Mama Fidel

I'm off to spend NYE with my family and to welcome my Papa home from rehab tomorrow, so I hope all of you have a Happy New Year! Poor Fidel will be home alone, without his blushing bride for the first time in 11 years. I'll be back on Wednesday, hopefully with some funny tales from the country.

We went grocery shopping as a family this afternoon, and let me tell you how I suffered because of Georgia's stupid no-booze-on-Sundays rule. Well, I probably wouldn't have opened a beer right in the aisle like I wanted to do anyway, but I would have liked the choice. After 30 minutes of madness in the aisles, we were checking out and talking about our planned movie night watching Shrek 2. Kroger has this magical machine in the lobby where you can rent a movie and as we were paying for our crap, I said, "Hey, do you want to grab an adult movie out of the kiosk to watch after the kids are in bed?" and as soon as it came out of my mouth I knew I had said the wrong thing. The cashier was like, "Uh, I don't think we have any of those out there" and I was as red as a baboon's ass. It was pretty embarrassing.

I scored this year for Christmas. I typically don't care what I get, I just want to open something. Even if it's something small like a book or chocolates. It's not the stuff, it's the experience. This year, however, I really liked my stuff. Stuff like an iPod touch with a home stereo system thingie, new perfume, cashmere scarf and a double griddle. And a new, wonderful laptop! Yes, I love cooking stuff and am thrilled to open something I've been wishing for. It felt really good that he listened to my hints through the year and got me things I wanted. He also drove me over to see my family and my grandfather in the rehab facility. Obviously that wasn't an entertaining outing, but he took some beautiful pictures of my grandparents together since we drove my grandmother up for the visit, too. She has Alzheimer's and he's not 100% after his stroke, but let me tell you how moving it was to see those two grab hands and stick their heads together. I seriously cried and I'm tearing up talking about it. I looked at Fidel and thought, man, I have that. I hadn't even missed my crazy pills and I had that surge of emotion! The good news in all of this is that my Papa will be coming home on Tuesday. Their lives will never be as they were before the stroke, but I think having him home will be much better for my Mama and obviously my Papa will be happy about it. The girls and I are leaving tomorrow to drive over there for the homecoming, so I will miss doing NYE with Fidel for the first time since we met. I guess I'll spend NYE with my mom, drinking wine and watching TV. She will like that and I do have a good time with her.

Anyway, I hope you all have a great last day of the year, and I'm looking forward to getting back to the funny business after all of this hoopla is over.

No, not that kind of rehab. I don't drink that much and since Fidel and I are starting our Biggest Loser play-along on January 1 I'll have to cut out those booze calories. I'm talking about the rehab center that my grandfather is in. We went to see him this past weekend (he's 4 hours away) and he's doing pretty well. There's still a lot of work to be done but he's going to be released on January 1 to come home. He's a little cranky because he wants to come home, and his roommate talks nonstop. The roommate is Mr. Dewalt, and he is a freaking riot. He's in his 60's and has been in rehab for a while due to having 2 strokes within 3 weeks of each other. He can't walk but he sure can talk. He has a feeding tube inserted into his stomach, but since he can eat the tube is just tapped off until they pull it out. He thinks that the tube is his glasses, and tries to pull it up to his face so he can see. He thinks that the nurses are losing his glasses or hiding them from him. He has a time accusing those nurses of plotting against him. One night, he wanted some ice but they told him the ice machine was locked and he got mad and called 911 when they left the room. He said that was the only number that he could remember and he wanted some damn ice. Apparently that caused a big ruckus because he said that he had them all lined up in the hall looking stupid. The nurses unplugged his phone after that. He kept trying to get up out of his bed and he was making me nervous. I said, "Mr. Dewalt, are you getting up?" and he pointed above his bed and said , "No, see that camera up there? They won't let me do anything" and it was true, they are monitoring them with cameras above their beds. Mr. Dewalt is just a mess. He was telling me that he kept his head shaved clean before he had his strokes but that the nurses wouldn't let him nor would they shave it for him. He said, "My head looks like a black sheep's ass". I was laughing my ass off but my grandfather never even cracked a smile at Mr. Dewalt's comedy routine. Mr. Dewalt had a stash of Tootsie Rolls so he had a fan in my grandmother. She has Alzheimer's and a bad case of the sweet tooth and my family makes her eat her meals before she can have any sweets so she was like a kid finding a stash of candy.

If times are so hard that you have resorted to stealing lug nuts from 4-year old Toyota Siennas, may I suggest you head on down to the car wash to apply for a job. Notice I didn't suggest any fast-food joints, and that's because I enjoy me some fast food and if you are retarded enough to steal lug nuts from my Van of Shame, you surely don't need to be burdened with the responsibility of making McRibs. You see, there is this place right around the corner called the TOYOTA DEALERSHIP and they will sell you as many lug nuts as you can carry out of there. They sold me one for $5 back in October and now I have to go back to buy another one from them. Come to think of it, I suspect that you only stole one and the service department turds that put on my new tires in October failed to tighten the lug nuts completely, ensuring that I would be back for a new lug nut and perhaps an interior detail. They probably just want me to give in and let them do that thing they wanted to with my brakes but as long as the VOS is stopping I'm not dropping another dime on her. Take that, service department.

I think I need to go take a pill because I'm all paranoid about this lug nut thing. See how my brain went from thinking someone stole my lug nut to suspecting that the service department has plotted to make me return? That's crazy, my friends. I'm crazy with high-speed internet access. Good think I'm lazy and afflicted with ADD or else I'd have some internet conspiracy cult going on.

I have Neighbor Kid over here this afternoon. I've been bitten by the Christmas Spirit, or perhaps the spirits in my afternoon coffee. Either way, he's here and I haven't whacked him with a broom or hosed him down yet. I haven't even taken my happy pills today so I probably need to get on that before my good cheer wears off. Anyway, he's actually walking across my kitchen chairs. I'm decked out in my Kitchen Madonna apron, baking unnecessary Christmas treats and in my head, I was thinking, "Use your manners, you little bastard" but instead I just asked him to not walk on the furniture in my super nice voice. I'm off now to put my made-from-scratch Penne Bolognese in the oven for our dinner. Oh I can't even keep a straight face as I type that. I scratched that shit out of the deli case at Costco yesterday.

I was just reading an article about a mental health service in the UK getting in trouble for making parodies of common Christmas carols. It's actually pretty funny. Here are the carols that were tweaked:

Schizophrenia - "Do You Hear What I Hear?";
Multiple personality disorder - "We Three Kings Disorientated Are"
Paranoid - "Santa Claus Is Coming To Get Me"
Dementia - "I Think I'll be Home for Christmas"
Attention Deficit Disorder - "Silent Night Holy, oooh look at the froggy - can I have a chocolate? Why is France so far away?"
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder - "Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells"

That's pretty funny and I haven't even drank anything today. I'd suggest adding the "Twelve Diseases of Christmas" for the hypochondriacs and "Carol of the Bottles" for boozehounds. Not that I know any of those.

We had to make a brunch goody for Tootie's class Christmas party this morning, and Fidel was the one to take the goodies out of the oven and take them into school since I had to do Moggie's program. I should have prefaced this by stating that Fidel had bitched me out this morning for leaving lights on. Compact fluorescent bulbs that cost 1/10 of a cent a day to run, nonstop. Can you see where this is going? Yep, at 3:15 in the afternoon I discover that FIDEL has left the oven on all day long. I emailed him (because that's how we talk) to ask, "Any chance you left the oven on this morning?" and he said, "Yes, WE left it on". I'd like to meet that mouse he has in his pocket because I had nothing to do with leaving an oven on for 8 hours doing nothing. And my oven doesn't run on compact fluorescent bulbs... I'm just sayin'.

To the person who landed on my blog by typing in, "I really am a cock carving housewife", I pray that you are just dyslexic and weird. Or that your husband can run really fast from a knife-wielding psycho. Make no mistake, I'm fond of the wiener but there's nothing to learn from typing that into Google. Nothing at all. You probably found things that made you wanted to poke your eyes out. Crave and Carve are two totally different concepts. Good luck to your husband, either he's got himself a horny housewife or he better be covering up that pecker around you.

This person was from Pennsylvania, so watch your peckers, Pennsylvania men.

Dora the Explorer taught me my colors and numbers in Spanish, but unfortunately I haven’t gotten proficient enough in her language to say, “You have cut my phone line, motherfuckers”. That little phrase would have come in handy this morning because the workers installing the silt fence around the lot next door did exactly that. Cut my goddamn phone line, which incidentally, is also my internet line. Don’t get me wrong, I could live the rest of my life without hearing another ringing phone because 9 times out of 10 it’s just someone wanting you to do something for them anyway. What I cannot live without is the internet. For all I know, Yankee Candle is giving away candles for free today. I’m sure that I’m missing an important tip from Adam and Eve on how to revolutionize my sex life, and somewhere in Nigeria, some tortured soul is looking for me to help them with just my bank account and routing number. Instead of receiving all that fascinating information, I’m sitting here in the virtual fucking dark with no candles and not a clue of what to do with Fidel’s penis, and God knows how batshit crazy that poor Nigerian is without my bank account and routing number.

I’m writing this in Microsoft Word while it’s fresh in my mind, because I’m counting on one of you who happens to speak Spanish to send me your cell phone number so that I may call you and give you the pleasure of screaming, “You have cut my phone line AGAIN, motherfuckers” at the workers the next time I’m without phone and internet. I’m out there smiling at them and the whole time I bet they were thinking, “This bitch has no idea we have cut her lines” as they waved and smiled back at me.

Tonight, we are sitting at home because our babysitter stabbed her husband or something, causing him to need an emergency room visit. Trying to salvage the evening, we made a fire, ordered chinese food and popped Christmas Vacation in the DVD player. Fidel walked over to mess around with the surround sound system and Moggie was sitting on the couch and she said - plain as day - goddammit. Fidel popped around and said, "What did you say?" and Tootie piped in, "I think she said goddammit". All of this while Nick the Elf watched from the mantle. Thank goodness we have a backup plan in place because I have a feeling that Santa will be crossing us off of his list.

I went to the Hallmark store near my house yesterday to buy my stepmother her annual Vera Bradley bag and as I was checking out I complimented the cashier on their VB selection because they really do have a great selection. Anyway, turns out that chick was the buyer for that section so she offered me an Elf at 40% off, plus she gave me this cute penguin votive holder for free. It does pay to be nice to people. That's 2 rewards in 2 days for being so chatty and pleasant. Don't blow your drinks out of your nose, bitches, I'm actually a pleasant person to be around. I may occasionally spill something on your ass or hug you too often if I've had too much to drink but I'm not unpleasant. Where was I? Oh yes, the Elf. The girls named him Nick and he's cute. They loved the story but Tootie said the Elf was wooden and not real, that I bought him in a store. I'm not above lying so I told her that he was indeed magical and from the North Pole. It's funny to watch the girls get away from the Elf to do their devilment, like fighting. Nick is on the mantle today and when they start scrapping they stop and take the fight to another room to avoid Nick's detection. I think Nick is going to do something naughty tonight. Fidel and I are going to a party a few doors down and I know I'll drink despite my gouty foot because I like to drink more than I'm afraid of a little pain, so there's no telling what Nick will get into.

Today, Tootie brought home her work from this week, just like she does each Friday. We sit together and read over what she's done and today I found her Christmas list book. That little turkey has asked Santa for sheets for her bed. Can you imagine what her teachers think of us?! I bet they picture her sleeping on a bare, dirty mattress since the poor monkey is asking Santa for bedsheets. I swear, if Toys for Tots shows up on our doorstep bearing gifts I'm going to spank her ass. I feel like I need to email her teacher to explain that the child just has a genuine fondness for linens and isn't in need of any domestics, but that would just be weird.

I should have stayed in bed this morning. Instead, I hopped out on my poor gouty foot and began what turned out to be an annoying, inconvenient, if-it-can-go-wrong-it-will type of day. First of all, I had to take what just may be the ugliest red velvet cake ever made to the PTA hens for the Christmas teachers' luncheon. I overcooked it a little and had to trim it up, so it was crumbly and I wrestled with it so long, my icing got too warm and didn't cover like I wanted it to. Luckily, red velvet cakes love pecans so I chopped up a few handfuls and masked my messy frosting job. I loaded Moggie up and planned to take the ugly cake by the school, along with the book exchange book that I forgot to send with Tootie. Click-ick-ick-ick-ick. The VOS wouldn't start. The f-ing battery was dead, again. By some sort of miracle, my cellphone wasn't dead so I was able to get another mom to take Moggie to school so I was just stuck with the ugly cake. I called Fidel to walk me through using the battery charger. I think he was already seeing the life insurance check coming, hearing that I had opened the hood of the car and was standing there with the clampy things asking him where to clip them. I managed to charge the battery without killing myself or burning the house down and I felt a little empowered. Most of all, I felt sweaty because I sweat like a whore in church when I get stressed out, plus it is ungodly hot for December. My hair had been styled by humidity and I looked like one big, hot mess. I drove up onto the sidewalk at school and threw Ugly Cake at one of the PTA hens who tried to direct me to some tables to work but I just pretended not to hear her and ran away while yelling for them to enjoy the cake I hired a lady to make. No way I was taking credit for that crooked, crumbly thing. After escaping the manual labor, I set out to finish up my Christmas shopping and pre-Christmas returns. Home to wrap presents, eat lunch, blah blah blah. While all the blah blah blah was going on, stupid Wiener Dog decided to chew through the cord to my GD vacuum cleaner. As if there isn't enough to do in the short time left before Christmas, I have to make a trip across town to see the Vacuum Doctor. I've always been chatty with the VD and it's paying off because I was able to get him to promise me he could have it back to me by Monday. I need to scoot on over there and get it dropped off before Fidel finds it because he will be sticking that shit back together and wrapping it up with electrical tape and I'll never touch that vacuum again. Fidel is pretty handy but I'm fussy about getting electrocuted and I don't allow him to work on my crap.

My uterus is freaking killing me. Luckily for everyone else around me, I'm medicated to the gills or else things would be ugly around here. I finally took the Aquadots back to Wal-Mart today for a refund and the moron behind the counter kept telling me to go get another box so she could ring it up or exchange it. I told her at least 3 times that they had been recalled because they were poisonous and were not on the shelves. Apparently I wasn't doing my customer-to-moron exchange in a manner that she could understand so finally I said "FUCK this, I will take them to Toys R Us where they will refund them with no questions asked, you gd idiot". Actually I just rolled my eyes and said "I'll take them to TRU, they will take them back" when I really wanted to stuff the cat sculpture my daughter made underneath her dumbass eyelids until she was poisoned herself.

Toys R Us actually took back the Aquadots, no questions asked, and refunded the money back onto my Visa, not even making me do a store credit. I was very impressed with that so I tried to shop there but walked out empty handed. You know your kids have too much crap when you can't even spend free money in TRU. I did get a lot done this morning but yet the house looks like pigs live here. I burnt all my energy finalizing Christmas shopping and doing errands. I stuffed my guts with a McRib, which is on the 3rd annual farewell tour, and all I want to do is sit here in a ball and think about vacuuming out my evil uterus. I have no need for it any more and all it does is cause me pain and misery. It has made me forget all about my gouty foot.

Have you seen The Elf on the Shelf? He's as cute as a button and a fun thing to do with your kids in the weeks before Christmas. I have been meaning to pick one up but I'm late doing everything and I haven't gotten one yet. Sometimes procrastination pays off because we have taken that concept and used something we already had to do our own version of the Elf. We are using good old deer crap. Yes, you read that correctly. We have replaced the cute, clean little elf with a pile of deer pellets.

Our house backs up to a protected greenspace and creek, and we have a bunch of wildlife. You can sit in our family room and watch squirrels in the treetops, and chipmunks on the ground. We have raccoons, rabbits, many kinds of birds and deer. The deer like to come around to eat my pansies and then they leave us some poop in the yard. This morning, Wiener Dog was caught eating a pile of deer turds and Fidel came in to tell me and Tootie about it. Tootie brightened up and said, "Reindeer poop, Dad?" and our story just came from that. We told her that Santa's reindeer come to check and see if kids are being good and keeping their rooms clean, and if they were being good, there was no poop left in the yard, but if they were being bad the reindeer marked the yard with their poop. She really loved that story and I think it will be fun for her. I was about to warn her against going to school and talking about the reindeer turds but then I realized that since I had shown her some Mr. Hankey clips on You Tube last night, deer turds would be a better option for kindergarten conversation. She loves Mr. Hankey. Fidel looked over at me as Mr. Hankey sang and told me I was Mother of the Year material. Hi-dee Ho!

Like King Henry VIII, I am stricken with the gout. I have a big knot on the side of my foot where by big toe is attached and it hurts like a MoFo. I had a consulation this evening with Dr. Google and I'm not very impressed with this condition. No good drugs, no pampering or coddling. The advice for gout is basically to lose some of your fat ass and stop eating so much meat and booze. For the person who considers a big filet and half a bottle of wine a nice, balanced meal, this pretty much blows. I drowned my sorrows in a small glass of eggnog and bourbon and I'm hoping for a miracle cure. Bippity-boppity-bout, please go away, gout. As you get older you know that you will end up suffering from something but geesh, why couldn't I have something treated with some nice recreational drugs? I read that gout may be diagnosed by analyzing the fluid surrounding the inflamed joint. Unless this baby suddenly develops a blowhole I'm thinking the only way to procure this fluid is to stick a needle into my foot and I'm not about to do that. I suffered through an attempt to aspirate a ganglion cyst and when that was done, I stood up on the doctors table like Scarlett O'Hara and said, As God as my witness, I will never have a mass aspirated again and that was that. When you alter a classic literary passage to declare something you have to stick to it. Knowing my quack of a doctor he treats gout with morphine or something so it may be worth a trip over there. I hate having a HMO plan because I like to have 2 doctors. I had a real doctor and a quack doctor. The quack was easy to get into and all I had to do was tell him what I wanted. I went to him when I had like a sinus infection to get Z-pack, and then if I felt like I had bronchitis or something a little more serious, I'd go to my real doctor. Now I just have the quack. And that quack isn't sticking any needles toward my foot unless he chloroforms my ass first.

I'll just say it, I don't like the Bratz dolls. I don't like the way the name is deliberately misspelled, the way they dress, look, NOTHING about the Bratz. They are just tacky. I've said it. Some of you may be annoyed with me but hopefully you will get over it if I promise to send you the little hoochie dolls should someone gift my children with them. They look like they would hang around with Paris Hilton. I went to TRU yesterday with a friend and she was paying $100 dollars for a Bratz globe. She said her daughter loves geography and she wanted her a globe. I just looked at her, waiting on the punch line to what appeared to be a joke and it never came. I'm always surprised when I see people with carts full of that Bratz mess. Hopefully they are just ridding the world of it one cart at a time and plan to burn it in the fireplace. I'm not a miser but I just can't see paying $100 on something that would make me cringe every time I saw it. My friend will see my point when her little one asks her to visit Kanzaz or Texaz, perhaps the Bahamaz. I think the Bratz dolls use the z in place of the s because slut, skank and skeezy all start with s and they are burnt out on hearing the s sound.

Dear Santa,

Let's talk a little about my Christmas list. I hope you have a prescription pad because I really need something to keep me from buying a stun gun and shocking my hard-headed ass children when they ignore me for the 100th fucking time. I've tried everything short of tasering the little assholes and I just can't win. Yesterday, Moggie took a pair of wire clippers to a $300 fake olive topiary and gave it a pruning Edward Scissorhands would have applauded. Or clicked, whatever the hell that weirdo does to show his admiration. I had to have me a special Irish coffee to recover from that one. Ok, I had to have 3 special Irish coffees and an extra happy pill.

Next thing I'd like is to have a good therapist to come in and talk me out of dreaming about my teeth breaking off and dead bison. I would prefer dreams of martinis and shopping.

Yes, Santa, I know that you can't drug me into someone who can make her children listen without employing a wooden spoon, nor can you voodoo the strange dreams out of me, so I'll give you a list of things that you can buy to numb my pain a little. These things are in no particular order, so feel free to pick whatever you would rather me have.

iPod Nano
Cast Iron double griddle

See Santa, I'm not a particularly greedy bitch. Just bring my stuff and no one gets hurt. I'll even invite you over for pancakes cooked on my griddle. Peace out.

My grandfather isn't doing well. I'm having a hard time with this but I'm still trying to keep going because I have 2 children and a husband depending on me. Honestly, I'd love to just have a good breakdown and sleep for a week. I know it's coming so I'd rather just do it and get it over with. Instead, I'm carrying on as best as I can, but really what else am I going to do?

Tonight while making dinner (Alton Brown's Swiss Steak recipe, which kicks ass) I was listening to XM's "Music City Christmas", nothing but country music Christmas songs. I kept having flashes of walking through the woods to find a Christmas tree with my Papa, or spotting one during the year and telling each other to remember where it was so we could go back to get it in December. I know I'm blessed to have such memories but right now they are breaking my heart. So I'm in the kitchen doing my thing, bopping along to Jingle Bell Rock one minute, bawling my eyes out while Tammy Wynette sings Silent Night the next. I know I said that Christmas music was keeping me sane, but honestly I think it's just driven me into being Total Batshit Crazy. I had my little perfect housewife apron on, preparing a meal at 4:30 in the afternoon so the meat would be tender, while I smiled and laughed at my children. I probably looked pretty together but I had the realization that I'm anything but together. I'm just a domestic lunatic.

On a funnier note, I was in Tootie's room changing her sheets to flannel tonight, and she and Moggie were sitting down on the floor watching me. They had a conversation that went like this:

Tootie: Mama, can we have balloons for Jesus's birthday?
Me: Sure
Moggie: Mama, can I pick the pinata for Jesus?
Tootie: (rolling eyes) Moggie, Jesus isn't actually coming down
Moggie: He isn't?
Tootie: No, he's staying up there with the dead animals

I guess I must tell you that when one of our turtles died, I had a talk with Tootie about dead animals going to live with Jesus. I thought my lesson in death had gone well, and we ended in a question and answer session. Tootie asked if all dead animals went to Heaven to live with Jesus and I told her yes, I imagined that they did. She looked right at me and said, "Mama. Why would Jesus collect dead pets?" and I couldn't stop laughing. I still laugh thinking about that.

I have a horrible earache and thanks to our HMO I can't see our doctor until Wednesday. I can't hear out of my left ear and if some lunatic was stabbing me in the ear with an icepick it wouldn't hurt much worse. I wish we had a PPO like we did in the old days because I could go to one of the plentiful urgent care centers and get some happy pills. I may end up going anyway because this pain is just unbearable. I'm a little freaked out about ear infections because I get them all the time, and so did my grandmother. She was on a plane going to compete on Jeopardy! when she completely lost her hearing and hasn't gotten it back to this day. I don't really want to be deaf. Well, maybe I do sometimes when the children won't zip it but that's a halfhearted wish. There are a lot of things I don't mind spending $100 on but I hate dumping that much on something that should only cost $25. I should call up there and say, Look. My ear hurts like a MoFo and I need to come by and get checked out, but for $100 I feel like I should get more than just an antibiotic. How about you give me a bottle of Mommy's Little Helpers for my trouble? Or maybe a bottle of the wonderful Histex cough syrup? That would probably get a note of Crazy Woman written in my chart, though. I'm a nightmare bargainer at a flea market or yard sale but I have a feeling that wouldn't go over so well in the doctor's office.

I'm watching Bear Grylls on Discovery and I just wonder how often he gets laid. He's not a bad looking guy but I can't imagine how a guy who pisses on his shirts to wrap around his head, and eats live spiders and lizards manages to convince someone to have sex with him. Right now he just threw his canteen at a cobra while advising viewers to not provoke said cobra. I personally wouldn't want that mouth any where near me and if I saw his penis I would be scared of getting peed on because it seems like he has to involve his pee in every scenario. He's gross like Shrek.

Speaking of Shrek, did you catch Shrek the Halls this week? Luckily, Fidel Tivo'd that for us. We have watched it about 10 times already. It's hilarious. Hopefully that will be on every year or out on DVD or something.

My Grandmother told her preacher she wanted cow cock and cabbage for dinner. You are probably asking yourself why, so I'll explain in a nutshell. My grandmother is completely senile.

On Sunday morning, I got a call from my stepmother telling me that my beloved Grandfather had just suffered a stroke. My Grandmother's sister was driving by their house, going to church, and saw my Papa laying in the yard with my Ma-ma trying to help him up. She stopped and helped them out because poor Ma-ma doesn't have sense enough to call an ambulance. Long story short, the ambulance came, transported him to a helicopter landing area and the helicopter took Papa to the hospital. I threw some clothes into my weekend bag and headed out for the 4-hour drive on Thanksgiving weekend Sunday. I went straight to my Papa's house and let my Daddy go up to the hospital. I stayed with Ma-ma from Sunday until around 2 pm today.

One thing I love about my family is that they all have a great sense of humor and they are all funny. Obviously, sometimes when they aren't even trying. Southerners have odd relationships with their pastors and if someone in the household is sick, you can be assured that any man who has ever stood behind a pulpit within a 20-mile radius will be on the doorstep near 'bout faster than a fruitcake or a fried chicken. My Ma-ma's preacher made it to their house before the ambulance. He is a pretty young fellow, about 38, and I just don't think my Ma-ma gets it that he is the preacher. I really think she mistakes him for one of my cousins because she responds to him just like she does my cousin, which is normally with some crazy filthy talk since they always have tried to out-embarrass each other. So when the preacher was up there, in his Clemson shirt and jeans, he asked her what she was having for dinner since she has to be pushed to eat. She looked right at him and said, I want some cow cock and cabbage, do you have any of that? That poor guy looked at me and I shrugged my shoulders like, Well, whaddaya do? My cousin was in the room as well and I knew right then that Ma-ma just took the crown for Grand Champion Embarrasser. You just can't top telling a Baptist preacher you want some cow cock and cabbage. And she just didn't stop at once, she said that to him three times. I'm sure the prayers were peppering God that night. I know for a fact that Ma-ma was keeping God on his toes because she said her bedtime prayers about 12 times. Not because she wanted to say that many prayers, but in the 20 minutes that it took her to fall asleep, she forgot that many times. Like good old folks do, my grandparents sleep in the same room but in separate beds so I slept in Papa's bed to keep her company. So believe you me, I am good with God now.

All that extra praying did some good, though. On Tuesday evening, we as a family were resigned to Papa dying where he was because he had become unresponsive. By Wednesday at lunchtime, that tough old rascal had stood up from his bed and was talking to us on the phone. It's not perfectly clear but you can definitely understand him. Looks like he's on the mend. Hopefully Ma-ma won't offer him any cow cock and cabbage when he gets home.

I did most of my cooking and drudgery yesterday in preparation for the Turkey Coma today. I wanted to have everything except for turkey and stuffing and gravy done so that I'd have time to watch the parade with my beautiful angels and dear husband. Well the beautiful angels bitched and moaned about anything and everything, and asked me every 23.6 seconds, "Is it time for the parade yet?" until I was forced to the medicine cabinet to drug the devil out of me. I really need to get some booze that works with coffee because honey, there are days that booze with coffee would really help. Like Thanksgiving, and Mondays. I started to pop a Xanax but I didn't want to end up doing the tango around the kitchen with the raw turkey. That wouldn't be the worst or most gross thing I've done under the influence of Xanax, unfortunately.

Anyway, we all survived another Thanksgiving. Tootie even led us in a prayer and we went around the table saying what we were thankful for. The Baptists taught her well. Dinner was delicious, blah blah blah. I got my nap and did my online shopping so I can even sleep in tomorrow since I've blown my budget already. All in all, it was a pretty good day. Hope you all had a great day as well!

Tootie brought home another penis picture today. This one is a scarecrow. Either my kid's a perv or I'm a perv. Ok, obviously I'm the perv here because that penis that I'm seeing is really the pole the scarecrow is mounted on. I thought it was pretty funny that I thought the pole was a pecker. I need to get my mind out of the gutter.

That Calliou is a rotten little bastard. He gets on my nerves and I thank goodness that he's neither real nor mine because I would be a horrible mother for him. He just woke his napping sister despite his grandmother's repeated pleadings for him to speak softly and I swear my blood pressure rose. I think God knew that I couldn't handle a Calliou so he just made him a little bald 5-year old drawn by some sadistic asshole. I just wish that the folks at PBS had left Calliou in France or wherever he's from, and sent Max from Max and Ruby over to live with him to be tormented or served for dinner, whichever. There's another cartoon needing an attitude adjustment. Ruby is a saint for dealing with that little monster but I have the feeling she's on Baby Bunny Paxil because really, who could deal with him so calmly?

Funny has stepped out for the moment, but her cooler friend Shop Around Sue is here to take her place. Don't tell your husbands about Shop Around Sue, she's our secret until the bills come.

From the wonderful world of www.retailmenot.com, here are some fantabulous shopping codes for Dec. 1-3 (roughly, read the details below) at some of my favorite stores: Old Navy, Gap and Banana Republic. How about some 20-30% off, girls? Remember to use ebates for bonus savings, I think it's 3% but that's just from my memory and that's not very reliable.

Old Navy-Friends & Family on line code good from Nov 27-Dec 3---20% off code F8JXXP9RGCNJ

Banana Republic Friends & Family on line code- 30% off Dec 1-3 QLOV5931S3G5

Gap Friends & Family on line code-30% off Nov 30-Dec 3 D1L36GG596NL

My daddy is a hilarious man, because he's crazy. He has restless leg syndrome, which he calls Jimmy Legs, and has a quack doctor that prescribes Vicodin and Valium cocktails for the RLS. I have made fun of Daddy and called him Ozzy Osbourne with his pills, but now I see why the poor guy needs all those fabulous drugs. You see, I too suffer from the gd Jimmy Legs. And the gout. And the crazy. I am slowly turning into my dad as I age. I'm beginning to realize that his doctor isn't as much of a quack as she is a compassionate soul who understands the pure misery inflicted by the Jimmy Legs. I need to go see my quack doctor and see how sympathetic he is to a poor Jimmy Legs sufferer. He will probably just up my dosage of my crazy pills and send me home to suffer in obliviousness.

No humor here, just some serious shopping tips. I have been doing a ton of online shopping today because I had too much to do around here to actually get dressed and leave for any length of time. I plan to have a stress-free Thanksgiving for the first time in my married life and I'm busting my ass for the weekend and the next 3 days so that I can slip into that blissful turkey coma on Thursday afternoon.

Back to my online shopping tips....

1. Open Ebates account. It's FREE, EASY and you get refunds from so many stores that you actually use. I just ordered some gifts from Sephora and I got free shipping and by using a discount code from www.retailmenot.com, I saved 20 flipping percent. On prestige cosmetics. Tell me how phenomenal that is. I also ordered some gifts from www.target.com and I got 4% back from ebates. Loving it.

2. ALWAYS check out www.retailmenot.com. Even if a code doesn't work or if it's expired, try calling the company's customer service and ask nicely to get the discount. I did that with Land's End today and saved myself nearly $20 and the guy sounded happy to do it for me.

Happy shopping! I know it's fun to go to the mall and actually walk out with your gifts, but if you can get these rebates and use these discount codes it adds up to great savings. I got Leapster cartridges for less than $14 in my Target order this morning, and they have already shipped.

I have a kind of dominating personality and I work really hard at being laid-back, and unbossy in social situations. I was a tiger at work but now that I'm home and medicated I really strive to blend into the background and be less of that in-your-face type of gal, because even I know it's annoying as hell. I don't volunteer to be room mom or committee chairs of any sort. Anyway, I went to our neighborhood fall festival and met up with the Social Committee gals and clicked. I'm pretty crafty and creative and I have a lot of experience in party planning and entertaining groups of people. Of course by the end of that festival the dreaded words just fell out of my big fat mouth. You know, the Oh I'd love to be on the Social Committee, thank you for asking me! The moment the words fell from my lips my hands were in front of me trying to scoop them back in but it was too late. Eyes around me were lighting up and flashing, SUCKER! and there I was, a member of the Social Committee. I went to my first meeting yesterday and Fidel said to me before I left, Remember you volunteered for this, like he was giving me some sort of warning. I was baffled by his comment so I just said, whatever, and headed out to the clubhouse. I came home with a few projects to do. Today, I have to go scope out our entrances and design the Christmas decorations. I also have to find the proper glass ornaments and craft supplies to decorate them for our clubhouse Christmas tree. Like I don't have enough to do to decorate my own home, here I am cheerily volunteering to do the neighborhood stuff. I think my subconscious is driving me to do this to recruit some new drinking buddies. Les is pregnant and doesn't pop in randomly for cocktails any more. I bought her some sparkling cider for our last cocktail party and she called me a bitch for it.

I have been goat-roped into babysitting, yet again. This is the last straw for me with the whole babysitting deal. This child was dropped off last night at bedtime and has been with me for the entire day. It's nearly 5 pm and I'll have her until dinner time, most likely. It's apparently of no consequence that I had things planned, like a social committee meeting and planting pansies and removing some monstrous cannas from my front flower beds. All of this while having 3 children, one of which did not exit my uterus, pepper me with questions about anything and everything you can imagine. I did everything short of screaming shut the fuck up and get away from me and still couldn't shake the children. They were like tapeworms, but worse because they never shut their damned mouths. The playroom, which was extremely enticing at 6:30 am, held no interest for the children while I was trying to work. I haven't had my nap, have had the pure shit aggravated out of me while trying to work, and I had to have poor Fidel babysit for me for 2 hours while I met with the other hens about our neighborhood's 2008 social schedule. The icing on the cake was when the neighbor kid came over. The neighbor kid's mom has been saying for weeks, let me help you work in those flower beds, I really want to. Yet when she sees me out there actually working, I learn that her definition of helping is sending me another fucking kid to babysit. He was over here for an hour and a half until I sent him home. No sign of the mom whatsoever. Just that annoying fucking kid bullying the girls and harassing the dogs, and stomping around in my flowerbeds.I hate to be an asshole but goddammit, my weekends are for ME and my family. I haven't even been able to go to the grocery store or to Eddie Bauer to use my 20% coupon that expires tomorrow. I'll be stuck doing that tomorrow instead of napping, so my whole fucking weekend has been shot to hell. Not that I'm bitter or anything.

Update
I must admit that I was just a grouchy bitch yesterday. My extra kid was actually very good but I got woken up early and didn't get a nap. I didn't get a nap last weekend because I was keeping this same kid and when Mama don't get her nap things just aren't good. If I babysit I want the kid picked up by 2 so I can get my weekend nap. I live for weekend naps.

It's finally cold here in north Georgia, so I made a fire in our fireplace this afternoon since I didn't have plans to leave the house for the rest of the day. I have 2 children, 1 wiener dog, 2 chihuahuas and 2 cats passed out cold in the family room. You would think I served them all Aquadot soup or something.

I'm sitting on the sofa with Moggie, watching Sprout, and she just started rubbing my hair and reciting a poem about Fuzzy Wuzzy. I called yesterday and made an appointment with my stylist for tomorrow, guess I was a little overdue. Don't you love the honesty of kids though? Yesterday while the TV repair guy was here, Tootie informed me that I had stinky breath and the repair guy was snickering. I don't know what he was laughing about because he smelled like a freaking billy goat. I had to open the windows and pull out the Febreze, he was a stinker. Nice guy and he fixed the glaucomavision we had going on but he needs to hit the Right Guard a little harder. I used to work with this guy, a hugger, and he had horses. He actually lived near my boyfriend at the time and since we all worked together and they carpooled, I said to my boyfriend one night, Does Dennis ride or groom those horses before you guys come to work? and my boyfriend was like, No, why? so I told him, well, he always smells like a horse and after he stopped laughing, he told me that Dennis was allergic to deodorant and I was smelling BO. BO and coffee breath do not combine for an attractive smell, let me tell you. It would suck to be allergic to deodorant. I don't like smelling bad. I like smelling like Vera Wang perfume, not farm animals. The bad thing is that you always hear about how bad deodorant is for you, something about aluminum and memory. I can handle not remembering crap, I can't handle being fragrant and sticky in the armpits. Really though, having a crappy memory isn't all bad. I'm pretty good at making lists and writing stuff down to remind myself of important things. I'm also pretty good at forgetting stuff so if someone pisses me off they can just steer clear of me for a week and then I can't remember why I was mad at them and it's all good again.

After I dropped Moggie off at preschool, I had to swing by my drive-thru dentist and I was out of there in about 2 minutes. I called my friend CVO to see if she wanted to join me for a 1000-calorie breakfast at Mimi's but she was in the gym or some other such nonsense, which really put me in a predicament because I wanted some fat and conversation. I just kept driving and headed for Hobby Lobby to get me a little fix, and on the way there I noticed a sign in our newest strip mall development that said, "Coming soon: Toys R Us, Babies R Us, Steinmart, Shoe Carnival and Loemanns". Now I had no idea what a Loemanns was but I was so excited about it. I think I heard angels singing from heaven. Lord knows, Mama loves some shopping. I seriously got a little rush, I have a sickness. On to HL I went. I got that warm, fuzzy feeling while steering my rickety little cart through the aisles and even had a few little craft things in my basket. Things were going fine until I looked down and saw Skid Row Santa. He was so beat down that I snapped right out of the retail bliss coma and I put my junk back on the shelf and left. The thought of snapping a picture of him with my camera phone crossed my mind but then I thought I should just cover him with a tree skirt or something because he was a sad sight. Poor guy looked like he took a pickaxe to the forehead, with his head all smashed in. I really should have bought him to curb my shopping adventures but I'm not the sanest person in the world and I have a feeling my conversations with Skid Row Santa would have me committed by Easter. SRS, whadda ya say we head over to Sephora? Come on, I'll let you scare the kids in the play area! Damn buzzkill...

I left Hobby Lobby empty handed and headed for Hardee's. I had a nice country ham biscuit and some OJ, and I'm about to go to Kohls to spend a gift card. I have to be back home by noon because Tootie has early release from school at noon. I'll get her off the bus, head to Moggie's school at 1, and take both of those little monkeys to the salon to get a trim.

This afternoon, Moggie and I came home after preschool and let the dogs outside and got cornered by a neighbor. While I was out there chatting, the TV repair guy called and cancelled on me since I didn't answer the phone, and my Sweet Prince ran into a freaking rosebush and gouged out his one good eye. He lost sight in one eye due to glaucoma and he couldn't have hurt that eye, he had to hurt the one good one. He's 11 so he has some more years left in him and I think he'd prefer to have a little vision, so I called the vet and he came over to put this dye stuff in his eye and found a corneal ulcer and now I have to put this antibiotic ointment in the poor guy's eye 4 times a day. He's my baby so I can deal with that.

Fidel came home and since it was Spirit Night for Tootie's school, we went to this pizza joint that we don't normally frequent. We knew it wasn't going to be fun but we really didn't expect it to be pure fucking hell. We had to wait on the sidewalk in a line to even get into the door. It took about 20 minutes to get in and once we did, it was pure and utter mayhem. I suppose I deserved a horrible night because I was making fun of one of my friends, who is on the PTA at her kids' school because they do Waffle House night. I called her a redneck and laughed at her so I got stuck at the Pizza Hell. From now on I'm just going to say no to spirit night at this joint.

Here's to a better Tuesday.

You know, from time to time we all go through funks for no apparent reason. Someone close to me is in a funk right now, and since I understand the funk I'm sympathetic and I'm doing what I can to help this person out. However, I am not willing to be a punching bag and that's what I'm getting treated as. I'm speaking metamorphically, not literally. A lot of times you can say the same thing to three different people and have each of them interpret it differently. When you have someone who is overly sensitive and turns everything you say into an insult or a dig, it makes it really, really hard to continue communication. I'm in that Why Bother frame of mind now, because no matter how innocently I say something it gets turned around and I'm the bad guy. One thing about me is you get what you see. If I like you, you know it and if I don't like you, you really know it. I don't try to be mysterious or hard to read, especially with those that I'm close to. I'm one of those friends that you better not ask my opinion unless you really want it because I'm just not the type of person to say what you want to hear, I'll give you my real opinion. At this point I have no idea where I'm going with this. I'm just frustrated because no matter what I do, it's wrong and I'm not graceful enough to walk on eggshells.

Sorry to be such a downer on a Monday morning. Hopefully I'll have some great adventure or funny story to share this afternoon. Our tv repair guy is supposed to come by today to fix our tv which has been broadcasting in glaucomavision. It's a rear-projection tv and the convergence unit is off, which has slightly separated the 3 colors so when you watch tv your eyes feel all bulgy and distorted like you have glaucoma. Maybe I should start smoking maryjane until the tv is fixed.

I have been doing laundry and changing sheets upstairs tonight. Moggie crashed out watching Sprout in bed, and Tootie wanted a snack so she came downstairs with me. The TV landed on TNT somehow and The Wizard of Oz was just starting. Tootie is entranced so we are watching it together. The Munchkin Coroner just declared the Wicked Witch of the East sincerely dead. I'm getting peppered with a gazillion "How comes?" but this is really cool, to sit with my daughter watching a movie I loved as a kid. She looks very sleepy so I don't know how long she will last. The Wicked Witch of the West just popped up so she's a little freaked out now. I should probably put her to bed before those damn flying monkeys appear or else she will be sleeping in my bed tonight.

Fidel is in NYC this week and today he emailed me from his Crackberry to tell me he was at the L'Occitane shop and asked me if I wanted anything. I wanted to tell him to bring me one of everything but I wasn't greedy, so I told him I didn't need anything. I really don't need anything because through the beauty that is Ebates I can get cash back and free shipping by ordering online so I just get whatever I need from the online store. I love L'Occitane though. Wasn't it sweet of him to ask if I wanted something? He spoils me rotten. Plus he makes beautiful babies and keeps me fed. I might deserve a little treat for keeping his damn wiener dog for him while he's been gone. She's the cutest dog in the world but she is extremely spoiled. She sits in front of his recliner crying for someone to sit down and cuddle her. She's high maintenance, just like everyone else in this house.

Speaking of dogs and this house, our dogs live in Fidel's office, which is right by the front door off the foyer. It smells so freaking bad. I've washed dogs, bedding, shampooed carpet and it still stinks to Hell. I bought this bag of rocks at Home Depot this morning and threw them in the office, and it already smells way better. These rocks are in a net bag and work for like 6-8 months, then you put them in the sun for 6 hours to "refresh" and they work for another 6-8 months, and then you refresh them in the sun again. They don't smell like anything and you can just hide the bag under some furniture. I'm loving these rocks. I was in the cleaning aisle faced with a wall of products that directed me to vacuum, or blot, or repeat application and so on and when I read unwrap and throw under furniture I was sold. Those are my kind of instructions. Unwrap, walk away and say goodbye to the funk.

My friend Stacy called me this morning while I was driving Moggie to preschool to tell me she got solicited by a JW in the Dunkin' Donuts parking lot. She was rushing to get some grub and get to work and here's this lazy ass JW trying to hand her a Watchtower. I would have been like, "Unless that's a donut coupon, keep walking sister". I mean really, that's kind of lazy isn't it? Just hanging out at your car to pass out leaflets as people walk by you to get some food. Kind of like those hunters baiting game and then shooting them at the feed through. L-a-z-y. I would really be nervous to go ringing doorbells but I'm a little paranoid that way. Sometimes you can run across a harmless prankster like me, but you could really run across really dangerous people. Maybe Jehovah sends down a package deal in the Cult Kit, with a taser, pepper spray, and stacks of Watchtowers along with an autographed copy of How to Alienate People and Lose Favor. I wish I could see some statistics on how many folks are actually recruited on the doorbell drives. You know they say they have won the battle even if you are hiding and won't answer the door. They say their presence automatically makes you think of God. Well, that's true. Every time I see them I call out to Jesus, kind of in the way that I call to him when I see an oncoming cop car when I'm speeding. Jesus. Yes, it's blasphemy but at least it keeps Ratfuck from passing my lips and that's what I really want to say.

Now, I'm off to continue my gardening adventures this morning. One of the featured blurbs in the marketing materials for our neighborhood was something like, "Every home professionally landscaped by a master designer", which I'm calling bullshit on since I have some jacked up landscaping. We have these big ugly-ass Cannas in our front bed that just throw everything out of whack because they are so big and out of scale compared to the rest of the landscaping. Cannas are tropical, and while they are pretty in the right setting, our home has a woodland feel about it, with the stones and architectural features. Definitely not tropical, so the Cannas are going to the great garden in the sky. The Japanese Beetles loved chowing down on them so there's another reason for them to go.

Hope you have a great Friday!

Here are pictures of the much-discussed drapes! I only got 2 crummy pictures before Fidel's camera battery died so this is the best I can do for now. These drapes are for 2 windows, one flanking each side of our family room fireplace. This is the right side, and the left side is reversed so that the long side is on the left.

The next step is painting the room, but that involves painting a coffered ceiling and it can wait because that ceiling will absolutely suck!

You know how I've been bitching and begging any seasonal mythical creature who will listen for a new computer because of the whack-ass lines running down my screen? Well, my angel of a husband came home late from a business dinner last night looking beat down tired and started fiddling around with his computer. Next thing I know, he had swapped out the drives in our identical laptops so now I have the good computer. How sweet is that? I know I'm not normally sappy but I was really touched.

Speaking of touching, I had my semi-annual dental cleaning right before Halloween and I've had freaking gingivitis ever since. I don't normally have this problem but I'm just eat up with swollen painful gums. Maybe she used some dirty floss on me or something. They are probably tired of my teeth being healthy so they are sabotaging my dental health so they can squeeze some money out of my insurance company. Little do they know that there's no way in hell I'll let them do anything beyond cleaning and fillings, and the filling part is even questionable because they don't do sedation. Sedation dentistry is a beautiful thing and it's about the only humane way to work on someone's teeth. Why would anyone suffer through something like a root canal while wide awake? I'm all for a Valium appetizer and some sweet gas or an IV for dental procedures. I'm a freak about dental work so it's in everyone's best interest if I'm in la-la land if I need anything done. Too bad the gyno's office hasn't bought into the whole sedation thing. That whole experience would be much more pleasurable. Valium appetizer, pap smear and a nice dinner afterwards. I should go into business selling these ideas. Don't you always feel like they should at least buy you dinner after you get up into the stirrups?

This afternoon, Donna was over here hanging my drapes that Fidel still doesn't know about. She had just came in and I was going to get a step stool when I heard a crazy thump thump thump wheeeeeaaahhhhhhhh sound and Donna's eyes were as big as dinner plates. Turns out the crazy noise was my poor Moggie taking the quick way down the stairs, ass over teakettle, forehead first into the hardwood floor. She had tripped over her long nightgown and she slid down an entire flight of wooden stairs. Donna was closer to her and she ran to grab her and passed her to me, and when I saw the huge goose egg on her forehead I seriously nearly fainted. Not just overusing the nearly fainted phrase, I seriously was on my way to fainting until good ol' Jersey girl Donna yelled at me and brought me back to my senses. She totally saved the day because I am SO not good at seeing my children injured. Common sense just flies out the window and I'm left looking like a hysterical idiot. I probably would have called 911 when I came to if I had been here alone. I look at it this way, the drapes led to Donna being here, which for sure saved us more money than I spent on the drapes. I don't imagine ambulance rides are cheap.

The drapes look wonderful, Moggie is fine except for a big purple bruise, and now I just need to work on my "Ta-Daaa" and Vanna White pose for when Fidel gets home from a business dinner here shortly. Pray for me.

Fidel and I have a elderly rear-projection tv in our family room and it's dying a slow death. We spent the weekend debating about getting a new tv, but the problem with that is that they don't make the big tvs on stands any more, and we have a surround that's suited for only that kind of tv. If we went with a new tv, that means getting a new entertainment center and that quickly adds up to $5k. I have found a repairman in the area who gets a ton of rave reviews on a referral site, but there's always the few oddballs who have completely different reviews. For every 50 wonderful reviews, there's one guy saying the repairman abducted their television and hasn't returned it in 6 years or something. The funny thing about the internet is the anonymity afforded sometimes brings out the worst in people. I can't say that it doesn't bring out the worst in me because I have been guilty of being an asshole a time or two but that's not my general personality. I notice that a few of my favorite bloggers don't have open commenting, they have to approve each comment before they will post. For now my comment section is open, and I like to think that I can handle whatever ends up in my comments. So far the worst thing is the weirdo correcting my grammar but that made him look way worse than me, especially since I stated that my blog wasn't a monument to grammar.

If you blog, what's the strangest comment story you have to share?

I love watching the StatCounter Recent Keyword Activity report on this site. If Google is keeping notes on internet users, some of these people have to have "Freak" on their file labels. Here's a sampling of the searches that landed people on my site:

Fidel Back Spider Learn to spell, it's fiddle
i think i'm drunk Me too, sister, me too
deviant housewife Guilty!
Pumpkin Carving Cock Um, you can draw that, you don't really need a pattern for that do you?
live lice free Christ, the crap I'm associated with

I am thinking about embracing that whole Deviant Housewife thing. I can see a whole line of t-shirts with titles like, "Don't Ask Me For Things When I'm Drunk" and the always appropriate, "NOT Your Babysitter". I can share my tried and true tips on avoiding housework, not cooking and excuses for not having sex.

I had to go to the mall this morning to pay my Victoria's Secret bill, and the street around the mall was just in a terrible mess, covered in traffic cones. I had to zip through a couple of store lots to get to the mall entrance I wanted to use. When I was ready to leave, there was one car in front of me exiting the parking lot. I saw a ton of traffic cones in front of that car and I started to turn around and use another exit, but then that car turned right and I followed. I wish I had paid attention to the driver before I decided to follow them. It was a tiny little old lady who had to be sitting on a stack of phone books, and this woman was just plowing through traffic cones like crazy. She was clearing a path for me which was good for me, but then this chubby guy in an orange vest is running behind us trying to get us to stop. I could see the street I needed to turn on just ahead and granny was showing no signs of stopping so we just kept on course until she finished running over cones.

Have you ever heard of barking spiders? I haven't but now that I've heard the phrase and figured out what it means, I'm going to say this all the time. Fidel says it's when a lady farts, she blames it on a barking spider. Just hilarious! I like to fart and I like to be funny, so that phrase is an all-around winner for me. Woof woof!

My cocktail party was a lot of fun. I got a little too intoxicated but by the grace of God I'm not hung over in the least. I don't know if I've finally gotten good at drinking or if my good luck is due to all the water I drank yesterday, but either way I'm feeling way better than I should be feeling. I think I'm going to quit drinking while I'm on top though. I enjoy drinking and I have alcoholics in my branch of the family tree and I don't want to become one. Plus, I am fat as a tick and have gotten too fluffy for my fat britches so I'll be back in WW this week. Oh, joy.

Back to my drinking too much last night, I place the blame for that on this delicious cheese that I bought at Costco. It's by Cabot and it's a 3-year old cheddar, very crumbly and just heavenly. It screams for cabernet and last night I was obeying the cheese. I bought a Kirkland's Cabernet (yes, the Costco store brand) and I was embarrassed to even have it out but it was very good! My wine snob friend, CVO, even approved.

I hit the liquor store this morning for some cheap vodka after I dropped Moggie off at the Baptist church for preschool. I messed around too much this morning and didn't get makeup done so I did end up looking like I just rolled out of bed to get a cocktail. I was the only customer at the store, too. I started to ask them where the vodka was so that I didn't look like I was a regular but I realized that no one gives a shit so I didn't pretend that I was unfamiliar with their layout.

After I paid for my crap I left and took the interstate route home, and had to stop in front of the local adult business shop while waiting to enter the on-ramp. You would be surprised at how many perverts are at a porno shop at 9:30 in the morning. I won't even lie, I felt superior to them with my gallon of Svedka rolling around the back of my minivan. I sat there with my clinking bottles thinking, "Well at least I'm not a pervert". I order my stuff online. This porno shop just looks trashy with it's hand drawn logo. My friend Chrissy has absolutely NO shame and she will go there. She says that people scream "whore" at her from the street! Crazy times!

The Great Pumpkin was a bust. Maybe I was stood up because I didn't view the obligatory network airing of the GP, nor did I watch the DVD of it that we own. Or maybe it's because the Great Pumpkin is a big orange turd and can't be bothered to bring a little laptop to the woman who worked tirelessly all month to bring Halloween joy to some kids, JWs be damned. Either way, I'm here on this broke-ass laptop with multicolored vertical lines running down the screen. Looks like Santa is going to be getting lucky because I really, really need a new computer. How else can I bring joy to the ten of you reading me every day?

To soothe my wounds of neglect, I bought myself a pretty apron I've been lusting for. I had PayPal balance and last night I made apple dumplings, from scratch, and wore flour to trick or treat. Of course the flour was the final accessory to my Tipsy Housewife costume that I rocked, if I do say so myself. Perhaps I had so much flour down the front of me because I was sifting while drinking, but if I had a beautiful apron then I wouldn't have been covered in flour. If I didn't have two prima donna girls I wouldn't have been drunk at 6 pm but if a frog had wings he wouldn't bump his ass, yada yada yada. Oh get this. I slammed my drink so we could go out to beg for candy, because I didn't think it would be appropriate to walk around with booze. Boy was I wrong! Apparently it's A-ok to do that in this neighborhood because I saw moms with glasses of wine, no shame. I swear I will shed these crazy Baptist ideas one day, and my tipsy housewife costume will include a wine glass.

I was watching Martha today while doing laundry and there was some guy in Tennessee doing a Halloween feast, and he had these most adorable little silhouettes on his stairs. I am so upset that I just saw these because they are so freaking cute. I'm buying them for next year. I have the same wooden stairs and they would have been a hit with the girls.

Tootie brings a folder full of schoolwork and art projects home every Friday afternoon. This past Friday she threw her bookbag on the bench in our foyer and it remained there until Sunday night when I grabbed it to see if I needed to send in anything with her on Monday morning. I started digging through her work and I found this picture of Spongebob on the back of a completed worksheet. The worksheet didn't have a name on it so I wasn't sure if it was her work but I was praying that it wasn't. Not because half of the numbers on the worksheet were written backwards, but because this particular interpretation of Spongebob gave him, in the words of my eloquent husband, a cock and balls. I was laughing my ass off at Fidel in between moments of being disturbed that my daughter had drawn an anatomically correct sea critter. Actually it's probably more accurately anatomically incorrect since I'm about positive that sponges don't have penises, but when your daughter is drawing penises you don't really quibble about the sexual organs of sponges.

When she got off of the bus Monday afternoon, I showed her the picture and asked her what was going on near his pants. She told me it was a flying worm, and sure enough if you look there's the ribbed area on what I assume is the neck part of the worm, an eye in the proper spot and little wings. It appears that she didn't intend to draw a penis on the sponge but she just chose an unfortunate location for a flying worm. Fidel and I feel free to laugh at this drawing now, so here you go if you want to see what Spongebob would look like with a droopy penis.

Q: Dear Mama F, I would like to go out clubbing with my friends this Halloween. My wife isn't crazy about this idea.

ps- she is due to have our baby at any moment and already dilated 3 centimeters.

Signed, Nimwit in MN

A: Dear Nimwit in MN,
I love Halloween. It's probably one of my favorite holidays. But if your wife is due to give birth to your child at any second, going out clubbing is out of the question. Just in case a meteor from Planet Stupid fell out of the sky and struck all sense of reason out of your head, going out for something as stupid as clubbing on Halloween night and leaving your wife home with your other kid who isn't sleeping through the night is about as inconsiderate as you can get. It doesn't matter if you have your cell phone or pager. You are lucky to have a nice wife because if you were married to Mama F you would be scared to go to sleep at night for even letting such a selfish, moronic idea flit across your tiny little pea brain. Hell NO, it's not ok. It would be a better idea to smear yourself in honey and salmon guts and run around in a bear habitat screaming, "Eat me, bears" while wrestling with their cubs.

So, my little paper mache Halloween kitty got as far as me making the form and wrapping him in one layer of paper strips before I lost interest. He lived on my kitchen counter for 3 weeks until Fidel threw him in the trash because he was tired of looking at his crooked little body. Au revoir, mon chat.

I have to go get a few small pumpkins for the girls to paint this afternoon. We did the pumpkin carving party this weekend and some of the kids were painting pumpkins and Tootie decided she wanted to paint rather than carve. Two days later, she's still pestering me to paint a pumpkin and you know Moggie will flip out if she doesn't have one to paint, so back to the pumpkin patch I go. Fidel made roasted pumpkin seeds last night and they were good so I actually don't mind buying extra pumpkins if I get to eat the seeds. I never knew you could eat the shells but apparently you can since I ate them last night. Who knew?

In other news, I'm having a little girls cocktail party this Friday night. Fidel will be at some business thing so I'm having friends over. I need to draw up a menu and buy some booze. I'll do that tomorrow after I drop Moggie off at preschool. I feel pretty skanky hitting the liquor store at 9 am but I feel skankier dragging a preschooler along to buy booze so 9 am it is. I do make sure to put on makeup and do my hair so they don't think I just rolled out of bed looking for a gallon of vodka. I hate driving the VOS to the liquor store, too. I think I have some underlying Baptist shame about drinking! Thankfully for my friends, I don't have enough shame to call off this cocktail party. I love hanging out with the girls and it looks like there will be about 18 of us on Friday night.

Today was my friend CVO's annual pumpkin carving party. Fidel even graced us with his presence for the first time this year. Yesterday, we went to our neighborhood Halloween party and after that we went to the pumpkin patch and took a pony ride, played with bunnies, chicks and baby hamsters (yeah I don't get that combination either but that's what we did). We picked our pumpkin, came home and fought, then this afternoon we did our pumpkin carving and pinata whacking. One of CVO's friends is a very nice lady, with a husband who is addicted to prescription painkillers. I just steer clear of him but today he earned the nickname of Crackhead. He was stoned out of his gourd and cut the top off of our pumpkin when I walked away. Then he was stealing my knives and tools that I brought from home to use. I thought about stabbing him but I figured that may not be appropriate for a family pumpkin carving party on a Sunday afternoon. Obviously his last $10,000 detox didn't take. Thankfully he got occupied with scraping out his pumpkin. That must be a difficult task when you are trashed because he took forever. I saw his pumpkin after he finished carving it and it actually looked good, go figure. He carved a cat and a moon. I carved "Touch my fucking pumpkin next year and I'm spilling your guts" and made sure he saw it. I really made a cat face that Tootie requested. It turned out pretty good but I hate lifting the lid off because I like my holes wider and this one is really narrow, thanks to Crackhead. The girls like it so all's well with the pumpkin.

About 6 weeks ago, I started shopping for fabric and window treatment patterns with my friend, Donna. I didn't tell Fidel. Now that the drapes are ready, I realize I haven't thought this thing through completely. I normally just sneak my bags in and stash them under the downstairs bath vanity until I can slowly incorporate new items into the house without him noticing. If he does notice something, I'm like, "That? We have had that forever, I found it in a box" or something like that, accompanied by a facial expression that makes him think he's crazy, or that I'm crazy and he maybe should just let things be. Either way, Donna's wanting to deliver these drapes to me and I can't really just give him the old standard of a crazy look and "Oh those have been there for years' now can I? Sometimes I just don't think my schemes all the way through. We are both drinking now so we will definitely end up naked in the hot tub tonight so I think I can just break it to him then. "Oh Fidel, doesn't this feel fabulous? You know what else is fabulous? Yeah, custom drapery, you stallion. Oh yeah, ohhhh YESAHHHHHHHH". If any of our neighbors are lurking around and reading this, please forgive me but I am a hooch and I'll do whatever I have to do to get my new drapes installed without a fight. If tonight's activities offend you, please make sure to avoid looking toward our hot tub in February because that's when I'll be working on my navigation system and headrest DVD system for my 4runner.

Fidel walked Tootie down to the bus stop this morning, as usual. There are probably 15 elementary school kids at that one stop. Tootie is a pretty social little kid so she hangs out and chats while waiting on the bus. Neighbor kid never really hangs out with anyone except for Tootie. Anyway, Fidel and Tootie were at the bus stop and a group of kids saw Neighbor Kid coming and asked what his last name was. One said Taylor, and Tootie corrected them and told them the right name. The other kids were saying that Tootie was wrong so as Neighbor Kid walked up, she said, "Hey, Neighbor Kid, what is your last name" and that kid just busted out in a m-a-j-o-r meltdown. Tears, snot, hysterical sobbing sort of meltdown. For being asked his last name. I'll just come out and say that he just ain't right. If you say y'all on a regular basis you know that that means. He screamed, "Tootie, that IS NOT NICE" at her and got her all upset because she hadn't done anything. She's really a kindhearted kid, unlike her mother. She just doesn't get the concept of picking on anyone or being deliberately mean. Maybe she will develop that trait at some point, god knows she has the genes for it, but she isn't mean now and I am pissed that Neighbor Kid is taking crap out on her. Honestly if he hates her that would be wonderful, I could absolutely do without hearing his annoying little mushmouth crap, but he doesn't have to make her feel like an asshole because he is a freak. I mean his name is on a huge plaque on the front of his mailbox, not like it's a secret. The issue is that his teacher asks him to spell his name in the mornings when he comes into the classroom, because he does not know how. This is a kindergartener, with a year of pre-k under his belt. I guess that's got him freaking out on anyone who asks his name. The mom just turned him around and walked him back home instead of putting him on the bus. She's a gossip too, so she will be blabbing around the neighborhood about Tootie being mean to her kid. This should get interesting. I'm medicated and pretty nice for the most part, but there is an evil redneck bitch inside this ladylike exterior that will get unleashed if she starts with my kids.

On Saturday, while I was stark naked and soaking wet, the JWs accepted my challenge. They were ringing away at my doorbell, standing between a plastic jack o'lantern and a spooky tree strung up with ghost lights. Luckily for them, I couldn't make it to the door because I already have Halloween candy in the foyer and I was planning to pretend they were trick-or-treating and give them some candy. The guy was wearing a suit and not carrying a bag or anything and it would have been perfect to start stuffing his pockets like a madwoman while cooing that he was the cutest little JW to grace my front porch, ever. That would have kept me laughing for weeks. They parked their car in our cul-de-sac and I was thinking they would try me again since the girls were running around in plain sight and screaming, "Mama, someone is here" so someone was obviously home and ignoring them. Maybe the fact that the girls were naked was enough to spook them. At least they aren't pervs.

For those of you who have known me for a while, you know that I swear by giving a "Look, bitch" every now and then. You know how there's someone getting on your nerves and you try to be nice and bite your tongue, all the while thinking about cutting them open and stomping on their guts? You shouldn't just ignore them. You have to give them a Look, bitch and then they will see that they are being arrogant or annoying or stupid, whatever they are doing to bug you out. I don't mean for you to start barking out obscenities at your coworkers or spouses. Sometimes I just give the one-raised-eyebrow look. Some good eye contact and a "don't fuck with me" expression is normally all it takes. Unfortunately, Fidel hasn't picked up on that in the 11 years that we have been married and I have to verbalize my displeasure for him to get the hint that he needs to zip it or have a plate or picture frame thrown at him. This morning he started in on me before I even got out of bed. I went to bed annoyed because he told me my crock pot roast was overcooked and woke up to him telling me I'm taking too long to get Tootie ready, blah blah blah. I'm not a morning person so I took about 3 minutes of this and screamed, "Do not start with me today" and that was that. It's been peaceful ever since. He's been in this critiquing mode here lately and it's getting on my nerves. I was chopping veggies in the kitchen one evening and he barked, "knuckles in" at me like he's Gordon Ramsay or something. I just called him a fucking donkey (also channeling GR), threw a spoon at him and screamed, "GET OUUTT". We do watch a lot of Hell's Kitchen and Kitchen Nightmares. Watching that crap doesn't magically turn you into a chef any more than watching FitTV turns me into a skinny chick. He's got it going on with his grilling thing but I have been cooking for him for the past 11 years and I don't want the critiquing.

I think I signed up for some email thing while I was drunk one night, because I don't remember signing up. Either way, that isn't important. What is important, is the product summary emailed to me this morning. You know I love my pumpkin lattes. Now, there is pumpkin vodka. Can you imagine pumpkin vodka shaken and poured into one of the cute black martini glasses, rimmed in orange sugar and topped with cold club soda? Maybe even a frozen drink with some pumpkin puree, ice and this vodka in a blender? If you could skewer a few candy corns on a cocktail pick for garnish, it would be so cute. I think candy corns may be too brittle for that but I'm sure you can think of something fallish. You could hot glue a plastic spider on a cocktail pick.

If my best drinking buddy wasn't pregnant right now I'd be all over this. But she is, and I'm dieting so maybe I'll have to buy some of this for next fall, when I'm thin. Hopefully some of you can enjoy a tasty beverage made with this and you will let me know how it worked for you.

It's been a day, chickas. I've been car shopping and it's just horrible. I'm looking at trading the VOS for a 4runner and it's just not working out. Right now I'm negative $2k in equity, but in 6 months I'll be up $1k. Looks like I'm going to be waiting until spring and walking away from the VOS because we can't agree on the numbers. I hate it for our sales guy but I get a navigation system for waiting until spring so that's the breaks, boy. The salesman is only 20 and the poor guy is as dumb as a rock. I could ask for someone else but I like the boy and he drove me around on a golf cart today. I told him I'd probably walk away from this deal and buy in the spring and he's a sad little critter now. I'm a drunk lady because all of this has gotten on my nerves. I've been feeding Fidel booze to get him into the signing mode but so far I'm not winning my case. I see a BJ in the future, championship quality, my friends.

Back to the title... I have like 5 bottles of this wine in my cabinet and I have been overlooking it because I tell myself that I don't like merlot. I popped it and it's actually drinkable. It's a 2001 Clos de Bois and I'm buzzed. On a Tuesday. Still driving the VOS. I don't know whether I should throw it on Fidel and get my car or wait until spring and get a better one. Life is hard, girls.

Last night, I popped 2 Valerian capsules and a melatonin pill, and I had a dream that the Osmonds reunited and went on tour. A tour that I bought tickets to see, no less. I was in the front row enjoying the tunes when Donnie and Marie got into a slap-fight and ended the show early.

I don't know if I'm having issues because of the crap I did when I was young, if my brain is just turning to mush in my old age or if the sleepy herbs or happy pills are doing me in. Really do I even care though? Where else can you get entertainment of that caliber, and for FREE. No traffic, no dressing up, don't even have to get out of bed. Sometimes I have wonderful sex dreams, other times I converse with dead people. I never know what's going to happen when I fall asleep. I guess as long as I don't run across Freddy Krueger I'll be ok. I had the Jimmy Legs so bad last night I'm just happy I fell asleep at all. I have 2 sample packs of Restless Leg Syndrome meds but I'm scared to take them because I am too young to be on pills, except my happy pills. You know once you start on a bunch of medicine it's all downhill from there. Next thing I know I'll be carting around pill sorters and hitting the Golden Corral for a 5 o'clock buffet dinner.

Forgive me if these are common or old news, I just saw them for the first time and I thought I'd share. One of Fidel's employees made these and sent some to our girls and they were a hit, and seem so simple to do. It's a Hershey's Kiss glued to the bottom of a Keebler Fudge Stripes cookie with frosting and then decorated with a bow. You could get crazy and roll fondant into ribbons to make fancy bows or just use the gel frosting in the tube. I think I would use the Wilton paste color to color some buttercream frosting orange and then pipe onto the cookie. Either way, you get the basic idea and can do this with your kids if you like.

I made it back from my trip to visit my family in one piece, if a bit tired. It was a fun visit, but too short. I ended up letting my girls spend the night with my dad and stepmom and I spent the night with my mother. We ended up dragging out the booze to watch Joe Dirt and SNL. It was actually a lot of fun.

My dad pointed out that I had a missing lug nut on the VOS and slick tires, so I took it in today for the overdue service and ended up leaving with a new set of tires. While they were changing tires I went to the lot to research new cars since my lease is up in the spring and since it was rainy and boring, the salesguy ended up talking me into driving down to Fidel's office to show him what I liked. Fidel liked it to and told me to buy it if I liked it so we are running numbers to see what happens. He's adamant about not going negative and I agree with him there. I'm ready to ditch the VOS but it's not like I am dying for a new car or anything so if I have to go negative I'll wait until spring and walk in there and throw them the keys.

Back to the evening with my mom, when she got really deep into the cocktails, she told me I should do her diet that she lost 50 lbs on. Of course it wouldn't be a visit with my mom without some mention of my fat ass, right! She said she cut out carbs and ate pork skins and diet Mountain Dew. She says that the DMD made the pork skins swell up and she felt as full as a tick. I was drunk and I told her I'd try it so if I start sounding extra crazy on here just know that I'm not getting any nourishment outside of hog fat and Mountain Dew chemicals. Her explanation of this diet was hilarious. She was trying to say the spanish name for pork skins, like I didn't know what pork skins were and the spanish word would enlighten me or something. There's nothing like a drunk southern woman trying to say something in a language they don't speak. Really it's hard enough to understand us when we are drunk and speaking English. Reminds me of the time I was in Waikiki speaking Japanese to some tourists. My accent is horrible and gets worse when I drink and I only have 2 years of Japanese in me. There was lots of laughing so at least I was entertaining.

That's about all the excitement for the day. Car shopping, cleaning up after a weekend of being away, wasting time on the internet. Hope you have a nice Monday!

I'm not a hard person to please most of the time, but when it comes to my house I am very picky. I was reading a post over at Ashley's Closet, and the comments started referencing housekeepers and then I looked around at my messy house and turned a nice shade of jealous green even though not having a housekeeper is completely my fault. I never found one that didn't turn my hardwoods cloudy or that managed to get the little "funk spot" behind the sink faucets clean. I figured I could half-ass clean my house for free and not have to go out for 4-6 hours while the cleaners were here. Moggie is 3 1/2 and I was in the hospital, in labor, when I fired my last cleaners and haven't had anyone since. I can't say my house looks any worse than it would if I had cleaners. The worst part for me is the clutter and you have to pick that crap up before cleaners come anyway. Once I've done that the rest of the cleaning is easy. I never have to run home "because the cleaners are coming tomorrow" or anything.

Moving on, I'm going away this morning and won't be back until tomorrow evening. It's my grandfather's birthday so the girls and I are going over to spend the afternoon with him. Hopefully I'll have a funny story to share because my dad is hilarious and always does something funny. One time, he bought an emu for $16 and we had to go load that thing up in a livestock trailer. I was smart enough to take the video camera and that's the funniest video. If I wasn't laughing like a hyena in it I would submit it to AFV but I'm laughing and screeching the whole time.

Hope you all have a nice weekend. Remember to save your condiment packets for the uncostumed teenage trick or treaters. Use that as an excuse to order chinese tonight so you don't have to cook.

I'm stealing this idea and sharing it with all of you.

You know how every Halloween you get the jack-ass teenagers, not costumed, standing on your front porch with a plastic Wal-Mart sack wanting some candy? Well, that is not trick or treating, it's begging. I just read the funniest thing on our local newspaper's website from a submitter who confessed to handing out duck sauce and soy sauce packets from leftover chinese delivery to the teenagers showing up with no costumes. Isn't that hilarious? I normally throw those packets away but I'm going to go collect some, maybe even ketchup packets, to reserve for the beggars.

Have fun with this one!

I picked up the platter from the studio today! I like the way it turned out, hopefully Fidel will like it, too. I wish I had done a border in dots but it's too late now. That's a big green egg interpretation in the middle behind the text if you are wondering. Les painted with me and she wasn't so sure about adding the egg but it worked. She always doubts me.

I have been doing birthday crap for Fidel and my grandfather all morning. I emailed Fidel to ask him to let me know if he's coming home early so I can make sure all of the presents are wrapped and hidden, and he asked me if I needed time to get my boyfriend out of the house. He's also been buying himself crap and putting kinks into my planned gifts. He does that every year and at Christmas. He's difficult at times.

Back to the painting studio... They have a help wanted sign for weekends and I'm really thinking about asking for the job. They do birthday parties on the weekends and I'm actually pretty good with children and I'm crafty and bored as shit so a little job sounds like fun. Plus I can shop with my money and not have to hide the bags or sneak stuff in a little at a time. I'm going to wait until Monday to ask because a lot of times I have these great ideas that end up being dumb ideas within a few days.

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