Sunday, November 30, 2008

The Truth: I Am A Blog Snob. I'm so sorry.

I am admitting a major fault today, with the possibility of sounding like a ruthless bitch.


I have spent the last several HOURS searching sites to introduce myself to new blogger friends..."stalking others" within this black hole of cyberspace, as people so openly call it. However, I have realized that even within this somewhat anonymous blogging world, I am very, very picky.

Maybe I should call it "being truthful" or "keeping it real". However, there are so many blogs out there that make me "yawn" or even "cringe in my seat" as they repeatedly rant about how wonderful and beautiful their kids are, and let's see, what else... share shopping deals, homemade baby food tips and holiday cooking recipes.

NOW, PLEASE DON'T GET ME WRONG... all of this is great when it comes in small doses... I would NEVER claim to be BETTER than someone else at blog content, but from those I ran across this morning, I might say mine is "different" [and probably more trashy/real/honest in a self-therapy kind of way]. I've certainly had my own share of writer's block, and have had to resort to such morbid and boring topics such as molesting massage experiences, how I suck as the tooth fairy, and outright bitching sessions around my husband's ex-wife and her narcissistic ways... but when the Joy of Cooking 8-Course Meals is someones sole content, I immediately shut down and wither away, like the Wicked Witch of the West... my internal sole just melts to smithereens and I feel the need to chant out words like "FUCK" and "SHIT" for no reason while running to the kitchen to sip wine or vodka.

I guess that in reality, this whole blogging thing was initiated around the joy of writing trashy humor and to allow my husband and I to laugh at ourselves regularly. I love to pick out the imperfections in our lives... and I love to swear. And of course, I love my red wine. But I actually can't tell you the number of blogs I clicked on just this morning that quoted scripture or life lessons or just rolls of family pictures that cited over and over how beautiful and perfect their kids of all ages were. My anxiety has doubled with it, while realizing that people like this would undoubtedly be insulted by a comment from someone who writes about how putting a potato up your vagina can actually hold your uterus in place. Or maybe they would feel sorry for me and offer a well needed prayer.

So today I would honestly like to say to all my readers in this hour of honesty and truthfulness, if I comment and click on you regularly, it means you have made me literally laugh my ass off on more than one occasion. And that's what I need from this blogging world, with all the other bullshit going on in my life.

So to all you readers who may come across this post, THANK YOU.

Saturday, November 29, 2008

A Picture Can Say 1,000 Words.

As we prepare for our second Thanksgiving Holiday Meal later this evening, this is how my husband and I are feeling today. Can you say
B - L - O - A - T - E - D

[Disclaimer: This is NOT my real husband. I swear he doesn't wear saggy jeans like that. His ass is much nicer. And he really doesn't have a big gut as shown above, I swear.]

[Disclaimer: This is NOT really me. Even bloated however, I would welcome this woman's shapely middle section these days. I would like to admit, my bloating is MUCH worse than hers.]
That's all I got for today.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Holy Potatoes! I guess it could be worse.

[DISCLAIMER: I would like to note that I did google the story below after writing this post (and being taunted unsparingly by my husband for hours) and I found it to be a tale spread online 2 years ago...but I will continue to believe expert physicians on prime-time tv in this day and age hold some credibility, at some level. Otherwise, I am without blogging content for today. Thank you.]

[And for the record, you would NOT BELIEVE what you can find on the internet when googling "potatoes and vaginas". Oh. My. God.]

I'll probably be getting notice in two weeks that my job will no longer exist - and it has nothing to do with the "economic crisis" we are currently facing. In a nut shell, it's the nature of the industry I have lived in for 13 or so years... our next big drug for small-cell lung cancer didn't make primary endpoints in two of its three big trials. News just came last week... which was then followed by a sudden mandatory conference call this morning which shed the dismal light that many of us will be notified in two weeks as to whether we'll have to look for other positions within the company, or simply move on.

It should be a sad day for me, or at least one filled with a little angst... which actually, it is I guess. But then I heard this story while visiting my Dad's Cardiology office talking to my Mom who is his Office Manager there and some of the other girls who work with them and who have supported our family for many, many years... (my husband made me add the credentials so you know we're actually some what educated people here which you will no longer believe once you read the story below.)

Have you heard about the woman who in order to push up her uterus that was falling out (ie, YES, her baggage down below was too low!!??) inserted a potato to get by for an evening on the town, and forgot to take it out when she got home [all I can say is I have never had enough wine that I would forget to take out the potato I stuffed up my crotch] until weeks later when a horrid odor from that area forced her to go to a doctor and get an internal exam which caused them to find the rotting potato with vines growing inside her?

My husband says this is absolutely NOT a true story, and is equivalent to him shoving a broomstick up the tip of his penis and forgetting about it.. Total Bullshit... But my Mom swears this was a credible physician show where one of the experts on it was from Oprah, etc... I swear!! And yes, my husband sarcastically is yelling, "Well Fuck YEAH, of course, if it came from O-P-R-A-H then it MUST be true." [My husband is a cop and a skeptic.]

My life is just not that bad. And you can't go crazy about the things you can't control.

So whether my job is spared or not, I am trusting that my company will work with me as best they can... something they have a history of doing for its people, and the reason I've been with them for 13 years. And maybe I will be forced into not working for awhile [which has always been a hidden personal dream even though I am not sure how long I would last without the paycheck], and maybe I will seek a new career.

No matter what happens, I DO know deep inside, that for sure I can control the fact that I will never have a potato shoved up my crotch and growing vines. And for this, I will consider myself one of the lucky ones today. We can ALWAYS find things to be thankful for.

Happy Thanksgiving Blogger Friends...

Saturday, November 22, 2008

BAG TAG, not tea bag, baby!!

I've finally been tagged for something. And of all things that I'm being asked to do, this is a doozy for me. I am a chaotically organized person. You will soon see what I'm talking about.

Here's what Dorsey over at calls a "BAG TAG"... And when I mentioned this to my husband earlier today, I immediately had to explain to to him that "NO HONEY, ... Dorsey's "Bag Tag" has nothing to do with TEA BAGGING"...

My God, men are always thinking about sex in one way or another, aren't they???

Anyway, here's what I am required to do:

1. Dump the contents of your handbag in a pile.

2. Take a photo of your handbag and the contents.

  • This caused internal anxiety this morning, but I did it. I also used the opportunity to throw out all the used gum wrappers, old receipts, movie tickets and other crap that's been sitting in there for weeks, in the extreme situation that I might have needed any of it in some emergency or something.

3. Be brave and explain to your fellow bloggers what lurks inside the handbag.
  • Wallet, cell phone, pen, tampon that I regularly pull out accidentally to use thinking it's my pen, tickets from our Philadelphia tour of the USS New Jersey ship 2 weekends ago, old movie tickets, lots of gum wrappers, one wrapper with wadded gum, shopping list, things to return to Target list, my daughter's gloves from soccer the night before, empty bank envelope in case I get some money to put back in it???, a loose button, earrings, 3 lip liners, 3 lip glosses, 1 Clinique lipstick I just bought but don't care for, and finally 5, 621 receipts all scrunched up so I won't be able to find them when I need them. Seriously there was a lot of other little shit in there, but it could get quite boring and extremely embarrassing if I continued any longer.

4. Tag others who might want to embarrass themselves.

I will tag the following five to join the club only if they have the time or feel somewhat more organized than's not a hard act to follow, I swear:

  • - I just recently have become a regular of CTD. She has a motto "Only boring people have clean houses." I love that. I'd also like to add "Only boring people have clean purses."
  • - OK, you should really follow this blog. If nothing else, just for her recent "R" rated posting. I love that I'm not the only one to talk smack like this.

  • - Just a Girl and Her Dogs is hysterical - someone back in the single life, who can talk humor, sex or major politics all the in the same day. And, I am betting her purse might be the cleanest on my list of picks. Hmmmm....

  • Shelle at Blokthoughts is another site I now consider a regular stalker of...and she has introduced me to a great many new blogging friends, so for that I thank her. She's also the inventor of the ol' "Don't you Hate It When..." contest which now I think I have my latest entry for: "Don't you hate it when... you get bag tagged on your blog?"

  • My last tag will go to, once again, a new blog I have recently found and visited regularly, Jen at Jens Jingle. She has come up with a great holiday eating schedule to ensure you can gorge yourself at that Holiday Meal and ensure you don't gain weight. Gorge? Me? Perfect.

5. Now, I must answer these questions:

  • Describe the contents of your handbag. See number 3 above... too painful to repeat.

  • What's the most important thing in your handbag?: Debit card; lip liner and gloss; My get out of free spouse badge if I ever get stopped by the police.

  • What's the most embarrassing thing in your handbag?: My tampon - but only when I pull it out at the Target register or in front of my Mexican waiter at Los Tapatios for lunch thinking it's my pen. OH...and the receipt from CondomKingdom for a $12.50 bottle of cherry flavored lube... I SWEAR, it was my first time frequenting such an establishment... yet another Philadelphia stop two weekends ago.
  • What's the smallest thing in your handbag?Is there anything illegal in your handbag? A tiny button that belongs to I have no idea what piece of clothing. The lint mixed in with old loose cigarette tobacco fragments from when I used to smoke during nights out lining my current purse bottom should absolutely be illegal.

Have a mentioned no social smoking now for almost 3 months?? Yeah!!!

So for those of you now tagged, I'll be waiting for your pics. And in the meantime I'll simply be thankful that Dorsey didn't "Closet-Tag" or "Minivan-Tag" me. And even more thankful that I wasn't tea-bagged by the hubby recently. But then again, there's always tonight.

Oh God, I hope he doesn't read this for once...

Friday, November 21, 2008

A little more explanation of my not-so-spiritual psychic reading...

So now, I realize, I get the most comments on individual posts that I write while I'm drunk on red wine. Perfect. And for those readers who requested a little more detail on my somewhat "leading" post around SPIRITS... here ya go.

First of all, here's what other obviously "more spiritual than me attendees" got to hear from their personal readings:

  • K.M. - Recently married. Blatantly told she was pregnant. Definitely. With a boy. She was also surrounded by her deceased father and a very good friend who committed suicide several years ago. Wow, the tears...

  • L.S. - Her mother is around her all the time. It's her mom that is actually visiting in her dreams when she wakes up talking in conversation. Her father is ready to go...let him go. Her son will major in accounting and will go away to school - north. It is a good decision for him.

  • W.F. - Will live a very long life - into her 90's. She will be a grandmother soon. At least 2 girls coming in the next 4-5 years.

  • My husband - His grandfather is a very strong guide around him. His ex-wife will start to limit her controlling ways with us soon - she sees a small infant child around her [No fucking way??!!! This has been our secret evil wish placed upon her - pregnancy. There is a god maybe.] and this infant will calm her when it comes to dealing with us. Please, if there is any truth to any of this psychic bullshit, P-L-E-A-S-E let this be the one ounce of truth.
  • Others Attendees: More relatives showed up, lots of tears appeared, and some pretty stunning exact numbers and dates were thrown out to individuals, including details on a specific car accident that caused everyone to breath and look at others in silence.

And then there was my reading.

I have a LOT of energy. But when it comes to spirits and/or guides, all of mine were obviously busy at the moment or they simply didn't get the invite to this damn event.

No feeling of anyone around me... aside from a faint feeling of someone old, someone generations away from me who didn't have the inability to speak. But it wasn't clear to her. And something with loss (hmmm...think anyone could relate to loss??? Seems a little generic to me...). Maybe a miscarriage? Maybe the loss of a relative? (Yes, miscarried twice, but I'm not feeling it, lady.)

Is my grandmother around? No, not sensing it. [What??]

Career changes? Not really. Looks like same old shit for the next 2-3 years. Everyone else in the room were either getting promotions, changing roles, doing something entirely different but plain ol' me is just hangin' pretty. Woo Hoo. I will take this as only one not getting laid off.

Final question: My Dad's Health. Not feeling anything. No health issues, maybe something with his prostate. (Um, sorry to inform you Lady but I actually sell Prostate Cancer drugs and know that any dad of someone my age has prostate issues. Again, way, way, way too generic.)

So there you have it. I suck so bad that spirits don't even want to hang around to check in. I will continue to say it was the wine, or that others maybe just need more guidance than me at the moment. Which one is it??? I'm not sure.

Individual sessions are available for $65. Whatcha' think???


Thursday, November 20, 2008

Too Much Going On....SPIRITS????

OK, we just returned from a psychic party reading and I'm depressed because I have no obvious spirits surrounding me. I suck.

I will try to be back tomorrow.

In my own full spirit.

Gram...WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU????????????????

Monday, November 17, 2008

Another Don't You Hate It When...

"DON'T YOU HATE IT WHEN..." attempt to use the new-to-you Nuva-Ring birth control in an attempt to be a responsible mom of four kids under the age of 8, only to wake up the very first morning "after" testing this lovely new contraption with your horned up husband simply to pee since you've pretty much had to since 3am but were too lazy to get up, only to hear your husband softly ask in a tone I can only describe as "fearful hesitation"..."Honey, what the hell is stuck to your right ass cheek?"

Do you think the Nuva-Ring effectively prevents pregnancy when glued to your ass cheek for 8 hours after sex?

I HATE when that happens.

PLEASE click on the on TUESDAY, November 18th to vote for this week's best entry in Shelle's "Don't You Hate It When" contest...!!! I promise you will enjoy some good laughs and even be tempted to enter next month's contest!

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Normal or Nuts?

Are my kids normal?

How come every time we walk through the local Blockbuster Video Store and view the New Release wall my children can not help but point out [and announce to the entire store] the DVD cover details of anything with boobs, butt cracks, cleavage or naked bodies ... I can not convey the hysterical laughter these covers bring to my children. And I can not convey the challenge of getting them to stop.

Why in God's name during the only one desperate time we needed to stop for a favorite bottle of red wine on our way home with the kids did there have to be a vendor display for them to gravitate towards front and center.. and even worse, WHY at a time when my 8 year old daughter felt so compelled to read signs for the rest of the gang, which at this moment caused her to ask my husband, myself and the 2 male cashiers no more than 22 years old, "Mom, What does SUCK and BLOW mean?"... Oh.My.God.

Why does our newly turned "5" year old son do body contortions of such unbelievable magnitude while buckled in the back seat on the way home from school to such a degree that I believe he would be classified as an advanced yoga or pilates instructor? I'm really serious. What the HELL is this?

Why is my 6 year old daughter so addicted to hoarding the TV remote control to the point of waking up EVERY morning in a panic race to beat her sister to the couch in order to posses it first and will take it into the bathroom with her if hiding it under the pillows does not allow her to feel 110% confident it will still be there on her return?



OK. Today, I am reaching out to my readers. Not that there are many of them, but we could actually double the votes available in our household with this. So I'm going for it.
Bichon Frise or NO PUPPY???
Blended family. My two girls are 6 and almost 9. My step-sons who are with us almost half the time are 5 and 8. I think "puppy" was the first word out of their mouths when each of them were under a year old.
Convince my husband and I that this is a smart decision. We realize the unconditional love and joy puppies can bring to a house hold. We also realize the poop and pee accidents, the yapping in the middle of the night that occurs while crate training, and the fights we will probably have around responsibilities for the dog, which will most likely all fall on us.

Here are the FACTS:

Our current visitation schedule with all the kids allows for us to have every other weekend alone.
And in our house, with four kids ranging from Kindergarten through third grade, this is our survival mechanism built into our marriage. If a puppy wins out, we would actually have to "plan" spontaneous decisions to travel on these weekends, or question the ability to head out of town for a night just to get away. However, the sound of having a little tiny dog to cuddle up with on the couch and watch a movie instead of heading out might just be enough to persuade us to stay home.

My husband and I up to a week ago have always been on the same page: "We are not dog people."
However, I had a dog for years in college and beyond until she got sick. I really did love her and miss her dearly, even though it's been 15 years since she's been gone.

My brother just got a Bichon.
He sent pics. My husband secretly researched them online (I was familiar with the breed but he was not) and suddenly 2 days ago started initiating conversations to me about them, and pictures he'd found online, and how damn cute they actually were, and... need I go on???

The conversation to the kids went like this:
If we were ever to consider a puppy at this time, we would have to give up our Disney trip in April that we've been trying to plan for the past month or so and wait at least another year for it. We had a family meeting, and posed to the four kids that this is a democracy - they get to deliberate together and propose a plan to us; a plan of responsibilities needed in order for Mark and I to believe they were serious about taking care of a "puppy". It needed to be fair and it needed to show us that they were serious about the decision. Then, after their "presentation" over dinner, we would deliberate and take some time to come to a decision.

Their verbal "presentation" turned into a formal play in the basement. Check this out:

They were all hiding behind the louver doors, scripts in hand, and formally recited "why" they wanted a puppy, along with a list of 20 responsibilities they would own. They also gave US responsibilities to be fair (we have to feed the dog since they don't know how much food it needs).

They also together revealed our fantasy puppy's name which would be Diamond [nickname Dime] if it was a boy, and Isabella [nickname Bella] for a girl. They even closed the sale and asked for the business. Damn, they were good.

So now we are in the midst of deliberation. (If a breeder came to our door right now with a Bichon in hand, it would be engulfed within seconds.) I said yesterday to my husband that I feel like this is our way of having our own "child" together since such thought and consideration is taking place on this joint decision - talk about responsibilities, and more talk around possible names and why we can't call her "Grace" or "Jake" because it reminds one of us of someone we went to school with or dated in the past.

And since breeders do not just end up on doorsteps, we will fight the urge to contact the local breeders we've found through good friends who have years of experience with Bichons. We will instead continue to torture ourselves with puppy stalking fantasies we now see and hear everywhere, until we can believe we are the point of making a rational decision.

SO PLEASE let me hear your thoughts... either support the animal bonding, or tell us we're fucking crazy. Your vote counts in this household! And by the way, you can always throw in a name suggestion... just in case.

Puppy? Or No Puppy?

Monday, November 10, 2008

DAMN. There are no other words.

I took this picture at the Syracuse Zoo during a field trip with my daughter's entire 2nd grade class.

This was our first animal display as we entered the zoo. Now imagine 75 or more eight year olds gasping in mid-sentence, gripping onto the fence in front of them with knuckles as white as snow, while most of them appeared to be injected with instantaneous fear...


Sunday, November 9, 2008

Ode To Philadelphia

Top 5 Reasons to Visit Philadelphia:

1. The Aroma. You can walk around the city and in the same breath ravish the scent of Starbucks coffee, tainted sewer water from underground, cheese steak and human urine. I can't tell you how refreshing this is on a Sunday morning after drinking just way too much wine. But for some reason I keep going back. And I keep waking up on Sundays hungover when I'm there.

2. The People. While many international folks roam the street and historical sites are bombarded with Japanese tourists snapping thousands of pictures in every direction, you will not be able to ignore the mannerisms of certain Philadelphia people. I will say that I can now understand why some are just downright nasty: if I had to wake up each day and smell the aroma as described above, or walk around with missing teeth, or gold capped teeth or just rotten teeth like some of the regulars I passed many times downtown, I probably wouldn't be in such friendly spirits either. I'm sorry to ask you for directions, or need my car from valet parking which I paid for as a customer. I'm sorry to bother you for a cup of coffee even though it was you behind the Starbucks counter who asked me what you could get me that morning for breakfast. But to the stranger of a shuttle driver who kindly picked the four of us up while walking our millionth mile to find the USS New Jersey offering to drive us to the entrance an unknowing mile away in the cold wind that day, thank you for your hospitality. You made our weekend, and for that I love your wonderful city.

3. The Shopping. No matter where you go or what you're looking for, I promise you that shopping in Philly is an experience. But if you happen to miss its one main elite section with top New York City type boutiques and department stores, you must explore. I promise you that no one has experienced shopping until you've trekked through the downtown Super K-Mart or Ross's which are the only stores open early on a Sunday morning to look for underwear you may have forgotten to pack or a bathing suit for the hotel whirl pool because everyone else you came with brought their own. And you wouldn't believe the selection of bikini separates you might find in mid November season. And the sizes available. Oh. My. God.

4. History. This in a nut shell is something I'll simply admit that I probably don't appreciate like those who might refer to themselves as "history buffs" [loving sister-in-law's husband]. While I can appreciate that Ben Franklin invented the bifocals and fought against the eagle being our national symbol in favor of the turkey, to me he is simply the guy who ran outside like an idiot with a kite and a key in a lightening storm where he almost fried to smithereens.

5. Wine. Or beer. Or vodka. Which was nice. And to my sister-in-law and her husband I would like to say that while we had a great time touring [following behind you most of the way only to be distracted by my husband's [your brother's] loud flatulance], my most favorite part of our trip was sipping wine for hours on end in the evening telling stories we've never heard, bitching about ex-spouses, and laughing at people we didn't know.

To this, I'd like to cheer the almighty city of Philly. We will see you again very soon.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Where are the manners people???

Why? Why? Why...I ask you all, are people so rude and all about themselves these days? Can you think of a time recently where you were in a conversation, or maybe even weren't, and someone said something to you where your instant thought was:

"Why the F_#* did you have to just say that to me???"

OK, for example:
Yesterday I was in the check out line at the grocery story (and yes, if you're seeing a pattern of checkout aisles each day after work, I'm a procrastinator at heart)...none the less, the cashier was so excited to tell me she had one hour to go until she was picking up her son who JUST turned 18 and was going to vote with her for the first time ever.

Pretty cool. She was so excited. I told her I thought it was great he was getting out to do it where others his age might not see the importance in it. I shared with her how surprised I was to have just earlier spoken to a 26 year old at work who literally told me since she had watched no debates and had no idea about politics or the candidates she wasn't going to vote. How sad it was that at 26 years old she had no interest, and here this cashier's son was 18 and taking advantage of this awesome right he now has.

Suddenly, the woman behind me waiting in line leaned her bony ass elbow into my thicker [sculptured] arm and said in such a miserable tone: "OH, whatever!! Maybe she would have voted if there was a candidate worth voting for. They're both MORONS!"

Me: [Cutting my pupils into her skull as hard as I could while trying just as hard to listen to my therapist's voice that echoed from the back of my brain waves that when dealing with such people I should replace anger with empathy towards these individuals since they are just miserable people, and I directed my voice and words to the cashier]: "Well now, I think that it's pretty darn cool he's voting. And even cooler that he's going with you. I'm actually taking my daughter with me too. Have a blast."

Why do people have to be so miserable and rain on other peoples' parades??? This woman was so excited for her son, and I believe so proud he was willing to go with her, and some strange bitch with a bony elbow had to push her down??? Why people, WHY I ASK????

This past weekend, we were at a formal event. It was my mom's birthday, and her request months ago was that her five children with spouses/guests would attend this dinner/dance with her and my dad, so all of us could be together. While eating dinner, sipping wine, complementing everyone on their dresses, etc. my mother turned to me and said, "Wow Sue, where did you get that cocktail ring, is it new?"...

[I would like to interject that I absolutely love fun cocktail rings and make a habit to stop at a sterling jewelry shop any chance I can when flying through the Philadelphia airport just to get new rings to add to my collection...]

Me: "Oh yes!! [thank you for noticing my new FAVORITE piece of jewelry Mom, I could kiss you...] I got it at my regular store when I flew through the Philly airport to Cleveland last month, do you like it???!!"

My Mom: "Well, it IS a little WIDE...."

crushed to the ground.


So yesterday I wore my wide-ass cocktail ring and took my own 6 year old daughter with me to vote for the better moron of a presidential candidate. And I not only felt pride in voting, but if I must say so myself, my hand looked pretty damn good pulling that lever.

Monday, November 3, 2008

Save Sydney Mom!

Shelle over at is having her regular Monday "Don't You Hate It When..." themed contest. I entered a past post yesterday, and I'm a little scared of what I've started.

Why you ask?

Because my life seemingly continues to give me more "Don't You Hate It When..." opportunities even now, when I don't need them anymore. Check this one out from earlier today:

Don't You Hate It're flying through the grocery store at just about 4:47pm to get home to relieve the babysitter by 5:00 so god forbid you don't feel like one of those full-time working moms who spend too much time away from their kids only to hear your cell phone ring at the checkout aisle as you're choosing between plastic or paper even though you've purchased 16 recyclable bags over the past 3 months that just sit in your trunk because you can never remember they exist...

And as you answer your cell phone you can hear your 8 year old daughter talking 90 miles per hour giving you the rundown of how your 6 year old daughter "...found the big bowl of leftover Halloween Hershey bars and Larissa [the babysitter] told her she's eaten WAY TOO MUCH MOM, but she didn't want to stop eating them and she wouldn't listen Mom so she went into the bathroom with the bowl of chocolate and locked the door and won't open it or let us in and won't answer us or come out, even when Larissa warned her that she would have to call you if she refused to and she still won't listen so that's why I am calling you Mom... Mom??? Can you hear me, Mom???"

Me: "Are you frickin' KIDDING ME?????????? Seriously."

She wasn't. So I negotiated over the phone through a door to save my daughter. With threats... and Scribbler Popsicles as a bribe to get the hell out of the bathroom and put the chocolate away.

I hate when that shit happens.