I could do a lame ass post about the New Year but I'm not

I actually thought about doing a resolution post, but then I thought it would just be a waste of fucking time anyway so why bother. After all, my resolutions for 2007 were a complete bust.. Well, most of them were anyway. Then I thought about possibly doing a post about my 2008 year in review. After meandering through the catacombs of my mind, I then realized that nothing really all that extraordinary happened to me this year. I came to this conclusion when the only thing that stuck out about 2008 was the time I accidentally put my panties on inside out and didn't realize this until after I got to work. Big freaking deal, right? WRONG! They were lace panties people.... Lace should NEVER rub against certain parts of the female anatomy. Not unless you want to have your clitoris surgically reattached anyway. Let this be a lesson from me to you. You're welcome. Now my vagina needs her own telethon kind of like Jerry's kids. "For only 9 dollars a day you can help this poor vagina out. Due to the horrific lace rubbing incident this vagina is in need of reconstructive surgery. Won't you please help?"

Anyway, so my post for this New Years Eve will have nothing to do with New Year's Eve at all. Actually I plan on strolling down memory lane a bit. If you've been bored enough to read through all of my blog posts, and don't worry, I don't expect that you have been.. BUT, if you do fall under that category then you know I'm somewhat of a prankster. Sure, I've probably gone overboard from time to time. Like that time in High School when I went to participate in the state track meet and I was stuck in a hotel with the guys relay team who also happened to be an all African American relay team. Shocking, I know. Anyway, I thought it would be funny to knock on the door of their hotel room while wearing a white sheet that resembled a clan robe. Don't worry, these guys were my friends and I'm not some racist ahole. I was just bored and I also thought it would be funny. Turns out I was right. It was fucking hilarious. The guys thought so too.

Then there was the time I would go on golfing outings with my boyfriend at the time who thought he was Tiger Woods before Tiger Woods was cool. Pretty much every time he went to swing the golf club I would make a very realistic (I might add) farting noise with my mouth. This apparently was a distraction and it led to fewer golfing outings with myself as his sidekick. Success... I'm not stupid by the way.

I also must mention the good ol purse in the road prank. I would get one of my shitty purses and tie it up with fishing line. The line was obviously clear so it wouldn't be noticed. My friend and I would toss the purse out in the middle of the road, and when someone in a car would pass by and stop we would give the purse a good yank as they were walking up to it. The person would then shit themselves or scream expletives and then speed off. Well, that was how it usually would go until I wasn't quick enough on the yank and some asshole got away with my empty purse. I've got a much quicker reaction time with the yank these days just in case you were wondering.

My all time favorite prank would be the prank call. I still do it to this day. You may ask how I'm able to pull this off with Caller ID and all I've got as a response to that is luckily my parents are retards. I've prank called MANY people, but nobody has been had as much as my parents have. You would think that after a while they would catch on that it's ME, but I'm just that damn good. I'm so damn good that when they call MY HOUSE, I will speak in a different accent and they think they've dialed the wrong number. I can be a man, a woman, a hick, an Aussie, a proper English woman, a ghetto biotch, a Cajun lady, an office secretary, a police officer, a disgruntled neighbor, a child, and the list goes on and on.

One time my Dad didn't have much going on in the office so he decided to spend his day on the gulf fishing while he simulated working. He had his office line forwarded to his cell phone so that he could at least pretend to be working if need be. This was the perfect opportunity for me to pretend like I was a secretary from another major office that needed an important file faxed over to my office ASAP. It was great to hear him squirm as he pretended to be in the office when I knew damn good and well he was out in the gulf fishing with his boat turned off so as not to be found out. After several minutes of listening to him squirm and practically crapping all over himself I decided to let him off the hook.

Later I decided to be a sheriff calling to inquire about gun that my Dad won at a raffle. The gun that he won was possibly stolen. Oh shit, that was hilarious.

Then I took the opportunity not too long ago to make the most out of my Dad's colonoscopy preparation. This time I took on the role of nurse from Dr. so and so's office. He had already fasted and drank enough golytely bowel prep to shit out the lining of his rectum. I thought it would be funny to call him up and tell him that his colonoscopy appointment was cancelled and he would have to go through the preparation hell all over again in a few days. He was not too thrilled with that idea. He probably would have shit himself had he had any shit left to expell.

It's hard to pick my favorite prank call that was placed on my mother because there have been so many that I can hardly recall them all. One that stands out would be the time I called and pretended to be her suicidal neighbor. My mom had been complaining about her neighbor's loud barking dog and how she finally decided to put an anonymous letter in the neighbor's mailbox to let her know that the barking dog was a nuisance to anyone in the general vicinity who had ears. I had all of the information that I needed to pull off the prank. It was on! So I called my mom and pulled off the longest prank call in history. It had to have gone on for about 30 minutes or more. I told my mother, who thought I was the neighbor at the time, that I got this horrible letter about the dog and how it just threw me over the edge. It was quite comical to see my mom hop into Dr. Laura mode to try and save the life of her poor depressed neighbor. I was actually very impressed.

So as you might imagine one of my favorite shows on Comedy Central was Crank Yankers. Since the topic of my choice today is prank calls, I figure it's appropriate to make you piss yourselves with this one. Enjoy..





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I want to show you my wii mii

Sorry to disappoint all of you perverts out there because that's not my pet name for my vagina. Get your damn heads out of the gutter and focus! This is some serious business here.

I've been having a little fun creating my personalized Wii character. After stressing out about the shitty hairstyles, bad eye makeup selection, funky eye shapes, totally phallic noses, and equally jacked up lips, I finally decided to throw caution to the wind and have a little fun with it. Not to mention I was let in on a little secret. Apparently a bunch of Japanese men created this game, so I was going to have to realize that the characters weren't going to be totally Americanized like moi. Well fine. Here is what I was forced to come up with.

I hate the hair because it looks like I've got horns on the top of my head (which isn't too far off to be honest), and the Versace shades are SO two seasons ago. I also believe that I was channeling Enrique Iglesias with that giant damn mole on my face. Yeah yeah... I can be your hero baby and all of that. Moving on..

Uh, apparently men in Japan have noses that resemble small penises? Gives a whole new meaning to dick head. NEXT!

I know! It just needs to be bigger! Bigger is definitely better no matter what they say. Hey, I can lick my own... Never mind.

At this point I look like I've been perpetually teabagged. ( don't ask mom!) Also not a good look for a pristine lady such as myself...




Yo totalmente busto un límite en su blanco trasero. Ah, Andy García está colgado como un caballo.

Here I am rocking the Dirty Sanchez in wii world. Totally adorable and odor free. Score!



Jesus? Is that you?



Finally I decided to go with something a little more reserved.




The kids also had fun making their on wii mii's. This is Aidan's character. He's 5 and it's evident that he's a little confused. Do I even need to point out the obvious?

Didn't think so.


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I'm apparently not as young as I used to be

I found this out the hard way yesterday. The kids were gifted with rollerblades this Christmas so I was all like what the hell, I want some too! You see, what you probably don't know is that back in the day I was a rollerblading fool. You could find me blazing up the pavement like nobody's business. I was the shit and I had ass and legs of steel to prove it. I'll admit it. After I saw my kids open their rollerblades the fire inside of me was reignited. The hunt was on. I loaded Aidan up in the car and away we went to a local sporting goods store where I was sure to find the perfect pair of rollerblades so that I could go strolling down memory lane again. It would also be a great opportunity to show the kids what a real bad ass they have for a Mother. I envisioned all 3 of us (Brent was excluded because he would kill himself) blading away in the neighborhood. I even saw myself doing jumps off of the curbs and stuff. Possibly even skating backwards if I felt the need. You know, shit Tony Hawk can't even do. Oh wait, he's a skateboarder right? Then he's really a douche bag so my point is moot.

Anyway, the sporting goods store was a bust because they had no rollerblades. Bummer. However, I did find a new pair of running shoes that I totally didn't need so all was not lost. After going to 2 more stores I finally was able to locate some high tech rollerblades at Target. Aww yeah.. It was about to be on! We sped home and I tore them out of the box. I sat on the stairs (I do not recommend this) to put them on. About this time Brent comes through the front door and begins to watch me try to put the contraptions with wheels on my feet. I put my foot down to adjust the strap and I proceed to fall down the stairs. This conversation followed.

Brent- "You know, you don't have a living will yet. We could probably draw one up online really quick before you go."

Me- "Go to hell, but first help me up."

Brent- "So let me get this straight.. You DON'T want to be hooked up on life support if it comes down to that, right? I mean, I know we've had this conversation before, but I'm just wanting to be sure."

Me-

So Brent helped me up and I tried to do a little test run on the hand scraped hardwood floors. This is also something that I don't recommend you try at home unless you really want to hurt yourself. I didn't bust my ass only because I'm blessed with cat-like reflexes, but the average person would have totally wiped out. It was at this point that I decided to take it outside. It was dark, so I was safe from the prying eyes of my neighbors. This would be just like riding a bike. It would come back. It had to...

Uh yeah, not so much. Brent had a death grip on me and I had one on him. I could barely skate down the damn sidewalk. "This is some bullshit" I thought quietly to myself. What the hell happened? My plan was to go rollerblading around my neighborhood for hours last night and I couldn't even skate the length of the sidewalk in front of my house!? I'm a pathetic piece of crap! How will I ever be able to join the BAMF rollerblading group if I can't even skate on the sidewalk??

So after thinking about things I've realized that it's not my age or ability at all. It's the piece of shit cheap ass rollerblades that I got from Target. It's true. You need quality rollerblades in order to have a smooth and successful ride. $28 bucks ain't gonna cut it. Hell, I might as well have been using some Little Tikes skates at that point. Even the most experienced rollerblader couldn't even ride on those things. I'll try this again when I have the proper equipment.

Until then, my BAMF dreams remain alive.

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How to look like a complete douchebag in 1 easy step

Okay, let me preface this by saying I'm an old school gamer. I played the hell out of some Nintendo NES back in the day. Remember that game system? Yes, it was actually carved out of stone so it may be difficult for you younger readers to fully comprehend what I'm talking about. Regardless, I spent countless hours playing Mario Brothers until my fingers bled or until I threw the controller against the wall so hard that it broke. I had some rage issues in the past.. big deal.

I tried to get into the newer gaming systems over the years, but all of the fancy 3D games made that pretty much impossible for me to do. For some reason those particular games will have me nauseated as hell and running for the bathroom to spew forth the contents of my stomach. Needless to say, that pretty much ended my "gaming" as a past time.

So thanks to Santa we now have the Wii gaming system. Now I'm fairly certain my gaming days are still going to stay right where they have been... in the past. Not because I'll throw up if I play the games. Oh no. Primarily because I don't want to look like a fucking retard because that's apparently a requirement if you play this game.

I happened to be walking through the living room today and was briefly shocked at what I saw or what I THOUGHT I was seeing. Brent was standing in the middle of the room doing some funky gyrating arm movement that somewhat resembled a whacking off technique. I didn't think he would be doing that in the living room while watching TV with our son, but then again you never know with some people. After my initial shock wore off, I realized that Brent and Aidan were actually dueling each other in a game of Star Wars. It was the funniest damn thing I've seen in a LONG time. I've never seen a straight man look more homosexual in all my life. Seriously, he couldn't have gotten any more gay if he tried. His light sabre should have been hot pink he looked so gay! Not that there's anything wrong with that...

I thought that maybe it was just that particular game with all of the silly movements that looked so ridiculous, so later I watched him play a round of golf. Nope. Still looked like a douche. Then boxing... Uh, douche to the 10th power. That was really all that I needed to see. I've decided that the whole wireless funky controller is just a stupid design in general and I won't be partaking in such activity... At least not with other people around to watch. So my gaming days really are over, and you know what I say to that? BFD. I've got other shit to do anyway...

For example, I've got more reading to catch up on.

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The suspense must be killing you..

Well, I awoke this morning at 5am to what I was hoping were muffled noises coming from a naked bound and gagged Jeffrey Donovan sitting under my tree, but alas my hopes were dashed when I realized that it was only my children. So after threatening them with their very lives for being up so early, they ran upstairs and went back to sleep since I only had about 4 hours of sleep at that point. My kids are smart and have realized over the years that a sleep deprived Mama isn't a very happy Mama.

Anyway, I held out hope that maybe JD was on a late flight into DFW but apparently my husband can't even carry out a single freaking request in order to make my Christmas a total and complete success. So what did he do? He did the next best thing.



I got new reading material, a blow up doll, AND some new bling bling. Holy shit, where's the Tylenol! Extra points for those that realized that was a Christmas Vacation movie reference... get that? okay then..

As for the kids, they had a great Christmas too. I could have skipped the Wii and plethora of games for that thing and just gave Taylor her cell phone and she would have been totally fine with that. The Wii may as well have been a piece of shit on a stick. It's all about the cell phone when you're 9 years old people! Aidan pretty much glossed over all of his gifts and stayed heavily focused on the 25 boxes of newly acquired Lego's. So now I suppose that I'll be walking around with storm trooper guns and Indiana Jones pieces in my feet from here on out.

We also had our traditional Christmas "exciting breakfast". Taylor coined that term when she was old enough to talk. The "exciting breakfast" consists of anything that isn't cereal. So pancakes, bacon, hash browns, etc is defined as "exciting". I like to step things up a notch and make snowman pancakes. I've been doing this since Taylor was just a youngin.

Here were are in 2002.. Clearly a work in progress.

And here we are in 2003. I think I totally worked it out that year. Check out the faux snow with the powdered sugar! That's talent folks, you've got to admit that. Oh, and the whip cream hat (that Taylor took a swipe at before I could take this picture) with decorative m&ms?? Did you notice that? Yeah, you can be jealous. Just overlook the completely hideous dinnerware please.

Dec 04... Uh downgrade. This snowman looks like he's been hopped up on meth for at least 5 days with those bulging green eyes. I wonder if I used the peanuts M&M's that year? That just doesn't look right at all!

Um, I have no idea what happened in 2005. I do not have documented pictorial evidence of the pancake snowman for this year. Maybe we went out of town or something. Who knows.. At any rate, I'm back and in business for 2006. This time I made one for Aidan too!



Apparently I didn't ask for dinnerware that didn't suck for Christmas because we still have the same old shit. Oh well, let's focus on the new addition to the snowman pancake this year. Can you spot it? It's the hash brown snow! Awww yeah... Totally got Mom of the year for that added detail.

Now 2007 was a sad year for the snowman pancake as I didn't make any that year. I decided to become gainfully employed (like an idiot) and that involved me working on Christmas Eve 8p-8a. The last thing I wanted to do Christmas morning was to F around with some Bisquick, that I can assure you.

I worked on Christmas Eve this year as well, but the hours were a little better 11a - 11p. Who am I kidding? That shift blows harder than Jenna Jameson. Anyway, luckily I was up for continuing the tradition. Now we have the unveiling of the 2008 exciting breakfast... drumroll please

Yeah, so it's not all that great. I'll admit it. This is Taylor's amputee snowman. Note the lack of arms compared to previous years. . She requested no arms so I aimed to please. Now I know what you are thinking and I do realize that the green and red M&M's clash with the pink and blue sprinkles but that's okay. We can't always be perfect. Brent also mentioned that the whip cream hat looks more like a Jheri curl (and yes that's the correct spelling.. look it up), but he can kiss my ass and that's pretty much all I have to say about that. Hey, I did manage to get rid of the old fruit dinnerware though! BONUS!

Here is Aidan's snowman. He wanted his snowman to have arms, so I did what any loving mother would do and I gave his snowman yummy bacon arms because I was too lazy to do pancake arms. I also gave his snowman more whip cream snow and a bigger and fluffier Jheri curl because he's my favorite. kidding..

I totally plan on continuing this tradition. I can't wait until the kids are older and I can do a more x-rated anatomically correct snowman. . . Maybe when they're in college.

Now it's time for a little "reading" before my nap.

Merry Christmas!!!!

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Well this explains everything

That's all I have to say about that...

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Hey Brent, this letter is to you!

Dear Brent,

I'm going to start this letter out on a positive note. You are one thoughtful bastard and you have a memory like an elephant. The fact that you remember EVERYTHING can be a good or bad thing depending on what I've said or done. In this case, it's going to get your ass kicked all over this house.

I know I should be thankful that you came home from work today with a ginormous bag of chocolate covered strawberries. It's pretty thoughtful and sweet how you randomly do things like that for me. However, I reminded you to go to Godiva and get some chocolate for the KIDS since that's sort of a Christmas tradition that you started. I specifically told you NOT to bring me anything home when I spoke with you on the phone. Do you remember that?

After my reaction to your thoughtful gift you recounted a conversation that we had a few months back when I mentioned how I would love to have some of those scrumptious little strawberries, so you decided to get them for me anyway. Yo a-hole, I was KIDDING! I didn't really want them! I mean I did, but I didn't. Comprende? You see, if I ate everything I wanted I would go from wearing panties like this...


To wearing panties like this...




That's not a fucking window treatment, Brent. That's the granny panties my ass will be fitting into because of your thoughtful "gifts". I don't think that's a look you will appreciate.

Now then, you were once an Altar boy so this shouldn't be foreign to you. For your penance you will have to get on your knees and say 10 Hail Mary's and 4 Our Father's. And while you're down there.... Anyway, don't worry your penance will not include sodomy just in case you were wondering. I don't roll like that.

Now I have a question for you...



Cause you will be needing it for turning my workout today into a total waste of time.

By the way, even though I most likely won't be able to fit into my jeans next week (so don't bitch when I have to go shopping), the strawberries are the freaking bomb. Thanks! :)


I love you,

C


P.S. I'm not joking about the lube. Have fun with that.


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If you wipe it more than 572,178,392 times you're playing with yourself..

Guess where I was last night?

At work.

Guess what the highlight of my shift was?

I had the pleasure of watching my patient that I had to take to the bathroom wipe her vagina so many times that I thought it was either going to profusely start to bleed or beg her to stop the assault in Vaginese.

Now typically I would have loved to have been trapped in a bathroom with an elderly lady(that I will refer to as Madge) as she attempted to erase her "good girl" into the toilet, but you know, it was busy as hell and I had other shit that I had to do. However, she had to go take a leak and since she was in the ER because she had randomly passed out prior to her arrival, and she refused to use a bedpan and stated that she would piss the bed first before doing so, I figured it was my duty to go in with her and make sure she didn't kill herself in the process.

I sort of assumed that it would be a quick trip to the bathroom. I mean, how long can it take for Madge to urinate anyway? Well, according to my watch, roughly 15 minutes. I learned about her whole day and the Christmas play that her husband produced that they were in the process of going to see before she decided to pass out. It was during this time that the assault on Madge's vag began. The urinating stopped and she grabbed a huge handful of toilet paper and began wiping in a repeated front to back motion that resembled someone using a two man timber cross cut saw.

As she was doing this she was also telling me about this Christmas play. Finally, after what must have been 34 swipes at the va-jay-jay she was finished.. Well, almost. She went back to the roll of toilet paper and grabbed another huge handful.

Well son of a bitch!

So here we go again. Round 2! wipe wipe wipe wipe wipe wipe wipe wipe wipe (she's still talking about the play)... At this point I lost interest. I began examining myself in the mirror. I fixed my hair, checked my teeth, applied some lip gloss. Looked back at Madge and she was still playing with herself... I mean, wiping. So I checked my email, sent a war and peace novel length text to my friend and then finally it happened.....

She grabbed another huge handful of toilet paper and assaulted her vagina again. ROUND 3!

MOTHER FUCKER!!

It was at this point that I contemplated calling the front desk to tell the secretary that I was being held hostage in the bathroom. Then I briefly thought about doing some patient teaching on how wiping front to back once, maybe twice would do the trick. Then I thought fuck it, if you haven't learned how to properly wipe by the time you are in your 70's then it's a lost cause.

Finally after what seemed like an hour the assault was over.

Lastly...

Madge's Vagina.. It's the other red meat.

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Worst Christmas gift I've ever received

I was asked what the worst Christmas gift I have ever received was the other day and it took all of about 2 seconds to answer it. Perhaps it was because I was permanently scarred by it, or just maybe it's because it was a giant source of embarrassment for me during my adolescent years. At either rate, I'm 32 now and I still remember it like it was yesterday. Let's get to it, shall we?

I was 12 years old and Caboodle's were the BIG thing that year. Everyone who was anyone wanted to carry their crappy Maybeline makeup around in that damn thing. They were so cute in all of the girly colors. My favorite was the pink and purple combo. There were many slots and compartments for my 50 assorted lip glosses, mascara, and crappy foundation that was most likely the wrong color for me that I caked on at the time. I knew exactly how I was going to arrange everything for fast and efficient makeup application. This was going to be sweet AND I was going to be the shiznit just because I had a Caboodle! (pathetic, I know..)

So Christmas approaches and I had been looking at one wrapped gift in particular that looked suspiciously like a caboodle. It was the correct size and shape and approximately the same weight and everything. In my mind, it was a given that I had a caboodle under that tree. Now it's Christmas morning and I'm so excited to open this gift up that I can barely stand it! I begin ripping the paper off and slowly my excitement fades into oblivion. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!?! I most definitely thought to myself. Yes, I was quite the dirty mouthed hoodlum back then as well...

It's a G-DAMNED COLEMAN TACKLE BOX???? Was this some kind of a twisted fucking joke that's being played on me?! Like, am I totally being punked way before being punked was cool? I was all waiting for Ashton Kutcher as a pimply faced teenager to roll into my living room sporting his backwards trucker hat, and most likely morning wood as well yelling "You just got PUNKED!!"

That was not the case and I was NOT amused. I looked at my mom and emphatically asked "What am I supposed to do with this!?" Now I thought that surely this was a gift for my dad or my brother and she accidentally put MY name on it. You know, shit happens and Mom's sometimes forget things and screw shit up.. Then she goes on to explain to me that the Caboodle is a glorified tackle box and what she got me was actually bigger, and I could use it the same way. Uh, sure mom! Except you missed the minor little detail that the tackle box is fucking hunter green for Christ's sake! There is no mirror and all of the compartments are all funky sized because they're meant for FISHING LURES and NOT makeup! Needless to say I was pissed and crushed at the same time. How did she expect me to take that thing anywhere in public or on sleepovers, etc? Like I'm going to stroll up in someone else's house carrying a God Damned tackle box? Clearly she had a mental breakdown or a lapse in good judgement during that purchase to even think that was going to fly with me.

Needless to say that my Dad ended up with the tackle box and I spent Christmas morning and about a week thereafter pouting about my shitty gift. I did end up getting that Caboodle and my mom was right when she said it was a glorified tackle box. Actually it was a piece of crap, but that didn't matter much to me at the time.

Now I look back on it and I'm able to find humor in it, but it's still by far the worst Christmas gift that I've ever received.

Now I want to hear yours.

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My kid is full of shit

I'm not joking. He's really full of shit. When he began complaining of stomach pain yesterday nurse Candice went into full effect and the first information I tried to obtain was when he had his last bowel movement. After random questioning that yielded no answer as to when he had last dropped his friends off at the pool, I went into my spiel about how when you hold your poop in because you are too busy doing other things, your poop can then become "stuck" and it will cause belly pain. That's when the light bulb went off.

"Well, I do get distracted playing with my Lego's." He said almost immediately. Then I suggested that he try to go and dook it out to see if that would help with his stomach discomfort. He went to the bathroom and I thought his head was going to explode right off of his body from all of the straining.

He finally produced something that resembled orzo pasta, but that obviously didn't do anything to ease his pain. I began to auscultate and palpate and take temperatures.. He couldn't walk upright, he was bawling and generally looked like he felt miserable so I began thinking of all of the life threatening ailments that he could have been suffering from. So guess what? Off to the freaking ER we went. I love going to work on my days off. It's this thing I live for, but I wanted my baby boy to be okay so that's what we did at 10:00 pm.

Of course shortly after we get there he makes a miraculous recovery and makes me out to be some kind Munchausen by Proxy mother. I always appreciate that. Dude! Writhe in pain like you were at home!! What the hell?? Long story longer after almost 3 hours in the ER, one abdominal x-ray, and a urinalysis later we obtain the information that leads us to the diagnosis of completely full of shit. $150 copay because he's FOS.... Nice. As an extra parting gift we also went home with a prescription for a little UTI. Seems as though Aidan has also been too busy to take a piss on a regular basis.

After all of that, Aidan didn't mind the hassle of going to the ER. He got to see his x-ray and it was totally worth it at that point. He told me the best part of that whole experience was seeing where his penis was in the picture. I was glad to see the Y chromosome in full effect with that brilliant comment. Then he said something totally random.. "Wouldn't it be weird if my penis was on my head?" he said as he pointed to his forehead. I went through the recesses of my mind to find an age appropriate response to his question and all I could come up with was "I guess you would sort of look like a rhinoceros at that point now wouldn't you?"

Well, I guess I'm off to overdose my child on fiber and the play big bad poop police to my 5 yr old. Fun times!

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All I want for Christmas is...

Okay, I typically don't ask for much. I think I'm relatively a low maintenance chick, even though I'm positive there is someone in my life that would beg to differ. What the hell do they know anyway? So what I'm getting at is that I rarely ask for over the top presents. In fact, I don't even require my husband to get me anything for my birthday. I'm totally fine with a birthday card and it doesn't even have to be of the Hallmark variety! All I ask is that he remembers it. Period. If he WANTS to get a present, by all means go on with it, but I'm not going to expect it or get pissy when I don't get anything. I'm not that girl. I'll just go out and buy what I want on my own anyway...

So I think that I'm a rare breed of woman not expecting gifts for my birthday, and to be honest I don't usually ask for much for Christmas either. Except for THIS year... I'm over doing for others and making sure that they are happy and are getting what THEY want for Christmas. That shit is overrated.This year it's about ME dammit! I don't think I'm going overboard on my Christmas wish list at all as there are only 2 things on it. I present you now with number one...



Wait for it......




Waaaait for it....





I really want Jeffery Donovan and I want him exactly as shown in the picture. . . Carrying a gun with a big buldge in his pants. (seriously ladies, scope out his right leg... Those ain't tube socks..) He can't be that difficult to obtain. The new season of Burn Notice is about to come back on in Jan, so he's probably taking a break from that. The Changeling is old news now and I'm sure he's glad he doesn't have to hobnob with Angelina Jolie anymore. She's just a whore who also happens to have a baby factory placed squarely between her legs. I know I'm not impressed, and he surely wasn't impressed with her either. Anyway, I'd imagine his publicist or someone in his circle reads my blog. There has got to be some way to free up at least ONE night in his schedule. Come on!! Look at the strategically placed mistletoe! If that doesn't entice then I don't know what would...

and the second thing on my wish list?

Sigh...

I suppose the bling will do if Jeffery D can't be produced...

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To eat or not to eat.. That is the question

Ah, tis the season for my very nice neighbor to make me feel completely worthless and inadequate as a person in general. I came home from work and noticed a lovely package full of an assortment of home made goodies just calling my name. Wasn't that sweet?

There are hand dipped chocolate pretzel sticks, snowflake shaped cookies, chocolate chip cookies, m&m cookies, a pecan praline something or other, and more random things that I can not describe. Oh, there were also two chocolate shaped Christmas tree cookie wafer things that had glorious peanut butter in the middle that I promptly ate. Very tasty! Unfortunately I was unable to snap a photo before the cookie monster in me came alive. Probably good because now the kids have no proof they ever existed.

My real question is what in the hell are the golden beads on these cookies? Clearly the only cookies I deal with are the kind that exist in the form of a tube and they sure as hell don't come complete with shiny beads. I mean, I'm going to go out on a limb and assume they are edible since they are ON the cookie?

Okay, so I'm going to tell you all the truth. See the snowflake cookie with the 2 golden beads missing? My curiosity got the best of me and I ate them. They tasted, well, lets just say, interesting. That's why I'm wondering if they were in fact edible or if I should be expecting to have a gold plated turd tomorrow. Uh, hello Cash 4 Gold if so!!

Any information you can provide me with would be great.

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You know it's bad when....

Okay, you know it's bad when your husband enters the room and says...

"It's going to be pretty embarrassing as a nurse if you end up with bed sores from not changing positions all day."

Translated as: How fucking lazy can you be anyway?

Allow me to frame that up for you. I stumbled upon some recordings on the DVR called I Survived. It's on the BIO channel. There were enough recordings to keep my ass in bed all day watching them and I still have several left to watch. WOO HOO! I've been taking it all in just in case I'm ever unfortunate enough to be taken hostage, shot, raped, doused in acid, beaten, thrown in an icy river, become lost in a blizzard, or be stupid enough to stick my hand in an operating corn husking machine. The moral of the story? Play dead, fight back, cry, don't go to sleep, keep your core body temperature elevated no matter what, and finally.. cut your own arm off!

So I've watched episode after episode without even moving a muscle. I'm totally engrossed in this show. I haven't even eaten or had anything to drink all day. That would have required movement on my part. I suppose that's why I haven't had the urge to go to the bathroom now that I think about it. TMI and I realize this. Anyway, now I'm off to join civilization at the mall. I have a feeling my new knowledge on how to survive just might come in handy after all.

Frankly I'd much rather sit on my ass, watch more TV and further dehydrate myself.



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HO HO HO...... Come sit on my lap

I figure I should get into the spirit of Christmas and all and post something festive, so here you go. Kids sitting on Santa's lap complete with Christmas music. Well okay, kids sitting on Santa's lap complete with Christmas music and not being happy about it at all. Would you be happy about it? Seriously, take a look at all of the freaky Santa's in those photos. Roughly half of them look like drunken child molesters. I mean, it's one thing to be drunk....

I think kids can sense a freak a mile away which is why the majorty of the kids in these pictures look like they are frightened for their very lives. What's worse, is in some cases the parents used the picture of the terrified child as their Christmas card. Evil bastards. . . Pssst- I TOTALLY would have done the same thing.

My kids and myself actually had a run in with Santa the other day in the Doctor's office. He was dressed in civilian attire, but he couldn't fool me. His beard was even REAL and everything. As he was walking out of the office he turned to my kids and gave them a creepy smile and a Santa wave. They both turned to me and gave me the "What in the hell is that weird dude staring at?" look.

Now I, on the other hand, was wondering just what "Santa" was being seen for at the doctor's office. I immediately thought STD!!!! Yes, that's it. That bastard flies all over hell and back delivering toys and spreading good cheer and what not. He can't tell me that he doesn't stop over for a little strange here and there during his trip. You know, dip the ol Christmas candy cane from time to time. I know better. I would lay odds that he was totally stocking up on the antibiotics as a preventative measure this year because last year the penile discharge didn't make for a fun trip around the globe. Besides, Rudolf's nose is the only thing that is supposed to be shiny and have a red glow and Santa knows this.

I'm on to you Santa.

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Yo NFL... Suck on this!

I'm not going to climatically lead up to the main idea of this post in a slow teasing fashion. Rather, I will simply state the obvious. I FUCKING HATE FOOTBALL and I can't wait until it's over.

I'm not sure where my hatred of the game came from. Perhaps it was because that's all my dad watched as I was growing up. It didn't matter what game was on and if he was a fan or not. He watched ALL the games. Actually, he didn't always watch. He took a nap through most of them and when I tried to pry the remote from his clutched hands to watch something worth a shit he would wake up and explain that "he was just resting his eyes". So needless to say I was in hell until about middle school when I was blessed with my own TV in my room. It was my football free sanctuary and I loved it. Everyone else could kiss my ass and in order to do that they could find me in MY room watching MY TV that didn't have some lame ass football game on.

The years passed by and I obtained a boyfriend who also enjoyed football. Then I wondered if penises and football automatically went together and if it was something I was just going to have to put up with. Like, maybe it was my destiny or something. Then I wondered if the penis itself was covered in pig skin like a football and perhaps THAT was the connection. P.S I eventually found out the truth about that. The penis, was in fact, NOT covered in pig skin. Then I told myself that I would have to either deal with it or become a lesbian. I was smart enough to realize that even being a lesbian wouldn't guarantee that I would be free from the curse of football, because I knew chicks that were football fans as well.

So more years passed and I remember having a very specific conversation with my mother. I told her that I had some criteria for my future husband and if he didn't meet my expectations then "it" wasn't going to happen... I won't list them all because I don't typically like to make myself out to be a giant douche bag 100% of the time.. Here are a few for you, however.

1. My future husband would NOT be into sports. (CHECK!!!!! Totally hit the jackpot with this one!! All you ladies stuck with husbands that would rather sit on the couch and scream at the TV while watching men hop on one another in tights... or spend all day with ESPN on the big screen, allow me to offer you my condolences. It must suck to be you!)

2. My future husband would pay all the bills since I'm not so good at that sort of thing.. (CHECK CHECK CHECK!! Now this will bite me in the ass if Brent ever gets hit by a bus because I haven't really been paying attention to our online bill payment classes that baby daddy attempts to hold from time to time. I figure I will search out a financial advisor next go around if that run over by a bus scenario ever plays out.)

3. I also told my mom that I would marry either a lawyer or doctor.. ha to be young and stupid again (Anyway, not so much. Hindsight is a funny thing because I don't think I'd marry a doctor OR lawyer if they lined up outside my house right now asking for my hand in marriage AND looked like Jeffery Donovan. I'd probably have sex with them and require some type of stipend for my awesome services but that's where that would end....) ;)

Anyway, I guess you might be wondering what my beef is with football if my husband doesn't watch it, right? Well, it's on TV that's why! It's jacking with my ability to watch quality TV, that's why! It also screws with my dvr timers that I have set up to record other quality TV programming.. that's why!

And for Christ's sake why in the hell does it take so long to play a stupid game? I swear that it's nothing but a tease! I'll turn the TV on to a game and then try to be thankful that they only have 5 minutes left before something worth a damn will come on, but what you may not know is that 5 minutes is actually an HOUR in football minutes. All the flags, time outs, commercials, play reviews, and random jacking off will cause you to grow old and actually die before the game finally ends.

Finally, my last gripe about the game is all of the showboating that they do when they score a touchdown. You know what I think? I think they are fucking morons with all of the little dancing manuvers that they do in the end zone. Alright Mr. NFL player, I'm talking to you now.. First of all, your ass is basically wearing tights (that's right... just like Peter freaking Pan) so you look like a fucking fairy doing your celebratory chicken dance jig. Secondly, the typical NFL salary is roughly 1.4 million dollars a year. Trust me, I did my research. So the fact that you are getting all overly excited about scoring a touchdown, which is essentially doing something you are being grossly overpaid to do is just insulting. Frankly, it makes me want to shove that football up your ass sideways. Don't worry.. I'll use some Icy Hot as lube.

So it's at this point that I would like to thank my husband for not being a completely football crazed jackass because if you were I would SO make you pay. I even asked Brent if he knew how rare it is to find a man that doesn't like sports. Thankfully he said he doesn't know because if he did we would have a whole other set of issues to deal with.

Rant over!

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Say hello to my little friend

I want to give you a little background info on me. I fucking HATE spiders. They freak the holy hell out of me. If you want to see me run around like a spaz while screaming like someone is ripping me limb from limb, then put a spider in my general area and that's all it will take. Walking through a spider web will also cause the above scenario complete with random seizing type motions for a good 3-4 minutes after contact.

I remember when Taylor was totally into Stanley when she was younger. It's a cartoon about a boy who loves animals for those who don't know. I bought her The Great Big Book Of Everything and we both learned about animals together. To my dismay they also have everything you wanted to know about insects as well. And if that weren't enough I turned the page and saw every kind of gross and disgusting spider that I cared to see. With REAL pictures all close up and everything. You could even see their eyes. All 8 of them. *shudder* You could also even visualize the hair on their gross ass legs for the species that actually had hair on their spider legs. Okay, lets not talk about that anymore. I'm getting freaked out again.. Anyway, I'm pretty sure I screamed an explicative and ran out of the room with my heart pounding into my throat. From then on out Taylor knew that we couldn't go past a certain page, because if we did then bedtime festivities were cut short.

I also recall a time when my mother was visiting me in Virginia. We had a huge back yard full of trees. We were out back doing some yard work and just enjoying the day. I happened to look up at the tree in front of me and almost passed out when I saw a fucking BLACK WIDOW. Oh my GAWD!! My life was over...

"We've got those little bastards on our property!?!?! Oh my god!! Aren't those indigenous to Africa or some shit?!?! How could they possibly be here?!?"

I ran inside the house to arm myself properly and emerged from the house with my brand new can of Hot Shot. That bitch was going down! I figured I could stand at least 10 ft away and still douse the spider with my lethal spray. I told my mom to get the hell out the way because "it was about to be on". Only problem is when my spray hit the spider, it started to move which totally freaked me out. I began running around the back yard like a maniac, but I felt that I had to keep spraying or else it would get away and I would have a pissed off rogue black widow spider in my back yard poised for revenge, and I would never be able to step foot back there again. My kids would no long be able to play back there as well because lets face it, I only had ONE black widow back there... So after my mini freak out sessions I would run back to the tree and commence my attack. Finally when my mom stopped laughing at my antics, she walked right up to the tree and took her shoe off and killed it with one good whack. The end. "I suppose that will work too." I said with my hoarse voice from all of the blood curdling screaming that I was doing. That pine tree had a Hot Shot spray stain on it for a good 6 months. One whole can will do that I guess...

Then there was the time (in Virgina again) where I walked outside on our deck one evening and almost walked through an intricately woven spider web with not ONE but TWO huge orb spiders on it. Now can I just say that ALL spiders freak me out, but the ones with the large round backs and long skinny legs really set me off. I screamed so loud that Brent ran outside to what he surely thought would be a murder scene. He got rid of the spiders some how and we both waited for the police to arrive. Turns out nobody called the cops due to my screaming, but I'm sure the neighbors thought that I was getting the shit beat out of me.

I'm almost of the point of my post, I swear.. first I want to have a little chat with the producers of Survivor. I love the show. I've been a huge fan since season one. However, I have a little problem with the show. Why in the FUCK do you insist on showing little clips of ginormous spiders typically on their webs moving their gross legs or eating some random unfortunate bug in between scenes? I mean, is that strictly necessary? You're giving me mini-heart attacks damn near every episode. Please find something else to shoot for random footage. A monkey's ass. A cute little lizard. A snake biting into Jeff Probst's nuts. ANYTHING but SPIDERS.. Thank you.

Anyway, so why all of this spider talk? Well, I'll tell you. I've got a little friend who has decided to set up shop on the ceiling in my fucking pantry. I noticed it after Brent went out of town. Why is it every time he leaves I need him for something? He's my exterminator and he was gone! WTF?? What has he done for me lately? Anyway, I've lost 15 pounds this week because I'm too terrified to go in the pantry for food. At first I was pissed that Mr. long legs picked the ceiling in the pantry to hang his sedentary ass, because really, what kind of bounty will that moron find in the pantry?? Does he think that we've got other insects in the pantry? Stupid d-bag. Whatever, now I'm thankful he's there. Frankly, all I need is a spider in the fridge and freezer and I figure I'll be looking damn good for 2009.

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Things that make you go "bzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"

I have a question if I may...

Who in the hell is the genius that is coming up with all of the vibrating gadgets these days? Seriously! We have the Neutrogena Wave that is theoretically a vibrating FACIAL cleanser that is targeted towards those zit faced teenagers, but do I think this is going to clear up the acne problem that plagues America? Not unless you've got zits below the belt it won't! Good news? It only requires ONE AA battery.

I remember back when Harry Potter was all the rage and the it toy to have was the Nimbus 2000. It's essentially the Harry Potter broomstick that all of the girls were dying to have because when you stuck it between your legs it would, well, vibrate. Someone at Mattel actually thought that was a good idea as a toy targeted for youngsters. Now I'm convinced it was a man who thought of that brilliant idea, and that's as far as I'm going to go with that thought. Anyway, here are some reviews of the product.

“The Nimbus 2000 features a grooved stick and handle for easy riding. Enhancing the excitement are the vibrating effects and magical swooping and whooshing sounds the broom makes when on. Sounds can also be activated when the switch is set in standby mode. Requires three AA batteries (included),” Not one.. not two.. but THREE AAA batteries?? this toy would definitely require a trip to costco for the jumbo pack of batteries..


“My 12-year-old daughter is a big Harry Potter fan, and loved the part with the Nimbus 2000, so I decided to buy her this toy,” Ashley wrote on June 11, 2002. “Even my daughter’s friends enjoy playing with this fun toy. I was surprised at how long they can just sit in her room and play with this magic broomstick!!”


Other reviewers seemed to be simply clueless. “Poola13” from Ohio noted how popular the toy was with his/her 12-year-old daughter and her friends. Poola13 added in the June 11, 2002, review that, “they play for hours in her bedroom with this great toy. They really seem to like the special effects it offers (the sound effects and vibrating). My oldest daughter (17) really likes it too!”


To be honest, I think I'm going to ask "Santa" for a Nimbus 2008 for Christmas. I feel as though I'm really missing out. You must check out the following video for more Nimbus 2000 hilarity




Next we have the as seen on TV Fukuoku 9000 finger massager. I find amusement in the name by the way. FUKU.. broken down further to FUK-U.. broken down even further for the mentally challenged blog readers as FUCK YOU. I'm quite sure this "finger massager" is for the enthusiasts that enjoy fucking themselves and NOT for those that intend on relieving a headache as this picture would like to imply...

Just in case you are wondering, the fukuoku people also make the 5 finger massager and the travel buddy mini vibe for those people on the go that enjoy a good "massage".

Last but not least I want to touch on the new lancome vibrating mascara wand. Now you can even get off prior to putting on your makeup! How is that for multitasking? They say it's the first vibrating powermascara with 7000 oscillations per minute. Oooh la la. Here are the product details. "Press the button and experience a breakthrough sensation in application. Hey now.. that's what I'm talkin about In one easy new gesture, let the vibrating brush combined with an exquisitely smooth formula wrap every lash 360 degrees That's assuming it even makes it up to your lashes to begin with.. Instantly see a fascinating gaze: Uh, that's post orgasm glow you fucking retard Lashes appear ultimately extended uh huh remarkably separated those would be legs...thanks and virtually multiplied in number. The only thing multiplied is how many times I just got off. It doesn't have jack nor shit to do with lashes.

Well, I'll be damned! I know what I'm going out to buy tomorrow. I can even bring the kids along for this purchase! I can almost tell you how the conversation with Brent will go when he gets home.

Brent- "Uh, can you tell me why in the hell you purchased $346.62 worth of mascara? Was that really a necessary purchase?"

Me- "It's got dual usage??? And it's totally necessary!"

Brent- "Say what?"

Me- "It vibrates at 7000 oscillations per minute and it's actually mascara to boot!! God, don't you know anything?"

Brent- "Well, that explains it. See you in a few days."


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Looks like it's going to be a LEAN Christmas this year..

The kids informed me yesterday that they've done their Christmas shopping already for their Dad and myself. Now I know that what this typically means is that all of the Happy Meal toys that I've been unable to locate and properly throw away in a timely fashion will now be "re-gifted".

I was then excitedly taken by both hands and led to the family room where the Christmas tree is to see all of the loot. After rounding the corner Aidan immediately piped up with..


"Oh, you're probably going to need more of that foil stuff."

I can not WAIT until Christmas morning. :)

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Have you wondered where I've been?

Did you think that I failed to mention my fabulous trip to Tahiti and I was off sipping some fruity drink on the beach instead of keeping all (3) of you people up to date on the insipid details of my life? Or maybe you thought that I was actually doing something productive with my time like working... Well, you'd be wrong on both counts.

I've been recovering from my hangover from the annual ER department Christmas party. Oh yes, it was a doozey from what I can remember. You know, I'm thirty freaking two years old and as I mentioned in my "tagged" posting the other day I have been consuming alcohol in one form or another roughly since 7th grade. No, I'm not proud of that but what else are you supposed to do when you grow up in a town with less than 3,000 people in it?

Anyway, with my long history of boozing it up you'd think I would have learned a few things about myself over the course of my life. You know, the really important life lessons such as NEVER DRINK ON AN EMPTY STOMACH (because the last time you did this you left your partially digested dinner and gastric juices on the River Walk in San Antonio) and IF YOU DO DRINK ON AN EMPTY STOMACH, DON'T TAKE PATRON SHOTS.. Another lesson that you'd think I would have learned is IF YOU DO DRINK AND TAKE SHOTS ON AN EMPTY STOMACH, DON'T TAKE MULTIPLE SHOTS AND DRINK AND UNKNOWN AMOUNT OF MARGARITAS.

All I've got to say is that I defined the term shitfaced, people and that's a fact. I'm pretty sure I had a good time, but unfortunately I really don't remember. One thing I'm fairly certain about is that I probably said something inappropriate. That's not really that unusual now that I think about it... Moving on. All I know is that I had an awesome designated driver that was prepared as hell with Ziploc bags in her car. Who is THAT prepared other than Renee? Love her! Well, all I can attest to is that Ziploc bags don't leak and they have a pretty damn good seal. I think I'm going to email them and let them know that there really are multiple uses for their product. Maybe they can use me in their new advertisement campaign.

One more thing I'm thankful for.. Brent was out of town and didn't witness the drunken debauchery that took place upon my arrival back to the crib. It wasn't even one of those drunken episodes where you accidentally get lucky. It was the kind where you sleep in the other room because you don't want to get puked on. Or the kind where you don't sleep at all because you want to make sure your wife doesn't stop breathing at some point during the night..

Oh fun times... I can't wait until next December.

P.S I'm never drinking Patron again.

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So I've apparently been "tagged"

At first I had no idea what the hell that even meant in blogging terms. I'm fairly new to this blogging world so it took a bit of research on my part, but luckily I was able to figure it out being the super genius that I am. I'm not one to brag or anything, but I was tagged TWICE in one day thanks to Melissa and Nooter the dog. Oh yeah baby, TWICE! So needless to say I was pretty exhausted from all of the tagging, but I've got my strength back and I'm able to fulfill my end of the deal now.

So the "rules" state that I'm to link to the person or in this case people, who tagged you. Check. Next I'm supposed to share seven random or weird facts about me and then tag seven other people and include links to their blogs. (OMG, that's alot of tagging but I know I can do it!) Finally, I'm to let each person know that I tagged them by commenting on their blogs.

So here goes nothing. . . 7 random or weird facts about Candice.

1. I always say that I hate Wal-Mart and the toothless patrons who shop there, but that's really not true. This is how I actually look. Unfortunately the scooter I'm riding for sheer convenience was cropped out. I also smell. Sorry.

2. I'm weird about those little LED lights on the VCR, Laptop, TV, etc. I can't sleep in a dark room with those lights blaring through my eyelids so I have to place an article of clothing to cover them up. Yes, it looks all Sanford and Sons in here at that point but I don't care. Brent also had to bust out the ladder in order to put a sticker over the little light on the smoke detector because it was bugging the shit out of me. I'm weird and I realize this...

3. I can't listen to more than 3-4 songs in a row on my ipod without a hip-hop, R&B, or a rap song coming on. I also get huge amounts of shit because of this.

4. I'm the Imelda Marcos of the tennis shoe world. I LOVE a good pair of tennis shoes. In fact 70% of the time that's what you will find me wearing. I've got roughly 12 pair in my closet right now and an unknown amount that are currently being stored in the garage. It's ridiculous. I tend to get alot of shit for this as well. It's also time for some new shoes.

5. I broke the news that I was pregnant with Taylor to my mother over AOL instant messenger. Did I forget to mention that I wasn't married at the time? Lets not get hasty calling me a whore people! I was engaged at least... The wedding location was then changed from a beach in Mexico to Lake Tahoe where I wouldn't have to be photographed in a bathing suit. P.S. I also really wanted to ski and gamble my arse off. Both were accomplished.

6. My first alcoholic beverage consumption took place when I was in 7th grade. It was Olympia beer mixed with Lemon Gatorade. It was the nastiest crap I have ever had the pleasure of swallowing since then. Yes, yes it was.

7. One year my dad got a case of Evan Williams from a co-worker. Ah yes, Alcohol. It's the gift that keeps on giving. At least that was the case for me.. I think I was in 8th grade at this point. I knew it was time to upgrade my choice of beverage from nasty ass beer, Maddog, and Boones Farm and go with something a little more potent. There were so many bottles stashed in my Dad's closet that he surely wouldn't notice if a few went missing here and there. Luckily when he DID notice that they were missing he blamed my brother who is 6 yrs older than me. It was perfect! It never occurred to the old guy that his baby girl was the one lifting the loot. When my brother blamed me it was immediately dismissed as a ludicrous idea that I would even do such a thing. Years later I let the cat out of the bag and came clean. I've actually done that quite a bit over the years. Anyway, my Dad's response? "Well, I'll be damned!"

Okay, now that that's over it's time for me to do some tagging of my own.

General blather
Leighonline
the meanest mom
Rat Babies
Sosh
Sticky
Claire
sticky

Uh, I just noticed that I broke the rules and linked to 8 people. Whoops!

Update part 2. I actually just realized that I linked to the same person twice. I'm quite the moron today. Work tonight should be fun.

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Baby drama... wardrobe edition

This lovely creature to the left is my beautiful daughter, Taylor. I love her. She's funny, smart, cute, charming, and everything else positive except for when she's not.

From time to time she can also be a giant pain in my ass. Roughly every morning before school for example. What is the major issue you say? She's only 9 what could possibly be the problem you say? Well, she's got her Daddy's genes when it comes to being fashion savvy. Ah yes, now it all becomes clear. She would much prefer to dress like a knob than wear anything cute that I've purchased for her. I started taking her shopping with me to pick things out that we could both agree on. She even tries the clothing on and everything to make certain that it fits correctly. I get the okay that it will work for her and suit her 9 yr old needs, and then I buy it thinking all is well. NOT!

Apparently clothing fits differently in the store than it does at home because according to Taylor once it's time to wear it after it's purchased...

"This doesn't fit right!"

"These pants are too small!"

"That sweater is scratchy!"

"The lines in the socks hurt my toes!"

OH MY GOD!!! I am so going to move our family to a freaking nudist colony if I have to hear this shit one more time! Honestly, I'd rather roam around buck ass naked than go through this Groundhog day of wardrobe hell.

You know I let the reigns go a little bit and allowed Taylor to pick out her own outfits for school but when she came home repeatedly looking like a homeless person I decided enough was enough. Now I pick her clothes out. She oversees this process..

Me- How about this cute little number?

Taylor- I can't wear that tomorrow. It's PE day remember? I need to wear tennis shoes. By the way, shouldn't you remember my schedule by now? Maybe I should write it down for you.

Me- Whatever. How about this?

Taylor -I can't wear that either because we are supposed to be painting in art class and I don't want to get it dirty.

Me- give me a damn break... Well will this work?

Taylor- Those don't fit right.

Me- They fit last week Taylor!

Taylor- Not really.

So last night I picked out some jeans and a long sleeve shirt and we both agreed that it would be a good outfit for school today. Nothing fancy at all. Just one level above begging for change at the bus stop. She was cool with it. Go figure. So I sleep in this morning and let Brent do the am duties. . . like he's been doing all week (Thanks babe!!) I wake up to him hovering over me and staring at me like a damn psycho and it somewhat freaked me out. It looked as though he was scared to tell me something. Probably because he knew I was going to go bat shit crazy.

Brent- "Uh, we're having issues with the wardrobe this morning."

Me- "Are you freaking kidding me?!?! What's wrong with it! We totally agreed on that outfit last night?!"

Brent- "Apparently the jeans are hurting her vagina, probably due to the fact she's got them pulled up to her chin and they are low rise jeans, AND her shirt is scratchy."

He paused and looked at me as though he needed to know what to do next...

Me- " You know what, I'm done. I don't give a shit what she wears. Actually yes I do. Make her wear that damn outfit because this is getting ridiculous We both agreed on the outfit last night and now she needs to know what follow through is!"

Turns out she wore the outfit. Won that battle! Ha! But she wasn't happy about it. She informed Brent that she wasn't going to have fun today at school and she was going to keep her coat on all day so nobody saw her ample 9 yr old cleavage. The way the shirt was cut along the neckline showed her COLLAR BONE. Oh my... I guess she showed us! This is my daughter Taylor the Nun. I'm taking her Habit shopping this weekend to put an end to this BS.

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It was a rough day at the gym today olfactory wise...

So I decided to take a break from my blase at home workouts and hit the gym today. I THOUGHT that would be an enjoyable experience for me. Well not so much and trust me I will elaborate, but first let me direct all of you to a prior post of mine dealing with gym etiquette. I think all gyms should pass this out along with the gym membership paperwork for those in need.

So are you wondering what happened to me at the gym this morning? I'm finally able to think clearly enough to be able to tell you about it, so lets get started shall we?

There I was, minding my own damn business on the elliptical machine jamming out to some Jay Z. He was apparently having 99 problems and a bitch wasn't one. Then all of the sudden IT hit.

sniff... sniff

WTF???

Oh HELL NO!

I looked to the right and left of me but everyone had their poker faces on. Those bastards! All I wanted to do was hop off my elliptical machine and stand in front of the 15 people in my vicinity and yell....

"Alright! Which one of you fuckers farted!?!?!? Seriously? You are all adults and you are just going to blow ass right here in public? You disgust me! No, your ass disgusts me! And frankly I really hope you just shat yourself. So which one of you did it anyway because I deserve to know! You sir, there on the fartmaster. Was it you? Or how about my little pink lady friend there in the pink shirt, pink and gray shorts with the matching pink scrunchie (who the hell wears those anymore anyway?) Yes ma'am I'm talking to YOU on the gass-y-lliptical machine trying to play Mambo number 5 with your ass on the down low. Ain't no fooling me woman! I've been watching you and I see your shifty gaze you nasty hobag."

But did I do that? Nope. I sat there trying not to breathe in too deeply because I didn't want my precious lungs to shrivel up and die right there on the spot. I mean, seriously who does that? Who just lets them fly freely like that in public? Do you think that your shit really doesn't stink? So you not only blow ass once but enough times to produce a green haze over this general area? I'm thinking someone needs some activated charcoal underwear to help you out with your little problem since you clearly don't think it's an issue to chronically fart in public with people all around you.

Let me just add that I can see accidentally letting ONE slip, okay? Perhaps you are sick or something (then you probably shouldn't be working out) and it was truly an accident. Or maybe you were a porn star or hooker back in the day and your rectal tone isn't what it used to be. You know, I can forgive that. However, farting repeatedly in a public place just because you can and just because you know that you will never be figured out because there is a large crowd of people all gathered in one area does NOT mean you can open up the anal flood gates and just go shooting your ass off at your leisure. All percolating like those old ass Folgers coffee commercials and what-not. I hate you.

So let me tell you I was pretty angry at the fact that I was trying to get a good workout in and I was inhaling someone else's shit, because let me break it down for you, that's what a fart is in air form. Shit. I was debating whether or not I should stay or should I go. If I stayed I could die or I could just finish my workout and then go home and take a shower and try to wash the funk out of my pores. If I tore ass out of there then I risked people thinking that *I* was the one blowing said ass. Uh, not gonna happen. So I stayed. . . and I glared. . . And I could see myself on the news.. "gym goer goes postal and kills farting gym patrons with iron hand weights. More at 4."

Luckily I did not die or kill anyone else, and I never could get a good reading on who I thought was the farting culprit but that's okay. I know for a fact someone in that gym totally shit themselves and I hope that they end up with a serious case of diarrhea and genital warts for ruining my workout and making me inhale their noxious ass fumes.

Go to hell 24 hour fitness. Go straight to hell.

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Know when to hold em.. Know when to fold em

I'm practically all Kenny Rogers up in this biotch ladies and gents..

So remember when I told you that I would be hitting the casino during my visit to Lake Charles? I think I said that I was totally going home with their money and whatnot... Yeah, that was a load of bullshit. I think I ended up playing Let It Ride all of 15 minutes before I was almost a c-note down. Let me tell you a little something about me. I will not blink an eye about dropping a substantial amount of money on certain things. However, I'm very frugal with my money when it comes to gambling. Every hand I lost (which was all of them) I envisioned myself squatting over a pile of cash and taking a leak all over it. That's basically what I was doing. Pissing my money away. So what did I do? I grabbed my remaining chips and hauled boo-tay.

Typically I'm a Blackjack player. Unfortunately there were no open seats available. Not to mention I didn't want to bet 25 bucks a hand anyway. I'm frugal remember? I also wasn't quite drunk enough to bet that kind of money. I only had a daiquiri the size of a extra large big gulp from the drive through (and then kill yourself or someone else) daiquiri hut. I also wasn't in the mood to put up with the serious players. You know, the kind that will memorize every hit and pass you make and then decide to let you know that if you had played by "the rules" then the dealer would have busted... It's really inspiring.

So after my Let It Ride experience I took my money and rode on out to watch my mother play 3 card poker. It's much cheaper to watch just in case you were unaware. I also had time to enjoy 2 cosmopolitans, 1 screw driver, 1 cherry vodka sour, 1 malibu and oj and 1 strawberry daiquiri for "free". I was also a little bitter about the attire of the gentleman that was serving my drinks. The female servers barely had any clothing on at all and what they did have on was absolutely hideous I might add! Any man that would get aroused by that is totally pathetic in my opinion. Anyway, they were frolicking around with their lady business on display for the whole world to see, but the male waiters were walking around fully clothed as though they were expecting an arctic cold blast to roll in through the casino.

I was a little pissed by that so I mentioned my concern for the clearly sexist divide in waitress vs waiter attire to the guy serving my drinks, but he didn't seem to be as worried about it as I was. Not to mention I'm guessing he wouldn't have wanted to wear what I suggested he wear for what would surely lead to an overall net increase in his tips. What, testicle cleavage isn't sexy anymore? Whatever.

I was also hoping to get an indecent proposal over the course of the evening but I didn't even get lucky in that regard. Brent gave me the go ahead in advance and everything! I'm going to go out on a limb to say that the high rollers probably weren't hanging out at the 15 dollar a hand tables, so that's partly my fault and I will admit that.

Anyway, here we are prior to casino departure all full of hope and innocence.

Still smiling....

And the smiles continue...

Oooh, now there goes that hope and innocence folks! At least for my mom. My dad was my drinking partner so he wasn't as upset about losing his money.

I would also like to take this time to apologize to our waiter at the La Cafe or whatever the hell the name of the establishment was that we ate at after we handed over our hard earned cash. I understand that the lovely flower was part of the center piece/table decor and not a prop for my drunken photo op. (cool that rhymed. I could be a rapper) I also realize that saying "I'll take a cheeseburger but cut the cheese" and then laughing so hard that I could barely speak wasn't all that amusing to you. You were sober and I can appreciate that. One more thing.. If you think that I was too drunk to realize that you were probably spitting on my food in the back, you are sorely mistaken pal.

Anyway, casino night was fun but I still want to make up a shirt that says "I went to the L'Auberge Casino and all I left with was emphysema from all of the inhalation of second hand smoke, a buzz, and no money."

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