'm not trying to prove anything by my facebook status updates like how funny I am or how I want to save a whale or that my husband is super hot, generous and kind while I pack for another excursion to Bora Bora ...   Oh Summer, lol lol lol you are sooooooooooo funny.  Thanks Summer, I love you...

Blowing popcorn...

I need to get some shit off my chest...I've been pretty pissy lately and need to rid myself of all this negative energy plus I'm just getting sick of having this shit on my chest.  So strap on, or in (I don't know what the fuck you are into) and enjoy the ride, Chazz...

It really pisses me off that I have to remember to take a damn pill everyday that makes me a total bitch to make sure I don't get pregnant and then become a total emotional bitch...no one wins here.  You might be asking why I don't just get my husband spade or neutered...that's easy my friend, I'm not giving him a free squirt into every random stranger pass...think about it. 

Recently I realized that I need to add my big toe to my shave routine.  My big toe had these long black hairs growing from it like it was breeding the worms from Dune.  If you don't have beard growing from your big toe and your under the age of 30...don't judge you baby bitch because it's coming.  You are also going to get some weird random hair that grows out of your chin, good luck with that...

I love people that insist on airing your dirty laundry in front of a group but conveniently leave out all the dirt bag shit they did at the same time you were making your bad decisions.  Bitch, I was there at the event and I remember what a whore you were being too so let's try to take that into account when you rehash the evening's transgressions, assface.

Speaking of, I don't always make the best decisions and I often do things that pisses my husband off royally but I really don't understand why performing pretend fellatio on a popcorn bucket is that big of a deal.  Obviously, my husband doesn't realize how much I love popcorn...

I have a bunch of other shit I want to say but I have a vodka and lemonade that is begging me to ravage it and that takes precedence...because if I'm great at anything it's at being an alcoholic.

Sincerely, Betty Ford

P.S. during the close of this blog, the husband asked, "Are you drinking again?"  Why yes, I am, and lucky for you because after you just asked me "do I want to be a good wife" (his exact fucking words) and get up an hour earlier tomorrow to drive the boys 20 minutes out of my way before work so you can hunt in the morning and not kill a damn thing because your hunting spots suck asshole I want to drop kick you in the face...but I'm not doing any drop kicking because I'm half in the bag and can't get that much air.

P.S.S.  I've never given a rat's ass about being a good wife any other time so why start now...guess who has an early meeting tomorrow all of a sudden?

WAR...

Bedtime wars used to refer to that romantic time when my sweet dude would wake me from a blissful sleep with his rock hard dagger in my back...I would pretend to remain sleeping as he fumbled with several of my body parts in the middle of the fucking night when he knew I had that big presentation and had to get up at 5am but this night, of all nights, is when he decides he needs to clean out the pipes at 3am...it's then that I throw the death blow of all when I mumble, as he begins to shock, "No dad, I'll be home by curfew".  He rolls over, severely limp and I go back to dreaming of sugar plum fairies... 
Me 1     Charley 0
In this story my sweet dude is Vietnamese, just go with it...

Now bedtime wars refer to every week night between 7:30pm and 10:30pm when Damien and The Good Son do everything in their power not to go to sleep...yelling, jumping, fighting, sneaking downstairs, coughing and demanding medicine, making preposterous statements like:
"Mom, I am drink"
"Mom, tell you something"
"Mom, me no dinner"
"Mom, I heard you call dad a dirty fucker this morning and now I'm afraid of how that might affect my future relationships"

I've been at work all day (not with the kids) and when it's my time to relax (not with the kids) I damn well deserve it.  I need all this me time in order to be a decent parent on Saturday and Sunday.  What don't these little mini lucifers not understand about STAYING IN BED!?!  Is it fun for them to constantly hear my empty threats of orphanages, or not getting presents at Christmas, or releasing the demon in the closet that eats children who get out of bed.  One person said, "Oh, it's because they miss you so much during the day that they don't want to fall alseep and miss you all night as well"  I stabbed that person in the fucking throat with an ink pen and then I took their blood drained body and put it in my kid's closet because if that doesn't get them to stay in bed, I don't know what will...
Anyway, looking forward to 3am in the near future because I'll take that war over the current struggle for dominance every week night.  On the weekends I'm drunk and passed out by 7pm so everyone's happy. 
Me 0     Evil Minions 1,095

Fat Pregnant Freak Out...

First of all let me address the title...NO, I am not pregnant...fat and freaking out, sure but that's another post...

Sorry I have been away so long (Melinda) but I have really had some life changes that have stretched me thin and most mothers know when that happens time for you becomes scarce.  This morning, I am going to ignore that my 4 year old is trying to make his own chocolate milk (we don't even have chocolate syrup so this should be interesting) or that my 2 year old is hiding somewhere and when your not potty trained that means a dump is on the horizon, AWESOME!  I'll make a better effort to tell you about ridiculous experiences that happen in this so called life and that effort begins now...

I'm getting my hair done this week by my tremendously adorable pregnant hairdresser (adorable and pregnant never met when I was carrying my beasts) and she proceeds to tell me that she was recently thrown a surprise baby shower.  I know what you are thinking, oh what a sweet concept and that is when I tell you the rest of the story (shout out to Paul Harvey)...The day had begun on the rough side.  She was three seconds away from divorcing her husband and was so uncomfortable that day that she wore maternity yoga pants, a stretched out tank and no make-up.  Her husband allowed this even though he knew about the surprise shower the whole time (they are still married which is a miracle after that stunt).  They pull up to the venue and she knows right away what is going down and begins to sob, first because she looks like a sweaty beached whale and second because she hasn't even registered and has no clue what this shower might consist of.  That, my friends, is when shit really hits the fan.  Let me paint a picture for you...

You weigh close to 280 pounds, not really but it feels like it, and you are already sobbing because your husband is a selfish asshole who has no idea how it feels to be pregnant or even human.  You walk into a baby shower set up as a surprise for you and scan the room.  Clothes are hung by a clothes line, every item that you could possibly need for a new baby is scattered around the area and there are weird copy paper boxes with writing on the sides...you squint to see what isn't making sense here when you see the tiny neon circular stickers on each one of the clothing items, you notice there is not one item in the original box and the copy paper boxes have messages on them like, "Riley 6-9 months" only your baby is not going to be named Riley.  That's because all of the gifts here waiting for you and your new baby are from....
A FUCKING GARAGE SALE!!!!!!!!!!

Who does that?  If the answer has ever been you, you're an asshole.  No brand new mother wants a bunch of old, used shit that not only doesn't match but she didn't actually see the place where it came from which could be a total crap hole for all she knows.  I just keep thinking about dressing my newborn son in a onesie with formula stains on it from a stranger and placing him so gently in a bouncy seat that has 10 year old teeth marks on it from some nasty ass toddler that did not emerge from my vagina.  It's disgusting and I am not even one of those snotty, I need all new stuff because I'm too good for garage sales type of person.  C'mon though, a surprise baby shower filled with all items from garbage sales?  I would question if any of these people even like me.  In fact, if by some miracle I get pregnant and someone thinks that will be a nice gesture since I'm already two kids deep and shouldn't really get a baby shower anyway I am going to freak the fuck out!  Not only will I destroy the whole entire shower and everyone in attendance but I will actually eat the person that threw the shower and if you have ever seen me pregnant you know I could ingest an entire human being and still go on with my fat ass day like nothing ever happened...

I have a headache...indefinitely.

We bowl with newlyweds...they were both married to complete assholes, divorced and have since found and married each other. They are in crazy love and having come from previous relationships where there was no romance whatsoever are making up for lost time. Their love and lust for each other has never bugged me before but then again I have never given up drinking for Lent before so probably by the time they start really loving each other I am piss drunk and motor boating a stranger (yeah, I've been known to do that). Anyway, this past Saturday the topic of sex came up and of course they have sex ALL THE TIME. My husband slinks in his chair and sulks as the topic is shared among the couples of sex, how much is normal/abnormal, who has to beg, who doesn't, blah, blah, blah...I keep silent because at this point it appears that everyone is screwing the hell out of each other and I am the wicked barren witch of the East who never gives my husband any play.

After that night I started feeling really guilty and thinking about when sex slowed down for us and why I'm in sex craze remission because at one time I was quite the fornicating freak show. That guilt didn't last long however because I started remembering things like this...

• The year is 1994...I let my boyfriend (who is now my husband) talk me into playing a game, just the tip...from that point forward there wasn't a place we didn't have sex...garages, golf courses, school buses, stranger's bathrooms, offices, driveways...the list goes on and that kind of variety lasted through 2004 which was the year of our marriage. I'd say that was a pretty good fucking run and I should kind of be off the hook for the rest of my life.
• The year is 2006...I gained 80 pounds over the course of 10 months and then had a human being rip out of my puss and asshole. Yes, my puss AND asshole...that does happen and they refer to it with a cute little term "4th degree tear". To give you an idea of what that might be like...for a short time in my life, as in 45 minutes after delivery, I had no taint. I'll give you a moment to fully absorb that.
• Year 2008...Another 60 pounds and this time a human gets surgically removed from my gut. This little peanut wasn't planned and I thoroughly followed the pullout method that got me through my entire high school/college career. We spent a good portion of his first days in NICU because he had wet lung. Before they sent us home they hooked him to a breathing machine and taught us CPR on a plastic baby because he was having a hard time breathing on his own. So, in addition to making sure my two year old already at home didn’t smother him I also had to make sure that if the louder than a fire alarm machine went off at any time of the night I was ready to push, push, push, breathe while I also tried to call an ambulance (thankfully that was never necessary but my oldest may have tried to smother him...that came later though).

So, just with those few bullets I think it is apparent that I am exhausted and my pussy is deformed...I think, I can't really get a good look at it anymore because my gut could be categorized as a gunt (I'll let you look that one up) which I thoroughly believe is because when they released the second human from my bikini line and replaced my intestines they put them in the wrong spots. Not to mention for a good romp session nowadays I need to have shaved which is hit or miss and the boys need to be sleeping which is also hit or miss and I need my pocket rocket that died somewhere between 2006 and 2008 and I don’t feel like brushing my teeth on the weekends just to run up to the sex shop and get a new one. So, to any of you that are on the fuck friendly roller coaster of life...GOOD FOR YOU!  Keep that shit to yourself though because I paid my dues in the 90's and now you've required me to perform an out of the ordinary screw that I was planning on breaking out before I got my hair done!

Toot, Toot!

That's my horn and "toot, toot" is me tooting it, my own horn, get it, come on it was funny...whatever, fuck off.

So why the narcissistic celebration?  Well if you must know, over the past couple months I've been given a couple blog awards...yeah, people like me.  The cool thing about these awards is it opens you up to other funny people out there in blog world...the not so cool thing is it means you have to do a bunch of shit and I think we have established at this point that I'm both lazy and bitchy so I haven't handled my blog award business.  So I am going to that today...okay?  Here we go...

The first award is (drum roll)....

No, it's not The Lick Old Lesbians Award.  I made that mistake too and my upper lip still smells like Cream of Mushroom soup...was that too far Charlie?  Anyway, it apparently stands for Laugh Out Loud and all the youngsters use this to communicate when something is tremendously funny...so much so that they actually laugh out loud.  See?  See how that works...those annoying little fuckers are tricky aren't they?

First and foremost I have to tell you who I make Laugh Out Loud and it's none other than Downtown Jenny Brown.  She is funny so go there...NOW!

Next I have to state 7 unknown facts about myself...this is hard because there isn't too much of the unknown.  Let's see what I can pull out of my ass...

1. I've never actually licked an old lesbian, I am not saying I wouldn't
2. I do have a terrible habit of biting cheeks, face cheeks
3. I have never bitten a butt cheek, I am not saying I wouldn't
4. I cry when I'm pissed which thoroughly fucks up portraying how pissed I am
5. I laugh when someone is pissed at me which thoroughly fucks up showing how sorry I am
6. I'm not usually sorry
7. I do apologize more than I should

Well, that didn't go too bad if I do say so myself.  Next I have to pass on the award to a certain number of people but I can't remember so I am going to tell you about one blog I have recently stumbled upon and she might very well live in my parallel universe...

Princess Muffintop - This chick has a body of a muffin and not just any muffin but a Blueberry Muffin...I fucking love Blueberry Muffins!!!  There is another thing you didn't know about me.  So, I guess you could say I would LOL, lick this old lesbian, only she isn't old and she isn't a lesbian.  Oh well, she will make you laugh out loud so check her out, yo!

In perfect transition, Princess Muffintop also presented me with an award! (drum roll...yes, I will drum roll every fucking time)

It's the Cherry on Top Award just in case you aren't paying attention...my cherry was busted in the early 90's so to win it back means a lot to me.  I've missed you Cherry...I also miss Tight Vagina but not nearly as much as T- daddy I'm sure, do they have that award?  Sorry, I'm being ungrateful...

With this award I have to tell you three things I love about myself...this is hard too because I am usually so modest.  I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings but...

1. I love my face!  If you look past the lines, crows feet, sun spots, dry skin patches, 30 year old acne and a slight guido moustache I really am beautiful.
2. I love my abs, I love my abdominals! (Do you know that commercial?)  If you look past the stretch marks and 70 pounds of leftover pregnancy belly flab that looks like crinkled up papers they are really tight.  I should get a belly button ring actually.
3. I love this blog and I love the blogs I follow and I love you for reading!

I am supposed to give this award away but I need a Mountain Dew or something...check out my profile and click on any of the blogs I follow, you will not be disappointed!  Do you want to know what is disappointing?  That no sweet, problem solving alcohol will be hitting these lips this weekend...why oh why did I give up booze for Lent?  So. Fucking. Stupid.

Who invented running?

I have spent a lot of the new year looking at myself nekkid.  Just standing in the mirror...facing front, turning to the side, using a mirror to view the rear, back to the front.  I am doing this in hopes that the ever present spare tire I am smuggling under bloused dolman tops causes a fire to light under my pancaked ass to get me moving and change my body's current state.

Spring Break 2010 ~ I'm the hot one...

 










Although this ritual does cause the necessary depression, towel smothered sobs (I don't want to wake the family) and diminishing self confidence it is definitely not working. The P90x Cd's I had my brother burn for me haven't made it within inches of the DVD player. 

So, I decided to take another route...I contacted a running friend and joined her for a Saturday jog.  I was extremely nervous considering the last time I ran was close to a decade ago but figured everyone can run, right?  Wrong!  Running is quite possibly the most ridiculous thing I have ever tried to do past the age of 17.  Let me replay for you the disaster that was my running experience...

I text her to make sure we are still "on" for our running date...secretly hoping she has been diagnosed with syphilis which has since made her blind...does syphilis make you blind or is that herpes??  Whatever, any blindness causing disease.  No luck, she still has her sight as well as all other senses (I can't remember how many there are because on top of being fat I am also stupid, the cards are stacked against me).  I ask what I should bring and she responds to only be concerned with how many sports bras I need to wear.  Good point...

I show up, kiss her babies and we hold hands exiting from her driveway because it is covered in ice...that should have been the first red flag.  We begin a slow and steady pace and about two seconds into our trip my ankle goes out...I giggle as I limp a few steps here and there and inform her something might be wrong with my ankle.  Willing with all my might that my ankle is broken and then I have a valid excuse for not having to run anymore because at about one second into the run I was over this dumb shit.  Ankle miraculously heals and we are back at the solid pace.

Fast forward some miles...some meaning one...

Me - "ugh, can we turn around now?"
Marathon Fucking Runner - "we don't turn around...we run an entire block which is a total of 4 miles"
Me (in my head) - "Please God, I don't ask for much but if you could strike me with lightning right now I will go to church every Sunday for the rest of my life and even work in the preschool class..."

Skip more miles...some meaning 0.5...

MFR (coincidence that Marathon Fucking Runner acronyms are MFR, I don't think so) - "Was that a dog?"
Me - "What, where?"
MFR - "I thought I heard a dog charging us..."
Me (I'm taking the liberty that you now know italicized font means this convo is happening in my head) - "Please God, I don't ask for much but if you could please have a rabid dog emerge and literally eat my ankles off I will army crawl around my neighborhood spreading the Gospel for the rest of my life..."

More miles...2 minutes from feared dog attack...

Me - "I have to pee"
MFR - "Do you want to stop?"
Me - "No, I should be alright..."
MFR - "Do you know sometimes runners piss or shit themselves because they exert their bodies so much during a race?"
Me - "AWESOME!"

I then proceeded to piss and shit myself. 

Okay, some of this is a tad exaggerated.  I did a lot of walking, even more bitching and a tremendous amount of begging to please walk again.  The only good thing that came out of that running debacle was the sunshine skillet I inhaled afterwards as a reward.

Going back to being a complete dumb ass, I'm running again this Saturday with the same MFR that almost killed me last weekend.  No, not because I felt so great afterward.  What a crock of shit that is...you don't feel great after running, you feel tired and then for the next three days you feel like you've been vaginally assaulted by dudes the size of Fat Albert and then made to do the stair master...I am running because I want another sunshine skillet. 

Bikini Bod...HERE I COME!

Usually an absence like this involves a shit story...

I don't have a good excuse...My dog ate my blogger password?  I've gone blind (no, not from masturbation...who has time for that)?  My place of employment decided the QWERTY style keyboards were for cave men and switched the location of every key and now when I want to type "awesome" it results in "fartpop"? 

None of these are true (for you slow readers..) I just haven't felt the writing fire.  Sure some interesting things have happened that I should have purged on to this page, errr, screen like...

• I was told in front of my husband that I have great boobs and then being asked if I was married at which point I nod to my husband who is standing right next to me.  To be honest, the girls aren't all that great, just big...additionally my husband really could have cared less, mostly because he sees how not great they are.
• We were invited as a couple by same dude who really likes my boobs to join him, his wife and a another random group of folks to a place they call "fun town"
• This brought back memories of my honeymoon where my husband and I were propositioned by a couple who were really deep in the swinger community, we declined (sorry to let any freaks down but it was our honeymoon for goodness sakes) and the guy gave us his business card in case we changed our mind...they conveniently live a few hours away from our hometown even though we met them in Mexico...this story is much better actually but maybe for another time.
• I came in dead last at our latest weight loss challenge at work, DEAD fucking LAST!  I even ended with a negative percentage which means I closed out the competition at a higher weight then what I started...I've never been very competitive plus I really love bagels.
• My new year has not gone without shit, literally, my oldest son shat all over my cream carpet...it was a very interesting mix of diarrhea and mushy rabbit pellets and quite possibly the most shit I have ever seen released from a human being.  The kind that as you tried to wipe it up it just spread more and more around the cream carpet, did I mention the carpet color is cream? 
• As I'm dumping bleach basically on said shit stain my son stands there in amazement asking various questions, "Am I sick?  How does all that poop come out of my butt?  What is that sound your throat is making Mom?"  Umm, yes you are sick...I asked that same question myself...the sound is me gagging and trying not to add puke to the monstrous pile of crap.
• This same son also broke a bone...we are currently living that hell as he needs to wear a cast from hand to bicep for the next six weeks.  I have started drinking...more.
• My place of employ has cut us off from facebook and all other social networking sites which is the best thing to happen to my career...I have decided since to give up facebook for Lent because I think it's what Jesus would do.
• Look everyone I'm blogging, shove that up your ass network administrator!!!  I am quite certain after that I will be blocked from this site on Monday.

That's a small snippet of life since the last time I let you peek into my crazy, fabulous, psychotic, awesome rack world.  I hope that there are people out there that still like me...and enjoy reading.

Until next time I'll leave you with one of my fat girl thoughts, "You have stopped yourself from eating all of the 3rd piece of pizza you've taken at the work party because you truly can't fit another pepperoni into your gut when you realize there is still creamy romano dressing pooling at the bottom of your salad bowl so you take a sliver of french bread to soak it up and eat it"

That is reason number 572 that I came in dead last to the weight loss challenge.  I should be more depressed about it but I really could give a flying fuck...or a standing very still and calm fuck for that matter.

X, O & Donut Holes...
SumSum

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.

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!!!  

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...

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.

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

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

Spontaneous Human Combustion

Do you believe this can actually happen? If so, I better say my goodbyes now because I am SO HOT RIGHT NOW! Not HOT in the super sexy, every guy wants my cougar claws imprinted in their back kind of way but rather can you begin "the change" at age 32, err, I mean 26!?!

My current state of mind best explained by the great Anne Taintor, if you don't know you need to... http://annetaintor.com/index.html

Fondly ~ SumSum

You're awesome and I don't care.

Today I posted the following as a facebook status:
"Weight loss challenges are so stupid, unless you are actually losing weight. What? There are bagels in the kitchen...Yes, please!"

Now, you don't have to be a rocket scientist to conclude that I'm probably not doing very well in this weight loss challenge. In fact, I'm doing down right awful and riding the roller coaster of weight that I have become a permanent fixture on since about February 2006.

So someone please explain this comment to my status:
"We r doing the biggest loser contest at my work. I went to weigh in yesterday morning and a staff member offered me a doughnut. I told her I had to weigh in. She said, have one after! I didn't! Guess that's why I'm in the lead right now!!"

No offense to the person that decided that was an appropriate comment to my 'I am a huge fat ass who is failing miserably at my work's weight loss challenge' status but fuck you (sorry to my underage readers)! I could give a rat's ass that you are in first place...I'm not! I don't need you getting all high and mighty on me about donuts! Guess what? I would have not only eaten the donut but went back when no one was looking and eaten another one and then taken one for lunch. I guess I better stop doing that so I can be in first place like you. You're an idiot! Way to kick someone while their down. I am seriously contemplating removing you from my friend listing. In fact, I think I'm cleaning my entire friend list of anyone who has ever won a weight loss challenge all while I eat a dozen donuts.

Fondly ~ SumSum

Xanex? Check!

I've been feeling a bit of anxiety regarding this follow up to my last post. I guess there are a large number of you still chuckling from my despair...how dare you! Might I remind each and every one of you that at one time you also pissed and shit your pants? Yeah, so soon you forget sitting and smelling so pretty in your glass house...Granted you probably haven't crapped yourself since the toddler years but you still did! Judge not lest ye be judged...

How about a 4 pound weight loss after my P&P (poop&puke) week from hell? Beat that suckas! I'm ready to throw on a pair of hot pants and a halter and grind on some douche bag with a blow out (just kidding Todd!). Thankfully everyone seems to be on the mend but it definitely worked its way in and out (not the burger joint) of the whole family. If I could have fit into a Pampers size 5 I would have been a lot better off, that's for sure.

So, here we are P&P free and heading into Valentine's Day 2010! I wish I could say that on that day I'll emerge from bed to the sweet smell of french toast with a Jane Seymour Open Heart Collection necklace placed around my neck and homemade cards lining the night table from all of my boys but that is why I began with "I wish". In fact, I'll eat a whole roll of paper towel if anything other than the following takes place...

• 6am - Hudson starts wailing from his crib
• 6:05am - Todd and I are both still pretending to be sleeping to see which one is going to get out of bed and get Hudson
• 6:10am - still pretending to sleep
• 6:15am - I mutter, "you want to get him?", Todd sighs, I sigh, Hudson still crying
• 6:17am - I dramatically throw off the covers and stomp loudly through our bedroom and go get Hudson
• 6:19am - Try to lie down on the couch with Hudson and see if I can trick him into falling back to sleep
• 6:25am - wake up from that super refreshing 6 minutes of nodding (sarcasm people) and start the day
• 8:00am - Todd and Ryser come downstairs and I say "Happy Valentine's Day!"
• 8:01am - Todd gives me that "oh shit it's Valentine's Day" look

Fast Forward to Monday...

• 6pm - arrive home from work and flowers and a card is awaiting me.

In all fairness, Todd won't be getting a Jane Seymour Open Heart Collection necklace either...

Fondly ~ SumSum