Why I Suck At Blogging

Probably because I have two pillow pets.. that my kid isn't allowed to touch. SHE HAS HER OWN STOP JUDGING ME!

I forget to do it. A lot.

I Don't Like Your Dress, But I Did The First Time I Saw It

I've been to so many weddings in the past 5 years that I can't even count them anymore. I'm at that age where everyone is getting married, and most of them are doing it big.

Big or small, they've all had one thing in common: The dress. That dress up there, to be exact. Same colours, same dress, almost the exact same veil, and the same bridesmaid dresses to match.

My wedding wasn't big, and I didn't have a dress. Hell, I hadn't even washed my hair yet that day. We got married when Husband got a few minutes off his shift, in a tiny room up a dirty staircase in downtown Waikiki. Hooray Military weddings! We got there just in time to wait in a growing line, and got out of there just in time to make it to the closest McDonald's to grab his lunch. I wore a gorgeous jean skirt by Aeropostale, a tank top from Hollister, and a great custom jacket from Cafepress. It was the best thing that ever happened to me.

No, it wasn't the most fancy wedding, nor the most traditional, but it was mine. It was unique and special. I'm pretty sure no one else in the history of ever will have my "dress" because that jacket? It was one-of-a-kind. That makes me feel pretty okay with skipping the white dress and the reception.

Before you go bitching at me, let me explain my disdain for this dress so maybe you can understand where I'm coming from.

If I had worn a dress, and if I had had a wedding that was all match-y and decorated, I would've gone for something that was original. I don't want to look back at my wedding pictures and notice that ALL MY FRIENDS had the exact same dress and colours as I did. That would make me feel weird. We don't match on a daily basis, why would we want to match on the most wonderful day of our lives?

Isn't anyone noticing that for every ten weddings they go to, they're going to nine carbon copies, including their own? Doesn't that bother anyone? There are a thousand dresses with pickup skirts and satin fabric and sashes in millions of colours. Do you all have to wear the exact same one, with the exact same shade of red?

And, for the record, it's kind-of crappy to make your friends lie to you. When you ask me "Don't you just totally LOVE my dress?!", from now on, I'm going to tell you no. I'm sorry, but if I tell another person I do, I'm going to hang myself from my own tongue. I shouldn't have to lie. At this point in time, if I saw the ugliest dress ever made, and it was on my friend, and they asked me how I like it, if it was different than that dress up there, I would think it was the most amazing piece of shit ever. Because, despite the trends, they went with a dress that was unique and fit their personality.

That dress up there? It's not for everyone. I've seen a lot of weddings where the dress looked awful and the bride looked just miserable in it. However, her friends? They loved it. You could tell they were the ones who picked it out. They see the trends, and they make decisions based on what's hot, not what's special. I've even seen this dress recreated into bridesmaid dresses or prom gowns.

YOU'RE TAKING IT WAY TOO FAR, PEOPLE! OMHMYGOD!

When you try on a dress and you're standing up on that platform, staring into the mirrors, turning and twirling, don't look at the dress like a fashion statement. Please, for the love of all your photos and memories, look at that dress like it's an expression of yourself; like that dress is going to be on you forever and it's the last thing you'll ever put on. Would you want to look just like everyone else for the rest of your life?

Probably not.

I realize I sound awfully mean, and full of hate. I am full of hate.. for that dress. I sat here for a few minutes and tallied up the times I've either seen it in person, or seen someone's wedding pictures, and the count comes to 140. Yes, I'm completely serious. And the saddest part? at least 90% of those times, the girls know each other.

I liked the dress the first time I saw it; I liked the red pop in the sea of black and white. Now? I wish someone would've picked blue, green, pink, yellow, orange, cream, grey -- SOMETHING DIFFERENT. How about some gunmetal grey? What if you go with some deep purples and blues? Have some bright pink?

Anything? Anyone?

Whatevs, it's your wedding. I would suggest making it actually your wedding, but if you want me to come and say how much I love your dress, or the colours you chose, don't expect me to go crazy for something I've seen before -- so many times I'm just plain sick of it.

Where's the open bar? I need enough tequila in me to not rant on-stage about your cookie cutter wedding.

Your Number Come-th Up, Judge-y Parent!

Okay, this is purely a rant blog. It in no way means I think that any one of my friends and fellow bloggers are these types of people. It does mean that others have encountered this shit in real life, away from the internet, and I feel like it needs to be said.. by me.. on this blog. I'm out to get the ones who make us not-so perfect parents feel like a bag of douche for not being as awesome and sun-shiny as they seem to think they are.

Hey! Guess what? You're not perfect and rainbows do not come falling out of your ass every time you fart. I don't like you. Most parents do not like you. Life? Yeah, life doesn't like you, either. No one likes a show-off. Or you. Because you're a fucking tool.

If you are easily offended, don't read this. If you read this and you're like "OMG THAT BITCH IS TALKING ABOUT ME!", you're wrong. I don't know you. This is about the kinds of shit that other parents have given me/others during the course of our lives as parents. Some of this has nothing to do with me, but I'm writing it the way I'm writing it because I'm awesome and I'm dedicated. I never reveal the sources of my inspiration. Get over yourself, most of this shit is hilarious as fuck. Just laugh, dammit!

Aaaaaanyhow, back to my rant. Well, the points of my rant.. Here are some reasons why I don't like you. I also got some pretty great fodder from some not-so amused dads. Apparently other moms are too nice to say mean things. I don't believe in "sticking together" if you can't fucking be nice. Go eat some mushy peas, mean-ass. Here are some letters to mull over while you stuff your judge-y face:

Dear 'Oblivious' Parent,

Is there any reason why you feel more inclined to talk shit about my clothes, my kid's clothes, or how I'm letting my kid/kids play on the playground, than pay attention to your own kid/kids? Because, I just want you to know, your kid has a face full of sand and something that resembles dog shit, and I'm not sure you care at this point. Oh, and while you were letting your kid/kids do shit like that, my kid was perfectly safe and happy and I was probably playing with her or watching her play like a fucking helicopter mom, you accomplished nothing by treating me like I'm on 'American Idol: Parenting Edition'. And your kid ate shit. I hope you get some all over your face because you still have no idea it happened. Like my top? I got it at fucking WALMART.


Dear 'Savvy' Parent,

I like your shoes. Were those on sale for $400 or $900? Oh, mine? I got mine at the fucking Dollar General. They were in the clearance bin for like a buck. With the money I saved, I bought my kid four new outfits, a new pair of shoes, and that bubble bath that costs more than all my beauty supplies combined. She likes it and it makes her smell like Jesus rubbed his awesomeness all over her. No, I don't mind that my shit looks old and ragged, because my kid has the best of everything and I work my fucking face off to make sure she never goes without. I like spending my money on her instead of me; it's the reason I'm a fucking GREAT mom. I may be on the lower-class side of life, but you'd never know that my kid doesn't have rich parents. I'm glad that you have lots of money, but why is your kid wearing Walmart while you wear Gucci? Thanks for making me feel like Parent of the Year. I needed that. My last pair of slacks that are work appropriate just ripped, and I was having a bad day.


Dear 'Awesome-Rack' Parent,

Congratulations! You fed your kid from your/your wife's boobies and not from a bottle. You achieved something so wonderful that the angels cry. Oh, me? Why didn't I breast feed my kid? BECAUSE I FUCKING COULDN'T! Thank you, though, for telling me I'm a terrible, no-good parent, and rubbing the glory of your success in my face. It makes me get this warm and fuzzy feeling deep inside my vag. I tried, and I was really down on myself for two fucking months because I couldn't have that bond with my kid. If you had bothered to ask before you sat on your titty pedestal, you might've saved some face. You just look like an asshole now. And, for the record, we bonded. We bonded the shit out of each other. That kid tells me every single day that I'm her best friend. She also got to bond like Gorilla Glue to her dad. It was awesome. We are awesome. Fuck you.


Dear 'Earth-Friendly' Parent,

I'm glad that you chose to use cloth diapers. That makes me happy for you, and I'm sure that you feel a little more righteous because you saved the fucking tree people or whatever -- awesome. I chose to use the diapers that I can throw away. It's my choice. I had enough shit thrown at me while my kid was in diapers, I didn't feel like dealing with washing them and drying them and wondering if shit was going to be stuck in my washer. Just because YOU did something, does NOT mean the rest of the world has to. Every parent has a choice and your way isn't always the only way. I know you feel this way because you're a martyr and you do so much good with your cloth diapers and your fucking ego, but no. Fuck that. You're not holy, you didn't save the tree people, and your washing machine probably smells funny. There, how do you like MY opinion? If it pisses you off, I did my job. Because you piss me off. A lot.


Dear 'Wow' Parent,

Your kid is not a testament to you. You kid is a kid; a human being. They aren't a prop. If you treat your kid like a fucking accessory, you're an asshole. You have no place to judge me or any other parent. You're the Paris Hilton of parents, and you suck. The end.


Dear 'Psycho Hippie' Parent,

Breast feeding your child when they're in pre-school is just creepy. I'm not doing it and it's not because I'm a bad parent. It's because I talked with my kid's pediatrician and I chose to go with her facts and not my own weird internet research. New age parents confuse me. If our parents fed us real food whenever we were ready, why can't you do that for your kid? You seem to be semi-stable and normal, meaning your parents did a good job with you. Why would you want to do something that isn't healthy for your kid for your own sake? You are also the 'Wow' parent.. making your statement. It's a really messed-up statement and I don't understand it, but it's there. I salute your decision in my own way. All I ask is that you stop telling me what's best for my kid.. because you don't know anything about her. You should also stop being so fucking high and mighty. No one likes people butting-in where they have no business sticking themselves in. I did what was right for my daughter, and she's a healthy, intelligent, well-adjusted little hellion that has gone through a lot in her three years of being alive. I think she's doing fan-fucking-tastic all things considered. If you think she needs formula at three, when it loses all nutritional value between 10-14 months, that's your opinion. Now, please go choke on it. Enjoy your day, you're very rude.



Okay, so the last one is from me.. but whatevs. I know a lot of parents feel like ass when other parents act like they've never had a breakdown, never had to deal with bullshit, never been stressed or tired, or they just have their fucking shit together all the time. I am calling you out, mean parents. STOP BEING SO DAMN AWFUL! Not every parent is the same, much like the children we rear. We all have different ways of coping with things and raising our kids. We were all raised differently. If you can't accept that not everyone is going to be as amazing as you think you are, you're a huge bag of ugly.

POWER TO THE COOL PARENTS!

We have meltdowns, we don't always like our kids even though we love them with every fiber of our being, we do the best we can with what we have, and our kids are the kids everyone wants to have. I love being 'Mommy' to my little tornado. She makes me mad, sad, tired, hyper, cry, smile, laugh, fuss, and amazed every time she comes into a room. I couldn't imagine my life without her in it, and I'm thankful every single day for her. I know I've had some days where I'm like "Baby Jesus, please give me a break!", but everyone has had those days. It's normal. It's called being a fucking parent. Try being a REAL parent sometime, judge-y parents.. you just might find it's a great experience. Also, when you try it and love it, apologize to the parents you've shit on over the years. Make our day.

Neglect: My Blog Has It

I haven't posted a real, honest-to-god blog in, oh, forever. Well, more like forever, three weeks, and two days. I figure I should probably start doing things right again so I will stop having conversations with my cat and randomly bursting into tears in the shower...

Stop being all judge-y. I feel you being judge-y. It makes me itch.

Here's the slim of what I've been up to for the better part of a year and some days. Enjoy.

1. Living in Louisiana is probably one of the worst fucking things to ever happen to me in the history of fucking ever. I'm so not kidding. Aside from amazing friends, that's about all I got out of that experience. My marriage almost failed, my in-laws pretty much made me want to befriend the Mississippi River.. from the bridge.. like, I wanted to face-plant into it from the fucking bridge. Oh, and did I mention it was so awful that I wanted to punch baby seals with my fist? Because I did. A lot. Because is sucked. Immensely.

2. I finished school and couldn't get a job because, yay, the hospital chucked my paperwork into the garbage. This fact, coupled with the fact that the job market in the area we were living in was complete bullshit, made me even more down and depress-y. I was already down because of the fact that I lived in the gooch of the world; let's add on a really crap-tastic healthcare system and failing local economy. Thanks, universe. Fuck you very much.

3. I decided to move, and, thankfully, my amazing husband was supportive and decided after finishing up the jobs he was already contracted out to do, he would follow me into the great known of my home state/town. So far, so good. I love living here. My kid loves living here. My husband is so stoked to live here in the next two weeks. We're those retarded happy people that I usually make fun of now only we're broke.

4. Moving really helped everything, to be honest. My marriage is better than ever, my kid is happier and healthier than she's been since we moved from here the first time, my Mom is healthier and happier having me as her slave, err, I mean having me close-at-hand... under her roof... no, this doesn't bother me in the least because I have the coolest fucking Mom ever, and living with her is pretty much like living with a bad-ass, older version of me.. and taller... and dorkier... but still.

5. I really don't have a 5, but I am extremely OCD, and I really like odd numbers. Especially when they're multiples of 5. They make-ah me happy...ah. Whatever.


So, in conclusion, here's what we should be taking away from this post. In multiples of 5. Again. Redundancy FTW!:

-I hate the entire state of Louisiana and most of Mississippi. Fuck those places.
-I moved. Georgia = my favourite place to live.. and stuff.
-I like Ass-hat more than I've liked him since the three month mark of our coexistence as married people.
-I have a really awesome kid who's really fucking awesome.. also, My Mom is tall.
-I like odd numbers and multiples of 5.


Thanks.