Do NOT read any farther if you have any idea, whatsoever, of getting offended.
This is my space. For me to rant. To praise. To whine. Whatever.
Do NOT send me bitchy emails or messages about what you read here.
You don't have to like it and you don't have to read it either!

Thursday, December 16, 2010

My heart's a dead tomato splotched with moldy, purple spots...

For all the talk and the schmaltz, I am just NOT feeling it this year. I write about the joy in the simple things and I really do mean it, but for some reason, this year, I just can't find MY Christmas. I smile when I fill the glass tree with the Hershey kisses, I tear up when the little guy freaks out over Santa, lights, trees, and ribbons. This year I just feel very "seasick crocodile". I have spent 13+ years trying to get the hubs to understand why this time of year is such a huge deal to me and he tried some years to fake it and some years he just didn't care and some years he really did mean it. He basically Grinched me most of the time. I guess I just got tired of playing and singing Fah who for-aze! Dah who dor-aze! Welcome Christmas, Come this way! This year he is even PURPOSELY listening to the Christmas station all on his own to and from work and me? WMMR- that's the rock station here. I re-did my iPod with GIGS of Christmas sits there gathering dust. I am not into making cookies or candy or sending out cards...even though I did and am. I just feel tired. And disenchanted. Apathetic? Whatever. I put out the houses...they are still not connected to electricity. Nothing is wrapped. It's all in boxes in the attic. I am thankful for everything and everyone in my life. I think i am just SICK to DEATH of the crap. The bigger, better, faster, NOW mentality. I am tired of the shit on t.v. telling us we NEED this or my fave...AUDI trying to tell me that by buying a brand new car from them I am actually SAVING money! WHAT THE AY-EFF?! I love to give presents and I love getting them, but I am tired of CRAP. I would rather get one thing that means something than 5 things that I will put on a shelf and forget or end up tossing out because it broke. I would rather GIVE 1 thing that means something than waste precious money on shit. We SEVERELY scaled back this year because really? What sense is in going into debt to buy a bunch of crap that will break or be forgotten in a drawer/toybox in a month or so? NONE. The boys know this is happening and are so cool with it, it's crazy! They wrote a list with 3-5 things each. And it was crazy stuff like an am/fm alarm clock with 6 soothing sounds, new clothes, a Bookworm booklight! WHAT?!?! They are not going to the store and pointing at every mindless thing and squealing that they want it, NEED IT! I am thankful for that. Really I am. But this year...I almost want to skip it altogether.

Monday, December 13, 2010

What in the HOT HOLY HELL?!?!?

What is it with kids? They KNOW they are not allowed in OUR room without permission. Not because there are weird and freaky things in there... (crickets chirping...) but because it's about RESPECT. Sing it with me... R-E-S-P-E-C-T... and I'm back... so needless to say TWO rules were broken. NUMBER ONE- Do NOT go in our room without permission or on direct orders to retrieve something for myself or the hubster. NUMBER TWO- Do NOT touch the Super Glue or Super Glue Gel or Gorilla Glue or any other adhesive that will require special remover or a trip to the Emergency Room of our local hospital! Don't ask why that shit was in our room. It just was y'all. Doesn't everyone keep the crazy glue in their room? No? Just me then. ANYWAY...the little vagisite comes out of his room in a panic. He has Super GLue GEL (cause that shit is better than the regular stuff right?) ALL over his fingers. WHAT THE AY-EFF?!! So I ask how it came to be that his fingers are crusted over in the now completely hardenend gel. He says his older brother was fixing his fighter plane and it got all over the desk anbd he was afraid they would get in trouble and are his fingers going to melt off cause they are covered in super glue GEL? All in one sentence. Now here is where it gets murky and possibly crosses a line. The oldest is already in the bathroom scrubbing his hands after he has quickly spirited the GEL back into our room. He knows it's coming...DAD. He naturally gets sent to bed with warning of..."What if he had glued his hand to his face?" (I had to leave the room cause I IMMEDIATELY saw that image and am screwed up like that!) "What if he had gotten it in his mouth?" Where does he get this stuff???? It's GOLDEN!! No argument...go to bed, directly to bed. Do NOT pass the cookies. So now the little guy is REALLY panicking...Mom, can I get sick from super glue GEL? (MURKIER water ahead and possibly REALLY bad parenting)
Me- Maybe. How much did you get on you? Him- this alot? Me- Well, it kinda looks like it. Him (lip quivering)- Can I die from getting sick cause it's kinda alot? Me- You could. But... Him- WAAAAAHHHHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! (that is NOT laughing y'all he is SCREAMING) Me- Stop crying you are not gonna die. Him- I'm not? Me- No, but don't pick at it cause the skin COULD come off. And don't put it in your mouth cause it's CHEMICALS. Him- WAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! Me- You could have glued your hand or face to the desk and then you'd be known FOREVER as that kid that glued his hand/face to his desk.We'd have to leave town. Him- You're not going to tell anyone that I did this are you? Me- Of course I am sweetie. Now go to bed.
Now he will be afraid to touch any adhesive until he is 35! AWESOME parenting if you ask me!

Saturday, December 11, 2010

What does it mean to you?

 For me it is so many things. Some tied to religion, some to magic, most to memory. There once was a pair glass trees that were ALWAYS filled with red, green & silver Hershey kisses. That is it. NOTHING other than that went it. EVER. They sat on my mother's glass coffee table. Every year. Somehow they were never diminished. Never empty. It was magic. My mother was my grandmother.( She adopted me when I was 4-5. But that is beside the point.) My sister and I split the pair. (she was NOT adopted by our grandmother. My Family story is very "Days of Our Lives",) They are always full. And little by little we are keeping them full and therefore keeping THAT particular magic alive. Red, green, and silver. I for mine and my sweet, beautiful sister for hers. (Even though NO ONE is allowed to touch them but us!) And I am teaching my children the magic. Little by little. Christmas was always the, to quote a FAMOUS song, "The Most Wonderful Time of The Year". My mother went OVERBOARD in the very best sense. There were HUGE plywood trees, candy canes, and YES, Virginia, A Giant Santa Sleigh and Eight Tiny Pink Flamingos. (It was FLA people)Those bits went to my birth mother, who THANKFULLY, still puts them up every year. Even though they have seen better days. It's the spirit behind them I think. My mommy. Billie Jean. (Really, NO LIE, that was her name. It was Sylvia, but she changed it to Billie Jean. And then regretted it a little when Michael Jackson came along.) SHE is the biggest part of this time of year for me. I still put chocolate coins in my boys' stockings because of her.(STILL not sure of this one) I still make let them open ONE present on Christmas Eve...Christmas Jammies...DUH! Because of her ( Tam- remember matching the blue and pink "satin" nightgowns? I have pictures...just sayin...) I watch the cheesy movies, and bake the cookies, and sing the carols, and lay under the tree on Christmas Eve, when it's all lit up,(remember that Tam?) alone. And I cry a little and thank GOD I was given a woman like my mommy. And then I have a little Kahlua and Milk like my mommy used to and just look at the lights and I talk to her. And thank her for all the MAGIC.
My 11 year old is losing it and it kills me. He is very cynical. But THANKFULLY, sweet enough to realize that his little brother still believes. MY child. He even said to me tonight, "Mom, if you tell me the magic is real. I'll believe." He wants to, so badly. What do you think I said? i held him close and told him that it's the magic and the spirit, and the LOVE and family that is what is important. And THAT is what is THE MAGIC. He smiled and I think he GOT IT. The little one is MY child too. He still believes. In every single bit of magic. He is VERY concerned that Santa will not be able to fit down our TINY chimney. I told him that Santa is magic so therefore everything is possible. That was enough for him. We were outside pruning and weeding and winterizing the yard and damned if Santa didn't ride past on a fire truck and slow down in front of our house (which is on a semi-major road) and wave to my baby. As did the firemen, police and rescue folks accompanying him. HUGE thanks to the Williamstown Fire Dept. for that little bit of magic. You made my baby wave his little arm so hard his wrist STILL hurts, you made my oldest stop and wonder, you made the GRINCH aka, the hubs, pause and smile at his offspring and crazier than bat shit wife waving like maniacs in the front yard. But...the point is, don't lose it. EVER. The magic. Whatever it is to you. Matching Christmas Jammies. Oranges in the stockings. Midnight Mass. Whatever. Just be. And remember. And be thankful. And Love Each other. And GOD BLESS US EVERYONE. I love you, Mommy. Thank you for your magic and your faith. And for my special moments at Christmas.

Friday, December 3, 2010

Elbow deep in a frozen turkey...I can't make sense of tonight and I was there!

So tomorrow is my birthday. yay. No biggy. Whatever. I decided that in celebration of that and the fact that my egg donor and her Bill (it's his name not like a bill for services rendered!) are coming up from FLA i would make a Thanksgiving part deux! What the AY-EFF was I thinking? So I took the 18 pounder out of the freezer on Monday and placed it in the we are on Thursday...and I was elbow-friggin-deep in a halk frozen turkey. AT.NINE.P.M. Trying to pry the frozen gizzards and neck from the rock hard cavity they were entombed in. This is full of the awesome, y'all. I finally manage that task and set about removing the leftover feathers from the carcass. I am weird like that. Now I get it in the pan and back in the fridge it goes...BEFORE all this I was fixing some broken ornaments and tchotchkes...with super glue. Not just super glue, but SUPER GLUE GEL. Cause that is better right? Right. well, naturally it isn't. It takes LONGER to dry. So you have to sit there and hold whatever it is you are trying to glue back together for like ever! NOT full of the awesome. So naturally I get my finger glued to the chest of the wooden smoker man. (it's German and cute.) He now has a permanent fingerprint there since a few layers of my skin came off when i was trying to detach him. Talking to, No, NO, NONONONONO...DAMN.IT! In the process of detaching the wooden man I managed to get glue on a few other fingers (read: ALL of them). I also managed to glue the tips of a few fingers to their fingernails. Oh, and I got super glue GEL in my hair. AND I was dead sober this whole time. Maybe I should NOT have been.

Monday, November 29, 2010

Christmas Bliss...

So it's that time of year and already the hubs is Grinching. Let me explain...he HATES how commercialized Christmas has gotten. He HATES shopping. He HATES how things like Black Friday bring out the ugliest in people. While watching the news and witnessing a man get TRAMPLED at a Target, I thought he was going to bust a vein. Whilst he stood there spluttering I removed all throwable things from his vicinity. We then had a discussion about the true meaning of Christmas. I LOVE shopping for my family. I LOVE finding the perfect gift and giving it. I LOVE baking and decorating and singing carols and making cards. AND spending time with my husband and kids whilst doing all those things! He Grinches me every year. EVERY.YEAR. He gets all pissy and scowly and is a general pain in the ass. I understand how much he HATES the bullshit. I HATE it too. But that is not what it is about for me. I am closest to my mom at this time of year. I feel her in every ornament on the tree, every sugar cookie cut out, every carol sung. I LOVE the look in my children's eyes when they see lights on houses and Santa in a chair asking if they have been good and giving them a candy cane. I LOVE putting up my North Pole Village houses and getting them just so and lighting them up. We decided to SEVERELY tone down the gift giving this year. We bought some things the kids REALLY wanted. Like the 11 yr old asked for an "AM/FM alarm clock with 6 soothing sounds" No lie. He asked for that. So we got him an AM/FM alarm clock with 20 soothing sounds. That should be interesting! The little one wanted a few video games so that was cake. Every year they pick out and purchase an ornament for each other. It takes forever but it is great to watch them search for the PERFECT ornament for their brother. It's the little moments. The laughter. The singing carols. The flour coating every surface in my kitchen. The sugar highs from the icing. THAT is what my Christmas is.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010


My husband has a GINORMOUS family. So big that they rotate Thanksgiving every year. Like it's in a different house, sometimes a different state. (only PA which is like 20-30 minutes so relax!) One day we, in our teeny little love nest, may be thrown into the fray. I am hoping that will be a LOOOOOOOONNNNGGG time off. ANYWAY... we got a free turkey from the grocery store. Which really wasn't free seeing as how I had to spend $300 on groceries in a specified time. But since we are not in the fray...into the freezer it went. Now I am sad. I LOVE turkey. Like LOVE LOVE. So the fact that there will be no turkey smell in my house nor leftovers for creamed turkey, turkey potpie, turkey sandwiches, etc... has me sad in the bits. So I have decided that we will be doing Thanksgiving PART DIEUX on my birthday. That's right a week and 1 day after Thanksgiving I will be spending my 34th baking a turkey and making all the sides. My egg donor and her Bill (I love them both but it's complicated...and by egg donor I hope you know I mean my biological mother. It sounds better than Bio-Mom. That just sounds weird.) are flying in from FL to see us and his family so I want to make a turkey. Why? BECAUSE I LOVE TURKEY! And Scott LOVES turkey and candied yams and dirty mashed potatoes (skins on...get your mind outta the gutter...just because that's what he calls...NEVERMIND!), and pumkpin dutch apple pie, and homemade cranberry sauce...and hot buttered rolls! Wow...this is my food porn. Yep.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Resistance is futile?

The hell you say! I am tired of folks trying to make me like them. I am pretty damn happy with things the way they are. I mean aside from the obvious 25 pounds that seem permanently attached to my ass, gut and thighs. I am happy with the way things are turning out for the most part. There are some serious things I would change both past and present, but I don't see that EVER happening so I have to move on. I have to push through it and hope desperately that there is an end to the tunnel. I have TONS of hope. Hope that my oldest will conquer whatever demons are eating him up with doubt and devouring his confidence faster than he can climb the mountains in front of him. Hope that my little guy continues on the path he is on. Hope that my husband will find a job he can be happy at. Hope that people will see me for me and think I am pretty rad as I am and not try to change me or tolerate me with barely disguised contempt. It really shouldn't be so hard. I think I am pretty easy to get along with. I hope that people will stop trying to change my mind about homeschooling. Will stop giving me advice on how to raise and school my kids. Worry about what you are doing or not doing. I have enough to deal with thanks. Don't need you making me feel bad and second guessing my decisions. Support me. If you don't that's ok. But then you need to shut the AY-EFF up. You are not the one homeschooling so it really isn't any of your damn business. I know I cannot protect my kids from everything forever, but I can shield them from the nastier things for a little bit longer. Because they are still children and should be allowed to enjoy it for as long as they can. Without fear. Without danger. Without horrible things being said to them. Without threats. Because they are 11 and 8. And I want them to enjoy being 11 and 8 and then 12 and 9 and so on until they are old enough to tell me they are ready. I know it will come and I want them to be as equipped to deal with the ugly as much as they can. it will come soon enough, but until then...they can be kids and revel in every dirty, sweaty, wormy, buggy, tree climbing, ball throwing, bike riding, lego building second.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Grey hairs and Lady Fingers...

I realized today after my haircut that I have a few grey's popping up. Not a ton...just a few, but where there are a few there will be more! And you know what? I could care less! I am actually happy to see them. It's like a badge of all I have been through. My trials. My victories. My failures. I am also hoping that with the coarse nature of grey hair that I will FINALLY have the hair I've always wanted! I know it's delusional, but a gal's gotta have something!
Enter the Lady Fingers... I LOVE them. Almost as much as cake. Not as much...but almost. Lady Fingers means Tiramisu...which we will be making tomorrow... you know Italy...Colombus...New World? Oh, wait... that was Spain. Shit. This homeschooling thing is harder then I thought... ;)

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

And now for something completely different...

We are new to homeschooling and I am only exploring this new world with my 11 year old since my 8 year old is a social butterfly and LOVES school, which is totally OK. I home school my oldest because he was miserable. We are some of those strange parents that actually give a rat's rear what our kids are watching, reading, and listening to. My oldest was in crisis. He looks like every other kid except he has a conscience. ( not that others don't but I think you get me here.) So he was bullied relentlessly and the school stunk at helping. They shoved him in a behavioral disorders class because they didn't want to take the time to help. we are. New and scared senseless and loving every single second. We made bread the other day. From scratch. With cinnamon AND raisins, he HATES raisins. But he ate it because HE made it. And his smile nearly broke my heart.
It's the little things people. I can get as pissed as I want at the Hubster for his random acts of MAN (read: Incredibly selfish, stupid, insensitive...yadda yadda yadda), but it's the fact that he remembers that I LOVE owls and snowflakes and got me little necklaces of each yesterday. Nothing fancy, but the most beautiful pieces of jewelry because he thought about it. (He was ALSO in BIG trouble so he is almost forgiven.)
It's the joy of my son finding a subject he adores and reading about it for like TWO HOURS and then telling me ALL ABOUT IT. Because everything he does is in capital letters. It's realizing that my 8 year old is ME at 8. Terrified of dying but so joyful in his life! Weird! We watched My Sister's Keeper yesterday and he asked me if he could catch leukemia...poor kid. He comes from a LONG line of worriers! It's spending an hour raking leaves into a huge pile in the backyard we always wanted for them to spend two seconds destroying it by jumping into it howling like two crazy puppies. I get pissed and I get frustrated and I drink more than I should, but it's the beautiful faces and the heart stopping laughter that makes it all worth it. Remember that , y'all. It's the little instances of beauty and wonder and CHILD that count.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Proof that God and Ikea hate me.

A few years (read: 5) ago we bought the baby his BIG BOY BED. From Ikea. Whom I <3 with every fiber of my being. At least until today. Now, we all know that children will wet a bed. It happens. Whatever. It's why I keep a shit ton of baking sode on hand. Sprinkle a nice pile on the pee spots, cover with a towel and heavy things and leave it for a day. Vaccuum it up and the smell and wet is gone! TA-DA! Frickin magic shit I tell ya! Well, it does not, however, remove the stain every time. SO I, in all my sweatpanted wonder, decide it's high time to take the cover off the foam matress and wash it! YAY! Productivity! So I wrangle it off which took like 5 minutes cause it is a FOAM matress and the cover has a FLEECY lining. W.T.F?! What idiot thought that was a good mix?  Oh well. It's off and headed to the laundry. I start spraying it with spray and wash and then I see the tag...NO WASH. UH.OH. Upholstery shampoo only. should fine, right? I wash it and put it in the dryer with NO HEAT so it won't shrink. Guess did. Only a little thank GOD! So now it's time to get it back on... remember the fleecy lining? HA! It took me an hour. NO LIE. There were a few moments whree I was actually half in the cover cramming the FOAM mattress into the other end. There were a few moments where I was straddling the matress and jumping up and down because it kept sticking to the inside of the cover and folding in half. Which would have turned me on exceot ya know, I was pissed. Oh and the material is cotton but more like sandpaper as my bloody knuckles will attest. No shit...BLOODY KNUCKLES. After an hour of wrestling with the matress I stood it on it's end trying to get the last inch to slide in and the damn thing flopped over and hit my in the face. Which put my tooth into the soft flesh on the inside of my bottom lip. MOTHER.FUCKER. It was like wrestling with a giant whale penis, not that I would know personally, but it was big and floppy and grey and kinda sticky. So maybe? Whatever. I will NEVER be the good mommy again. He pees that bed one more time I am going to remove his bladder!
So, Ikea, if you are reading this...PLEASE, PLEASE, make a matress cover that is machine washable, has a zipper that goes at least halfway down the sides, and will not make my knuckles weep. Thanks! Still <3 you.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Because I drink too much...

I TOTALLY just realized that I CANNOT spell at all or remember to use THE SPELL CHECK when I've had a few. But boy, stuff sure does seem funnier! Like the hubs doing a hockey dance. Which is kinda a mix between the Big SHoe Dance, a REALLY bad Brit porn (which FYI was free in Germany! Have I mentioned how much I miss Germany?),  and a cat horking up a hairball. I've seen all 3 and would <3 it if some video savy person would do a video mash up of the them! I don't think he appreciates my hyena/monkey screech laugter though... or the fact that I keep re-reading my blog here and correcting my bad, drunk spelling. Or the fact that I am laughing hysterically at shit I find on THE YOU TUBE. Like Annoying Orange. My kids <3 it. Me- not so much. But that shit is funny when you are drinking! I am having a few cause it's been A.DAY. Don't judge...join me. Hae a few and say "Piss off, YOU DAY!" Cause "Piss off" is the 11 yr old's FAVORITE swear. He was TOTALLY born in the wrong country. Now I am laughing how he got suspended off the bus for a week for telling a kid that called him a faggot that fucks dead people (NO LIE, y'all!) to piss off. And people wonder why I am homeschooling...

Is it bad that I drinkl so much?

Today was a DAY. The homeschooler decided to not school. AT.ALL. lie, but 30 problems (like SUPER simple) should NOT take 4 HOURS! Talk about procrastination. So now I am full of THE GUILT and am therefore drowning it. In beer. And whiskey. DON'T YOU JUDGE ME! I love this kid more than myself and yet...I can't friggin stand him at the same time!!!! Why? Cause...he is me. Which terrifies me to the point of self medication. He is so funny. And so thoughtful...except to his immediate family. And such a beautiful, old soul. I bought his first Christmas present the other's a ceramic plaque that says "All who wander are not lost- J.R.R. Tolkien" It seriously made me cry becasue it was him. Completely. He seems lost but I think he knows where he is going. He wants to be a photographer for National Geographic. He loves animals and critters of all shapes and sizes. Just like his daddy. He gets teary eyed at ASPCA commercials. And Kay jewelers. Except that dumb one with the girl afraid of thunder cause it's STUPID! He is my gentle little asshole. He kinda sucks sometimes. And then...he leaves me breathless with his compassion. And then... he kicks his brother under the table. Damn.

I've had all I can stands and I can't stands no more!

It's funny. I just had this HUGE blog talking about all that is wrong with the hubs and me. And I deleted it. I even asked my friends to remove the networky thingy so it wouldn't post on a group page. Then turned around and deleted it. Why? I have no fucking idea. It hurt so much to write. But it would hurt even more if certain folks got ahold of it. Why should I care? This is MY page after all, right? Because I'm nice like that. I want it to stop hurting so much every single day. I want to be seen. I want to feel like I matter. BY HIM. Maybe it's just a bad week year. I don't know. It's just steady been headed south since we left Germany. Which is funny cause we went there on shaky ground. The best times of my ENTIRE marriage where in Germany. I would give just about anything to have that feeling back. To be surprised by a rain soaked man carrying the most beautiful flowers I have ever seen. To feel cherished. To feel like I am the only person he sees in a room full of people. To have him hold my hand or put his arm around me IN PUBLIC again. Why is being here so different? There are a million little reasons bound to a million little daggers for both sides to that story. A story I can't even give a voice to. A story I want to scream from the rooftop and whisper so no one hears at the same time. I am tired of the weight of what I carry. And the shitty thing's not even my burden. It's his and yet I carry the bulk. Why is that? I really thought I had lain it down. But it feels shackeled to me. It feels like a parasite that is slowly eating me alive and I cannot stop it. Some days I am strong enough. Not today. Not this week. Not this year. How do I come back from having everything I hoped for, dreamed of, trusted in, ripped from me? I can literally feel my heart break some days. And it takes my breath and leaves me raw and empty. I should talk to someone. Get some help. But at the same time I am tired of talking about it. So what now?

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Sometimes I make my own self sick.

Here I am bitching about the absolute rivers of bullshit in my life and there are so many out there the are literally swimming upstream in it. I have two healthy children. One has "issues" but I am REALLY beginning to think that all "medical diagnoses" were just more turds to the flow. I know in my little mommy's heart that most of his "issues" are really my fault. DON'T tell me otherwise. You don't know the story. I was a grade A, shitty mother for the better part of his little life. There were other factors at work but the basis is I failed him. I am working OVERTIME to repair the damage. I pray every single day for the grace of God to help me fix him. He is so beautiful. And I love him so much that I hate myself. Really. I see myself in him and it scares the shit out of me. Thankfully my little one came when he did. I still regularly screw things up but I am NOT who I used to be. I am lucky enough to have been given a second chance at this. I am trying not to screw it up more than would be considered normal. I am thankful that I have two beautiful boys that are RIDONKULOUSLY funny. I am trying to be the mother they deserve. God give me grace!

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Some days you're the windshield, some days you're the bug... A letter to the man that will NEVER read this.

And sometimes you're the poor schmuck that has to scrape the gut goo off of the windshield. Some weeks even. I really just cannot understand what gets in a man's head sometimes that makes him think that acting like a RAGING asshole all week would make me WANT to have any kind of intimate contact with him. EVER.AGAIN. No, really. Not attractive at all. The frowning face when you walk in the door. The slamming of doors, cabinets, whatever. The ,not so subtle, muttering under your breath about the way the house looks, or the laundry pile creeping out of the basket, or the fact that NO I did NOT feel like cooking today. I mean, I am only homeschooling a child that is determined to watch me rip my brains out and bash them with my coffee cup every morning. I am only responsible for his education, getting the 3rd grader ready and fed and on the bus, cleaning the house, doing the laundry, the grocery shopping, the everything under the sun I do EVERY.SINGLE.DAY.TO.KEEP.US.ALL.DRESSED.AND.FED. But now I am supposed to be a mind reader, knife juggler, jumper through fiery hoops, therapist, 5 star chef, animal wrangler, chaffeur, and playboy bunny? Screw that. I am tired. Exhausted. Like to the point I want to check myself into the hospital just so I can take a nap. So you coming home acting like a caveman hellbent on being a dick....well, it just doesn't do it for me. Does the sight of me on my period, in my fuzzy purple bathrobe, crammiong chocolate in my face, guzzling coffee, and farting do it for you? No? Well, there ya go. Your period sucks too.

Friday, October 29, 2010

Der Kürbis Tod März

Loosely translated... THE PUMPKIN DEATH MARCH! ...OF DEATH!!!!
So, yeah... you may remember a post about pumpkin love... Well, THAT pumpkin is THANKFULLY still with us. Alas, the other, mere mortal pumpkins, are no longer so. Some gave in to the very UN-October heat and melted into my paver walkway. Others put up a brave front and developed a very distinguished white cap. Distinguished until we realized it was MOLD! EWWW!! Still, others faded from a brilliant white to a very undignified yellow. Needless to say, they are now forest critter fodder. Bright side...mystery pumpkin vines in the garden next year!? SO...I, alone, took the BOYS to Heritage Station Vineyards (YEP...) for some pumpkin pickin'! Me- (to the very skinny and uninterested, but still kinda nice, sales GIRL) "Ummm... are those pumpkins out front all you have left?" her- "Yeah...that's it. Oh...unless you want the U-pick em's" me- " Well, yeah, where are those?" her- " See that sandy trail there through the vineyard? Follow it to the pumpkin patch in the hill." me-" GREAT! Thanks!" Now we set out... and pass some animals. A few cold lookin' hens and , WEIRD- a Peacock. Same pen. He looked nervous and was either molting, which given that it is FALL and COLD  is HIGHLY unlikely, or just, well...missing some plumage. Then comes the goats. Now I have a soft spot for goats. I have NO IDEA why. I just do. My littler one asked, "Mom, how come they have cat eyes?" me- "Why." him- "I don't know I was asking you." me- "*sigh* No...WHY do they have cat eyes?" him- "MOM! I WAS ASKING YOU! I DON'T KNOW!" me- "Let's ask your dad."
Moving along...a GIANT cow! Followed by this conversation... "Me "HOLY COW!" (thinking that would get a chuckle) The older one- "Mom, (while shaking his head in shame) cow's have udders. And that one has what looks like a penis so wouldn't that make it a bull?" me- " HEY! Who wants to race to the pumpkin patch?" Damn kids! we are and aren't those tiny orange dots the pumpkins? RUN CHILDREN! RUN! No lie...It took a bit, but mostly cause of the GIANT ...BULL! So we FINALLY get there and I look over my shoulder back towards where I thought the shop should be...wait...that can't be it... that TINY speck of grey? CRAP. OK... "Find you pumpkins boys!" Now the oldest finds his like RIGHT AWAY. Which freaks me out since he is SUPER ANAL RETENTIVE and also must touch EVERY. PUMPKIN.IN.THE.PATCH. But was a victory! And then... there was Aidan's pumpkin. THAT took FOREVER. Now it's getting COLD. And the wind is pickling up and it looks like rain. (side note- I have arthritis in my neck from a car accident and NORMALLY wear a scarf when it is cold and wasn't cold and wet when we got there!) So I am trying to get Aidan his pumpkin and also one for me and the hubs cause we love this stuff too! (side note- His ass was still at "work" year this adventure is TOTALLY his!) So we FINALLY get them...and schlep back. It's easily 5 degrees colder- it was 55 to start smart ass- the wind is in our face and there are little drops of rain just because. Did I mention that I am carrying 32 pounds of pumpkin? we finally get back weigh and pay for the punkins, get the kids in the car, and what do I do... it is a vineyard, y'all... I left my two children in the car and went back in...and bought a to go bottle! Plus a cute wine carrier that says, "Drinks Well With Others!" The kids are happy and I am on my way! HAPPY FALL, Y'ALL!

I wish you could hear the soundtrack in my head!

I seriously walk around all day with various bits of music BLARING in my head. No lie, y'all. Like when I do something spectacularly awesome I hear...and this is a weird one... this little sound blurb from a Simpson's episode that featured N'SYNC. The one where Bart was in a boy bandOr when Scott is in a bad mood... I hear the Emperor's March from Star Wars... don't care if that is the real title or not, but bet your ass you knew what I meant! When I am on a "field trip" with my kids I hear that little circus know the one. We've ALL heard it! When I screw something up... WAH WAH WAAAAAAHHH. Or... when Nelson says "HAHA". (I've TRIED to put the videos in did NOT work so DEAL WITH IT! We all have our own soundtracks... what's yours?

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Seriously?! This is getting to be a REAL problem here!

So, after a week or so of VERY sleepness nights I finally drugged my husband. YES. I. DID. DO. NOT. JUDGE. ME! He drives RIDONKULOUS amounts for work every day. 500+ miles per week for a job that does not appreciate him at all. Thank GOD he retires in a year and a half. But I gave him a Tylenol PM last night cause my ass was tired from his tossing and turning and turning the TV on at O'dark:30 cause he couldn't sleep! And it knocked his ass out! WOOHOO! So much so that at 0430 when his alarm went off...HE. DID. NOT. HEAR. IT. Y'ALL! I practically had to beat him up to get him to turn it off.  Only he hit snooze...EVERY. NINE. MINUTES. FOR. AN. HOUR. DAMNIT!!!!  I guess he finally got tired of the hits to the kidney and head and got up. I fell back into my's been a week My step-dad was in a TERRIBLE accident (he's ok but still has a long road to go) THEN last night my cousin had an emergency appendectomy (again he is ok). ARGHHH!!!! STRESS!!!!! Thankfully everyone is ok. But the hubby was up that early and DID. NOT. MAKE. THE. F'ING. COFFEE. AGAIN! I am seeking legal council.

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Like I said...I may have to kill the man...

There are few divorcable offenses in my house...not making the coffee is NUMERO UNO. There is also bitching about anything I cook, clean, or otherwise have a hand in. Such as the miracle of squeezing out the two nose pickin', mouth breathers. I mean, ther are other far more obvious offenses, but...been there done that got the emotional and physical baggage and scars that like to rip open and gush bloody infection over my day at the most inopportune times. It's fucking awesome when that happens. Like ripping my heart out with a rusty spork all by myself and then holding it up in the air for all to see before I hacky sack it into the fireplace kind of awesome. Yeah it rocks. ANYWAY... hiding behind or in shit and jumping out at me is one. I swear he is so fucking lucky that my ass doesn't walk around with a knife because I would have stabbed him like a bajillion times. Fucker. And please. PLEASE. Do NOT come take a shit while I am trapped in the shower. Not funny. Not funny at all. And NO I do NOT want to have a conversation with you while you are doing it. Something about the fact that my nice peppermint or lavendar shower now smells like someone shit in the candy/flower store kinda makes me lose words. My kids have picked up this unfortunate habit as well. I may need to get shock collars and a perimeter thingy so they can't get anywhere near the bathroom while I am in there! I know I should lock the door, but don't. We only have the one and I hae a fear of them not being able to go when they REALLY need to and then having to take them to the hospital mfor Coke can sized fecal impaction. Or I would have to kill them for pissing themselves. Either way it's not pretty. Scott is pretty great. He really is. He lets me sleep in on the weekends. He takes the kids on his famous death march/bike rides. He bought me a $33 Cinderella Punpkin, y'all! But DAMN.IT. When he screws up he really goes for gold. FUCKER.

I may have to kill my husband...or divorce him.

There has got to be some retribution here. I mean...I don't have many rules about the way shit goes down in my house. Clean up after yourself is pretty much it. EXCEPT...and this one is the MOST important... the first adult up, MAKE.THE.COFFEE. I am lucky enough to have a man that lets me sleep in (until 8 cause that is, unfairly, as late as I can sleep anymore) on Saturdays, but really? EVERY.SINGLE.SATURDAY?  How is it possible to FORGET? He knows that when I get up Monday-Friday that is the first thing I do. No one gets fed until the coffee is brewing. No one gets talked to until the coffee is brewing. GET.OUT.OF.MY.WAY. until the coffee is brewing! It's not difficult. One tablespoon per cup of water. I like my shit strong. You can bitch it up if you need to but just follow my precise measurements and make the DAMN COFFEE!!!! He does this more often than not. This morning he walks in while I am peeing and am swaying, bleary eyed on the pot and tells me, "Oh, I forgot to make the coffee". WHAT THE AY-EFF DUDE?!?! I said, "Really? You ARE kidding right? How long have you been up?" him- "Since 7ish." me-"And you somehow 'FORGOT' to make the coffee?" So he gets in the shower cause he has to take the little on to a community cleanup his soccer team is working from 9-12. And he is pretty awesome for not even suggesting that I do it, but still...HE.FORGOT.TO.MAKE.THE.COFFEE...AGAIN!!!! So I walk into the kitchen thinking he is just kidding he really did make it...NOPE. So what do I do? I make the damn coffee. And then...I fill a big ass cup with icy cold water, walk calmly into the bathroom, reach over the shower wall while his is washing his face, and DUMP THAT SHIT ALL OVER HIM! He screams of course. And I am doubled over in tears cause that shit was funny. I tell him, "There, now we are even. Now I don't have to leave you." He, of course, didn't see the fairness of my vigilante justice.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Well, color me crazy!

I know I am "home-schooling" but that can't really start until a few things happen... #1 I have to quit my job. Which I did and it sucks cause I liked it, but the last day is next week. #2 The math program needs to get here. #3 I need to be mentally prepared to not murder my son and hide his body in the woods behind the house! OK...if something ever happens to him I know I will be suspect NUMERO UNO, but you have to know I would NEVER actually do anything to hurt the kid. He's actually pretty awesome. He is a smart ass just like his mommy *wipes a tear from her eye*  and is super quick with the snarky comebacks! In short he is my twin and that is why I am FREAKING OUT! I am afraid that we are so the same person that the home-schooling thing is going to blow up in my face. I am afraid that I am going to fail him in a million (more) little ways. I am afraid that he is going to end up as crazy or more so than me. Even though his odds are pretty good there anyway! The good news is...he is still excited about the whole idea. He was singing a little rock song about going to the library today! HUH?!??!! This kid DOES.NOT.LIKE.THE.LIBRARY. And he is excited to go? LET'S GO!!!! He is excited to make a pumpkin pie today. He LOVES YAY! He is making me more excited to teach him. I am not even pushing the issue right now. A little bit of un-schooling will do him good. And hopefully not drive us insane in the process!

Monday, October 18, 2010

New venture...or how I went grey and crazy FAST!

I have made the decision to homeschool my oldest son. WHHHHAAAATTTTT?!?!?! Yep. I know...sounds crazy. BELIEVE me I KNOW! I am just fed up with how completely the school system has failed my son. He is catagorized as learning disabled. HA! He does have Central Auditory Processing Disorder, which is a complete pain in the ass to work with, but SO manageable if you just try. It means his processing speed for spoken directions is slower. Therefore he learns a little slower. There is no room for this kind of child here. AT ALL. So rather than let him fail and fall farther behind. I am taking charge of his education. I am hoping we don't kill eachother.


Friday, October 15, 2010

Am I the A**hole here?

It can't be me, can it? I just am a leader in ant-bullshit awareness, right? A vanguard, a beacon to the world that says, SHUT THE AY-EFF UP STUPID PEOPLE OF THE WORLD! Right? Or am I that annoying bitchy chick that finds the evil in everything? Is it wrong to point out the obvious assholiness (drop the e add iness and it's a word.) in all that I see? Like, take for instance, the chick all blinged out at the supermarket with her fake bake, plastic tits, and GIANT Coach bag, buying groceries for her dirty, under dressed children with a WIC/Foodstamp card. Did I mention she got into a GIANT Caddy SUV? Or how about the folks that complain of no money and then turn around and buy a $2500 television. Cause you know that shit is WAY more important than your electric bill or food. Or the idiots that ride my ass all the way down the street, then swerve around me just to turn right in front of me. Am I the asshole here? I swear one day I am going to snap and stand in the middle of a store on top of a literal soap box and start preaching the truth to these people. I may need a few translators though since it seems that hardly anyone speaks English anymore.
p.s.- I LOVE that "ass holliness" is actually IN the spell checker!

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

A sign that the world, as we know it, is about to end in a fiery ball of screaming bodies.

I walked away from cupcakes. Not just once but numerous times over the past two days. They have been in one of the Doc's office and I have to go in there to get patient charts and shit. And EVERY time I have to walk right past them. I stopped the first time and thought...
Yes, y'all, I have a history with cupcakes. Well, cake in general. OK...cakes in general and pie...OK STOP JUDGING ME! I have a history with cake, pie, tarts, cookies, candy, brownies, DESSERT IS MY BEST FRIEND! I LOVE IT! I HATE IT! IT MAKES ME IT'S BITCH! But i seriously did not want those little sweet things! Not even a little! Damn good thing too because a Rep brought in fucking creampuffs and eclairs! SHIT!
ps- the creampuffs and eclairs tasted like the were either stale, had been left too long in someone's fridge and had that weird "FRIDGE TASTE" or maybe they were once frozen. And YES I tried them both! (I also chucked them both after one bite. The week continues to be just as shitty as it started)

Monday, October 11, 2010

What the AYEFF?

What is wrong with me? I woke up in the most miserable place today and don't know why. I am friggin exhausted. Like the kind of tired where you fall on the floor in a heap and just cry. Yep. That's me. But I had to go to work today. And thankfully Scott was off with the kids so some stuff got done around here. Cause if was left to me there would still be sauerkraut stuck to the stove top and beer slowly evaporating in the steins on the counter. My neck has been out for a week or so...quick side note... I was in a car accident my senior year of H.S. and dislocated the C2 almost 90 degrees...that's what the doc said at least...and that makes my head pound, my left arm go numb and therefore I get no sleep. Pile that on top of Skottoberfest and a house full of folks sleeping on every available floor and one on the couch (and I LOVED every second of them being here!!! I miss them already! REALLY!!!)  Oh, and he fact that I BUSTED.MY.ASS. No shit. I fucking fell over a planter in my front yard that has been there for MONTHS. In my defense it was DARK and I was maybe a little intoxicated and most certainly distracted by a crazy BITCH. I am so far past drained it's not even funny. But ya wanna know the sick little twist here? I.CAN.NOT. FUCKING. SLEEP.  I have pills for relaxing muscles and for pain but sometimes they make me feel even shittier so I don't always take them. Tonight, however, I will be sleeping with Prince Valium and his cousin The Earl of Percocet. That's a place in England, right?
p.s. I guess I do know why I feel so miserable. Oops.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Did you ever want to just grab someone and shake the SHIT out of them?

This here ,y'all, is one of my BIGGEST peeve? No...aggravation? Nope... THIS SHIT JUST CHAPS MY ASS!!! How can someone, with a straight fucking face, look you in the eye and cry poormouth THEN turn around and go by some shit they don't need? Like a $300 purse. Or a P.O.S. truck. Or a fucking car. Or a BIGGER THAN SHIT FLAT SCREEN TELEVISION?!?!? This drives my already monkey nuts ass even crazier! REALLY?!?!?! You cry about not being able to pay your car note or buy food for your kids or whatnot yet your ass somehow finds the moolah to go out and buy that brand new iPhone/pad/pod/fucking Rosie the robot maid. Which, honestly I would buy that if I could. Rosie. Not the iCrap. I just don't get it. Yes, I have a cell phone, which surprisingly MAKES FUCKING PHONE CALLS! Cause isn't that what phones are supposed to do? I can't watch a movie on it. Don't need to...have the BIG FLAT SCREEN TELEVISION. Oh, we paid cash for it. We saved for over a year to get it. Cause that is how you are supposed to do it. Yep...have an iPod too...a Nano. It's HOT pink. It's also 5 years old. And guess what. The little pink bitch still plays music just as well as the latest one with a fucking touch screen/video camera/electric toothbrush. YES, I KNOW that it doesn't have an electric toothbrush. You are missing the point. Or maybe you are not and you are just as pissed as me at these assholes! GOD I hope so. If this blog pissed you off...well, you are OBVIOUSLY in the wrong fucking place sister (or mister) and need to get outta here MACH SCHNELL! Or stick a might learn something.

p.s.- This is not aimed at those of you/us that actually can afford this shit or have saved for it and whatnot.
p.p.s- Did I really need to clarify that?

Monday, October 4, 2010

Here is something you just can't understand...

...How I could just kill a man! Ok, not really. That is totally a Cypress Hill lyric. Or Rage Against The Machine. Depending on your mood. But sometimes I TOTALLY feel like that! I mean, really? WHY. CAN'T. PEOPLE. JUST. LEAVE. ME. THE. HELL. ALONE? I just want to live my life and be happy at least some of the time. Why do some people feel the need to constantly make themselves better? By putting me down, talking to me like I am unable to comprehend basic sentence structure. By assuming you have any idea of who I am, where I've been, what kind of education I have. WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? (channeling my inner Stewie there.) Is it just impossible for you to be happy with yourself? Your life? Your choices? Sure, we've all made some shitty ones. I refer to mine as the Denver Enigma. (He's my EX husband by the by, in case you missed that part!) But as one of my fave songs says...
Sometimes, I feel the fear of uncertainty stinging clear
And I can't help but ask myself how much I let the fear
Take the wheel and steer
It's driven me before
And it seems to have a vague, haunting mass appeal
But lately I'm beginning to find that I
Should be the one behind the wheel

Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there
With open arms and open eyes yeah

Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there
I'll be there

So if I decide to waiver my chance to be one of the hive
Will I choose water over wine and hold my own and drive?
It's driven me before
And it seems to be the way that everyone else gets around
But lately I'm beginning to find that
When I drive myself my light is found

Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there
With open arms and open eyes yeah

Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there
I'll be there

Would you choose water over wine
Hold the wheel and drive

Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there
With open arms and open eyes yeah

Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there
I'll be there.

So be there. And leave me the hell alone. Man!

Saturday, October 2, 2010

THIS is how my brain works people!

Pumpkin love is the best love there is!

OK y'all. I LOVE Fall. Like I pretty much HATE the rest of the year. Except winter cause I totally love snow and all and my birthday is in there somewhere, but there is just something about Fall. It's cooler, the colors, the smells, the PUMPKINS! I L.O.V.E. PUMPKINS! Every shape, size and color! So we went to go apple picking and apparently that was done last weekend...SHIT. So we got pumpkins.  Your normal carving type, some blue ones that are going to be pie soon (they are only blue outside- orange inside, but I'd totally eat a blue pumpkin pie cause I LOVE pie almost as much as cake!) I was so just giddy happy over all the pumpkins and crazy gourds and then Scott yells across the patch..."JEN!!! JEN!!! COME HERE QUICK!" I think that a giant punkin has fallen and crushed a child, but no... he has found my dream pumpkin! It is called Fairytale Pumpkin. FOR A REASON! It looks just like Cinderella's carriage! Or the kind of pumpkin you see in movies that you know is not real, but wish it was... WELL IT IS! And it's mine and I LOVE it!

Let me just say that this sucker weighs 33 pounds. 33 pounds of pumpkin love!

Friday, October 1, 2010

His fault- Part Deux ( cause I'm global like that!)

So I get home and he is home early from work. SURPRISE! We sit down are talking and joking around and I tell him about the cupcake. He gives me a look...I said "You do realize this is TOTALLY your fault, right?" Him- "How do you figure?" Me- "HELLO?!?!?! Alarm at 4 am for an hour every nine minutes! You need to set that fucker later!" Him- "But I want to get up. You don't understand how hard it is to get up that early. " Me- "You ARE kidding right? I. DON'T. UNDERSTAND.? EVERY. MORNING. I. HAVE. TO. BEAT .THE. SHIT. OUT. OF. YOU. AT. 4 .AM. BEACUSE. YOU. DON'T. HEAR. THE. ALARM. GOING. OFF!!!!"  Him- "Huh? OK." Me- "So you agree the cupcake is your fault?" Him- "Yep. I should be ashamed of myself." Me- "Damn right!" Him- "I should be punished." Me- "Do NOT turn this into something sexual! I am pissed at you for the cupcake!" Him- " What?"
So you see...this is why I eat cake and drink. ALOT.

The cupcake is TOTALLY his fault!

Today started off with me nearly killing my husband. Seriously. No shit. KILLING.HIM. Why, you may ask, would I feel the need to commit such a heinous deed? WHY?!!!??? Because for some completely ridiculoius reason he sets his alarm for 4 A.M. and then proceeds to hit snooze until 5 A.M. ONE .HOUR. OF. THAT. ANNOYING. FUCKING. BEEPING. EVERY. NINE. MINUTES. So naturally after kicking, poking, and almost biting him awake at various intervals he FINALLY gets out of bed! BAS.TARD. He then stumbles around the room in the dark looking for his shit. Did I mention that the 8 year old is also in bed with me? No? WELL. HE. IS. DAMN.IT. Now, he gets his shit and gets ready in the bathroom. I am struggling to fall back asleep cause my heart is pounding out of my chest from the exertion of NOT getting out of bed and beating him to death with the loofah in the shower. He tiptoes in (REALLY?!?!) and kisses me sweetly and says "honey, aren't you getting up? You said last night you wanted to get up and get on the treadmill." Thank GOD it was dark y'all. Cause the look I was giving would have killed him on the spot! So I said, "Uhhuh. Thanks sweetie. Have a great day. I love you. Be careful." I stretched  and sat up, the front door shut and my ass laid right back down and went back to sleep! Fast forward 20 minutes. Now my alarm is going off. Get up, get the coffee going, remember that there is no school today (THANK YOU NJ TEACHERS! GGGrrrrr!), scramble to get the little guy ready cause he has to go to work with me. Listen to him bitch about it for the next 30 minutes while I am trying to simultaneously drink me coffee, iron my clothes, and blowdry my hair. No easy feat. Out the door with instructions to the 11 year old to not kill himself, the cat, or burn anything down. Awesome. Love you see you later! Work is going great. UNTIL... the ASSHOLE drug rep. brings  in the drugs. You should all know my drug of choice by now... FUCKING CUPCAKES. GOURMET CUPCAKES. Like it matters to me. Cake is cake. But DAMN these are pretty! I had a pumpkin cupcake with creamcheese buttercream frosting. YES.I.DID. And you know what? It's all Scott's fault!

I am, as you should all know by now, mostly full of crap.

I was gonna say shit, but I figured that it would be a little harsh for some poor soul to accidentally stumble upon this blog too early in the A.M. before finishing at least one cup of coffee. There could have been a profanity induced injury or something and I am just not ready to accept that kind of guilt!
Soooo, anyway... here I sit at 0'Dark:30 looking at the treadmill from the corner of my left eye. I have guilt here, people. I TOTALLY abandoned my new best friend when he ( ALL exercise equipment are masculine, because only a man could make us want to throw up after spending an hour busting your ass for him!) was just trying to help. He didn't do anything wrong. I got a touch of the tummy bug, and no one wants to run when at any second horrible things could come pouring out of you! Then my right heel started hurting again. Not sure if it's plantar fasciitis or heel spurs. But I don't like people touching my feet. It freaks me out. (add that to my list of weird shit that freaks me out!) So until they find a way to fix it without touching my feet, NO Podiatrist for me! Then before I knew it an ENITRE WEEK had passed me by with nary a tread on that mill! I've been pretty good with the food intake though. So thank GOD for that! Although there was this one incident with a Chocolate Junior that we won't discuss because my C.E.A. sponsor would be upset. (Cake. Eaters. Anonymous. y'all. Pay attention!) I kind of feel guilty but then again I think I needed a break. To prove that I am capable of taking a break and not going monkey shit crazy and gaining back all 8.5 pounds I have lost in the last month or so! So, the moral of the story here y'all... I have no friggin' idea! It's SIX. IN. THE. MORNING. What do you want from me?

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

I feel the need to clarify...

A few blogs ago I posted that I am no longer miserable and yet I continue to bitch about stupid shit every single day. Let me make something "No longer miserable" I mean that I am no longer heart sick over things people and events I had/have no control over. I am no longer letting those people, places and things own me. I OWN THEM! One of them quite literally. I will ALWAYS find something to bitch about. It's my job, nay, my RIGHT as an American woman to be able to do so! It doesn't mean I am miserable. It just means that I am calling the everyday bullshit on the carpet and giving it a dressing down. Because I can. I don't care anymore what people think of me. This is me and you don't have to like it. HELLO?!?!? Doesn't anyone pay attention??? I am tired of playing games. I am tired of pretending to be someone I am not. So I just stopped. No big deal. Over and done. Thanks. I choose to be silent in certain situations because I can. I am an adult and I pay my taxes so that is my right. I don't have to acknowledge certain people just because. If I really can't stand you you will know it by the fact that you are invisible to me. You are not even a ripple in my pond. I will not go out of my way to make anyone feel uncomfortable, but I also will not go out of my way to make you, if you are invisible to me, feel comfortable either. And, by the way, this is not about any one person. There are more people in my life than some people realize and you probably have no idea these folks exist so quit assuming...ASS. K? Crystal?

It's only friggin Wednesday?!?!

My week, thus far, has proved less than satisfactory. I started with a terrible stomach ache that I thought was a heart attack, no lie it hurt that bad. THEN I broke the tip of my just- healed from the last break -pinky toe. THEN my littlest one, through no real fault of his own, busted my lip with his HUGE head. THEN the oler one got his cell phone confiscated. THEN his teacher called. THEN I get a letter from the little one's school telling me he needs assistance with basic math skills and language arts literacy...THEY. SPELLED. HIS. F'ING. NAME. WRONG. Seriously?!?! I mean, how can you, with a straight face, tell me that my son who loves to read, needs assistance? He never spells his name wrong. IDIOTS.
I haven't been on the treadmill all week due to said stomach ache. I feel worse because of it but cannot seem to muster up the strength to do it. DAMN.IT. I WILL be getting on the tread tonight. I HAVE to. But am a little afraid seeing how much shit has gone wrong this week so far. My luck there will be a horrible accident involving me, the treadmill, the bookcase, and the cat. I just have a feeling. 

Monday, September 27, 2010

Checking myself in to the Betty Crocker clinic...

I have a problem...a cake problem. Although from my side...I can quit anytime I want to! I <3 a fat kid does. Oh, wait...SHIT! That's me too! DAMN.IT. Sometimes I just need it. CAKE. My sweet, flaky, icinged (yes, that is a word as a matter of fact! OK... I made it up) WHORE! I LOVE YOU! I HATE YOU! I NEED YOU TO MAKE ME WHOLE!!!! I had a small sliver of cake at a birthday party a few days ago and up until then I had done good. Cold Cupcake. Not a crumb in weeks. And this one was made with beets so I am not entirely sure it counts as cake. But dealer, aka SCOTT, disappeared and came back with...DUN DUN DUNNNNN.... a CHOCOLATE JUNIOR! The MECCA of Tasty Cake goodness! SONOFABITCH! He says, after I stupidly read the calorie load, " so, only eat half. You do know you can do that right?" Me- "UNHUH....." (as I am unwrapping it) Him-" You gonna save some for tomorrow?" Me- "What?" It's already gone. SHIT. Now I have guilt. Chocolate iced guilt to be sure, but guilt all the same. I am going to have to run like, THE UNITED STATES, to get rid of that! DAMN.IT.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

You know I'm about to have my monthly visitor when...

I want to cry...and I mean ALL.THE.TIME. Over stupid shit. Like those dumb Debeer's Diamond commercials. Or when that little covered wagon drives into the cupboard cause the dog is chasing it...damn do!
I want to eat stupid things. Like hot dogs.And Salty chips, cause ya know the water retention isn't quite bad enough. And Tasty Cake Jelly Krimpets. OH.MY.GOD. And butter with brown sugar mixed lie. Think cookie dough before the flour and eggs and shit go in! And chili cheese Coney Dogs. And GIANT COKES...I don't drink soda anymore for the for a few years now. And Greasy, juicy hamburgers.And Hot, Salty, Balls...those are a real thing y'all. And they are probably not what you think. Maui's Doghouse in Wildwood sells them. ..DAMN IT! Now I am gonna start crying!
I get mean. REALLY mean. Scott calls it edgy cause he's not stupid enough to tell me that I am being a bitch. Good man. I yell over stupid things, "WHO IN THE FUCK FOLDED THESE TOWELS? HELEN KELLER?" I KNOW!!! I know...I'm ashamed of myself right now...I only yelled that once and it was at the hubby. He's been properly trained since then.
I want to sleep. ALL DAY. Which totally puts a damper on stuff, like eating the salty chips. It also makes me not want to get on the treadmill. Which I did once today already, but am thinking a glass of wine is in order instead. Big Girl Glass Of Wine. Like Jules'.

Monday, September 20, 2010


In case you hadn't noticed, I am having a REALLY shitty day. Like, in the history of shitty days this has to be in the top 10...maybe even top 5! If you read the previous blog(s) you'll know why/. Thus, you shall understand my downfall. I took the oldest to one is there. Take him to the other field cause "Oh! YEAH! Mom? It's at the other field." So now not only is my blood pressure WAY too high I am now grinding my teeth. We get there right at 5. No one is there. And I mean no one like tumbleweeds a'tumblin' across the empty fields kinda no one. So we wait. Then we go to leave and are half way down the road...THERE THEY ARE! DAMN.IT. Meanwhile the hubby, who is so far in the dog house he is like ameobas on fleas on rats, is texting me asking my what's going on. Like I have a friggin clue! So he says he'll come and I can take the little guy and head home. HALLELUJAH! Now, I've decided that the only thing going to salvage this day is french fries. Checker's battered, sorta spicy, greasy goodness kinda fries! SHUT UP! I KNOW! I ate those hot little bitches in less than 5 minutes! The little guy says , " Hey , mom where's your fries." Me- "uh...I ate them." Him- "Jeez mom!" Me " STOP JUDGING ME!" No lie that was the conversation with the 8 yr old. He knows I am crazy so it's fine. He did start hiding his fries like he was eating them in prison though. Now I know...I know...terrible right? I had the little voice in my head telling, "Don't eat them, Jen! You've been doing so well!" So you know what I did? I STUFFED A FRIGGIN FRY IN THE LITTLE VOICE'S MOUTH! A fry I stole from the 8 yr old. Nice.


You know, I think this Monday is going to go down in history. We start the day with two snotty nosed brats. CLosely followed by me nearly killing myself on the attic stairs. And by stairs I mean thin aluminum things that vaguely resemble stairs. Nearly break a friggin ankle on the treadmill cause I was so preoccupied with being pissed at everything from today and yesterday. NOW, and this is the chock full of peanuts icing on my cake of shit... The hubs just heard that his extension was denied. He will be 7 months short of retirement. What does this mean? IT. FUCKING. MEANS. THAT. HE. WILL. BE. SEVEN. MONTHS. SHORT. OF. RETIREMENT. No benefits, no retirement pay. NOTHING.THANK YOU FOR PLAYING FOR THE LAST 19 YEARS AND 5 MONTHS AN FUCK YOU. AWESOME. So thanks US Navy. For wasting my time. For taking that guy I fell in love with and turning him into a complete asshole. Thanks, for continuing to FUCK.WITH.ME after all the time and tears and EVERYTHING. I have given as a loving and supportive spouse. Thanks for keeping complete SHITBAGS in. Those guys that have been caught stealing (now I will have Jane's Addiction stuck in my head all day), doing drugs, getting lower ranked chicks pregnant, going A.W.O.L. Nice choice. No wonder our military is going to hell in a handbasket. So now, we wait. And hope, pray, cross fingers and toes, to see if somehow, someway, some miracle can be performed. If not...I wonder if I can sell an ovary. Kidney on the black market?
~Fuck It All~

WHY?!?! Why does it ALWAYS happen at 3 am?

What internal mechanism do kids have that causes illnesses to show themselves at THREE.IN.THE.MORNING? EVERY.DAMN.TIME?!?!?! I mean, seriously? I know that I, for one, do not love getting woken up by the littlest mouth breather (or the older one, or the one I married) snorting and hacking in my face in the wee hours of the morning. I really don't think that I know anyone who does. Naturally the husband sleeps through ALL of it. EVERY.SINGLE.TIME. (OK...quick lesson...for those of you that don't understand...when I type in caps with a period after each's my really mad, growley voice. K?) So I call both schools and tell them that my kids have the plague and will not be in today. Now I am not one of those moms that runs her kids to the doc with every sniffle. I'd never leave the friggin' place if I was. I mean, we live in JERSEY. Which apparently has one of the HIGHEST incidences of allergy related illnesses in the WHOLE country. AWESOME! One more reason for me to love it here! But today I did take them cause Jersey also has this rule that says all absences are unexcused without a note from a doctor or official (ya know in case of a funeral or something). DAMN.IT. Even f the nurse calls you to come get your little snot dribbler from school...unexcused. Which will go on their PERMANENT RECORD. Awesome. So I take them and the doc says, "They just have colds. They can go to school today. Nurse write them a note saying they are to go to school today." Now, my kids allergies/reactive airway disease/ASTHMA has gone completely f'ing haywire this year. So I know that "just have colds" almost always (at least since the move to Jersey) turn into something really green and nasty. So I take the bigger one in cause well, he has had it since Friday and he is well enough to play in his room he can go to school. Naturally he hates me right now. The little one is home. CAUSE HE HAS A FRIGGIN' FEVER! DUH! If the school nurse calls me to come get the older one...I am going to go smack the doctor.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Apparently I am also needy as hell!

So I totally acted the whore and complained on FB about my 200 or so "friends"  that I have and only 3 give a big enough shit to pay attention. And I LOVE the three of you a ton! But would LOVE to see that some other folks in my life want to read what I have to say. I have this crazy notion that I can write and people want to read what I write. Like, they look forward to reading it. They NEED ME. Sick? Weird? YEP...I know.

Apparently I am the Food Nazi...

So, today, in the midst of cleaning the kitchen, doing laundry, and then LOVINGLY vacuuming AND steam cleaning the seats and carpet in the HUSBAND'S car...I threw out a bag of Sun all their compostable bag glory. It was in the Prius and in the way... I didn't do it on purpose. So the husband...who was inside playing hockey on the PlayStation...says, "DID YOU THROW OUT MY BAG OF CHIPS?!?!" Me- "ummm...yes?" Him- "WHAT?!?!? You know... SOMETIMES.I.NEED.A.SNACK.ON.MY.LONG.DRIVES.TO.AND.FROM.WORK." Me- "Um, OK. I totally didn't do it on purpose." Him- "You know sometimes it feels like punishment." Me- "What does?" Him- "The way you are about food." Me- "Really? DULY NOTED." No lie, y'all this shit happened. SO...then he took the little guy to his soccer game and I proceeded to salt the eggplant slices, you know to get the bitter juices out, dredge them in flour and make eggplant parm with homemade sauce. FROM SCRATCH. He comes home and we all sit to eat. Him- "This is really good." Me- wait for it.... "HMMmmm. It doesn't taste too much like punishment?" BA- ZINGA!!!!! Asshole. I spend the bulk of my life trying to make and purchase foods that are as close to their original source as possible. That is some time consuming shit, let me tell you. And the results of my being a food Nazi? The allergy issues are almost gone, the stomach issues are gone, the skin issues...also gone. Huh...some f'ing punishment. If anyone is being punished here it's me. And I take it willingly to give my family the best food I can give them. Maybe it's time I was more like the Swiss....

Saturday, September 18, 2010

VOLS, beer, and lectures from the 11 yr old...

There are few things in this world that I LOVE as much as VOLS football. Devils hockey is one, but it's not time yet for that. And we all know I adore my kids, but...this is something different entirely, I <3 it. Like a fat kid <3's cake...well, damn if that's not me too! Now here is the ISH... my kids have told me I am cut off. Meaning... I am not allowed to exceed the 4 beer limit that they have apparently set for me. Now, never mind the fact that I spent COLLECTIVELY over 22 hours in labor with these ungrateful little brats. but, now they have the BALLS to say I am done?!?! WHAT THE AY-EFF? Never mind the fact that I feed these little locusts incessantly and it still is JUST.NOT.ENOUGH. Never mind that I am WORE OUT from thier random projects and practices...but I am somehow not allowed to tie one on today. REALLY??!! WHO IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? (Stewie Griffin voice if you please) PLUS... DAMN IT I PAID FOR IT!!!! AND some of the BEST beers happen in the Fall! I'll be damned! Now...excuse me whilst I pop open another Magic hat hex and watch what's left of the VOLS game.

I'm friggin starving myself of cake for this?!?!

Six pounds. Say it with me... SIX.POUNDS! That's a good number right? I like to think it is. Or, well, I did. Then I inevitably start to think, "That's it? 6 measley little pounds after all the running and NOT eating cake. And OH.MY.GOD.THE.NEOPRENE.SHORTS!" Why do we do that to ourselves? Why do we not celebrate every pound like we won some terrible battle? Call it something fancy like "The Cellulite War" or ""Operation Skinny Pants". Call it "Get My Fat Ass Out Of Fat Girl Hell" Doesn't matter. CELEBRATE IT! I worked hard! OK, not as hard as I could have, but harder than usual! I religiously fling my jiggly self down an imaginary hill (and up it too) everyday. I am eating healthier, which is funny cause I thought I was doing that pretty well already. But, there is always room for improvement. In everything, everywhere, in your life. I am actually starting to look forward to the run. Like a crack head I start to itch and twitch and I know it's time for my next hit! Kinda like my scale addiction/fear. I seriously have to stay away from the back of the house or I will be getting on and off that damn number flashing whore every second! Why do we obsess? Oh, because society says to be thin is to be beautiful. Well, F**K SOCIETY! I will never be skinny again. I know this. Birthing two LARGE children has taught me this. I am not striving for a size 4 or a 2. Because honestly, the chicks that fit in that are either REALLY petite by nature or have a habit of throwing up everytime they put anything in their mouth. I am working towards losing the beer gut. The cake butt. And the thighs. I couldn't think of a clever name for them. They are a thing unto themselves as it is. I'd rather not name them. When you name evil it makes it real. I am trying to get healthy so I can run with my husband. Play soccer with my kids. Take them hiking. I love being outdoors and being fat has robbed me of that joy. I mean really, who wants to see a fat girl climb a mountain?

Thursday, September 16, 2010

I am convinced that the maker of anything neoprene is some sort of sick bastard.

Wait...does that make me sick cause I have at least 2 things made of the stuff? For the record there are two words that should NEVER go together...NEOPRENE and SHORTS. Or pants, whatever! On a side note... I own a pair so I feel I can be the expert here. Not only are the a complete pain in the ass to get on, BUT (you'll get the play on words in a second) they also cause things to sweat that have ZERO business being that sweaty! Now, here comes the fun part. And by fun, I mean fun , like, being ripped apart by rabid squirrels fun. After you get nice and sweaty, they itch. I cannot fully describe it. It's an itch akin to having fire ants crawling and biting the previously squirrel ravaged skin. Not that I really know what that feels like and am totally exaggerating here, but you get the picture. Now that you are itching so terribly...HOW. IN. THE. HELL. DO. I. GET. THE. DAMN. THINGS. OFF?No lie...I am typing this sitting in a pair of neoprene sweaty pants literally swimming in my own funk because I am afraid to take them off! I really believe that my first few layers of skin will go with them. Also, to increase the nasty factor...I have on a NEOPRENE BELT. No lie. Guess there's more than two words that should NEVER go together.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

I LOVE lists!!!

I make them all the time...but you have to read and understand my previous post to get the irony in that.
Here's one that is just fun to do...
Rules: Complete the 36 "I’ve come to realize." Then share it with your friends...

1. I've come to realize that my job(s)... is all right most days.

2. I've come to realize that my chest-size... is great. I am terrified that it will deflate as I reach my goal of -25 pounds!

3. I've come to realize that when I'm driving... I am usually white knuckled on the steering wheel. This is JERSEY, people!

4. I've come to realize that I need... therapy. But I can't afford so here we are.

5. I've come to realize that I have lost...a lot of things and that would have to be a whole other post!

6. I've come to realize that I hate it when... people look at me like I am stupid or talk to me the same way.

7. I've come to realize that if I'm drunk...I'm drunk. What? Did you expect something else? OK...depending on the offending liquor I may lose a piece (or more) of clothing.

8. I've come to realize that money... needs to be told where to go or it will leave you so MAKE A BUDGET AND STICK TO IT.

9. I've come to realize that certain people... need a kick in the teeth!

10. I've come to realize that I'll always ... be who I am and therefore standing alone in the crowd most of the time.

11. I've come to realize that my sibling(s)... are too far away.

12. I've come to realize that my mom... was the strongest woman I ever knew and I miss her every single day.
13. I've come to realize that my cell phone... is a piece of crap.

14. I've come to realize that when I woke up this morning... it was Wednesday.

15. I've come to realize that last night before I went to sleep... I was thankful that my husband made it home safely.

16. I've come to realize that right now I am thinking... about how I should be on the treadmill...

17. I've come to realize that my what he is.

18. I've come to realize that when I get on Facebook... I look forward to seeing how my friends are doing.

19. I've come to realize that today... was dancing on my last nerve!

20. I've come to realize that tonight... I am exhausted.

21. I've come to realize that my "day off" so I get to spend it cleaning and stuff.

22. I've come to realize that I really want to... lose 25 pounds...

23. I've come to realize that the person who is most likely to repost this is...

24. I've come to realize that life... is too short to live with regrets.

25. I've come to realize that this weekend... needs to get here already!

26. I've realized the best music to listen to when I am upset... is usually something really loud or man bashing depending on who or what pissed me off.

27. I've come to realize that my friends... have made up for my "family".

28. I've come to realize that this year... is already almost over!

29. I've come to realize that my ex... is still a FANTASTIC douche.

30. I've come to realize that maybe I should... stop blogging and run.

31. I've come to realize that I love... my family and friends. And cake.

32. I've come to realize that I don't understand... why everyone has to make everything so hard all the time.

33. I've come to realize my past... broke me. But I am picking up the pieces and will continue to do so.

34. I've come to realize that parties... need to happen more often!

35. I've come to realize that I'm totally terrified... of spiders. I tried REALLY hard to be a big, tough girl about one the other night and it landed on my hand and I SQUEALED! Scott thought it was hysterical.

36. I've come to realize that my life... is still being written.

If procrastination were an art form I'd be friggin' Picasso!

So, here I am day 4 with a shiny new treadmill and guess what? I've only managed to hurl my fat ass onto it about 3 times. Which sounds like a great track record, but falls far short of the promise I made to myself. And the amount of use it needs to get to justify it's price tag. I NEED to lose this weight. I NEED to get my ever expanding back end in gear. I NEED to start training for the Philly marathon and Mud Run next year. I NEED to stop procrastinating. In ALL aspects of my life. My family, my friendships, my all falls by the wayside cause I got some other shit I need to do. Like blog about the fact that I am not doing any of these things. It's sick. I know. I have friggin' LIBRARIES of problems. Issue #1 is worth TONS of money! OK, well, maybe not but I like to think so! Way off track...again... There is so much I NEED to do and I have ZERO motivation to do any of it. WHAT THE AY-EFF? The best laid plans of mice and men, y'all. I usually start off everyday with a "go get 'em girl" (complete with DUN DA DA DA soundtrack!) attitude and end with a "two tears in a bucket" (WAH WAH WAHHHH) one. Where in my day do I lose my mojo? And who stole it? I should put one of those little "If found please return to..." labels on it.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Day 1 Redux...

I felt I needed to update a little... I am sporadic at best at these things...I think this is like the 4th blog I have tried to do! A recently rekindled friendship inspired me to do this and to keep at it because like she said, " I have too much funny shit to say!" Some stuff pisses me off. Some stuff makes me cry. Some stuff just makes me shake my head and walk away. But it is all just stuff right? It's nice to know how many friends I have that get me. And I mean REALLY get me. They take me for my smart ass self and make no bones about telling me what I need to hear! THANK YOU TO MY GIRLS (and the few guys that get it!)! You all inspire me in a million different ways! I said earlier that I cleaned house on the whole "friends" thing and I did, and I realized it made room for the friendships I had misplaced to be found, the ones I had neglected to be cherished even more, and the new ones to be nurtured. And from the wreckage arises a new structure! No new beginnings here. Just another thing I tripped over, got skinned up, and am healing from. Isn't that what it's all about? Getting up, dusting yourself off and going on? Some days I stay down and roll around in the dust in my own pain and I think I need to do that to remind myself what it feels like and to not put myself in a position to feel like that again. I am trying to find grace, balance, and forgiveness with all my heart.
Until next time...

Day 1

Of what exactly? I have started and stopped so many diets, exercise routines, life altering things that I have seriously lost count. I am in a constant battle of wills with myself and most of those around me. Some days I just give up because I am too tired to fight anymore. I am in noway, nor have I ever claimed to be, perfect. NOT EVEN CLOSE! I get mad at my kids and husband. I yell. I cuss. I occasionally throw things. Not pretty, but hey, it's me. I have a terrible temper when provoked. And some days it's too easy to provoke me! Especially here, now. I feel like I am suffocating. Growing stagnant. YUCK! I am not the fun, strong chick I was mere months ago. Where in the HELL did she go? I've made my mistakes. But I will not stand for people criticizing me and my right to tell it how I see it. So, yeah, that got my ass in some serious hot water. But, you know what? TOUGH NOOGIES! There are people getting pais MILLIONS to write their opinions and blab about it on t.v. Why am I different? Why am I not allowed to say what I feel? I call shenanigans! I took a HUGE step recently and severed ties with people I have known for years. They were either too toxic or comlpetely absent yet expected me to be always available Jen. OUT! OUT! DAMN SPOT! I thought it would hurt more than it did. Guess that proves I was right in doing it. So now I try to surround myself with people that know me and love me anyway. The rest are just flotsam, following in my wake.