I'm playing, but I'm playing MY way, K?

So I found this new blogger called Stacie's Madness, and I finally gave in to the run of the mill "meme" (what the fuck is a meme anyway? Something all about ME ME???] where you're assigned a letter in the alphabet and then you have to list 10 things you love that begin with guess what? Uh, yeah... the fucking assigned letter, people.

And.............. you think I'm gonna mention plain ol' shit, right?

This one's for Stacie.

Letter J. As in "Jackass".

1. Judas Priest's song - "You Got Another Thing Coming"... I never knew he was fully "gay" until my husband confirmed it. And I'm not sure why my husband confirmed this to me years ago, but he did. Gay or not, I love that fucking song. Do you remember his fist glove with spikes? Mmmmmm.....

2. Jizz. Ew. Just Joking.

3. Jackass Ex-Husbands. The EX is the main part of that.

4. Japanese women. Because my EX was obsessed with them and thankfully that's what allowed me to get rid of him. And yes she was about this young:





5. Jaculated. Because it sounds like "ejaculated" and makes me laugh every time I hear it. [Ok, so I don't hear it that often, but it makes me think of a homie talking about how "he jaculated".]

6. Jeans. I love me some sweet pair of tight, flared, dark, denim jeans. With really cool pointy cockroach killer heels.


7. Jessica Simpson. Ok, so I think she's a dingbat, but I think her body is smoking hot even today. Fuck all you media people that impose your "size 0 is the only size allowed in Hollywood" views.

8. Jellybeans. I'm a sugar candy addict. Jelly beans, sweet tarts, sour patch kids overrule chocolate in my house any day.

9. Jumping your wife in the middle of a Saturday afternoon with no kids. [Oops, did I just type that? Mark? You reading me baby?]

10. Jugs. I mean come on. I wore my first bra in like 2nd grade. My husband uses adjectives like "Melonous", "Mountainous", and "Holyshitenormous" so I've had no choice but to come to appreciate a good set of female jugs.

WHOA. Sorry.

This was seriously the kindest "jug" photo from my google search that I could share.

Totally not NICE jugs. And TOTALLY, TOTALLY NOT MINE!

"Meme" complete.

WARNING: Santa and Wine Do NOT Mix

Well, if you've followed me long enough, you know that while I love to laugh with [AT] other people sometimes, I only allow myself to do this if I make fun of myself [or my absolutely insane family] just the same.

Unfortunately, this has become a little too easy for me these days. But for those of you who think I'm an awful human being to post about my husband's hobby of photographing a gross cushion that's been hanging over the front porch of his ex-wife's house for over 5 months now [we are entering 3rd season here people], I feel guilty enough about it to share the following pictures with you for personal retribution.

I know Christmas is over, but while cleaning out my home office bench which of course opens up for accessible storage [CLUTTER] , I found the letter my oldest daughter left for Santa on the fireplace mantle just this past Christmas Eve. As a warning, I would like to describe it to you in one simple word:

Ghetto.

Here it is:

OK, several points I would like to make:

1. Christmas is my absolute favorite holiday. My house is painted in dark reds, rustic oranges, and deep forest greens because I love the feel of my home decorated from the time Halloween approaches, through Fall and then into and beyond Christmas.

2. The poor writer of the above note was so rushed to bed that night that she grabbed a pharmaceutical pad to write her beloved Santa letter asking if this was the year she would be receiving the dog she's wanted since she was 7 days old.

3. I take the time to customize photo collage customized Christmas cards by the end of October each year, yet I can not provide my daughter a white piece of paper or better yet a piece of holiday stationery for her personal Dear Santa letter?

4. Santa's response is just out right shabby. Better yet, it's nothing other than GHETTO. Take a better look:

Santa somehow thought it was amusing [or was running late and drank just a little too much wine that night...okay, WAY TOO MUCH WINE that night] to have any empathy for the little girl sleeping upstairs hoping and praying for a puppy that would never be. And all he could do was circle "NO" and write "Work harder at home."



I'm going to have to open a can of whoop ass if I ever meet Santa face to face. How dare he.



PS...I'll be keeping these forever.

Now head on over to Candid Carrie's to check out, or better yet join in, on Foto Friday!

And all I got was a lousy chicken sandwich...right?

So shoot me for posting a little "positive" yesterday.

And all that inspired me was a fucking Crispy Chicken Sandwich. One of the rare treats this mommy gets to experience if lucky, maybe once a month. So shoot me, okay?

Because let me tell you, it's not worth getting excited about the little things for too long . They only come back to bite you in the royal [growing faster by the day now that I'm not working anymore] ASS.

And without even going into a raging lecture about yet another god damn snow day today [I mean come on, my one free month of paid leave before leaving work and already having to face in just the last four weeks not only Martin Luther King Day, but 2 full snow days plus 2 morning school delays]? There is no justice.

Just ask this asshole who agrees justice does not exist.

Damn, that hair is ugly, isn't it?

In less than 24 hours I have found myself facing major challenges. First, my adoring soon-to-be 9 year old decided it's actually quite amusing to throw out the "F" bomb at her mom. For the second time ever. The first time was just 3 days ago. So at 7:48am I opened up a can of whoop ass. And that's all I'm sayin'.

The even more torturing challenge I have been presented with is the lovely friend my 6 year old decided to bring home two days ago. Her name is "Pink Eye". She is unwelcome and overbearing and has caused my already somewhat OCD child to regress into you-couldn't-believe-it-if-you-sat-here-and-watched eye drop administration "routines", which are 2 drops in each eye FOUR times a day for ONE FULL WEEK.

Here's my kids routine: Lay on a certain pillow, hold two tissues, one in each hand, pat each eye several times prior, deep breathe, count to twenty, close eyes slowly and say you're ready but as soon as the eye dropper is sensed coming near the corner of the eye jump straight up and yell loudly that you actually AREN'T ready and that you need to stretch first, and then lay back down and repeat entire ritual again before actual administration. Then repeat for second eye.

You mean to tell me Pharma companies can't do any better than that? Please. Save the god damn pens and pads and put some of that money into making our lives just a tad bit easier. Like we have nothing better to do???

So this is what our entire household looks like today:

And below is the book I'll be purchasing tomorrow, because of course I am TOTALLY a really "GOOD" parent. Right????

Hello????

You Know It's Gonna Be A Good Day When...

As a Mom, I've learned to appreciate the little things. And sadly to say, the following little things make this Mommy's day 10-fold:

1. Looking at my kids school menu in the morning [even though I've promised myself I would do this every night before putting the kids to bed] and realizing Crispy Chicken Sandwich is the main entree. YES! Two buyers. No packing lunches last minute. I LOVE ME SOME CRISPY CHICKEN SANDWICHES.

2. Knowing that I actually took the time to linger through my girls' dirty hamper to find the one god damn pair of underwear my soon to be 9-year-old will wear with no bother, and the one holeless pair of Hello Kitty socks my 6 year old will wear without crying that the seams bother her, and then taking the time to wash them the night before and most importantly remembering to put them in the dryer before going to bed. This equates to a seriously "golden" morning.

3. Waking up realizing that before I went to bed I forgot to fill the coffee pot for auto brew, only to walk downstairs and discover that hubby made a whole pot of coffee for me before he left for work. And better yet, opening the frig to find a brand new container of sugar-free french vanilla creamer. Nope, not one with 3 drops left. A new, full bottle.


It's days like this my man can ask for whatever he wants... even white trash sex.

Marriage Tip #187

Him: "Honey, let's go upstairs and have dirty white trash sex."

Her: "Um...gross... you showered and I didn't. Not fair."

Him: "No, I DIDN'T shower. I just washed my hair quick. I couldn't take it."

Her: "Oh. OK. [walking upstairs] So, what does 'white trash sex' entail anyway?"

Him: "You know............ Sex............ Without showering."


Men are so fucking creative.


And a few months of unemployment with this type of daily activity may have us ending up looking something like this:

[I'm not sure who that second female could be, but hey, what the hell, right?]