Friday, July 24, 2009

In the Car

Everyday this week, I've had to bring the kids to work with me. Since they're completely terrified of me (psht), they've kept their little kid selves in line.

On the way to work this morning, the girl taught the boy how to hand crochet.

He was pretty hesitant at first, because "boys don't do that kinda crap"....that's until she told him of her grand plan to make 'em and sell 'em to the people I work with. The second money was involved, he was all in. In less than 10 minutes, he was well on his way to making his first hand crocheted scarf.


It's amazing what can get accomplished in the hour and a half it takes to get to work. By the time we arrived, the boy had completed his very first scarf. All I can seem to get accomplished is drinking coffee.....


Mmmm.....Starbucks. I totally thought I was over it. I was wrong.

So, how is the girl's grand plan goin' you might be wondering. Uh yeah.....she's made $32 so far. As for the boy, he quit after the first one. I guess he decided hand crocheting just wasn't for him.....even if money was involved.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

I'm NOT the Only One!

Remember that panty problem I had last week? Yeah, well....I totally ain't the only one with that problem. See! I was NOT drunk, I am NOT retarded and I did NOT get dressed in the dark....that shit just happens!

I have several blogs that I read daily and the Fail Blog is one of my favoritiest. It's amazing that this world's still turnin' with all the stupidity out there. Maybe I'll start sharing my favorite blogs with y'all. I think I will....right after I share some of my kick ass poetry!

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Always Wear Your Seatbelt

Last week my mom and I stopped for a bite to eat at The Varsity on our way to the courthouse in Atlanta. Oh sweet baby jesus is that some good food! I hadn't been in a LOOONG TIME because you gotta give yourself about 6 to 9 months to filter out all the grease you consumed before you have it again, so I was really excited.



When we walked in there was like 3,000 people waitin' to order and only two yellin' "What'll ya have, what'll ya have?" We walked down to the end so we could place our order and the guy says a buncha mumble jumble about my tattoos sayin' I "must be so and so's girlfriend", because "so and so sho does like all them tattoos".....yeah....no dude I ain't so and so's girlfriend. He said a buncha other shit I couldn't really hear before "so and so" came over to tell me how much he liked my tat-toos and asked "how many you got?" I wanted to say "nunya damn business fool, why dontcha stop starin' at me like I'm the last meal you're ever gonna have and go get my damn food." Instead, I just said "I have no idea", and he finally went on his way.

My mom and I sat at two of the school desks in the tv room and devoured our food before we headed back out to crazy streets of the Atlanta. First though, we had to deal with the crazy Varsity parking lot.

I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize to my mom. I should not have yelled at that lady like that and I should not have used that language. You're right, you never know who may be carryin' a gun and we totally coulda been shot. I should watch my temper. I'm sorry.

After some crazy kungfu like driving, we made it outta the parking lot and I dropped my mom off at the courthouse. I had to circle around a few times before finally finding a spot on the street to park where I wouldn't have to feed a meter.

Just as I was about to show off my awesome parallel parking skills, a big ass Suburban came swooping into the space. I flipped out. I had the door open and was desperately trying to clamour my way out, but every time I tried I was flung back into the car. Yeah, I forgot about the seat belt. I tried and tried and tried to undo the seat belt, but it just wasn't happenin'. Finally, I realized I had totally been defeated by the seatbelt and thought "you need to calm yourself down....just pick up the phone and call somebody....talk about cheese...whatever, just calm down."

What a total retard I musta looked like all tryin' to haul my ass out of the car to only be held back by the stupid seatbelt. Ya know, come to think of it, the seat belt probably saved my life that day......my Mom was right. That person totally coulda had a gun.

Let this be a lesson....always wear your seat belt. There's a good chance it'll save your life in one way or another.

Monday, July 20, 2009

Last night I came across an old journal and some old poetry I had written back in the early 90's. Yeah, POETRY. It was like reading things written by a total stranger.

I remember having this poetry book that was SUPER old...like from the 1800's old that I had found in this old historical house owned by my best friend's family.


None of the shit in the book made a lick of sense to me, but I can remember sittin' on my bed writing and a particular line from a certain poem would come to mind so I would add it to what I was writing. So even though a line or two was sometimes from someone else's fucked up mind, it's as though everything I had written came from the brain of someone entirely different.

I was crazy volatile.....an angsty teenager that was very angry one minute and then all glitter, unicorns and rainbows the next. I used words that I don't even know the freakin' meaning of now. I had a passion that's unrecognizable. It's like the person who wrote that was destined for a very different life. By no means am I talking about a better life, just a completely different one.
I tore up several pages and threw them out.......lots and lots of Itty bitty shreds. I had written things that were shocking to me. Good god the things I thought....I was one pissed off, jacked up, whore minded teenager and don't want my kids to read that shit when I die.....so I destroyed the evidence.
As jacked up as some of it was, I must say I was pretty talented. Angry, horny and talented.
Maybe I'll share one day.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Because I'm TOTALLY Awesome Like That!

Today I was checkin' out the Cake Wrecks Blog and it was about my favoritist feline EVER (actually the only feline I like)...... HELLO KITTY!

WOW, there are some pretty shit cakes out there claiming to be Hello Kitty cakes. One even looks like Porky the freakin' Pig.

The very last cake she wrote about tough is a cake I have worshiped forEVER .

The first time I saw the HK zombie cake was on this site called Hello Kitty Hell which was a site I learned of when a friend of mine had sent me an email saying she'd seen one of my tattoos online. At first I thought "WHAT!?!?!? Really? Which one? Are they makin' fun of the big ass nekkid blue fairy that covers my ENTIRE back?" No, it couldn't be....no one even sees that tattoo.....ever.

I clicked the link she had sent me and it took me to a fantastic place called Hello Kitty Hell. Wha? I ain't ever seen this place before! The dude who writes it says he's married to a crazed maniac of a wife that must have and does have everything HK related, therefore he's in Hello Kitty Hell. Psht....whatever. He just set that shit up so people from all around the world would be all "hey, I bet your wife's never seen this!".....just so he could get his Hello Kitty lovin' hands on the stuff himself. BUT, whatever. My tattoo is totally on his site, because I'm totally AWESOME like that. I love J! everyday for doin' such a kick ass job on it. I love him so much that when we had a "tat party dude" I gave him his very own Hello Kitty Tattoo......because I'm awesome like that.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

An Uncomfortable Wiggly Sorta Problem

I had some serious panty issues today. I walked around all day with my hands all down my pants having to adjust them. They were all uncomfortable and creepin' up in weird places and shit. I'm sure it was quite a sight to anyone who witnessed it.


At first I thought "maybe when you get to a certain age thongs are just no longer comfortable", but I highly doubt that thongs just suddenly get uncomfortable to wear, so then just figured it must be the cheap ass panties I bought at the Dollar Store givin' out on me, but then I realized I've never actually bought panties at the Dollar Store before so that couldn't have been it either. So what the fuck's the problem here?


I figured it'd be best to go to the bathroom and just take the damn things off instead of walkin' around molestin' myself all day at work. Once I got to the bathroom to take them off, the problem was quite evident. My panties were on all wonky and shit! My waist was actually through one of the freakin' leg holes!!!! Really? Who does that? What the hell?


In case anyone who may have seen me walkin' around with my hands down my pants and wondered what in the sam hell I was doin', self molesting explained. At least I wasn't on national television with a camel toe like the chick on Bachelorette was the other night. I guess things could always be worse.

Fish Suicide

Weird things have been happenin' at our house lately. I won't go into all those things, because my Jerm reads this and he'll jump back on the ghost train all sayin' our house is haunted and shit and unless it's haunted enough for TAPS to come out and check shit out, you can save your imagination for Neverland Ranch, because I don't wanna hear it.


This latest weird thing however doesn't seem to be one of Jerm's imaginary hauntings. We've had a......dun, dun, dun.......A FISH SUICIDE.

Yesterday morning I got up and noticed the lights on the fish tank were on and one side of the top was up. Usually, I turn them on when I get up so yeah it was a little weird that the lights were on, but why was one side open? I shut it and shrugged it off. Strange, but whatever, my morning brilliance cannot be disturbed by such triteness as a mysterious fish tank. As I sat on the couch checking emails, I glance over at the fish tank....somethin' just ain't right. It really IS weird, but yeah, whatever. I go back to emails.
As I sat there scouring through all my fan mail (psht) the fish tank mystery was consuming my brain so I tore myself away from all that praise that fills my inbox and got up to have a look around the inside of the tank. I put on my bathing suit first though because I didn't wanna get my shirt wet. No I didn't, I'm not tan enough to wear a bathing suit yet and I didn't wanna scare the neighbors. Confused? Yeah me too.
Upon further investigation of the tank, there appeared to be a fish missin'....a BIG one. Like catch it and eat kinda big. Ok so, maybe not THAT big....well, unless it was for a toddler midget (can I even say that? Can the FCC come down on me for sayin' midget now?).
Yep. We had a missin' fish. There wasn't a thing I could do about a dead fish I couldn't even see so again I shrugged it off and went back to my emails.
Later that evening when Jerm and I were home, I reminded him about the missing, presumed dead fish. He looked around and confirmed that indeed, we did have a missing fish. Great. The first thing he did was holler for the girl. Anytime anything ever happens with anything ever, we holler for the girl, because she always has an answer for everything.....but this time??? I don't see how she would.....aaaannnd of course she did.
Turns out that morning, her and the boy found the fish under one of our side tables covered in "mold", which upon further investigation, the boy reveals was actually cat hair. Speakin' of cats, I can't believe one of our pukin' machine cats didn't get ahold of this sucker and make a meal out of it.
Even though, it was Jerm who turned on the lights that morning, he didn't open up the top. The whole thing's kinda weird.
What could go so wrong in a fish's life to cause it to up and commit suicide? The state of our economy? Sarah Palin leavin' office? MJ overdosing on crazy horse tranquilizers? Brittney no longer talkin' with an English accent? The fact that as a fish you're never satisfied because your food pretty much leaves your body the minute you eat it? No chance of ever seein' the World's Largest peanut? What is it???
Whatever it may be dear dead fishy, I hope that you are at ease now all dead down there in the sewers of Georgia hangin' with all that poo.
R.I.P. Dead Fishy. R.I.P.

Monday, July 13, 2009

ADD Overload

My brain is suffering from a major case of scatter smothered and covered (mmmm....Waffle House) today.

I keep staring outside hoping it will rain some more. Then I think about how bad it would suck to have to go to Walmart and have a cart full of groceries to get in and out of the car in pouring rain.

Man, I need groceries. My pantry and fridge are lookin' a little bare these days. Last night Jerm was in the kitchen makin' all kinds of clinkin' noises and shit. I totally thought he was cleaning the kitchen for me. Uh, no. He was all pissed off cleaning rotten shit outta the fridge (sour cream and blood oranges). Dammit! I TOTALLY thought he was doin' some dishes....he coulda totally gotten some if he did. His loss.

I don't think men realize that helping around the house is like the most romantic gesture you can make. Fuck flowers, the hell with a candle lit dinner.....clean the damn house yo. I ain't kiddin' either. I loathe cleaning house, but I still freakin' do it....mostly. For instance....the cat pukes.....EVERYONE in the dang house walks over it (for days!...I did an experiment once) and says "eww...the cat puked" or in Jerm's case "dammit I wish the cats would hurry up and die". Yeah, ok. Didn't anyone think to pick up the fuckin' puke?!?!? Dammit!

I think I should start gettin' little turds outta the cat box and placing them on everyone's pillows. Some good that'd do though. The boy probably wouldn't even notice it, the girl would clean it up since it was actually on HER bed, but she'd learn no lesson and Jerm would just say "dammit I wish the cats would hurry up and die" and fling the shit on the floor for me to pick up later. I'm not kidding. One of the cat's likes to shit on our bed from time to time anyhow, so....whatever.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Confused

I just realized while sitting here reading through other people's blogs, that I have this insatiable, undeniable urge to be liked. The weird thing is though, I have no desire to try to get people to like me. Either they do or they don't. It's a weird contradiction that I need to sort out.

I'm too lazy to go out of my way to be nice to anyone. I don't mean that if I see some old dude drop something I ain't gonna pick it up for him or if I see some crazy guy treatin' a girl like shit in public I ain't gonna tell him to go kick rocks, I mean that in a social gathering, I have no desire to make conversation with people I don't know or put myself in a group conversation and laugh when everyone else does. If I don't feel like smilin' at someone I don't know, I ain't gonna do it just to be friendly. If some guy I don't know says something he means to be funny and I think it's stupid, I ain't gonna laugh. I just don't care. It takes energy to be that way and I just don't possess that energy. It doesn't take any effort to be nice and laugh and have good times with my friends....it just is and that works for me. I'm not saying I have no desire to meet new people, I'm just sayin' I'm lazy at it. Oh shit....am I even friendly? I wonder what people's first impressions are of me.....

So, why is it that I want to be liked, when I don't even care if I'm liked or not? See where the confusion comes in? This is me....sitting on my couch....analyzing myself. Laptop in hand as if I'm the therapist with a pad and pencil.

So.....When is it that I feel the need to be liked? *Tick tock, tick tock...minutes go by*.....I guess I'll go back to what first made me think about this. I was reading a blog that I love to read and scrolling through all the comments people had left and I thought "Dammit...I want shittons of people to leave comments on my blog." I nice to know people are hearin' what you're sayin' and have somethin' to say back.

As I've said before, writing is very therapeutic for me. I LOVE writing. I can get things of my chest, I can unclog my head....BUT, I also write for others to read what I have to say.

So ok, what I derive from that is I don't necessarily have a need to be liked, I have a need for people to like my blog. What it comes down to is.....I'm an attention whore. That must be it. No shocking revelation there. I don't give a shit if something I say makes someone laugh of pisses someone off, I just wanna be heard dammit! (Even though I do have my very own personal rev limiter that won't let me go past a certain point.) I mean I'd rather people like what I have to say, because it would help me a great deal in my trek to rule the world, but overall it really makes no difference to me.

Am I really an attention whore? I mean when I say "I need to be left alone, I need a break", I ain't kiddin'. I don't want you to come after me askin' what's goin' on? Are you ok?....no, I really mean I need to be left alone. Ok so maybe there has been a time or two that Jerm and I have argued and I really did want him to come talk to me, but generally speaking there are times when I don't want to see any faces or hear any voices and I truly want to be alone. So, am I an attention whore? YES, yes I am. I do think so.

So, bottom line....I'm not confused. I just figured it out all by myself and y'all got to watch. I don't have a weird desire to be liked....I just want you to read my blog and leave me comments! I know y'all are! I can see ALL of you! Tell me I suck, I'm awesome, my opinions are all ass backward, you think I write like shit, whatever....just tell me something dammit! Don't be afraid. You can do it! I'll even start responding to them, 'cuz that'd be the nice thing to do.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Don't Tase Me Bro

I said that to a cop once. He bumped into me and I didn't want to get tased. End of story.



MUST. HAVE. THIS.









Please. Somebody? Anybody?

Me and My Treadmill

I have this really kick ass treadmill. It's all fancy and stuff. Like it has preprogrammed....uh....things in it that like go faster and slower and incline and decline. It's neat. I put a fan in front of me the other day just so I could pretend I was hiking up a super fantastic mountain and there was a nice breeze. Yeah, that's how awesome this thing is. You put a fan in front of you and let the machine do the rest. If you close your eyes you can just imagine being on a steep slope on a beautiful mountain. Well, actually maybe you shouldn't close your eyes.


I've had this super awesome treadmill for a while. It's just kinda sat downstairs in my sewing room.....doin' nothin' but sittin'. Everyday I walk through the garage and through the basement and my treadmill taunts me. It's all "hey fatty....what are ya?....A chubby little chiiickennn....bock, bock". I just turn up my nose and walk on up the stairs. Take THAT treadmill! I just walked up the stairs! If that ain't exercise, I don't know what the hell is!


Finally, one day last week, I gave in. Kinda like Michael J. Fox in Back to the Future...."Nobody calls me chicken". So I tell the treadmill it better strap on it's treadmill pants, because I'm about to rock it's mother fuckin' treadmill socks off....that's right.....treadmill socks.


By the time I got ALL the way up the stairs to get on Nikes and booty walkin' shorts I'm all outta breath and shit.....god do I need to exercise. Turns out, I haven't worn my booty walkin' shorts in some time now and dang are them sonsabitches tight. Were they always this tight? I mean like, leaving a permanent indention all around my back and belly tight. Dang that shit hurt. That's aight.....I can take the pain.


I mosey on down the stairs and turn on the fan.....and then the tv. No brisk mountain hikes for me today thanks. I just have a walk with good ol' Monica Kaufman tellin' me about all the crime in DeKalb County and Glen Burns tellin' me that it's gonna be so hot tomorrow my face is gonna melt off.


I chose to go with an intermediate....uh....pre-programmed thing. It shows that I will walk for 20 minutes through a series of inclines and declines at various speeds at no more than 4.5 mph. Shit...like takin' candy from a baby. I do like 85 mph on the hwy. so 4.5 mph is gonna be cake.


Things start out all nice and slow....flat surface....2.0 mph. I can hardly imagine workin' up a sweat doin' things at this pace. A minute or so later there's a "beep, beep, beep" and I think "oh shit, what the hell was that?" Things speed up just a bit to 2.5 mph. Piece of cake. After another minute or so there's more beeps and the treadmill starts a slight incline. I can TOTALLY do this.


Things continue on at a nice pace and incline for a bit and then more beeping....we go up to 3.5 mph. Oh, hell yeah.....feel the burn baby, feel the burn.....Me and Monica doin' work! Then MORE beeps and more incline. I'm panting at this point. In my head I'm tellin' myself to not be a total sissy...keep truckin' it, you can do it! THEN...more fuckin' beepin'! Holy hell....4.0 mph! At this point I think I'm gonna freakin' die. This is no longer a stroll up a mountain. This is like real exercise which my body ain't cut out for! My nice walk has turned into a boobs and belly jarring jog.


I don't know what to do. I just start whimpering. I CANNOT let the treadmill beat me, then......MORE BEEPING...MORE INCLINE and now 4.5 mph!!!! I'm all sweatin' and cussin' tellin' the treadmill it can go fuck itself, because it ain't beatin' me, but I'm dyin'...can't....breathe. Then I saw the little speed buttons. There's an up arrow and a DOWN one too!!! Oh dear God...thank you for the down arrow! I push that little down arrow...down, down, down....down to 2.5 mph. I got a stitch in my side, but I can make it at this speed....I mean really. I must have, what....another 3 or 4 minutes?


I had 12 minutes left.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Hello Kitty Speaker Pillow for Your Ipod/MP3 Player!

If you're a total Hello Kitty addict like me, you want anything and everything Hello Kitty you can get your hands on!



Well, I've got something AWESOME and no longer available that you will love so I've decided to share! I bought a couple of these Hello Kitty speaker pillows a few years ago and forgot all about this last one that I had.



My girl has used hers for over 2 years now! It looks so cute on her bed! You just plug your ipod/MP3 player and and the music comes through the speaker in the flower. No batteries required!


I've listed it on ebay so go bid now! Just click here to go to the listing.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

My Kids...I Pretty Much Love 'em....Like A Lot

When I was a teenager, I hated kids. I SWORE I'd never have kids.

For the most part, I still think kids suck. They talk back and give you the stink eye as soon as they realize they can move their little bodies.....and you can't just haul off and hit 'em like you could an adult. They usually smell like butt, because kids hate bathing. They cost an ass ton of money. They spill cherry koolaid on your beige carpet. They leave shit all around the house so when you get up in the middle of the night, you cut your foot open stepping on some stupid toy.....really, I could go on and on about why I always hated kids.......then I had my own.


I love my kids. Like the kind of love I didn't know I was capable of. I'm fiercely protective of my boy when it comes to the outside world. Now that he's a teenager, I need to stop holding his hand so much and let him take the lead. It's gonna be hard to do, but better now than when he's 30 and still living at home in our basement.



Sometimes I really have a hard time understanding our boy. He's nothing like I was when I was a kid. I was all about playin' kickball in the cul-de-sac and hangin' out with my friends. He's all about not coming out of his room.....like ever. He generally doesn't seem to like any of us. He has his moments though. He likes to laugh and be goofy and those are the best times.

The girl on the other hand is the complete opposite.

(This picture was the inspiration for this particular blog. The girl was so pissed she had to do this. She sat there the entire time and complained..."this is so stupid Mom"...."Do I look like a total idiot?"..."I can't breathe with this stupid thing on, isn't it supposed to be HELPING me breathe?")
It's funny, in all my years of hatin' on kids, I especially wanted to kick the crap outta little girls. With all their sass mouthin', pink shit and drama I thought I rather die than have a girl. I was wrong.

My girl and I have a special bond. She is me and I am her. She's like a mini-me. Sometimes she makes me wanna beat my head against the wall (well most of the time actually), but we're so much like each other I guess that's expected.

Everywhere I go and everywhere I am, she wants to be. I can barely wipe my ass without her wantin' to see what's goin' on.....literally. She gets upset if we don't have enough snuggle time in the evenings. In that case, her and I couldn't have been more different. I HATE snuggling. I think our boy does too.....he definitely gets that from me. We'd both just rather not have to.

The girl needs to snuggle and cuddle. It's like her brain will explode if she doesn't have that time with her dad and I everyday. The weird thing is though that I don't mind it.


When I think back though, I tend to remember all our boy's firsts more than our girl's. I remember all the funny ways he said certain things. He said "terlick" for toilet, "chwockit" for chocolate and "watart" for guitar. I remember the first time he walked like it was yesterday. I remember potty training him and the hell that that was. I remember so much, but my brain has evidently turned to jello, because with the girl, I don't remember so much. I think I have a lot of it written down. Maybe. I hope.

Even though my kids totally warped my body and sometimes make me wanna stick toothpicks in my eyes, they have also given me the gift of selective hearing. What a precious, precious gift.

Seriously, I love my kids. A lot. When they fly the coop, I'm gonna cry. Vasectomies are reversible right?

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