So, I'm in Louisiana.
It still sucks.
I haven't had internet. At all. OMFG. My truck needs a new right ass cheek, my kid has Strep, and I'm working on salvaging my marriage.
Also, rescued a kitten. Go me.
Showing posts with label Kid. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kid. Show all posts
21 June 2012
The Week Everything Hated Me
That would be THIS week.
Have you ever had one of those days where nothing went right and everything went wrong and you wanted to die but you couldn't and even your sentences were long and drawn out and incoherent?
My whole week has been like that, only it's not over yet. I've been contemplating digging a hole for my head because it works for large birds and I'm sure it could work for me...right?
Have you ever had one of those days where nothing went right and everything went wrong and you wanted to die but you couldn't and even your sentences were long and drawn out and incoherent?
My whole week has been like that, only it's not over yet. I've been contemplating digging a hole for my head because it works for large birds and I'm sure it could work for me...right?
11 June 2012
You Drive Me Crazy
So, as I've probably neglected to mention in my blogging absence, my daughter turned four on Mother's Day.
Since that day, my life has gone from standard to OHMYFUCKINGGAWDSOMEONEGIVEMEAXANAXNOW. It's starting to get to me.
Since that day, my life has gone from standard to OHMYFUCKINGGAWDSOMEONEGIVEMEAXANAXNOW. It's starting to get to me.
26 March 2012
Multimedia For Kids, Err, My Kid
As "Mommy" to a toddler, I'm not the world's best parent. I'm usually at a loss as to what she wants/needs, but I'm learning as I go, and trying new things every day. I know to give her home-cooked, healthy meals as often as I can, to give her a vitamin, bathe her and brush her teeth, and try not to lose my shit when she won't listen. I also know that a perfectly timed press of the "play" button on my remote will trigger complete and utter concentration in an otherwise unfocused toddler with ADD.
19 March 2012
To Your Unborn Children And My Already Born One
Have you seen this?
100 REAL Tweets From People Who Would Murder Their Gay Children
If you haven't, please take a moment to browse. This blog can wait.
Now, if you have Tumblr, there's a nice little image to go with it. The people that compiled the list are amazing, and I applaud them for getting this out there.
Isn't this nice? I wish my parents had been like this when I was born, right? Oh, wait, they were.
100 REAL Tweets From People Who Would Murder Their Gay Children
If you haven't, please take a moment to browse. This blog can wait.
Now, if you have Tumblr, there's a nice little image to go with it. The people that compiled the list are amazing, and I applaud them for getting this out there.
 |
| Yay Homophobes! Fucking dicks. |
Isn't this nice? I wish my parents had been like this when I was born, right? Oh, wait, they were.
11 March 2012
Home Run Inn Frozen Pizzas: A Review*
Since I joined this whole Klout mess to get free stuff, I've received several perks that I enjoyed. An awesome screen cleaner, several early-access codes to start ups that I can check out and use before the hype, several codes to websites (hey free money!), etc. It's been a generally interesting experience, though them telling me I earned a perk AFTER it's full isn't cool, I'm just sayin'.
I got the Home Run Inn frozen pizza perk, and was stoked. A free meal for my ridiculously hungry family. Score. I'm broke, so this was like a gift from the heavens above. The pack came, and inside was a folder FULL of information on the company, the coupons for two free pizzas of my choosing, and a really awesome pizza cutter.
I LOVE the pizza cutter. I got the pack about a month and a half ago, and I've used it over every other one in the house. It's also really amazing (to me AND everyone else in the house) that you can take it apart and get it completely clean.
We finally got around to getting the pizzas yesterday. We were told that they were only sold in our area at Ingles and Publix. Publix is hours away, and Ingles is farther than I care to drive, even for free pizza. And then, what a crazy, random happenstance! We found them at the local Bi-Lo. The variety was limited, but the two family favs were there, so we grabbed a Classic Pepperoni and a Classic Cheese.
When I opened the package, I was a bit confused, to be totally honest. The cheese has already been baked.. I was completely skeptical that twice-baked cheese would be any good. I popped them in, cooked them, and tossed a salad on the table. Supper time! Ding ding!
We all sat down, and the adults (because my toddler could care less what it tastes like, as long as it's pizza) went to tasting. I love that my family will pretty much do anything I ask them to when I tell them it's for my blog.
Here are the reviews of four normal people (who usually either eat homemade pizzas, or the cheapest frozen one I can find that doesn't look like cardboard. It all depends on time and how broke I am that paycheck.):
So, that's that. Two pizzas, total value $15.98 normally(sans tax), on sale this week for $11.98(again, tax not included, mostly because I'm lazy), and with the coupons provided, free.
Also, I don't agree with Huband. They taste nothing like Johnny's.
*I was given a free product or sample because I'm a Klout influencer. I was under no obligation to receive the sample or talk about this company. I get no additional benefits for talking about the product or company.
I got the Home Run Inn frozen pizza perk, and was stoked. A free meal for my ridiculously hungry family. Score. I'm broke, so this was like a gift from the heavens above. The pack came, and inside was a folder FULL of information on the company, the coupons for two free pizzas of my choosing, and a really awesome pizza cutter.
I LOVE the pizza cutter. I got the pack about a month and a half ago, and I've used it over every other one in the house. It's also really amazing (to me AND everyone else in the house) that you can take it apart and get it completely clean.
We finally got around to getting the pizzas yesterday. We were told that they were only sold in our area at Ingles and Publix. Publix is hours away, and Ingles is farther than I care to drive, even for free pizza. And then, what a crazy, random happenstance! We found them at the local Bi-Lo. The variety was limited, but the two family favs were there, so we grabbed a Classic Pepperoni and a Classic Cheese.
When I opened the package, I was a bit confused, to be totally honest. The cheese has already been baked.. I was completely skeptical that twice-baked cheese would be any good. I popped them in, cooked them, and tossed a salad on the table. Supper time! Ding ding!
We all sat down, and the adults (because my toddler could care less what it tastes like, as long as it's pizza) went to tasting. I love that my family will pretty much do anything I ask them to when I tell them it's for my blog.
Here are the reviews of four normal people (who usually either eat homemade pizzas, or the cheapest frozen one I can find that doesn't look like cardboard. It all depends on time and how broke I am that paycheck.):
- Now, my husband is a completely picky eater. He was raised on fast food, and anything that comes in a package. He loved it. He said it reminded him of Johnny's Pizza, which is based out of select cities in Louisiana. He didn't care for the pepperoni, because it's bland. I think he's just so used to processed pepperoni, that he has no idea what uncured slices taste like. He said he would prefer it over every other frozen pizza AND Pizza Hut, Papa John's, and Domino's (Is that how you spell it? Whatever.). HRI has scored a fan with him, and that's not easy.
- My Mom likes it. She likes the crust, and the fact that the cheese tasted like black olives on certain parts of the pepperoni pizza. It's not her favourite brand, and she definitely wouldn't pay $7-$9 for one, but she said it was really good.
- Kiddo was just happy to have pizza, but she seemed to eat the crust without as much fuss. That's always nice.
- My opinion is a little more critical, because I'M JUST LIKE THAT, OKAY?! I found it off-putting that parts of the pepperoni pizza's cheese tasted like canned black olives. I'm not a fan of them at all. The sauce was a little sweet for my taste, because I like spicier marinas. The cheese pizza was okay, but I'm not into the twice-baked cheese. It was really chewy, and lost a lot of it's flavour. The crust was probably the only thing I liked about it, and to be honest, I've had better wheat crust. I know that it's probably a great pizza when you get it fresh from the actual franchise, and maybe another variety would've suited me better, but even though it's a frozen pizza, I was left lacking. So much so, that I took a couple of bites of each kind, and was more content to eat my salad. I hate to be overly-critical, but that's my honest opinion of it. Three outta four ain't bad, right? I definitely wouldn't spend the money to buy THIS particular pizza. I will be sticking with the same old, same old. If they happen to have them on sale, I would probably buy them so the rest of my family could have them, but I'd be sticking with the rabbit food I throw on the table to make myself feel like less of a crappy parent.
So, that's that. Two pizzas, total value $15.98 normally(sans tax), on sale this week for $11.98(again, tax not included, mostly because I'm lazy), and with the coupons provided, free.
Also, I don't agree with Huband. They taste nothing like Johnny's.
*I was given a free product or sample because I'm a Klout influencer. I was under no obligation to receive the sample or talk about this company. I get no additional benefits for talking about the product or company.
26 February 2012
A Bit Of Sunday Soul-Searching (And Whining)
After the week I've had, I've done a lot of thinking. Like, why am I always the one left sacrificing and no one else bothers trying? Why am I always the one that has to back down and let everyone else have their way? Why do I always get overlooked, no matter what the situation is?
Why am I still wearing the same stuff I wore in High School, even though it doesn't fit anymore?! I need some new clothes.. bad.
I know it sounds completely whiny, but seriously, I'm always the one left holding the short straw. No one ever listens to anything I have to say, and it's easy for people to treat me poorly. I guess I'm not as bad ass as I would like to think. I always end up being the one who backs down, and gives others their way. It's becoming quite the burden, actually, and I'm getting tired of being treated like what I think or feel doesn't matter.
The only thing that I have any real control over is my writing, so I just keep clinging to it. I have like 30 random pieces I've been piddling around with, none of which are finished. I've been so down lately, I don't know how I'll pick myself up off my pillow pet some days.
Don't judge me, that thing is the best invention ever. It's the perfect pillow, complete with a place to hold onto.. the head. And it's soft and comfy and doesn't leave me waking up with a rat's nest where my hair used to be.
I make the budget and the meal plan for the two weeks in between paychecks and the likes. No one bothers to even acknowledge it. The budget is like a guideline to people.. except me. So, when we run short, or have to skip out on something, it's me that's left giving something up (like coffee and Dr. Pepper, two of my four vices). The one that tries so hard to make everything balance is always the one left out, and left holding all the blame.
I recently had no other option than to buy new glasses. I had to blow my budget to get my lenses, so I was left a crying mess in the middle of Lenscrafters. This also happened when I had to buy a pair of boots to make it through winter. If I have to spend something on myself, I get really out-of-sorts, and when I realized that the following two weeks would be tight, I made the decision to take the glasses back. I was told not to, that it wouldn't serve any purpose, and yet no one bothered to help see where we could cut random spending to make things a little less strained at the bank. Just me.
Now, I used to get told the reason that I had to make sacrifices (like not eating for days, and not sleeping, etc) was because I didn't have a job. Even when I had a job, it wasn't one where I "punched a time clock", so it was considered "stupid doodles on the internet". It really hurts to know that I'm not appreciated for the long hours and dedication I put in to be someone.. to make something of myself.. to better our family.
I have no say in anything, and yet everything is left up to me. I moved home, with my mom, not because I'm a loser, but to help her. My parents are older than most of my friend's my age, and my mom is all alone. She works long hours in a really strenuous place, and she just couldn't keep going the way she was and not have any help around the house. I help with the bills as much as I can, and I cook, clean, run errands, make phone calls, and try to relieve some stress on her.
I don't mind, not even in the least. I love this house, this area, and my mom. She's one of my best friends, as well as a huge supporter of my aspirations to do something with my life. She supports my long hours, lack of good pay, and dedication. She takes over the dishes and the laundry when she's off, and it's a huge help. She lets me sleep in when she knows I've been up too late, and helps me with the Kid. I try to make things as easy as possible, but it always seems like something goes wrong, and I'm left feeling like the worst daughter ever.
I just get sick and tired of everyone thinking I'm some terrible person because I don't visit often enough, or do things their way. I get tired of being made to "go along" with whatever everyone else wants, and told to basically not have an opinion or desire that isn't going to be the same as theirs. It really sucks, and it gets me down.
THEN I start feeling like a douchebag because I'm whining and feeling all "poor me". I spend all day acting happy and tough, but sometimes, I just can't play the part anymore. Like last night.. when I texted a friend, crying and down, and spilled all my crap onto him. It wasn't fair, and I still need to tell him I'm sorry. I don't have anyone to talk to, because if I say anything to anyone, I'm a bitch and I just want to make someone miserable.
That's totally not true. I'm actually a really nice person, who's constantly a door mat. I get pushed around, used, treated like crap.. hell, I've been told I'm worthless, the worst thing that ever happened to Husband, a bad parent... my kid has told me she doesn't love me so many times I've become almost completely numb. I'm no good, a time suck, I don't do anything but play around on the computer all day, etc. It really gets old hearing these things all the time. Especially when I hear them from my kid and people I don't even know.
Why would anyone talk about me like that? I try so hard to make everyone happy, that I end up losing my own needs and wants in the process. If I actually stand up for myself, I get threatened and talked down to until I just give in, because I've given up.
Is this how it's supposed to be? I thought compromise was a two-way street? Since when was it okay to make someone your punching bag, again and again, and treat them like they aren't important. Everyone, in some way or another, is important. Everyone has a mind and feelings, and they matter. Even if they're different than you, they still deserve to be happy, heard, acknowledged, and loved.
I guess I'm jut tired of feeling worthless to everyone. Also, I'm really tired of feeling down on myself. I guess when you hear it every day, you just kind-of start to believe it. That shouldn't happen, but it does. I'm only human, and I can only take so much shit from people before I get overloaded.
I wish I was the happy little bad ass that everyone thinks I am.. I used to be.. I guess I've just gotten lost along the way.
Why am I still wearing the same stuff I wore in High School, even though it doesn't fit anymore?! I need some new clothes.. bad.
I know it sounds completely whiny, but seriously, I'm always the one left holding the short straw. No one ever listens to anything I have to say, and it's easy for people to treat me poorly. I guess I'm not as bad ass as I would like to think. I always end up being the one who backs down, and gives others their way. It's becoming quite the burden, actually, and I'm getting tired of being treated like what I think or feel doesn't matter.
The only thing that I have any real control over is my writing, so I just keep clinging to it. I have like 30 random pieces I've been piddling around with, none of which are finished. I've been so down lately, I don't know how I'll pick myself up off my pillow pet some days.
Don't judge me, that thing is the best invention ever. It's the perfect pillow, complete with a place to hold onto.. the head. And it's soft and comfy and doesn't leave me waking up with a rat's nest where my hair used to be.
I make the budget and the meal plan for the two weeks in between paychecks and the likes. No one bothers to even acknowledge it. The budget is like a guideline to people.. except me. So, when we run short, or have to skip out on something, it's me that's left giving something up (like coffee and Dr. Pepper, two of my four vices). The one that tries so hard to make everything balance is always the one left out, and left holding all the blame.
I recently had no other option than to buy new glasses. I had to blow my budget to get my lenses, so I was left a crying mess in the middle of Lenscrafters. This also happened when I had to buy a pair of boots to make it through winter. If I have to spend something on myself, I get really out-of-sorts, and when I realized that the following two weeks would be tight, I made the decision to take the glasses back. I was told not to, that it wouldn't serve any purpose, and yet no one bothered to help see where we could cut random spending to make things a little less strained at the bank. Just me.
Now, I used to get told the reason that I had to make sacrifices (like not eating for days, and not sleeping, etc) was because I didn't have a job. Even when I had a job, it wasn't one where I "punched a time clock", so it was considered "stupid doodles on the internet". It really hurts to know that I'm not appreciated for the long hours and dedication I put in to be someone.. to make something of myself.. to better our family.
I have no say in anything, and yet everything is left up to me. I moved home, with my mom, not because I'm a loser, but to help her. My parents are older than most of my friend's my age, and my mom is all alone. She works long hours in a really strenuous place, and she just couldn't keep going the way she was and not have any help around the house. I help with the bills as much as I can, and I cook, clean, run errands, make phone calls, and try to relieve some stress on her.
I don't mind, not even in the least. I love this house, this area, and my mom. She's one of my best friends, as well as a huge supporter of my aspirations to do something with my life. She supports my long hours, lack of good pay, and dedication. She takes over the dishes and the laundry when she's off, and it's a huge help. She lets me sleep in when she knows I've been up too late, and helps me with the Kid. I try to make things as easy as possible, but it always seems like something goes wrong, and I'm left feeling like the worst daughter ever.
I just get sick and tired of everyone thinking I'm some terrible person because I don't visit often enough, or do things their way. I get tired of being made to "go along" with whatever everyone else wants, and told to basically not have an opinion or desire that isn't going to be the same as theirs. It really sucks, and it gets me down.
THEN I start feeling like a douchebag because I'm whining and feeling all "poor me". I spend all day acting happy and tough, but sometimes, I just can't play the part anymore. Like last night.. when I texted a friend, crying and down, and spilled all my crap onto him. It wasn't fair, and I still need to tell him I'm sorry. I don't have anyone to talk to, because if I say anything to anyone, I'm a bitch and I just want to make someone miserable.
That's totally not true. I'm actually a really nice person, who's constantly a door mat. I get pushed around, used, treated like crap.. hell, I've been told I'm worthless, the worst thing that ever happened to Husband, a bad parent... my kid has told me she doesn't love me so many times I've become almost completely numb. I'm no good, a time suck, I don't do anything but play around on the computer all day, etc. It really gets old hearing these things all the time. Especially when I hear them from my kid and people I don't even know.
Why would anyone talk about me like that? I try so hard to make everyone happy, that I end up losing my own needs and wants in the process. If I actually stand up for myself, I get threatened and talked down to until I just give in, because I've given up.
Is this how it's supposed to be? I thought compromise was a two-way street? Since when was it okay to make someone your punching bag, again and again, and treat them like they aren't important. Everyone, in some way or another, is important. Everyone has a mind and feelings, and they matter. Even if they're different than you, they still deserve to be happy, heard, acknowledged, and loved.
I guess I'm jut tired of feeling worthless to everyone. Also, I'm really tired of feeling down on myself. I guess when you hear it every day, you just kind-of start to believe it. That shouldn't happen, but it does. I'm only human, and I can only take so much shit from people before I get overloaded.
I wish I was the happy little bad ass that everyone thinks I am.. I used to be.. I guess I've just gotten lost along the way.
21 February 2012
Promotion, Lots Of Cooking, Rant Articles, And Stuff: RTTR
Another late RTTR post. I know, I suck. Get over it. I had stuff to do. Also, I had a nap to take. That was awesome, I'm not gonna lie.
Anyhow, I got a promotion. It's awesome. I'm not just a writer anymore, I'm Managing Editor. What? I know, right?! I'm cheesing just writing it. I have so many awesome ideas, and it seems like I'm constantly writing them down. They just come to me.. I don't know. Whatever.
My last article? It's gotten a lot of attention. I guess people really like when they get to read someone else ranting away. I just get so mad when people do stupid shit. Like, really, if you want to say you're obsessed with zombies, at least know something about them. And Tim Burton stuff.. I swear, the next time someone sits there and says they're obsessed with The Nightmare Before Christmas and Tim Burton's work, I'm going to die. Or dragon kick the shit out of them. It's so annoying. If you like it, cool. Say that. Don't be like "OMFGIMTOTALLYOBSESSEDANDILOVEALLOFTHETHINGS!!!!"
Be honest with yourself. Also, don't talk about it in front of me. When I contradict you, and you get pissed off, it makes me really sad for you. If you're going to fan girl all over something, learn about it first. That's all I'm asking.
I've been doing some pretty amazing cooking lately, I'm not even gonna lie. I've made barbecue chicken that will blow your mind, lots of yummy pasta salad, anything I can put spinach in, great spaghetti and pizzas, and I made some ridiculously awesome parmesan crusted chicken breasts, that were probably the greatest things ever the other night.. err.. last night? Anyway... moving on, since I just completely blanked out on what all I've made lately..
Kiddo has been driving me nuts. I can't wait until the three stage is over. I wish I had the terrible two's back.. so hard.. omg. She refuses to listen to me, and is mean as shit until Husband gets home. When he gets home, she's good for him. I hate being the least favourite parent. It blows. At least the cat loves me.. and even he gets pissy when he thinks I'm not going to remember to give him his second scoop of food before bed. I can't catch a break.
I seriously think I married a dumbass. He walked past me, just now, with his ass hanging out of his shorts. I hate that shit. He knows this. So what does he do when I tell him to pull them up? He comes back out with them around his knees and asks me who I was talking to.
Someone, anyone, husband for sale. You can have him.
This concludes Random Tuesday Rebellion, and all the fun that's had with it. Tune in next week for more fun and shenanigans. Also, don't forget to check out our leader, Stacy, for more awesomeness and bloggy goodness.
Happy Randoming and Rebelling, y'all!
Anyhow, I got a promotion. It's awesome. I'm not just a writer anymore, I'm Managing Editor. What? I know, right?! I'm cheesing just writing it. I have so many awesome ideas, and it seems like I'm constantly writing them down. They just come to me.. I don't know. Whatever.
My last article? It's gotten a lot of attention. I guess people really like when they get to read someone else ranting away. I just get so mad when people do stupid shit. Like, really, if you want to say you're obsessed with zombies, at least know something about them. And Tim Burton stuff.. I swear, the next time someone sits there and says they're obsessed with The Nightmare Before Christmas and Tim Burton's work, I'm going to die. Or dragon kick the shit out of them. It's so annoying. If you like it, cool. Say that. Don't be like "OMFGIMTOTALLYOBSESSEDANDILOVEALLOFTHETHINGS!!!!"
Be honest with yourself. Also, don't talk about it in front of me. When I contradict you, and you get pissed off, it makes me really sad for you. If you're going to fan girl all over something, learn about it first. That's all I'm asking.
I've been doing some pretty amazing cooking lately, I'm not even gonna lie. I've made barbecue chicken that will blow your mind, lots of yummy pasta salad, anything I can put spinach in, great spaghetti and pizzas, and I made some ridiculously awesome parmesan crusted chicken breasts, that were probably the greatest things ever the other night.. err.. last night? Anyway... moving on, since I just completely blanked out on what all I've made lately..
Kiddo has been driving me nuts. I can't wait until the three stage is over. I wish I had the terrible two's back.. so hard.. omg. She refuses to listen to me, and is mean as shit until Husband gets home. When he gets home, she's good for him. I hate being the least favourite parent. It blows. At least the cat loves me.. and even he gets pissy when he thinks I'm not going to remember to give him his second scoop of food before bed. I can't catch a break.
I seriously think I married a dumbass. He walked past me, just now, with his ass hanging out of his shorts. I hate that shit. He knows this. So what does he do when I tell him to pull them up? He comes back out with them around his knees and asks me who I was talking to.
Someone, anyone, husband for sale. You can have him.
This concludes Random Tuesday Rebellion, and all the fun that's had with it. Tune in next week for more fun and shenanigans. Also, don't forget to check out our leader, Stacy, for more awesomeness and bloggy goodness.
Happy Randoming and Rebelling, y'all!
15 February 2012
A Foray Into Word-ish Wednesday
I took some amazing photos of the Munchkin today while we were "chalkin'".
It's a real thing. She made it up today. New meme, guys. Chalkin'.
It's a real thing. She made it up today. New meme, guys. Chalkin'.
Enjoy the cuteness, and the amazing day we were graced with today.
I found this awesome blog hop through the ever amazing Stacy, so if you want to get on board, go check her out.
31 January 2012
The Things I Do For Money, The Waiting Game, And Gramma's Oatmeal: RTTR
So Tomorrow was going to be the day I finally got the hubs back from Louisiana. I don't think that's going to happen. I really appreciate all the shit he's gone through since I moved, but I think it's time he told everyone and everything to go to hell so he can come home. I'm tired of waiting, sleeping alone, changing dates, hearing my kid cry because she misses her daddy, and dealing with everyone's drama.
Do you think I'm really that bad of a person, guys? I wouldn't MAKE him do anything. This was a mutual decision, and I don't appreciate the accusations or the hateful messages. Man up, grow a set of balls, and learn what "staying out of things you don't know anything about" means. I promise, what you think you know, isn't at all what's really going on. Maybe you should disregard gossip and worry about yourself.
I'm a bit cranky when it comes to this subject. That's about all I can say. I miss my best friend and regulator, so I'm not exactly thrilled that it's going to take more time. Also, it's getting harder to keep the munchkin on the up-and-up. I can't tell her to be good because Daddy will be here soon if soon never comes.
I pounded out an article that took me a week to prepare for. It's pretty sweet, and I'll be linking to it in a post as soon as it's live. I wrote a speech for someone's kid who did something "cool", and got to hear more of the same crap I just posted about. Lame jokes.. lots of them. I finished up the last of the graphics I plan on doing for a while, and had another 100 e-mails from douchenuts who think it's my job to make them free shit. I'm letting you know now that it's not my job to give you something that takes away from my paid-for time and my family, for free. Ever. If I offer, then I offer. If you e-mail me 12 times in a day TELLING me to do something, I'm going to remind you that eating a bag of dicks can be cleansing, and block you from my life. Forever.
Now, this eating of the bag of dicks can also be applied to people who make me work hours on things I offered, and assumed would be simple, and then never contact me to finish them, or treat me like I'm their fucking bitch and can't even say thank you before they're telling me what I am and am not going to do for them.
Fuck off. My time is worth $125 an hour, and if you want me to bow to your every whim, you will pay me for it, I clock my hours with the same timer my Dad uses, and trust me, I clock your free shit. I clocked in almost three hours out of the goodness of my heart, and you will pay me for it, PLUS whatever time I waste from here on out, since you want to be a fucking tool.
Also, if you type like a douche, I'm going to block you. I won't even accept your money if it means I have to read your messages. I mean, come on: "Dhuz eyU mayK gRaFiiXx fu ah Tallt?!??!G won noe, tryyk. iiMma nea tuhh giit ah bluu XxX owna bakk. lmk. ppeecce."
What in the fucking fuck does that even mean?! I'm totally serious, here. I know what "lmk" is, but other than that, I'm fucking lost. I copy+paste-d that from an e-mail I received two hours ago. My head hit the desk so fast I wasn't prepared for it.
If that was you, you're blocked. Forever and ever. And if you leave a comment on this post, I will hunt you down and shove my old Grammar book into your ear canal in hopes that it, by some divine miracle, punctures your brain and oozes its useful knowledge all over it. Get a job, and maybe you'll learn proper english.
It's going to be super nice outside today, Thursday, and Friday. I can't wait to get out and enjoy it. I'm hoping the munchkin will be up for some serious walking, because it's going to happen. Wednesday can kiss my ass. It wants to be rainy. I hate Wednesday right now. Wednesday, you're a bitch.
I cheated when I cooked supper last night, and made spaghetti from a canned sauce. It was a huge mistake. It tasted like I dumped a cup of sugar into it, and then added some Karo syrup. No one could eat it. It was a total waste of meat, spices, and time. I promise, family, I will never do that again. Ever.
I made myself some oatmeal for a snack and breakfast tomorrow. I used the same oats my gramma used to use, and I added in some brown sugar, a dash of nutmeg, honey, and a spoonful of some home canned maple peach preserves. It was awesome, but it paled in comparison to hers. No one will ever make oatmeal like hers. Also, butter beans. She made the best, and I am just trying to make mine a fraction as good these days.
I have found the worst thing about living out in the middle of the country: waiting around for the dude to refill your gas tank. Everyone else is fine with the slight drop in temperature due to conservation, but I'm not. I haven't taken my boots off all day, and I'm in so many layers it's hard to walk around.
Also, I think I may have over-shot the limits on my Jeep. I decided to wait to get gas, and then I forgot I was low, and drove it around today. I may or may not be able to get back to town to fill it up. Anyone have a gas can? Because I'm a failure.
You know the drill, head over to Stacy's awesome blog, grab a button, write some shit down, link-up, and get in on the Random Tuesday fun! Now with more REBELLION!
Have a very random Tuesday!
Do you think I'm really that bad of a person, guys? I wouldn't MAKE him do anything. This was a mutual decision, and I don't appreciate the accusations or the hateful messages. Man up, grow a set of balls, and learn what "staying out of things you don't know anything about" means. I promise, what you think you know, isn't at all what's really going on. Maybe you should disregard gossip and worry about yourself.
I'm a bit cranky when it comes to this subject. That's about all I can say. I miss my best friend and regulator, so I'm not exactly thrilled that it's going to take more time. Also, it's getting harder to keep the munchkin on the up-and-up. I can't tell her to be good because Daddy will be here soon if soon never comes.
I pounded out an article that took me a week to prepare for. It's pretty sweet, and I'll be linking to it in a post as soon as it's live. I wrote a speech for someone's kid who did something "cool", and got to hear more of the same crap I just posted about. Lame jokes.. lots of them. I finished up the last of the graphics I plan on doing for a while, and had another 100 e-mails from douchenuts who think it's my job to make them free shit. I'm letting you know now that it's not my job to give you something that takes away from my paid-for time and my family, for free. Ever. If I offer, then I offer. If you e-mail me 12 times in a day TELLING me to do something, I'm going to remind you that eating a bag of dicks can be cleansing, and block you from my life. Forever.
Now, this eating of the bag of dicks can also be applied to people who make me work hours on things I offered, and assumed would be simple, and then never contact me to finish them, or treat me like I'm their fucking bitch and can't even say thank you before they're telling me what I am and am not going to do for them.
Fuck off. My time is worth $125 an hour, and if you want me to bow to your every whim, you will pay me for it, I clock my hours with the same timer my Dad uses, and trust me, I clock your free shit. I clocked in almost three hours out of the goodness of my heart, and you will pay me for it, PLUS whatever time I waste from here on out, since you want to be a fucking tool.
Also, if you type like a douche, I'm going to block you. I won't even accept your money if it means I have to read your messages. I mean, come on: "Dhuz eyU mayK gRaFiiXx fu ah Tallt?!??!G won noe, tryyk. iiMma nea tuhh giit ah bluu XxX owna bakk. lmk. ppeecce."
What in the fucking fuck does that even mean?! I'm totally serious, here. I know what "lmk" is, but other than that, I'm fucking lost. I copy+paste-d that from an e-mail I received two hours ago. My head hit the desk so fast I wasn't prepared for it.
If that was you, you're blocked. Forever and ever. And if you leave a comment on this post, I will hunt you down and shove my old Grammar book into your ear canal in hopes that it, by some divine miracle, punctures your brain and oozes its useful knowledge all over it. Get a job, and maybe you'll learn proper english.
It's going to be super nice outside today, Thursday, and Friday. I can't wait to get out and enjoy it. I'm hoping the munchkin will be up for some serious walking, because it's going to happen. Wednesday can kiss my ass. It wants to be rainy. I hate Wednesday right now. Wednesday, you're a bitch.
I cheated when I cooked supper last night, and made spaghetti from a canned sauce. It was a huge mistake. It tasted like I dumped a cup of sugar into it, and then added some Karo syrup. No one could eat it. It was a total waste of meat, spices, and time. I promise, family, I will never do that again. Ever.
I made myself some oatmeal for a snack and breakfast tomorrow. I used the same oats my gramma used to use, and I added in some brown sugar, a dash of nutmeg, honey, and a spoonful of some home canned maple peach preserves. It was awesome, but it paled in comparison to hers. No one will ever make oatmeal like hers. Also, butter beans. She made the best, and I am just trying to make mine a fraction as good these days.
I have found the worst thing about living out in the middle of the country: waiting around for the dude to refill your gas tank. Everyone else is fine with the slight drop in temperature due to conservation, but I'm not. I haven't taken my boots off all day, and I'm in so many layers it's hard to walk around.
Also, I think I may have over-shot the limits on my Jeep. I decided to wait to get gas, and then I forgot I was low, and drove it around today. I may or may not be able to get back to town to fill it up. Anyone have a gas can? Because I'm a failure.
You know the drill, head over to Stacy's awesome blog, grab a button, write some shit down, link-up, and get in on the Random Tuesday fun! Now with more REBELLION!
Have a very random Tuesday!
22 January 2012
Some Things To Ponder At The Close of Another Week
I had the best conversation with Husband last night. It made me tear-up a little, and boy did I need to hear the things he told me right about then.
I was whining about student loans and the ridiculous price of higher education, and he stopped me in my tracks. He reminded me that I've already got a lot of school under my belt, and if this was what I really wanted, he would do whatever it took to support me and make it happen no matter the cost or struggle -- but if I wanted to just keep doing what I was doing, that was fine too. I told him I was tired of feeling like I'm not contributing enough, and again, he stopped me.
He reminded me that I cook, clean, run errands, pay bills, and make sure the laundry is done for everyone in the house; I administer care and love when needed and make sure everyone is doing what they need to do, when they need to do it; I take care of the little things so no one else has anything to worry about once they're off-the-clock and ready to enjoy some down time; I love and nurture and educate our daughter, and I work my ass off to make something of myself when most people are content to just be blips on the radar. He said he never gave me the credit I deserve, and he was wrong; he never appreciated all I do for not only him, but our daughter, our families, and our friends.
It really threw me for a loop, because admittedly, throughout the "problem years" of our marriage, one of his biggest complaints was that "You think making doodles on the internet is a job?". It always hurt me, because at one point, my "doodles" were paying half of the bills and ALL of the luxuries we enjoyed. I was bringing in over $7k/mo and working 20/hrs a day -- the other four were spent catching up on all the things I didn't get accomplished throughout the day. I slept only when I was sick or delirious, and sometimes I skipped it then (I remember trying to have a conference call laying in the ER with an IV and having the nurses take my phone away because "You can't talk on the phone and get a CT Scan, Mrs. G."). I felt like if that wasn't good enough, nothing I ever did would be good enough.
He used to regulate me when I would get mad at him for no reason out of frustration, stress, and exhaustion. For about a week here and there, he would be Superman. He would make me eat, sleep, and take breaks from work. He would help out with the house and the errands and the kiddo so I could catch a break and relax. There was a point in my career as a WAHM that I had gone over a week without a shower, because I never had the extra time to worry about it. I was too busy doing everything else. He never complained, he just took kiddo for a very long walk around the lake so I could take a shower and have a minute to gather myself. I spent four hours just sitting outside enjoying the warm summer night. I had missed almost every single one since they started. They started in April, and it was the end of July.
But, for the most part, he hated what I did and felt like I wasn't doing enough to help out. He felt like I was just meandering through life, waiting on him to support me so I could dick around on the internet all day. He left everything up to me, and played FFXI like it was his second job. I wasn't feeling appreciated, and we fought constantly because neither one of us were standing behind each other anymore.
He was always my support system. When he got sick, something changed, and it didn't un-change when he was better. I think he just needed some time to live life the way he wanted, but he wasn't exactly "footloose and fancy-free". He had a family to support and a military career in full-bloom. He had people depending on him, and when the military decided to let him go, we moved and he was even more lost. It wasn't exactly the greatest start to our lives, and we had a LOT of huge bumps in the road, but we made do. It was definitely hard, and we definitely almost gave up countless times.
But we didn't. We stuck it out, never giving up, fighting every step of the way. That's the true test of a marriage -- love, COMMITMENT, dedication. Just because the going got tough, we didn't make the choice to abandon everything we had to make things "easier".
Hearing his love and support last night got me thinking about everything we've been through, and where we are today. I'm thankful that he is my "rock" again. I couldn't do what I do without him backing me up. I missed his ever-present enthusiasm for my work and his understanding that it's my dedication that makes it so good. Without support, no one will succeed. There is always a need to hear "You're doing the right thing." and "This is worth it, keep going.".
We both have some pretty big dreams and some pretty big plans. We're going to work together and support each other until they're achieved. That's not something to take for granted, that's for sure. He wants to work towards owning his own business, and I want to get mine back to where it used to be. I want to take on the world and continue to write and love every minute of it; he wants to buy up rental properties and open his own construction company.
These aren't things that are going to come to fruition without ups and downs, but it's nice to know that we won't have to go for them while butting heads and throwing blame. I'm going to make a go at school, and if we just can't do it right now, I'm going to keep doing what I'm doing -- only this time, it's going to be done knowing that I have his support. I'll know that no matter what, he believes in what I'm doing and is thankful for my contribution to this family.
I was whining about student loans and the ridiculous price of higher education, and he stopped me in my tracks. He reminded me that I've already got a lot of school under my belt, and if this was what I really wanted, he would do whatever it took to support me and make it happen no matter the cost or struggle -- but if I wanted to just keep doing what I was doing, that was fine too. I told him I was tired of feeling like I'm not contributing enough, and again, he stopped me.
He reminded me that I cook, clean, run errands, pay bills, and make sure the laundry is done for everyone in the house; I administer care and love when needed and make sure everyone is doing what they need to do, when they need to do it; I take care of the little things so no one else has anything to worry about once they're off-the-clock and ready to enjoy some down time; I love and nurture and educate our daughter, and I work my ass off to make something of myself when most people are content to just be blips on the radar. He said he never gave me the credit I deserve, and he was wrong; he never appreciated all I do for not only him, but our daughter, our families, and our friends.
It really threw me for a loop, because admittedly, throughout the "problem years" of our marriage, one of his biggest complaints was that "You think making doodles on the internet is a job?". It always hurt me, because at one point, my "doodles" were paying half of the bills and ALL of the luxuries we enjoyed. I was bringing in over $7k/mo and working 20/hrs a day -- the other four were spent catching up on all the things I didn't get accomplished throughout the day. I slept only when I was sick or delirious, and sometimes I skipped it then (I remember trying to have a conference call laying in the ER with an IV and having the nurses take my phone away because "You can't talk on the phone and get a CT Scan, Mrs. G."). I felt like if that wasn't good enough, nothing I ever did would be good enough.
He used to regulate me when I would get mad at him for no reason out of frustration, stress, and exhaustion. For about a week here and there, he would be Superman. He would make me eat, sleep, and take breaks from work. He would help out with the house and the errands and the kiddo so I could catch a break and relax. There was a point in my career as a WAHM that I had gone over a week without a shower, because I never had the extra time to worry about it. I was too busy doing everything else. He never complained, he just took kiddo for a very long walk around the lake so I could take a shower and have a minute to gather myself. I spent four hours just sitting outside enjoying the warm summer night. I had missed almost every single one since they started. They started in April, and it was the end of July.
But, for the most part, he hated what I did and felt like I wasn't doing enough to help out. He felt like I was just meandering through life, waiting on him to support me so I could dick around on the internet all day. He left everything up to me, and played FFXI like it was his second job. I wasn't feeling appreciated, and we fought constantly because neither one of us were standing behind each other anymore.
He was always my support system. When he got sick, something changed, and it didn't un-change when he was better. I think he just needed some time to live life the way he wanted, but he wasn't exactly "footloose and fancy-free". He had a family to support and a military career in full-bloom. He had people depending on him, and when the military decided to let him go, we moved and he was even more lost. It wasn't exactly the greatest start to our lives, and we had a LOT of huge bumps in the road, but we made do. It was definitely hard, and we definitely almost gave up countless times.
But we didn't. We stuck it out, never giving up, fighting every step of the way. That's the true test of a marriage -- love, COMMITMENT, dedication. Just because the going got tough, we didn't make the choice to abandon everything we had to make things "easier".
Hearing his love and support last night got me thinking about everything we've been through, and where we are today. I'm thankful that he is my "rock" again. I couldn't do what I do without him backing me up. I missed his ever-present enthusiasm for my work and his understanding that it's my dedication that makes it so good. Without support, no one will succeed. There is always a need to hear "You're doing the right thing." and "This is worth it, keep going.".
We both have some pretty big dreams and some pretty big plans. We're going to work together and support each other until they're achieved. That's not something to take for granted, that's for sure. He wants to work towards owning his own business, and I want to get mine back to where it used to be. I want to take on the world and continue to write and love every minute of it; he wants to buy up rental properties and open his own construction company.
These aren't things that are going to come to fruition without ups and downs, but it's nice to know that we won't have to go for them while butting heads and throwing blame. I'm going to make a go at school, and if we just can't do it right now, I'm going to keep doing what I'm doing -- only this time, it's going to be done knowing that I have his support. I'll know that no matter what, he believes in what I'm doing and is thankful for my contribution to this family.
17 January 2012
Hello Kitty's Furry Tale Theater: A Review*
I found this show on Netflix. I had no idea that it's old as fuck. I'm in love with it, and it keeps the kid busy while I work. Here's the skinny on this new (old as fuck) show:
Hello Kitty's Furry Tale Theater is a show that takes old stories and re-purposes them into a Hello Kitty version. Think old Disney movies, classic works of fiction, and fairy tales coming to life in the Hello Kitty universe. Stories like Peter Pan, Cinderella, Pinnochio, The Wizard of Oz, and Dracula are transformed into Peter Penguin, Cinderkitty, Pinnochio Penguin, The Wizard of Paws, and Catula. They even did one that recreated ET: KT — The Kitty Terrestrial.
Cute, right?
Look, it may be the same stories that we all know and love, but this is my opinion: It changes it up. I'm not constantly watching the same version over-and-over. It gives my kid something new to watch, and it introduces her to new characters in a familiar format. Everyone likes something new and different, right?
I'm a huge fan and I highly recommend it — especially for younger ones. The stories are slow enough for little kids to grab on and they're fun and interesting enough to hold their attention. I find myself looking up and getting lost in the tales myself.
Check it out, you may be pleasantly surprised!
*I was not paid, endorsed, or even asked to do a review. I highly doubt anyone gives a shit about my opinion, anyway. Let's be smart here, folks.
Bad Weather, Mean Kid, Dumb Husband, Fair Trades, And Star Trek For Kids: RTT Rebel
So, I traded getting out in the freezing drizzle and taking the trash to the pick-up spot for a pot of coffee and an episode of Bones. Yes, I'm that guy. I'm totally easy to barter with. Mom knows what really gets me ready to make a deal. Husband, not so much.
I'm still really happy to be home. Our awesome living arrangement is going well, and it's also keeping me busy. Since she works nights, I do the cooking, cleaning, organizing, kid watching, and working thing. I'm also about to start school again... hopefully.
I say "hopefully" because I have yet to find a suitable student loan for the remaining balance of my tuition, and "again" because, well, I've been in school pretty much the entire time I've been out of high school. I'm just trying to find my niche in the universe.
Yesterday was a really bad day to be "Mommy". I'll admit it. My kid told me she wished I would die so she didn't have to have me telling her what to do all the time. I was heartbroken. She's only three, why is this even an issue yet? What. The. Fuck? I tried to talk to Husband about it, but he just doesn't get it. He never has to be the "bad guy", so she's nice to him. I'm the one that makes sure she eats the right stuff, picks up her toys, feeds the cat, takes her dishes to the kitchen, gets the right amount of sleep, bathes properly, brushes her teeth, etc. She thinks I'm fucking Satan or something. So, of course, I get the temper tantrums and the mean names... it sucks. It sucks hard.
But, admittedly, it has been boring lately. We haven't been able to go outside and play because it's just been gross. I won't let her get her way on eating chips for breakfast or having ten pounds of candy like my in-laws do (which, fuck that.. it's not even a question of "right and wrong", but she still sees it as awful, mean mommy won't let her do something). It still doesn't make it any easier to hear your kid say something like that to you, and even though I was crying and probably making a complete case file for commitment to some kind-of institution, Husband still should've understood where I was coming from. I think he's just a douchebag man, and this is probably normal. Men aren't exactly the best listeners.
It's raining again. And it's cold. The weather hates me.
I've been adding labels to my old blog posts to avoid doing dishes. I have like, half a load, and I just don't feel like doing much today. It's fun to label things. It's like labeling a piece of pie as "yummy".
Did I mention that Curious George 2 movie has a Star Trek reference in it?! SOFUCKINGAWESOME! For Klingon, press "Cha".
Word.
Random Tuesday Thoughts lives on! Just head on over to Stacy's amazing blog, Stacy Uncorked, grab a button, link yourself up, and blog on! Thank you for keeping us all random, Stacy!
Enjoy the rest of your day!
I'm still really happy to be home. Our awesome living arrangement is going well, and it's also keeping me busy. Since she works nights, I do the cooking, cleaning, organizing, kid watching, and working thing. I'm also about to start school again... hopefully.
I say "hopefully" because I have yet to find a suitable student loan for the remaining balance of my tuition, and "again" because, well, I've been in school pretty much the entire time I've been out of high school. I'm just trying to find my niche in the universe.
Yesterday was a really bad day to be "Mommy". I'll admit it. My kid told me she wished I would die so she didn't have to have me telling her what to do all the time. I was heartbroken. She's only three, why is this even an issue yet? What. The. Fuck? I tried to talk to Husband about it, but he just doesn't get it. He never has to be the "bad guy", so she's nice to him. I'm the one that makes sure she eats the right stuff, picks up her toys, feeds the cat, takes her dishes to the kitchen, gets the right amount of sleep, bathes properly, brushes her teeth, etc. She thinks I'm fucking Satan or something. So, of course, I get the temper tantrums and the mean names... it sucks. It sucks hard.
But, admittedly, it has been boring lately. We haven't been able to go outside and play because it's just been gross. I won't let her get her way on eating chips for breakfast or having ten pounds of candy like my in-laws do (which, fuck that.. it's not even a question of "right and wrong", but she still sees it as awful, mean mommy won't let her do something). It still doesn't make it any easier to hear your kid say something like that to you, and even though I was crying and probably making a complete case file for commitment to some kind-of institution, Husband still should've understood where I was coming from. I think he's just a douchebag man, and this is probably normal. Men aren't exactly the best listeners.
It's raining again. And it's cold. The weather hates me.
I've been adding labels to my old blog posts to avoid doing dishes. I have like, half a load, and I just don't feel like doing much today. It's fun to label things. It's like labeling a piece of pie as "yummy".
Did I mention that Curious George 2 movie has a Star Trek reference in it?! SOFUCKINGAWESOME! For Klingon, press "Cha".
Word.
Random Tuesday Thoughts lives on! Just head on over to Stacy's amazing blog, Stacy Uncorked, grab a button, link yourself up, and blog on! Thank you for keeping us all random, Stacy!
Enjoy the rest of your day!
16 January 2012
My Cat Only Loves Me When... A List
Today I want to talk about my cat. His name is Stephen. He's an abused rescue that I shoved in a cat carrier and moved from Louisiana to Georgia. He went from being born and raised by the hard-knocks of the streets, to being a fat and lazy house cat in the course of 13 hours. He's extremely intelligent; you only have to show him something once, and he's got it. He's also a really big pain-in-the-ass.
He knows he's loved, and he knows he's cute -- it's a dangerous combination.
He's still really skittish for some odd reason, even though he's babied like he's king-of-the-castle. I swear sometimes I think my Mom likes the cat more than me. You're welcome, old lady.
I think he's adapted well, and we enjoy the shit out of him. He's a constant source of joy and entertainment, and even when I have to spray him in the face with the water bottle for trying to tear something up, I still can't help but smile.
But.. he's just like every other cat: he only loves us when he wants to, which is never when it's convenient. I have compiled a list of times when he wants love and attention, and I'm going to share it with you guys. If you have cats, feel free to laugh, because you know they do it to everyone. If you have anything to add, add it in the comments.
My Cat Only Loves Me When:
- I have to pee.
- I'm trying to take a shower.
- I'm brushing my teeth.. my back teeth, and I haven't spit yet.
- I'm doing something to my hair with an extremely hot tool.
- I'm putting on eye liner, mascara, or eye shadow.. just the darker shades that are hard to get off without reapplying everything.
- I'm trying to sleep.
- I'm about to get up and do something.
- I'm cooking.
- I have just accepted the fact that he's not going to come be nice to me and I set my laptop desk up.
- I'm drinking something hot.. or cold.. and I just took that first big swallow, but haven't quite swallowed yet.
- I'm on the phone with someone other than family.
- The kid wants attention.
- I'm reading.
- I'm trying to clean up the kid's mess of small toys (meaning I end up digging them out from under things like beds, couches, chairs, and the one table in the house that you're always guaranteed to hit your head on).
- I'm not in the mood.
- He's hungry.
- I just fed him and I'm taking the scoop back to the container.
- While I'm trying to feed him, and I have a scoop of food and am not paying attention to him wrapping his self around my ankles.
- I'm doing laundry.
- I'm trying to wrangle the kid into the bathtub or bed.
- Mom is all "He hates me, he's never going to bond with me, emooooooo stuff!".
- I'm writing... like now.
- He thinks I have food.
- He knows I don't have food, but am contemplating getting up to get some.
- I'm thirsty.
- I'm trying to concentrate.
- I want to practice making babies with Husband.
- Husband is sitting next to me.
- Husband wants to hold my hand.
- I really, REALLY have to get up and go pee.
- I'm trying to play with him, which usually ends up in pouting and biting.
- Mom is trying to love on him.
- I'm carrying something that obstructs my vision.
- My screen saver comes up on my laptop.
- It's time to clip his nails so I feel really bad about holding him down.
- I'm standing in front of the heater.
- I'm getting something out of the oven.
- Did I mention when I'm trying to pee?
I never understood why kids and pets only want something to do with you when it's the worst possible time. It's like they have this sensor built-in to detect when you have something going on, so they can be all up in your shit with their huge eyes and their little noses.. DAMN THE CUTENESS! DAMN IT TO HELL!
And, to leave you wondering why in the hell I even waste your time with my blog in the first place, here's a few pictures of the little rat-bastard. I do love the little shit...
He knows he's loved, and he knows he's cute -- it's a dangerous combination.
He's still really skittish for some odd reason, even though he's babied like he's king-of-the-castle. I swear sometimes I think my Mom likes the cat more than me. You're welcome, old lady.
I think he's adapted well, and we enjoy the shit out of him. He's a constant source of joy and entertainment, and even when I have to spray him in the face with the water bottle for trying to tear something up, I still can't help but smile.
But.. he's just like every other cat: he only loves us when he wants to, which is never when it's convenient. I have compiled a list of times when he wants love and attention, and I'm going to share it with you guys. If you have cats, feel free to laugh, because you know they do it to everyone. If you have anything to add, add it in the comments.
My Cat Only Loves Me When:
- I have to pee.
- I'm trying to take a shower.
- I'm brushing my teeth.. my back teeth, and I haven't spit yet.
- I'm doing something to my hair with an extremely hot tool.
- I'm putting on eye liner, mascara, or eye shadow.. just the darker shades that are hard to get off without reapplying everything.
- I'm trying to sleep.
- I'm about to get up and do something.
- I'm cooking.
- I have just accepted the fact that he's not going to come be nice to me and I set my laptop desk up.
- I'm drinking something hot.. or cold.. and I just took that first big swallow, but haven't quite swallowed yet.
- I'm on the phone with someone other than family.
- The kid wants attention.
- I'm reading.
- I'm trying to clean up the kid's mess of small toys (meaning I end up digging them out from under things like beds, couches, chairs, and the one table in the house that you're always guaranteed to hit your head on).
- I'm not in the mood.
- He's hungry.
- I just fed him and I'm taking the scoop back to the container.
- While I'm trying to feed him, and I have a scoop of food and am not paying attention to him wrapping his self around my ankles.
- I'm doing laundry.
- I'm trying to wrangle the kid into the bathtub or bed.
- Mom is all "He hates me, he's never going to bond with me, emooooooo stuff!".
- I'm writing... like now.
- He thinks I have food.
- He knows I don't have food, but am contemplating getting up to get some.
- I'm thirsty.
- I'm trying to concentrate.
- I want to practice making babies with Husband.
- Husband is sitting next to me.
- Husband wants to hold my hand.
- I really, REALLY have to get up and go pee.
- I'm trying to play with him, which usually ends up in pouting and biting.
- Mom is trying to love on him.
- I'm carrying something that obstructs my vision.
- My screen saver comes up on my laptop.
- It's time to clip his nails so I feel really bad about holding him down.
- I'm standing in front of the heater.
- I'm getting something out of the oven.
- Did I mention when I'm trying to pee?
I never understood why kids and pets only want something to do with you when it's the worst possible time. It's like they have this sensor built-in to detect when you have something going on, so they can be all up in your shit with their huge eyes and their little noses.. DAMN THE CUTENESS! DAMN IT TO HELL!
And, to leave you wondering why in the hell I even waste your time with my blog in the first place, here's a few pictures of the little rat-bastard. I do love the little shit...
 |
| He gets between my legs at night so I can't move... asshole. |
 |
| This one is from his "street" days... |
 |
I SEE U. Y U NO CAN MOVE? OH. IZ CUZ OF MEH. |
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POP ALL THE BUBBLES! |
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| Why, no cat, I'm not trying to go pee. |
14 January 2012
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.
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.
05 January 2012
I Have No Life.
Really. I don't.
I take care of the bill paying and the housekeeping and the keeping everyone sane, but I really don't have any semblance of a life. I just spent hours trolling Google Images, making random meme photos on a generator site, and creating my own iGoogle theme.
All my friends live in my computer. I don't go out anymore, I rarely talk to anyone, and I stay in my pajamas until someone complains that I really shouldn't go out in public in a paint-stained PT shirt and boxers.
I mean, it's not that my friends don't exist or I don't have any, I just never go out and do things with them. I can't even have an actual date with Husband that's normal. We go to the hardware store and maybe get something to eat; we're usually home by 8:30 and in bed by 10.
That sounds so completely lame and I think I'll just go resume the fetal position now. I mean, even the Munchkin seems to think it's normal to throw on boots and a coat and go play outside in her pajamas now.
Someone save me. Please. Before I make another meme picture...
I take care of the bill paying and the housekeeping and the keeping everyone sane, but I really don't have any semblance of a life. I just spent hours trolling Google Images, making random meme photos on a generator site, and creating my own iGoogle theme.
I think it's awesome, but then again, I suck.
All my friends live in my computer. I don't go out anymore, I rarely talk to anyone, and I stay in my pajamas until someone complains that I really shouldn't go out in public in a paint-stained PT shirt and boxers.
I mean, it's not that my friends don't exist or I don't have any, I just never go out and do things with them. I can't even have an actual date with Husband that's normal. We go to the hardware store and maybe get something to eat; we're usually home by 8:30 and in bed by 10.
That sounds so completely lame and I think I'll just go resume the fetal position now. I mean, even the Munchkin seems to think it's normal to throw on boots and a coat and go play outside in her pajamas now.
Someone save me. Please. Before I make another meme picture...
bro cat likes to party
oh, obama.. make your own goddamned sammich.
and my favourite by far...
dumbass...
Seriously.. do you really think I should be doing this at 3 in the morning?
04 January 2012
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.
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.
29 January 2011
I Amaze People With Myself
Yeah, I totally am. I'm 23, almost 24, and I'm sleeping on a loveseat. And I'm cold. And I have no blanket. And I have TB in my arm.
Moving on...
I started school this week. It's a bitch. I've still yet to regain feeling in my right index finger. So. many. notes. ohmygod. I thought real college was rough until I became a student at a Vo-Tech school. I now realize that my college days were a breeze and everything I ever did there was magical and wonderful and so much fun. My professors were amazing, my friends rocked, and my living situation did not include in-laws or parents or anyone else like that.
I had to get a TB scratch test done. It always sucks, but what can you do? I guess I could not do it and waste the money I've put into school and quit. Quitting is for losers, though, and I am most definitely not a loser. I'm super fucking awesome and you should be very happy about that fact.
I took some pretty cool pictures today of Melodrama and my friend's dog, Muffin-top. We're going to call her Muffin-top because everyone else in my blog has a code name so the dog gets one, too, and we're also going to give the friend one since everyone else got one and she gets Rage. You know, because she has horrible road rage. Especially in Natchez. Definitely in Natchez.
So Rage and I were talking about something completely random the other night on the way home from class and we decided to call our men folk, Ass-band and Walter (I really hope he never sees that I've decided to call him that), and it was all good and great while we were laughing and listening to the phone ring and whatnot... until they answered and we said hey and magically my phone unpaired from the car and died.
......
The phone has yet to be seen again. I think someone stole it and since we were sitting in traffic with other people from the same class it could still link to the car and when we drove away it lost that ability. And I realized it was gone. Which sucks ass because now I have no phone. Epic. fail.
*ahem*
After blowing me off because I'm boring and a bitch, Ass-band did something nice for me this evening. I was rather shocked but, hell, I'm not complaining. He brought me a huge salad and a drink and actually told me goodnight instead of grumbling about my computer light and my studying in bed and falling asleep with his ass on my leg and farting. Loudly. I was happy.
Until I realized that Rage and Walter snore, and Muffin-top is having whiny puppy dreams. And then there's the fan..s...
Did I mention I'm freezing to death?
Moving on...
I started school this week. It's a bitch. I've still yet to regain feeling in my right index finger. So. many. notes. ohmygod. I thought real college was rough until I became a student at a Vo-Tech school. I now realize that my college days were a breeze and everything I ever did there was magical and wonderful and so much fun. My professors were amazing, my friends rocked, and my living situation did not include in-laws or parents or anyone else like that.
I had to get a TB scratch test done. It always sucks, but what can you do? I guess I could not do it and waste the money I've put into school and quit. Quitting is for losers, though, and I am most definitely not a loser. I'm super fucking awesome and you should be very happy about that fact.
I took some pretty cool pictures today of Melodrama and my friend's dog, Muffin-top. We're going to call her Muffin-top because everyone else in my blog has a code name so the dog gets one, too, and we're also going to give the friend one since everyone else got one and she gets Rage. You know, because she has horrible road rage. Especially in Natchez. Definitely in Natchez.
So Rage and I were talking about something completely random the other night on the way home from class and we decided to call our men folk, Ass-band and Walter (I really hope he never sees that I've decided to call him that), and it was all good and great while we were laughing and listening to the phone ring and whatnot... until they answered and we said hey and magically my phone unpaired from the car and died.
......
The phone has yet to be seen again. I think someone stole it and since we were sitting in traffic with other people from the same class it could still link to the car and when we drove away it lost that ability. And I realized it was gone. Which sucks ass because now I have no phone. Epic. fail.
*ahem*
After blowing me off because I'm boring and a bitch, Ass-band did something nice for me this evening. I was rather shocked but, hell, I'm not complaining. He brought me a huge salad and a drink and actually told me goodnight instead of grumbling about my computer light and my studying in bed and falling asleep with his ass on my leg and farting. Loudly. I was happy.
Until I realized that Rage and Walter snore, and Muffin-top is having whiny puppy dreams. And then there's the fan..s...
Did I mention I'm freezing to death?
 |
| Isn't she lovely? |
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| Muffin-top is hella awesome. |
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| Did I happen to mention I'm going bald? Oh yes I am. |
21 January 2011
Oh, About That
I think it's been far too long since I actually got to blog, so please excuse and errors or thoughts that trail off into something else -- also be aware that my screen is dimmed to the lowest setting and I can barely press my laptop keys because someone is being a down-er and wants to "sleep". PFFT! Sleep... sleep is for the weak.
So where to begin, where to begin?
Melodrama started Daycare. That was extremely tragic -- for ME. Not her, me. I bawled and begged and sank into this horrid depressed state where I just sat around eating random food for comfort for a good, oh, three days?
I'm totally fine now. *coughcough*
Melodrama loves it and the staff is amazing and it gives me time to apply to countless jobs and house hunt. Go me. I'm getting my shit together. Finally. I really miss working from home because I miss my kiddo and she's really falling behind on her sign language. *mental note*
I've had a lot of people tell me what an abomination I am for sending her packing to a daycare center when I don't even have a job yet. I've also had people call me out for not using cloth diapers and not being able to breast feed, but who really gives two fucks about any of that? Certainly not my self-esteem/self-worth issues.. nope.
I'm totally fine. *hackhack*
I decided, after not being able to find ANY decent paying work in this odd little place, to take some classes and become... drum roll please... a Phlebotomist. *cue applause*
It's a 12 week course that will give me the skills and knowledge to stand in a clinic/hospital for 12 hours a day, 6-7 days a week and draw blood. I will be paid to be a needle vampire.
Fuck you if you just asked yourself if I would sparkle. Haven't you heard? I hate Twilight. I wish that woman would stop publishing her childish and pathetic drivel of a diary. The End.
I'm still, totally fine. *coughhack*
Husband FINALLY got all the massive amounts of stuff finished so he can start work. Hopefully he WILL NOT decide to take the job on the oil rig since he got the job he's starting next week. I just got him back from the military and would like a little time to be, ya know, a FAMILY.
*twitch*
zOMFG! WE FOUND A HAUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We are in an extreme state of love over this 1930's carpenter-style abode. It is a definite fixer-upper, but I couldn't be more in love. It's perfection! I will provide a link to the historically registered masterpiece. You will fall in love, too, if you love houses and projects and the likes.
The holidays were a mixture of ups and downs. This was my first holiday away from home and I was BEYOND a bawling, sniveling, wretched bitch of a mess. I think I pretty much died at one point and the only thing that revived me was the putrid smell of sweet cornbread.
*pleasesavemefromthisplanetI'velandedon*
I got a new car.. right before we left for my state for Thanksgiving. The night we left to come back, two days later, my tire exploded on the interstate at 75 miles an hour and destroyed my new pretty Jeep. Well, destroyed is a pretty strong word. More like maimed and disfigured horribly. Thankfully I'm an amazing and stellar driver and I made it safely to the side of the super busy Interstate 85-S before breaking down into shaking tears and grabbing Melodrama and the phone to call my Dad -- who was an hour away and asleep, so not at ALL happy to hear me begging for his Daddy powers.
*thisismylife...*
I am actually about to share a picture... just one. Not of the Jeep, or of the new me (now with short hair and 15 lbs lighter), the disgusting sweet cornbread, or anything else. I am going to share my amazing photography skills and delight the blogging world with my gorgeous daughter. With the picture, I also close this atrocious mess of a post and promise my next one will be less of a failure and more... better-er.
xoxoo;
Oh, and here's the link to the house we're getting.. err, HOPE we're getting.
You know you want to see it!
So where to begin, where to begin?
Melodrama started Daycare. That was extremely tragic -- for ME. Not her, me. I bawled and begged and sank into this horrid depressed state where I just sat around eating random food for comfort for a good, oh, three days?
I'm totally fine now. *coughcough*
Melodrama loves it and the staff is amazing and it gives me time to apply to countless jobs and house hunt. Go me. I'm getting my shit together. Finally. I really miss working from home because I miss my kiddo and she's really falling behind on her sign language. *mental note*
I've had a lot of people tell me what an abomination I am for sending her packing to a daycare center when I don't even have a job yet. I've also had people call me out for not using cloth diapers and not being able to breast feed, but who really gives two fucks about any of that? Certainly not my self-esteem/self-worth issues.. nope.
I'm totally fine. *hackhack*
I decided, after not being able to find ANY decent paying work in this odd little place, to take some classes and become... drum roll please... a Phlebotomist. *cue applause*
It's a 12 week course that will give me the skills and knowledge to stand in a clinic/hospital for 12 hours a day, 6-7 days a week and draw blood. I will be paid to be a needle vampire.
Fuck you if you just asked yourself if I would sparkle. Haven't you heard? I hate Twilight. I wish that woman would stop publishing her childish and pathetic drivel of a diary. The End.
I'm still, totally fine. *coughhack*
Husband FINALLY got all the massive amounts of stuff finished so he can start work. Hopefully he WILL NOT decide to take the job on the oil rig since he got the job he's starting next week. I just got him back from the military and would like a little time to be, ya know, a FAMILY.
*twitch*
zOMFG! WE FOUND A HAUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We are in an extreme state of love over this 1930's carpenter-style abode. It is a definite fixer-upper, but I couldn't be more in love. It's perfection! I will provide a link to the historically registered masterpiece. You will fall in love, too, if you love houses and projects and the likes.
The holidays were a mixture of ups and downs. This was my first holiday away from home and I was BEYOND a bawling, sniveling, wretched bitch of a mess. I think I pretty much died at one point and the only thing that revived me was the putrid smell of sweet cornbread.
*pleasesavemefromthisplanetI'velandedon*
I got a new car.. right before we left for my state for Thanksgiving. The night we left to come back, two days later, my tire exploded on the interstate at 75 miles an hour and destroyed my new pretty Jeep. Well, destroyed is a pretty strong word. More like maimed and disfigured horribly. Thankfully I'm an amazing and stellar driver and I made it safely to the side of the super busy Interstate 85-S before breaking down into shaking tears and grabbing Melodrama and the phone to call my Dad -- who was an hour away and asleep, so not at ALL happy to hear me begging for his Daddy powers.
*thisismylife...*
I am actually about to share a picture... just one. Not of the Jeep, or of the new me (now with short hair and 15 lbs lighter), the disgusting sweet cornbread, or anything else. I am going to share my amazing photography skills and delight the blogging world with my gorgeous daughter. With the picture, I also close this atrocious mess of a post and promise my next one will be less of a failure and more... better-er.
xoxoo;
 |
| cutest. toddler. ever. |
Oh, and here's the link to the house we're getting.. err, HOPE we're getting.
You know you want to see it!
03 November 2010
RTT: I Need Sexual Healing Or Something Else That Heals
So in my absence I have:
- Moved
- Watched my Melodrama go under the knife and come out perfect -- sans the 8 inch scar on her back
- Made new friends, said fuck old friends, and hung out with old friends that I haven't seen in ages
- Tried to make my in-laws understand that my daughter is MY daughter -- not theirs.
I have also semi-tried to conquer my extreme fear of bridges, gotten back on my daily dose of anxiety medication to deal with everything going on, basically wanted to scream and yell and pitch a fit to the head of the whatever in the Air Force that - yet again - fucked us; it's been one hellacious past few weeks.
I have dearly missed my weekly blogging, and the immense joy I receive from reading the amazing-ness that I follow.
I applied for several jobs; One I actually get to use my degree for, one that I would rather die than do, one that requires me to go back to school for a short period of time in Ferriday (which I seriously doubt Husband will let me do), and one that I would LOVELOVELOVE to try.
I am craving tamales thanks to the new restaurant in town that we've eaten at two day in a row and I can't seem to stop drooling about.
I got a new pair of winter boots -- ones that do not include a hole cut into the toe because my Grandmother is a tish bit nutty. I am pretty excited to wear them tomorrow (cue me asking everyone to will this awful rain away) and I hope that Husband doesn't make fun of them like my other pair that are sitting in a box that I can't seem to find.
House hunting fucking blows ass. The end.
I am trying very hard not to murder anyone, so people that know me - pray extra hard to whatever you believe in that I succeed in this new endeavor.. also, pray that we find a house, a couple of jobs, and a new drive-thru to get extra large sodas at; Hammer's pissed me off tonight.
Now, that you've read my RTT for the week, get your ass over to The Unmom and do it yourself next week.
GO!
Um, stop reading and do it MEOW!
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