Hush Your Mouth!

You know how I have my favorite Craigslist loony who writes these detailed descriptions of the most random shit. She posts treasures like this daily:

Every new bride knows you gotta have china.

For your consideration is this beautiful vintage embossed swirl set made
in China, featuring rosebuds among a single bloom, lavender wispy ferns,
with green leaves and stems. I believe this is a Moss Rose pattern. A
very nice delicate added touch is the gold trim that surrounds the cup and
saucer.

It is a refreshing example of fine porcelain china presented in a delicate
design, pattern and painting style. Both lovely display objects will grace
any table, curio or china cabinet. Cup features intricate handle, and both
footed pieces are with vivid colors.

Here is a delightful set from Zhong Guo Zhi Zao is made by Phoenix H
circa 1980-1990.

Cup and saucer is definitely a vintage work of art, and has a lot going for
it. Porcelain is unusually light but strong – making this the ultimate
experience of a delicious cup of brewed tea, coffee or chocolate.

MARKINGS
Maker’s mark inscribed in black scripted Chinese and English lettering
under glaze authenticates both pieces as a factory matching set with the
number ‘9’. Black and white back stamp under glaze features trademark
logo with 2 peacocks and the letter ‘H’ in the center. It is followed by
Chinese script and the words ‘Made In China’.

CONDITION
Shiny glaze. 22 kt. gold trim intact. Nice ring tone when gently struck.
No crazing or cracks. Small 1/16ths inch chip to handle made at factory
level – China has an embossed swirl pattern so unnoticeable unless you
are looking for it. Saucer is pristine. May have minor scuff marks – if
any. Well kept. Colors are vivid and bright. White is white. Overall,
looks great and very clean.

All that for a $9 teacup from the early 1990's. She even describes how the teacup sounds when gently struck. I don't know about you but that's at the top of my list of questions when buying a cheap ass second hand teacup and saucer off Craigslist.

Apparently other Craigslist regulars are beginning to tire of the elegance of this Craiglist Cuckoo and have called her out, asking her to get her own ebay store. One brute went so far as to post this:

I agree with the previous poster asking why not just get an eBay store....
I'm like the others....very tired of reading a dadblasted novel about every little trinket that you have found at the thrift store for the last 12 years...
And please stop overposting while you're at it.

She's listed at least 10 more items since she was called out, showing that she's a true lady of elegance and perseverance.

That Was Misleading

I just opened my computer to a headline reading, "Deicer Sucked Into Cabin of Airplane" and I got a little alarmed. I was picturing an actual human being wearing a name tag that said, "Jamie: Deicing Crew" being sucked into a closed airplane. I just didn't know how on Earth that could even be possible so I had to actually read the article, which went on to explain that a de-icing chemical had managed to enter the cabin of an airplane on the tarmac. That makes a lot more sense.

Unfortunately I wasn't shocked at the news that several passengers had to seek medical attention due to burning eyes. Those people can get a sniff of Windex and see dollar signs.

Seriously. The Sequel

I had three standout customers today.

1. Tag Switcher. Tag Switcher brought a nice sweater up to the counter and when I rang it up, the cost was around $5 and the description was for a t-shirt. When I brought this to her attention and pulled up the true price of the sweater, Tag Switcher protested loudly by saying, "Oh no, no NO" and turned around and left. A coworker pointed out that Tag Switcher is a regular and tries that old switcheroo on everyone. Sure enough, the tag was distressed where she had removed it from one shirt to put on the sweater.

2. Queen of Customer Service. QofCS brought a pair of pants that were marked $4.99 to the register. They rang up for around $8, then with the discount went down to $6. I'm not sure where the markdown sticker on the pants came from, because ours are easily peelable and we have some goofballs with access to a sticker gun, but either way it wasn't a valid price. I brought the discrepancy to the manager on duty's attention and she said that we couldn't sell the item at that price. I got a lecture from the QoCS about the policy at Macy's, then she told me she owned a business, blah blah blah. I know I had the "You are seriously not arguing with me over a $6 pair of pants" look on my face. She kept on and on so I told her I'd be happy to return the pants for her and as I went to process that, she decided that she really indeed wanted the pants.

3. Ghetto Trick. Ghetto Trick was missing a few teeth, very loud and chewing on a See's Candy lollipop as she tried to scam a few gift boxes out of us. She had a kid who she plopped down in our little kids entertainment section and ignored until we heard customers gasping, then we saw her kid- sitting buck naked in our kids chairs. GT tried to hand us a piss soaked Pull Up to put in the trash. How I managed to keep the "Oh Hell no" in my mouth I may never know, but I did manage to direct her to the trash can in the mall corridor in a ladylike manner. She left the kid in the store in his jeans while she did that and I was talking to him when he said, "My pants are wet" and sure enough, he had stood there and pissed his pants. By the time Ghetto Trick was back in the store, that kid had stomped around the kids area in his piss pants.

Today was a pretty lively day.

I'll See Your Easy Spirits

And raise with these Crocs.

My coworker and I were talking today about our need for new shoes (ha) so on my lunch, I was hanging around outside starbucks waiting on a friend and I wandered over to the Crocs kiosk and got flirted with by the little lesbian sales clerk. I bought a pair of shoes. For me. Crocs. They are actually pretty cute and very comfy. I was wearing jeans with cute little Eddie Bauer patterned socks (about 5 years old) and when I put on my new Crocs, the socks peeked out a little bit and it was a good look. You know, for Crocs. I was feeling a little dorky until my coworker stuck her foot out and showed me her new shoes. She had bought Easy Spirits. I had to laugh at her.

Seriously

I worked today at my retail job. I had one bitch who really tried my patience. Normally, our customers are way nice but this one today just took the cake for being a pain in the ass. We have a promotion going on now where you get a voucher type deal for a future purchase for a certain dollar amount and this lady had a huge arm full of clearance merchandise and had me ring up every. single. fucking. item and read her the final amount for each piece. Then she would sit there and debate with me and herself about whether or not she was going to purchase the items, one by one. We had a line going out of our door and I seriously must have spent 20 minutes with this woman over a bunch of clearance crap. After the fourth transaction (of course she wanted all this shit in separate batches) she comes around the counter to put her bags under my feet so that she could do some more shopping in the store.

I love my job and most times it's a pleasure to help people, but if I made the rules I'd ban that chick from the store. I'm clearly not cut out for management.

I'm Alive!

Thanks to those of you who have checked in on me! I'm alive and well, just as busy as can be.

In early November, I accepted a job at a well known children's clothing store (if you know where I work, don't out me because you know I will end up talking shit about them at some point) and I have been working my ass off since then. I have never made so little money per hour in my entire life, but then again I've never had so much fun at a job. It gets me out of the house and gives me a reason to get dressed and I have made a lot of new friends. People that know me from preschool or the neighborhood are shocked to see me working. My children, especially Moggie, have become little fashionistas and can't wait to see what I've brought home for them each time I work. The timing of starting my job and them needing warm clothes coincided so I think the girls think that my sole mission with this work gig is to bring them a new outfit every day.

To get to the point, trying to be a good wife, mother, friend and employee has led to me being a suck ass blogger. I had to squeeze in a 10 minute call to my dad this morning between errands to wish him a belated happy Thanksgiving. That's how badly I suck.

Please accept my flimsy excuses and I promise that I'll try to get into interesting situations and blog about them soon. I'm seriously considering hosting a little cocktail hour at my house next weekend for my new workmates. That should make for at least one funny post, right?

Old Biotch, Meet Karma

Moggie and I hit the Chick Fil A drive thru tonight for dinner for the family. I stopped to let a family cross in front of me and this old bitch in a burgundy Crown Victoria whipped around me and jacked me for my spot in the drive thru line. I didn't do anything but mumble, "Old bitch" under my breath because I wasn't in any big hurry. After I ordered and drove up to the window behind her, I saw the cashier hand her the drink she ordered and all of a sudden the old bitch was holding the cup outside her window because she had managed to spill the drink all over herself. I had my window down and I laughed, "Ha ha, you old bitch, that's Karma!!".

She Needed Drunkin'

Have you ever heard the redneck phrase, "He needed killin'"? Well, tonight, I needed drunkin'. And drunkin' I did. I dressed as Tipsy Housewife, complete with my wooden spoon, Kitchen Madonna apron and wooden spoon. I can't tell you the last time I felt, well, drunker. Halloween and drunk go well together.

My kids were cute, my husband dead sexy, and I couldn't have had a better night. Hope it was the same for all of you!

ETA: I only had one wooden spoon. I did have more wine than was required for "Tipsy Housewife" so I turned out to be the Completely Drunk and Soiled with Wine Housewife but here in North Georgia, I was considered to be charming. So Ha, to you, people who don't drink.

Mary J. Blige Would Like to Play

My girls can spend hours building Miis on their Wii. One day I caught them making this one and I couldn't help laughing because it looked like Mary J. Blige when she went through that blonde pigtail phase in the 90's. You know, the good old days when we were young and understood music.

Totally Not Me

Don't get me wrong, I'm sure I'll consider driving to Nebraska before the end of this week but this bitch beat me to national fame by being the first from Georgia to drop her kid off in Nebraska. I'm probably 30 miles east of her so if I drop mine off I will own the Farthest Drive to Dump Kids title until some skank from further away usurps me.

I'm just not sure I can invest in a long ass road trip only to be stripped of my title the next week. Unless some of you want to chip in for gas money. I accept PayPal.

*Disclaimer: If any grandparents to my children are reading this, I'm totally kidding. My girls are angels straight from Heaven and I'm hoping to prove this to you by dumping them on you for a few weeks this summer. I mean, blessing you with their company.

Pardon Her Urine

In my misery of adapting to being broke, I have forgotten to tell you all of a funny escapade that Moggie and I had at The Wal-Mart nearly two weeks ago. Tootie has dance class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so afterwards on one of those days, Moggie and I hit The Wal-Mart for a few needed grocery items. Now Moggie is a child on a mission to hit every flipping bathroom in North Georgia. I have a crazy and perhaps irrational aversion to public bathrooms so we typically have a battle of the wills when we go shopping together.

Moggie likes to ride on the front of the cart, holding onto the basket with her arms. As we made our way to the back of the store, she said she had to use the potty. I told her that she would just have to wait. Yeah, I know it's crazy to tell a four year old kid to wait, but she's been potty trained for over 2 years and she raises false alarms so much that it's hard to believe her. She looked at me and said, "Mom, I can't wait" and as she said that she was peeing in her pants. I shrieked, "MOGGIE" and then my legs went in two different directions and my back and ass thunked on the floor, right there by the paint counter. I was so embarrassed, and covered in piss, so I hopped up and ran off like a gazelle. As soon as I got out of sight of the paint guy, I slung Moggie in the cart to sit and hurried up and got out of there.

Looking back, I should have told someone that my kid had pissed in the aisle but I was so freaked out by the whole ordeal that I just jetted.

Hard Times Humor

Yesterday, while driving Tootie to dance class, I passed the Wal-Mart and noticed that the resident beggar was walking away from his day shift. This guy approaches me every single time that I'm in the parking lot, and he always asks for $3 for a tv dinner. This is even when times were good and you could walk into any store and get a job, so I don't have a lot of pity for him. I normally just mutter motherfucker under my breath when I see him but yesterday I was like If times get much harder I'm jacking you for your begging spot, motherfucker.

The Great Depression

Sorry I've been MIA here lately. I've been weighing the options of heading west to pick fruit or hunkering down with the extended family on Walton's Mountain. If I had one good partner in crime I could probably make a living selling moonshine because God knows, boozehounds have to have their hooch.

Times are seriously hard, my friends. We are trading cars for el cheapos, trying to live on $25/week in groceries. It helps that we have a freezer full of stuff to eat off of, but it still sucks to cringe when the girls waste half a sandwich.

Maybe something funny will happen and things will brighten a little, but for the moment I'm wallowing in self-pity and fear.

45 More Minutes

Till bedtime for the girls. I don't normally watch the clock but I'm ready for some nice downtime tonight. Fidel's not home so we won't be doing our normal Friday night deal- catching up on the Tivo-ed shows we watch. I'm going to straighten up, take a nice long hot shower, and curl up in bed with a book and hopefully be asleep by 9:30. I would make a cup of tea and chill out in the hot tub but I have these incisions and I'm not allowed to take a bath yet so I'm pretty sure that soaking in a hot tub is out of the question.

I think you turn into an old Nana when you get your gall bladder removed. Happened to me.

Gas Crabs

Here in the Atlanta area, there is a shortage of gasoline. Most gas stations don't have gas prices on the exterior signs and the pump handles are covered with plastic bags. I've been conserving (napping a lot instead of leaving the house) so my tank of gas has lasted me a long time, but today the gas light came on and it was time to refuel. I finally found a gas station with one grade of gas, and got in line to wait my turn to fill my tank and empty my wallet.

I had a magazine in the car to help me pass the time, but the people watching was so exciting, I never even picked up the magazine. It's funny how crabby ordinary people become when they are in a line for gasoline. I was sweating the whole deal a little myself, figuring the pump would run dry just as it was my turn, but a lot of people were just plain bitching each other out in the parking lot of the gas station. People were getting cussed out for being too slow to pay with cash inside before they pumped.

Immediately to my right, two old old men pulled up in a panel truck nearly as old as they were and started pumping gas. Old Man 1 (the driver) pumped gas while Old Man 2 hobbled inside the gas station to drain his lizard, I suppose, because he hobbled back out empty handed a little while later. By this time, OM1 was done pumping gas so he went inside to do his business. He didn't bother to move his truck up to the non-working gas pump directly in front of where he was so that the people in the long ass line behind him could start pumping. OM2 decided to wash the windshield very thoroughly. Thoroughly and methodically. And slower than Christmas. The nice lady in the burgundy Honda behind him went from nice lady to raving she-bitch in the span of time that OM2 scrubbed half of the windshield.

As I was exiting the pump, I needed to cut through the line that was running the opposite way to get out of the parking lot. Because the 2 Old Men were finally being run off of the pump, there was a gap opening up behind about the third car. Since people were sitting there with the engines off it took a few seconds for them to pull up so I went ahead and pulled through the spot, apparently infuriating the driver of the 4th car, another old man who felt the need to yell at me like I was cutting in line and not driving on through to make way for someone else like I was actually doing. I had my window down and yelled, "Simmer down, you old bastard" at him. I can't imagine how ridiculous I looked for yelling that at an old man in a very crowded parking lot. I just don't know what gets into me. But I could have stayed there all day calling people old bastards.

Too Sick to Post

Forgive my lack of posting. I am pretty much over the gall bladder ordeal but now I have some horrible intestinal issue that makes Ebola look like a head cold. Obviously I'm over-exaggerating but I haven't been this miserably sick in a long time. I'm pretty much in a coma or praying for a quick death if I'm not in the bathroom.

And now in the time that it took me to write this, Moggie has just bashed her head into the front porch so it looks like I will be taking my sick sweaty puking ass to the urgent care center.

It never ends.

The Power of Prayer

Thanks to all of you who prayed for my flatulence. My next door neighbor, who happens to be a nurse, dropped by yesterday and was mortified at the amount of pain that I was in. She insisted that I walk, which was more like wobble and whimper, but it did get the gas moving. I feel so much better today.

Dear Lord

Please let me fart. That's all I want, to pass some of this gas that has me swollen as a tick.

I have had an absolutely horrible day. A friend called and asked if she could do anything for me and I asked her to come shoot me in the head or smother me with a pillow. I actually laid in bed and prayed to fart.

My next door neighbor is a nurse and she brought me some flowers this afternoon and had me up walking around and I was able to burp a few times and it relieved me a little. I'm no longer suicidal so I'd say I've improved today.

I Lived!

I'm home, finally. It was a really long day.

I'll post more later, need to catch a little drug snooze.

Are You Flirting With Me?

I met my surgeon this afternoon and he is a funny guy. He has a charming Texas accent and a fancy title on his business cards. He has diagnosed me with Biliary dyskinesia, which translates to your gall bladder has petered out in layman's terms. He said that if there was a textbook on gall bladder disorders (and one would think there has to be at least one of those somewhere) that my picture would be next to Biliary dyskinesia because I had a textbook case that a med student could diagnose. I didn't tell him that Dr. Google had increased his batting average by nailing this one.

My surgery is scheduled for tomorrow at 12:15 and I have to arrive at the hospital at 9 for the pre-op stuff and he wants to run my labs again. I should be nervous about the surgery but I'm so sick of this pain that I could remove the gall bladder with a fork myself. It's kind of like being nervous about the epidural when you are having a baby, but when the real pain hits you are begging them to slice your spine clean open if they have to.

I'm tempted to take my laptop with me since I'll have some downtime before surgery but all I need to do is have access to iTunes when I'm drugged up. I'll be dancing around in my hospital gown, flashing my white ass to the world. No one needs that, so you will just have to wait until I get home tomorrow evening to hear stories of how I have embarrassed myself.

Less of Me

There will soon be a little less of me. I'm kissing my gall bladder and releasing it to the wild where it can roam with it's own kind.

I had a HIDA scan on Tuesday and today I got the news that I have a non-functioning gallbladder. I have a surgery consult on Tuesday afternoon and an economy sized bottle of pain pills to hold me over until then. I'll be spending the weekend stoned and worthless. Who says there's not an upside to having diseased organs?

Better Than Xanax

I had my annual pap (that I've managed to dodge for over 4 years) yesterday morning, and I meant to take a Xanax before I left home to take the edge off of the ordeal. I forgot to pop the pill and it turns out as soon as the doctor came in, we started talking about shopping and before I knew it I was getting dressed. Quick and painless.

I got blown off for a lunch date by a friend so I went and ate sushi alone, with a book. And I liked it. Peace and quiet, good food, no rush. I recommend a solo date to everyone at least once a month. I might try a movie next. If YOU have never done a solo date, take yourself out and you might be surprised at how relaxing it is.

Real Special

This morning was my first real "free" morning, without any children. I had a room mom meeting at Tootie's school and when that was over I dashed out of there and found a pedicure joint for a little relaxation. The chick asked me if I wanted the regular or deluxe pedi so I asked her the difference and she handed me a laminated brochure that described their offerings. This is no lie: In the description of the deluxe pedicure, it was stated that they use "real special products" for the masks and scrubs. Maybe it's all the vicodin in my system but that really struck me as hilarious.

Today's Festivities

Today is the day that I have dreamed of all summer. Moggie begins her last year of preschool. To be honest, if she was beginning her first day of pre-trial intervention I would be just as happy. She has driven me beyond crazy this summer and especially the last month since her sister started school in early August and I've borne the brunt of her displeasure since then.

I'm skipping the director's speech for parents to hit the library. I figure that I might be able to get the hang of the whole public library deal without my two tormentors at my side. I need some books because I go in for my first sleep study tonight and they probably won't have wireless internet for me to entertain myself.

I think the person monitoring my sleep tonight will go down in medical history for discovering a new syndrome. I call it Jackson Syndrome. The symptoms are Jimmy Legs, excessive snoring and sleep Tourettes. I do this weird and extremely loud "UMMMMMM" grunt thing as I'm going to sleep. It's so loud that it wakes me up. Fidel dreams of smothering me in my sleep because of that grunt. He can live with the swish swish swish sound of my feet against the sheets in my dance of the Jimmy Legs, but he just can't stand The Grunt.

Nobody's Getting Dead

This afternoon, the kids wanted popsicles after Tootie came home from school. It was pretty hot so I pulled out two popsicles and gave one to each girl. Moggie, in typical Moggie fashion, managed to suck a big hunk of ice down her throat and started screaming about how she was choking to death. Her voice was all funny because she had a chunk of ice lodged in her esophagus but if she was talking, she was breathing so I just tried to calm her down to take a drink of water to help the ice melt. She didn't convince me that she was dying, but she did easily convince Tootie who broke out in wailing sobs while she waited on her sister to drop dead. These two are just too much to take. If I wasn't full of vicodin for my arm pain I'd pop a Bud Light.

Thank You for Not Writing Toilet

I have been painting the girls' bathroom this week. This afternoon, I was working on cutting in the area where the walls meet the ceiling. The girls bathroom is on the second floor, the ladder is in the basement. See where this is going? Mrs. Brilliance decided to put a short step stool on top of the toilet to paint. The stool shot out from under my feet like a greased pig and I went down hard on my right shoulder on top of the toilet tank. I washed as much paint off of me as I could, called Fidel to come home, dropped Moggie with our good neighbor next door and asked her to get Tootie from the bus until Fidel got home.

Turns out, my arm isn't broken but it is sprained. I have a bottle of pain meds awaiting me at the pharmacy and an ugly ass blue sling around my neck.

Wahhh.

I'd Just Take Their Word

A week and a half ago, my gallbladder/rib/what-the-fuck-ever pain went from moderately annoying to a give-me-a-knife-I'll-cut-this-shit-out-myself sort of pain. I walked around all bent over, huffing and puffing for a few hours and then I was fine. I didn't even have my usual evening pains for over a week.

I have my upper quadrant ultrasound scheduled for tomorrow morning. I was hoping it was all for nothing but now that the pain has kicked in again I'm not so sure. What I am sure of, however, is that I do not care to have surgery. I have never had surgery (other than minor mole removal crap) and it's not that I'm scared of the actual surgery, but I do not want to go through the whole recovery process. I have a crazy 4-year old child who needs a serious amount of supervision (see yesterday's post about her being buck naked in the front yard in broad daylight) and I don't know if I can provide adequate supervision if I'm dancing with Mr. Percoset. (I hope I spelled your boyfriend's name right, Kelly)

Anyway, in my effort to avoid surgery, I consulted Dr. Google on "treating gallbladder pain". I've never heard of anyone dying from a gallbladder problem so I figured if I can treat the pain I can live without having to face the knife. You know the natural people or the Chinese will have a cure for everything and sure enough, I found the cure. The cure involves taking herbs, mass amounts of salt water, and olive oil and lemon juice cocktails. Testimonials from people who have done this miracle cure detail the amount of stones they passed, what they looked like, etc. I had to dig more because I have a pretty good knowledge of basic anatomy and I don't remember the gallbladder being anywhere in the urinary tract. Also never heard of anyone hacking up gallstones so that left only one option. Poop. These people have dug through their own turds to find these "stones".

Needless to say, anything that involves me digging through turds is out. Get out your dancing shoes, Mr. Percoset.

Hells Bells

I woke up 10 minutes before bus time, got cussed out for painting the girls' bathroom (to be fair, maybe "You never fucking listen to me" is some man-code for 'Thanks for doing that!'") and then flipped on the tv to watch the Today show anchors jack off to the DNC happenings. I took as much of that as I could, then just turned it on CMT to veg out a little. Perhaps I'm PMSing a little too much, but I have spent more time than I care to crying over friggin' country music videos.

First off, there was the Carrie Underwood "Just a Dream" video. I loved Carrie on AI but the stuff she's done since then has sounded really screamy to me. I do like "Just a Dream" so I didn't change the station when that video came on but I wish that I had. It is a beautiful video but it is definitely a real tear jerker. Miss Carrie might want to try acting because she did a fantastic job acting in the video.

Next, Brad Paisley came on with "Waiting for a Woman". I think Brad Paisley is a genius. He seems like he's really in touch with his emotions and his wife and kid are probably pretty lucky, unless he enjoys making them teary like he made me this morning. Who needs to see Andy Griffith waiting on a bench in Heaven in a white suit? Nobody wants to think about Andy Griffith being dead, although it's just a matter of time.

I think I'm going to go kick some puppies to cheer myself up.

Can They Do That?

If people were issued licenses for parenting (as they should be), the status of mine would be in some serious jeopardy tonight.

We have been getting some lovely rain from Fay and Moggie loves to splash in puddles, so I let her be a kid and go out in the rain. She came inside completely soaked, so I took her clothes off and threw them on the back porch so she wouldn't continue to drip on the hardwoods. Those suckers will mildew before I remember they are out there, but getting back to my story, my child was unclothed. I sent her upstairs to get some dry clothing and started making dinner. I noticed it got pretty quiet so I started calling to her, with no answer. I walked over to the stairs and saw her out of the dining room windows. Stark naked, frolicking on the sidewalk without a care in the world. She was holding a ladybug umbrella, twirling and leaping in the rain. Completely naked.

I actually ran to get a camera on my way to get her in the house, but then I remembered it's not a good idea to post naked pictures of your kids (or any kids) on the internet. Just take my word for it, it was freaking hilarious.

Busted

I just got busted by the neighbors for holding an umbrella over a wiener dog so that she could pee. The poor dog just despises rain and it's not letting up any time soon. Fidel made her go out in it this morning and she just sat out there and cried like she was being whipped. He just doesn't know how to deal with a little wiener dog princess.

Not Dead Yet

I called my dad this morning at my Grandparents' house where he's been taking care of them during the day since last Thanksgiving when my Grandpa had his stroke. After a while he put my Grandfather on the phone and he was like, "Now who is this?" and I said, "Papa, this is Jennifer, your granddaughter!" and he was like, "Oh. I thought you were dead". I shouldn't have but I got tickled and just couldn't stop laughing. I told him I knew it had been too long since I've visited but I'm very much alive!

Screwing it Up for Everybody

This morning was our first time at our new bus stop, two houses away. Of course the transportation department set the bus stop in front of an unmarried and childless guy's house. His name is Matt and he's a nice guy. He has a big black Labrador on an invisible fence in the front yard. This dog is huge and sweet as anything.

First of all, I'm pretty sure that you aren't supposed to flail about like a fucking moron at the bus stop for safety reasons. Secondly, it's just not good manners to send a gaggle of first graders unsupervised to the bus stop and allow them to strip leaves from trees, turn the driveway into their personal playground and kick at the homeowner's dog. Good Neighbor's (GN) kid and Tootie were supervised by GN and me, but Neighbor Kid was on his own. Flailing about like an idiot into the street, driveway, grass, kicking at the dog, pulling on tree limbs and being his typical little asshole self.

If our bus stop gets taken away from the neighbor complaining (rightfully so) about that kid acting like a spazzy asshole, I swear I'm kicking the mom's fucking ass.

Keep Them Straight

I've taken to telling big fat lies when people try to corner me into babysitting or encroach on my personal (nap) time. I'm not really good at fibbing and I don't do it often because I have a horrible memory. I just spent 5 minutes trying to figure out who I need to avoid this weekend because I remembered telling someone that I was going out of town and I really have no plans to leave my house.

Now that the neighbor drama is starting up again, leaving the city for the weekend sounds like a pretty good idea.

Never When I'm Clean

How is it that nothing ever happens when I'm freshly showered and presentable?

This morning, I got an urgent call from Dysfunction Junction and all she said was "Please meet me in my garage immediately" in a stressed tone. I threw on some flip flops, begged Moggie to stay inside and ran over there. I wasn't sure if I was going to find a bloody carcass of a husband or an animal, but it didn't sound good. As I climbed their driveway (yes, it's that steep) I saw the husband walking around with an earpiece and a cellphone in his hand. My sense of reason was screaming "Turn your ass around and run home" but he had already seen me so I kept going. She was in the garage, removing his bags and computer from his car to keep him from leaving. She was sobbing and saying that he was drunk and wanted me to call the Po Po the second he drove off to report him for drunk driving. I went to talk to him at that point and he was no drunker than I was at that time. Unfortunately I do feel like I have to say that I hadn't had a drop because I know you all think the worst of me.

Anyway, he was sober, she was frantic and he said he wanted to leave to deescalate the situation. I laughed inside at that phrase because it sounded like something he learned in his mandatory anger management sessions.

He left, she walked over here with a pot of coffee and cried at my breakfast bar while I washed dishes. I told her it was time to cut her losses and get out of the marriage. She is not American and says she can't find work. I'm sorry but there are plenty of non-Americans working everywhere you look. There are jobs out there, you just have to swallow your pride and do what you need to do to get on your feet. You can't check out of Kohls or Kroger without being asked if you want a job. I understand that Kohls or Kroger won't be able to pay the salary to which she is accustomed, but there comes a time when you just have to buck up and take what you can get.

I relayed all of this crap to Fidel and he said, "Sometimes you are just too good of a person", which was pretty funny because I don't feel like a good person for encouraging divorce and forcing people to get jobs. Sometimes life isn't pretty.

You're Doing it Wrong

It doesn't end up like this on Swingtown.

Victory is Mine

I have done my one supermom task for the year, so I can now retire to domestic averageness.

I managed to get a new bus stop 1/4 mile closer to our house! Our old bus stop was up a hill and around a curve, so I had to walk all the way down to the bus stop to fetch Tootie in the afternoon. Obviously a good walk never hurt anyone but I have a whiny ass 4-year old who threatened my sanity every afternoon.

We live at the end of the main drag of our neighborhood, in a nice big cul-de-sac. The bus was turning down a side street with 2 houses with no school aged kids to turn around, so I lobbied the transportation department to reconsider their route and I was successful. My next step was blockading the side street that the bus was using to turn around until they saw reason so it's in everyone's best interests that we were able to settle this matter peacefully.

I so need a life.

Don't Be an Asshole

Somehow, I don't think good mothers tell their kids to not be an asshole, but really more moms should use that phrase. I will be the first to tell you that my kids are indeed assholes quite a bit of the time. Especially the younger one. She's loud, obnoxious and all about being the center of attention. She doesn't respond to "Sweetie, please use your inside voice" unless I pop her in the head after saying it for the fifth time at the top of my lungs, which results in ME being the asshole in the eyes of the waiting room at the doctors office. Actually, there are a bunch of old timers in my doctor's waiting room and I'm sure they were happy to see her loud, nonlistening ass get smacked and were likely eager to do the smacking themselves. Old Southern people are good for smacking and then handing out peppermints.

I seriously pray for strength to get me through the next two weeks before that child starts preschool.

Clorox Gargle and a Tetanus Shot

Fidel and I took the girls to a local park today since the temps have fallen below the 90-degree mark. Moggie and Tootie had a great time, and when it was time to leave we took the path to the parking lot that leads by a drinking fountain because they like drinking fountains and it was kind of hot. They started drinking and I got distracted by looking at a dog and I heard Fidel gasp, and I turned around to see Moggie and Tootie lapping water out of the clogged bowl of the water fountain like dogs. They had their tongues, lapping up dirty water that had dribbled off of the nasty lips of the general public. All I could do is stand there and say, "Jesus Christ".

Anger Management

I am not one to run to the doctor for every little sniffle, but take a look at this list. It's enough to drive anyone crazy and I pity poor Fidel for having to live with me at the moment.

1. I snore like a chainsaw.
2. My gallbladder hurts and I can't bear to lay on my stomach at night.
3. I have horrible sinus drainage at the moment, causing me to cough and pee myself.
4. #2 and #1 don't go together very well because my husband wakes me up CONSTANTLY (and that is yelling) he seriously wakes me up FUCKING CONSTANTLY no lie I'm so tired from being WOKEN CONSTANTLY that I can't even write coherent sentences because I'm WOKEN CONSTANTLY and being told to roll over to my side or stomach so that I stop snoring. I cannot roll over, motherfucker. I mean that in the most loving way possible.

No Funeral Yet

This morning, our vet came over to check on poor Rusty since he keeps crapping the bed and the foyer. Turns out he isn't on his deathbed, just has a run-of-the-mill intestinal bacterial disturbance. He got a cortisone shot, a bottle of antibiotics and a case of special dog food. I have to mix a little plain yogurt in his food to rebuild the good bacteria in his system.

The vet said he's pretty healthy for an old man dog. He's actually pretty pissed off because he got poked and prodded but he's cuddled up in the softest blanket in the house, on top of two pillows so he should be over it soon.

My newest neighbor emailed me to see if everything was ok. She knew he was sick (and ancient) so I think she thought we were having him put down since we had a mobile vet here. I reassured her that everything is ok so she wouldn't go baking casseroles or anything. You know us Southern women have to start baking casseroles if any death is in the air.

Thank You, Dr. Google

Dr. Google isn't always right but you can't argue with his fees.

My latest meeting with Dr. Google is to discover the root of the pain I've had in my rib for weeks. The rib pain comes nearly every night and stays with me all night but is normally gone in the morning. It's a sort of burning pain, like a stitch in your side from running. Multiplied and overstaying it's welcome. There's no walking it off, drinking it off or medicating it off. I just have to deal with it until I fall asleep and wait for it's return the next evening. My dealing is done so I'm calling my doctor in the morning to see what we can do about this crap. Dr. Google is telling me that it's a gallbladder/gallstone issue. Dr. G diagnosed me with gout last time I had a problem and it turned out to be bunions, or more accurately the beginning of bunions. Don't think I have gnarly bunion hooves because I don't. I am way overdue for a pedi but that's as gnarly as it gets. My point is that Dr. G isn't exactly too reliable so I may have some muscle with a kink in it. In case it's my gallbladder, please work up a meals on wheels schedule so that my family isn't starving while I waste away in a hospital. If I have to go under the knife I'm going to ask them to remove my overgrown tonsils and adenoids so that I can stop snoring. If I can save on that OR bill, I can afford to be put into a faux coma until my throat and abdomen heal appropriately.

Great Advice

I'm in the stage of parenting right now that straddles wanting to hold onto my babies and wanting to give them the room to grow up. Last Thursday, I met Tootie's first-grade teacher for the first time and she said something that really made an impression on me. I was the only parent in the room at the time so we had plenty of time to chat and she said, "I work them pretty hard during the day and try to not burden them with a ton of homework. It's important for kids to get to be kids". What a concept! Education is not my field and only time will tell how this whole thing turns out but I am feeling really at ease with our school system.

My New Career

Apparently I have a newfound career. I didn't ask for this job or even want it, but I'm stuck. I'm a caregiver to a geriatric chihuahua. Rusty is nearly 12 and he has lost his sight completely in one eye, partially in the other and is pretty much deaf. He has started pooping in his bed at night, all over his three blankets. He even stuck his ass up against his kennel and got a turd completely out of the kennel, onto the carpeted floor of Fidel's home office.

I just emailed Fidel and told him that the dogs aren't allowed any table food at all from now on. Hopefully he's just getting too many little "bites" from our plates and doesn't have some condition. He's going to have a condition called "being put to sleep" if I have many more days of cleaning up slimy smelly dog crap.

Day One

Tootie went back to school as a first grader this morning. She was so excited and I was a little sad. She is doing a few things to become more independent of The Great Enabler this year. She picked out her clothes last night, and fussed at me when I tried to put the toothpaste on her toothbrush this morning. She did blow me extra kisses from the back seat of Fidel's car as they backed out of the garage. She must have known that I'd need a few kisses, being stuck home alone with Moggie and all.

Moggie has pretended to be various Chipmunks and Chippettes all morning. She's planted about 20 virtual gardens on the computer and fed me at least 3 imaginary pumpkin pies. All of this while I've been cleaning out dressers and doing laundry.

With all of this structure stuff starting up today, I figured that today was as good a day as any to start planning my meals after the free-for-all that summer turned out to be. Let's hope this planning thing and the walks to the bus stop do something to combat the spread of my rear end.

Should Have Found This Sooner

I really should have found this book sooner.

I went to Tootie's registration for first grade this morning. I should have gone unshowered, wearing my Dr. Seuss tshirt and comfy shorts. Instead I broke out a Polo shirt (that's as dressed up as I get in the daytime), made my face and fixed my hair. I made eye contact with the PTA chicks and got sucked right in. I clicked a little too well with Tootie's teacher and walked out holding the title of Room Mom. I wonder if this gig comes with a sash? If not, I'll make one. I've always wanted a job that required me to wear a sash with glittery letters.

Since I have gone to the bus stop (in the afternoon, no less) in pajamas more than once, I figured I'd have my picture on the front of the White Trash Mom Handbook but given this morning's behavior, I'm looking more like one of the Muffia chicks.

I'm Official!

I am officially a licensed driver. Until 2018. Tootie will be 16 when I need my next license.

I had to take Moggie's school application and registration fee by her preschool this morning and since I was dressed and halfway to the DMV anyway, I just drove on over there to get it over with. I expected the worst but I was pleasantly surprised at how fast and easy the whole process was. I was seriously in and out in 15 minutes. And I had the girls in tow! My picture looks like shit but at least I won't go to jail if I get pulled over now.

The DMV provides a great people watching opportunity. There was one younger guy there who was into the whole Emo look (I think that's what it is) and he had on Ed Hardy shoes, and these jeans that were just hilarious. I don't even know how one would go about finding a pair of jeans that unflattering. They were painted on, skintight purpley washed jeans. The pockets on them were way down at the bottom part of his ass and the waist was really low-riding, which worked together to make it look like his ass had slid down toward the bottom of his pelvis. It was probably wanting to hide from the shame.

Of All Things

This afternoon, I had to run out to the grocery store for some side dishes to go along with Fidel's ribs for dinner. I planned to make jalapeno creamed corn but the corn looked unsuitable to feed goats, so I had to change my plans right there in the produce section. I decided to make a mac and cheese and went on about my shopping. I swear, it took me forever and I went through 3 people to find a package of goddamned Velveeta. I was waiting on this chick to move out of my way by the regular cheese section when it hit me, that of all the shit in the grocery store, I was burning time looking for fake cheese. Fake cheese that I ended up finding in the beer aisle. Can't buy beer from the beer aisle on Sunday but you do have to cart past the beer to find the fake cheese. For someone who has been out of beer for 2 days, that's just cruelty.

That's MY Warning

Last night, the neighbor kid came over uninvited (as always) and took a break from snooping around in our garage to beat my kids with a stack of swords that he brought over from his house after I took away the foam pool noodle he was using to beat them. Moggie was riding her scooter and bike down the driveway, and according to the girls, the neighbor kid attacked her with his play swords and knocked her off of the bike, resulting in the hide being barked off of her poor elbow. Fidel gave the kid a warning that if he did anything to hurt the girls again he wouldn't be allowed to step foot in our yard. The girls were just talking about the warning and Moggie raised her eyebrows and said, "Well if he steps foot in my yard I'm going to beat him in his face. That's MY warning". It was so funny.

Fidel is more patient with this crap than I am. I told the little fucker to take his swords home and I'm not allowing him back over here. I haven't talked to his parents yet because 1) they don't care and it will do no good anyway and 2) I'm PMSing and grumpy and I fear the redneck beast inside me. I know that accidents happen but this wasn't an accident.

Depressed and Smelly

Why is it that those two go hand in hand?

My dear friend CVO left yesterday for Holland. Like to live permanently. She and her family spent the night at our house since they had packed and shipped all of their belongings, so I hugged her goodbye in my kitchen and cried for a few hours. That left me with a bad headache so I lounged on the couch with my eyes closed and forgot to eat. Things were going downhill fast but thankfully Fidel stepped up and convinced me to do sexy times last night and surprisingly I feel much better today. I even showered and put on makeup and did my hair. I may survive after all. Thanks to the power of the penis.

Well Then!

Guess who let their drivers license expire? That's right, me. In February 2008. It's nearly August. Thankfully I got busted by the airline check in lady and not the po po! I had my passport in my purse from my cruise in May (gotta love procrastination) so I was able to fly with no problem. The funny thing is that my license expired in February and I flew to Florida, rented a car, cruised to the Bahamas, rented another car back in Florida, flew to Atlanta and then to Kansas City months later with no problem. You would think that at least the rental car clerks would have caught my expired license.

I'll be spending tomorrow with the nice folks at the DMV. Now I have to figure out what to wear since I'll be renewing the license for 10 years and Spanx myself to within an inch of my life to look even close to what I'm telling them I weigh.

Braving the Masses

Today begins the tax-free weekend in Georgia. Today also happens to be the first really "free" day I've had in a while, so guess what I need to go do this afternoon? Buy groceries and school supplies for Tootie. I also need to hit Gymboree and Gap to stock up on some new clothes for her and Nordstrom for some shoes to put on her pretty little feet. Why shop at Nordstrom for shoes for a 6-year old? Because no other store without a "mart" in their name realizes that children wear shoes. The shoe department at Kohl's is just an exercise in futility for anyone, much less children. Seriously, I have simple needs. A few pairs of mary janes, a pair of casual shoes and a pair of sneakers. You would think that wouldn't be a nearly impossible task but it gets my normally perfect blood pressure right up to stroke level. I know that doubling up on the happy pills seems like the easy answer, but I just spent a week at my in-laws' house so I'd have to ingest toxic levels of happy pills in order to see any real results.

Minsky's Pizza

MIL and I spend a few hours at her Macy's and planned to pick up pizza for dinner for everyone. She recommended this place near her house called Minsky's and since the other option was Domino's, I was all over the Minsky's idea. We called FIL to get the number to call in our order, but MIL was too wishy-washy about what she wanted so we decided to just walk in, order and wait on the food.

Minsky's is actually a sports bar type place. With a lot of dark wood and vinyl tablecloths. And midwesterners. I'm a prissy east-coast chick and I felt way out of my element. I was in a strange bar with my MIL, who is most certainly no barfly. She was like, "What should we do?" and I said, "Well, let's just go sit in the bar and order a drink while we wait" (shocker) so we made our way to the bar and found a row of like 6 empty seats. We went to pull 2 chairs out and this guy way down the bar barked, "Someone's sitting there" so we found a table way in the back. I ordered a Bud Lite and MIL ordered an Amaretto Sour. I don't think I had ever been in a bar with someone who ordered an Amaretto Sour. I have been in an upscale martini bar with a drunk chick begging the bartender to put something, anything in a blender for her but never with anyone who ordered an Amaretto Sour.

I searched Webshots for a picture of Minsky's to post and found this one. Really, if Minsky's is ok for this lady it's ok for me! I bet she ordered an Amaretto Sour.

Home!

We got home around midnight last night, a few hours late due to the Atlanta airport being closed for storms. We flew AirTran (my first AT trip) and boarded the plane in Kansas City. The pilot came on the intercom and told us about the storm situation, and a few minutes later he came on and said we were free to deboard. I had never deboarded a plane for a weather delay and I had only had one Xanax at that point so I figured the wings were falling off the plane or the airline was officially out of business, right then and there. Visions of sleeping on the airport floor with 2 kids while we waited on another flight to haul us to the ATL flashed before me, followed by the idea of being stranded at the inlaws' permanently. At that point I popped another pill and prepared for our own version of Planes, Trains and Automobiles.

Obviously, we are safely home at this point. I did have some side effects from my pill popping. I dreamed that JLo was ruining some of my clothing and that I absolutely had to have a leaded glass shower enclosure. I think my dreams are telling me that I'm too high maintenance.

TTFN!

I'm closing up the laptop for a week to go visit the IL's. I'm trying to kick my internet addiction for a week so I won't be blogging or emailing. Cold turkey, baby. I'll be in tears and shaking the doors to the nearest Best Buy, trying to trade one of my children for a computer by Saturday.

Source for Wiener Dog Print

I found the wiener dog/Eiffel Tower print here. I've been on an Etsy kick here lately!

Cookies?

This weekend was filled with parties, showers and business dinners. I took the girls out on Thursday to get birthday presents for a kid's party, I had to get stuff for a bridal shower and find clothing suitable for a business dinner.

For the bridal shower, I found this cute address stamp at the last minute and ordered it for the bride and groom, so I had to print off a picture of it as an IOU. I found a cute little paper mache box at Michaels and did a quick decoupage with scrapbook paper. The girls kept asking me if they were giving their friend cookies for their birthday and after the 500th time I was like "NO. Cookies are not the kid's gift, don't ask again". I wondered why they kept asking me about flippin' cookies but a lot of what they do will baffle your mind so I've learned to just let it go.

Of course Miss 90-percent didn't get a card to accompany the shower gift and I had to hit the Rite Aid on the way to the party and as I signed the card and stuck it under the ribbon of the little round box, I thought, Damn, that looks like a box of cookies and right then I realized why my children had been pestering me about giving cookies as a gift.

Big Brother

No, not the craptacular reality show, the original Big Brother. The one that's watchinyou.

I don't think of myself as a super paranoid person. I mean, back in my younger and more smoky days, I did have visions of the Scooby Doo van in full cartoon form coming at me in my peripheral vision. That was ages ago and before I even knew about the internet, modern technology and the evils of market research. These days I swear internet usage is nothing but a tool for gathering a profile for marketers to use. I love to shop so that doesn't bother me, but isn't it kind of creepy that you think about everything you do and the consequences of doing it?

Just last night, the phone rang and a survey guy was on the other end. Normally those guys call while I'm in the middle of making dinner and I cut them off quickly, but I wasn't doing anything last night and figured they may get paid by the number of surveys they complete, and given the economy, etc., I was going to help the guy out. I am not exaggerating when I say that I answered at least 100 questions about long distance, local phone and broadband internet service. I started getting antsy and asked the guy "Are we nearly done?" and he got all huffy, exhaled strongly and said "Ma'am, I am going as quickly as I can". I laughed at that point because here I am trying to humor the guy and make him a buck and he's getting pissy with me. As I hung up the phone, I shook my head because I knew that I had just guaranteed myself more phone calls by getting on their "didn't hang up for 10 minutes" list.

This morning I turned the tv on and fired up my laptop and didn't pay a lot of attention to what channel it was on. Turns out I was using the 700 Club broadcast as my ambient noise for an hour. Can't wait to see what the consequences of that little mistake will be!

Punk'd Dreams

I have been having ridiculous dreams for the last few nights. Fidel keeps waking me up to tell me to stop snoring but my dreams have been so hilarious that I'm probably snort-laughing.

In one dream, I was watching Wall-E (never seen it) and I had been sitting there for over two hours and had yet to see Wall-E himself. I was all paranoid, thinking I was the subject of an elaborate practical joke or either in the completely wrong theater. I don't even care for robots or aliens and I think this movie covers both of those so being in the wrong theater may have been a blessing, but I needed some dreamy happy pills after a while because I was wringing my hands like a nut.

Good Day for a Three Way

That title sounds scandalous doesn't it? Unfortunately, my Three Way for the day isn't anything remotely exciting. I'm changing out three of my kitchen cabinets to make it easier for me (ha! for Fidel) to cook.

I have a tupperware cabinet that you have to open slowly and use your feet to block the falling bowls, grab what you need and slam the doors before you are buried in an unfortunate avalanche of tupperware. My pot and pan cabinet is like an awkward game of jenga because it's too small, while I have a miscellaneous small appliance/oddsnadends cabinet that has tons of extra room so today I'm pulling crap out and doing a switcheroo. I should probably pop a diet pill for a little extra energy because this is one of those things that I just cannot ninety-percent.

Bust My Ayss

In our ongoing mission to spend every dime to our names, Fidel hired a concrete crew to come out and pour a new patio under our new deck space. He emailed me and said that they didn't sound very smart on the telephone so I really didn't know what to expect. I told him that my Daddy probably doesn't sound very smart on the phone but it was because of the strong Southern accent. Turns out, the concrete fellows were just as country as can be, but very good at their jobs. They reminded me of workers on my Grandfather's farm back when I was a child and I quickly reverted back to my childhood job of fetching ice water for them. They should be happy that I didn't go check out their truck for their lunch buckets like I did when I was growing up. My Daddy caught me sitting up in somebody's truck eating their lunch while the workers were in the hayfield.

Anyway, I was standing up on the deck keeping one eye on the girls in the hot tub and the other eye on the concrete truck because it was interesting. The concrete was being fed down a ramp into wheelbarrows and one of the old guys said, "Hoo, Imma fall down here and bust my ayss". An ayss is an ass, but old Southern country people have a special way of saying it, ayss. He looked up and saw me and apologized and I laughed and said, "Oh my grandma can outcuss you, you aren't offending me". A lot of people make fun of country folks but those guys today gave me a little taste of home.

Finally!

We finally got our hot tub up onto our new deck, no thanks to Kenfullofshit who conveniently forgot to get around to it. We were able to hire the spa company who specializes in moving them on a cancellation without having to wait 3-4 weeks and they came out yesterday. Fidel had to remove 2 sections of the deck rail and managed to break the tip of his pinky finger in the process but it's all put together now and usable so it was a small sacrifice for the good of all of us. He came out at 6:15 this morning and took a little soak. That's normally the peak of my snore fest because I'm too lazy to get up to pee and I just lay on my back to get the pressure off of my bladder and that makes me snore like a lumberjack.

I'm writing from the comfort of the screened porch and enjoying the shade and the breeze while the girls play Chipmunks in a whirlpool. In an hour or so I'll be playing mother-on-an-errand-run so I may as well relax a little now because going out to run errands with my two is no fun task. I'm still kicking myself for not enrolling them in summer camp or finding a nice pack of wolves to leave them with for a few hours a week. At this point I'd leave them with a rabid Grizzly bear if I could find one.

Here's a picture of the children enjoying the hot tub. Pay no mind to the panel cover that isn't installed yet. We lost the drain plug thing for the hot tub and had to do a little redneck improvisation with a balloon and a few feet of duct tape. One of my errand stops today is the spa store for a replacement plug so the panel should be reattached this evening.

Found It

I found the inspiration piece for our girls' bathroom. Toots loves her Wiener Dog and I love the Eiffel Tower. I love this picture and I can't wait to get it here and get it framed so I can get the room going!

My Favorite Craigslist Cuckoo

In my never ending pursuit of avoiding housework, I like to browse Craigslist for junk. It's like junking from my sofa, which is about the only way to do it with gas prices being so crazy.

If you browse Craigslist for a while, you will notice relistings of the same products that aren't selling, such as the $400 geode that's relisted every three days or so. I found something much more interesting than an overpriced rock during my frequent CL stalking, and that's my Craigslist Cuckoo. This has to be an elegant lady living in a home piled high with treasures. She has such a way with words, I'm tempted to buy something just to be able to meet this graceful creature face to face. Well not really, she scares me a lot and even though I've liked some pieces she's listed, I can't bring myself to contact her to buy anything because she would probably steal my soul.

Check out some of these passages. She is too elegant for Craigslist.

Come on in, put your feet up, relax and have a browse around.

I think you will like what you see.

Simply zee best for zee guests!

Hello and welcome, I am so glad you are here!

Today I have listed for your collectibles consideration this very wonderful memorabilia
for a lovely young lady.

Gift giving tokens for year round occasions to say ‘I Love You’.

Hello, and how nice of you to shop here!

Today I have listed for your collectibles consideration pretty vanity and dresser top
memorabilia for the lady to display in the boudoir.

Much too lovely for Craigslist. Craigslist is for axe murderers, not elegant ladies.

*Disclaimer- I love CL and use it all the time. No offense intended to CL users, CL axe murders or elegant ladies of CL.

Wrap and Nudge

Tonight, I pioneered a new mom wrestling/dentistry move. Tootie has had one of her bottom teeth flopping sideways out of her mouth for a few weeks now, but she's refused to let me wiggle it. Even as her permanent tooth grew to tower over her little baby tooth and she had to eat by shoving her food into the side of her mouth, she was adamant that she didn't want Fidel or me to touch it. I bribed with a visit to Chuck E. Cheese, still no good. So we waited, I begged her to let me wiggle it, and she refused and cried.

Tonight as I tucked her into bed, that tooth was drooping toward her chin. I tickled her, wrapped her up quickly in her bedcovers and nudged that baby right on out. No pain, no tears, just lots of giggling from her and relief from me because I know that I won't have to see that flopping tooth any more. Until next time...

For now, the tooth is in a Ziplock bag. Fidel and I made a deal with Toots to hide her tooth from the tooth fairy tonight. She wants to play with it and show it to her sister and her little friends tomorrow, and then the tooth fairy can come tomorrow night.

Dear Neighbor

If you are calling on your neighbors to babysit your kid for something other than a member of your family bleeding out or a last-minute job interview, you need to hire a GD babysitter like the rest of the world. I haven't been without my kids the entire summer unless it's for a late night Monistat run down to the Wal-Mart, and even then Fidel was home to take care of the children. Our neighborhood is full of teenagers home for the summer more than willing to work for some maryjane money. Help the economy. Do it for the ganja.

Obviously you can't find another mom willing to swap some sitting with you because 1) You are too stupid for anyone to trust their kids alone with you since you let yours run the neighborhood and piss in your front yard and 2) Your husband has a tendency to pass out in the back yard at 3 pm while the neighborhood kids point and laugh at him and he apparently loves to be hauled around in the back of police cars since they come and take him on a ride once a week.

Just to help you out, I am going to print off the neighborhood babysitter list, just like I printed out the summer daycamp directory for you last year when your child took up residence at my house. Unfortunately, I'm going to have to grab a red sharpie to scratch, "Jennifer is NOT a fucking babysitter" across the top of the list because you tend to have difficulty realizing when you have worn out your welcome. I'm about to the point that I'm going to announce that I'm a raging pervert and am not allowed by law to babysit children that didn't claw their way out of my uterus.

I really hate babysitting. Almost as much as I hate being used and taken advantage of.

Mission: Children's Bathroom

My girls share a jack-and-jill bathroom that is still, two years later, a contractor gray with no accessories besides an Ariel shower curtain and a white bath mat. I've had some crazy ideas about how to make that room a seamless transition from Tootie's purple room to Moggie's pink and green room. I don't want to get too theme-y and since Tootie has had a butterfly/flower bedding set for 4 years I'm tired of seeing butterflies and flowers. I'm ready to get into a paint bucket but I don't want to get into a disposable decorating situation where I end up painting the bathroom 5 times.

I'm here on my ass watching HGTV in the name of "research". My research has led me to the conclusion that if the lady from Decorating Cents showed up on my doorstep I would probably give her a squirt of pepper spray. I do love the whole Trash to Treasure idea and there are people who can pull that off seamlessly, but that lady drives me nuts. She used to have a male partner and I'm convinced that he's been pepper sprayed or stabbed one too many times because he's no longer on the show. Now the show is only half as annoying as before.

Is this decorating talk reminding you that I still haven't delivered those promised before and after pictures of the dining room I did nearly a month ago? Yeah, that's the Ninety-Percenter at work.

Confessions of a Ninety Percenter

I rarely finish anything. Long ago, I realized that this was a major character flaw, one of the few that I have. Unless you count the narcissism. You may have noticed how my blog entries on here rarely, if ever, have a definite ending. A lot of that is by design, but mainly it's just a reflection of me. I like me and you guys obviously like me because you keep coming by to read even if you are too shy to comment. Luckily for you, I'm convinced that everyone likes me and I don't really need affirmation.

Getting back on track here, I was just mentally mapping out things I want to accomplish today and I zoned in on brainstorming for Christmas decorations in the foyer. Never mind that it's early July and I have things around here that I have put off since before last Christmas. There's one project that's been in progress for over three years and I just cannot convince myself to finish it. I started stripping a simple sofa table in October 2005. At our old house. We moved in October 2006 and the semi-stripped sofa table came along with us to sit in the basement until January 2008. I started hiding from the kids in the basement and sort of finished stripping the sofa table and I painted it. Never bothered to replace the two knobs, so I've had a knobless,not-quite-finished sofa table sitting in the foyer like an ugly toad for six months.

For the moment, I'm going to shelve the Christmas decor planning and try to focus on a few more immediate tasks. Like cleaning the laundry piles off of my bedroom sitting area furniture.

Keeping it Real

There's a chick at our bus stop who is really quiet and always looks happy. I've wondered what was up with her because there's always something (drugs) up with the quiet perfect-looking ones, you know? I ran into another neighbor at Costco last week and she was telling me how she heard the quiet chick yelling "Get the fuck over here" to her kids in the cul-de-sac. Instead of thinking "What a horrible mother" I felt a little sigh of relief that the chick is keeping it real. It should go without saying that I'm not constantly yelling the f-word at my kids, but you know, it does happen. I normally begin those days mopping up spilled milk, washing pancake syrup out of hair and being run more ragged than a Waffle House cook at 2 am on Saturday night. Well that's pretty much how to describe every morning around here but I can take about 45 of those mornings before I snap and have a really bad adult temper tantrum.

Gutless

I just went outside to let the Wiener Dog potty and I checked the mail while I was out there. On the way back down our sidewalk, I was flipping through the mail and looking at an inkjet-printed campaign ad featuring a candidate in overalls and a t-shirt. I wish I had been looking at the sidewalk because I felt something pop and whir out from under my bare foot. I waited for the pain to hit because I just knew that I had stepped on a bee or a wasp. There was a big wet spot on the sidewalk and some stuff that looked like guts but no sign of a bug. There was nothing stuck to my foot so I bent down to look closer. I saw a tiny trail of fluid and then I saw a tiny little gutless frog carcass laying in the crack between sections of the sidewalk. Now my foot is tingling and I'm not sure if it's just shocked that it managed to kill a freaking frog or if that was some sort of rare poisonous frog that will cause my foot to rot.

Hot. Damn.

Fidel and I have been bantering about getting a golf cart to cruise around the neighborhood and to the pool. Lots of people in here have them and I really think it would be fun for the kids.

I just found something that would be much more fun than a golf cart. I'm totally putting this on my Christmas list. I don't want a standard cooler though. I want mine to be pink with flames on it.

Can you imagine how cool I would be rocking that bad boy up to the bus stop? Or the shame I would bring my family if I got busted by the po-po for riding a cooler full of beer? If I did get arrested for riding a case of Bud Lite, I would at least hope I would be on COPS to make it all worthwhile.

The Fruits of Their Labor

We bought our house nearly two years ago. We had never had a deck before so we didn't notice that ours was too small to be of any real use to us. Fidel used it for cooking but it definitely wasn't a space for entertaining. We have been giving lip service to having the deck extended and having our hot tub installed on it and finally pulled the trigger on construction last month. The contractor started last week and finished (mostly) this afternoon. There are a few additional issues to iron out and one big ass hot tub to install but we are definitely getting there.

Here's a before and after set. I'll take more once I get plants and furniture set up this week.

Before:


After:

May I Speak to Someone With a Penis?

In our deck renovation/expansion project, a main obstacle/goal is getting our 600-lb hot tub on the deck, from it's current resting spot underneath our deck. I took Wiener Dog outside earlier and Kenfullofshit was out there so I talked to him a bit, and in the conversation the subject of exactly how he planned to get that hot tub up a flight of stairs was broached. He doesn't know how he's going to do it. I told him that I would call the spa store and ask the guy who does the deliveries and setup so I came inside to do that. A young chick chewing gum answered the phone and insisted that she was an expert on moving and deliveries so I humored her and asked just how we would go about getting the hot tub up the deck and she said "A um, you know, the machine that pokes underneath and lifts up, a forklift thingy?".

I felt like saying, "Thank you for your expert knowledge. May I now speak to someone who has a penis and who has actually moved a hot tub up to a deck?". Instead I just thanked her and emailed Fidel to call someone himself.

Ungrateful Whore

Last Saturday, my annoying ass neighbor asked me to babysit her kid for an hour while she went to spinning class on Sunday morning. I did it, and she was gone three hours for a 45 minute class. This week she asked me again and I said I had planned on sleeping in. She kept pressing and pressing so I sighed and said, "I guess I can get up" and she said that she would be back earlier than last week. Two and a half hours after she dropped an unfed 6-year old off at my curb, she called to tell me her husband wanted her to come pick him up from the hotel that he had been living at since the po-po hauled him away from their house earlier in the week, and wanted to know if I thought she should take her son with her or just wait to pick him up. I said "I don't care what you do, but you need to come get your child because I was supposed to be keeping him for ONE hour and I have things planned today".

Can you imagine the size of her balls for taking blatant advantage of someone like that? Her ass can hire a sitter next week because I'm over being nice and doing favors for her.

Can I Get a What What?

Today was day one of our deck construction. It was supposed to be day 4 if not the end day but given that we were given the runaround by Fidel's chosen contractors before we even signed the contract, I'm not all that shocked.

The construction company owner, Kenfullofshit, sat at my kitchen table and boasted how they did debris removal at the end of each work day, complete with dragging a long magnet thing across the lawn to remove any stray nails. Apparently the guy in charge of paying attention to detail had other plans for today because not only do I have a yard full of lumber remnants, but I have a yard full of lumber remnants, soft drink boxes, empty water bottles and 4-inch nails by the dozen. Additonally, there is no flashing between the house and the deck structure so you can look for us on the news in about 10 years. We will be easy to find, just look for the headlines that scream, "Massive Deck Collapse in North Atlanta Area". Hopefully the word fatality won't be included and you will just see us laying on the ground holding our beers upright and smiling because we managed not to spill.

Nice Going, Dad

This morning, Tootie was on our couch laying beside the Wiener Dog on a soft, cozy throw that we all love. Wiener Dog likes to bite a little nip of the blanket and suck on it like it's her Wiener Dog mom and Fidel always yells at her about it while I let her get away with it. I mean, I have a 4-yo who reads but still sucks her thumb so I'm obviously not one to make anything grow up too fast.

Anyway, Tootie and Wiener Dog are cuddling and I hear Tootie say, "If I see your teef on that blanket I'll beat the Hell out of you Wiener Dog". She totally learned that from her dad.

Not to Be Ugly

Have you ever noticed that the words "Not to be ugly" always precedes something that is actually very ugly? I should probably replace that entire phrase in my vocabulary with the words "I'm about to say something you will want to slap me for" because honestly, that would be a lot more accurate.

Anyway, before I digress into the idiosyncrasies of slightly imbalanced Southern women, I'll just say that there is one building product that I hate with a passion, and that is diagonal lattice. I see it all over and I'm not judging anyone that has it, but it is not something that I personally want to wake up to every morning. I don't cringe when I visit someone with diagonal lattice, I barely notice it, but I just cannot lay in my bed knowing that there's diagonal lattice on my deck. Yes, it's shallow, ridiculous and just a bit neurotic but it ain't. happening. here. Uh-uh.

I told Fidel that I wasn't having it, to not even suggest it and to let his contractor know. Lo and behold, what do you think is sitting on top of the pile of lumber that was just dropped in our driveway for the deck construction. Diagonal fucking lattice.

Dysfunction Junction

Dysfunction Junction is officially back in business. We live in a cul-de-sac with 3 other families. One just moved in, one is normal and the other two have various issues that the police like to call domestic situations. Just this morning at 6 am, the cul-de-sac was filled with police cars and an ambulance. The wife of that family is trying to have the husband committed for being mentally ill. That fucker is indeed crazy as can be but he's very intelligent and is able to talk his way out of being taken away. The wife is not American and while she speaks English pretty well, she has trouble expressing herself when she gets upset. In my opinion there's no cut and dry "bad guy" in this situation, just two people who need to divorce and never look back. Unfortunately the person suffering through this circus is their 6-year old kid.

We get along really well with the family that just moved in next door, between us and the crazies. We have paid our contractors to expand our deck and they will be starting any time now. Well someone was blocking the neighbors driveway and she called with some attitude to say "Your contractors are blocking my driveway" but it was actually their cable company burying the cable from the curb to their basement. Fidel took that call and wasn't very pleased. I was still in bed and that call woke me up so obviously I'm not too happy about it, either.

Let's all hope that the rest of the day brings more funny and less neighborhood fuckery. My Evil Uterus and the Ovaries of Doom are acting up so I'm not very optimistic.

Retrospective Mama - The Last Fifteen Years

I was tagged with this meme by my much cooler long-lost twin, Lotta. I don't know the actual etiquette of this whole meme thing but I'm faking the funk here and hoping I do it right. Anyone who reads MF knows that I screw up an awful lot so don't expect too much from me.

The directions: "Think back on the last 15 years of your life. How would you summarize your life in just 10 bullet points."

I had to pull up Excel to list the years and my age each year because when you have CRS your shit just blends together.

Let's step back to 1994 when life was easy, filled with thumping bass and recreational drugs.

1993 - 19, cute and making great money. I met what I thought was "The One".

1994 - Lived double life as a 20-year old during the day, becoming a 23-year old named "Mary Fink" when it was time to hit the clubs.

1995 - Turned 21 and left "Mary Fink" behind when I could use my own license.

1996 -Turned 22 and joined the Army to get me away from "The One" and party friends/lifestyle.

1997 - Married Fidel after dating for 79 days.

1998 - Moved from Honolulu to Atlanta.

1999 - Bought our first house.

2000 - Went on a few long trips with Fidel, on the back of his motorcycle. Discovered that I was way too prissy to be a biker bitch.

2001 - Impregnated with Tootie.

2002 - Tootie was born. Bought our second house.

2003 - Discovered being bald down there. Shortly thereafter pregnant with Moggie.

2004 - Moggie was born and I became a SAHM and ended up addicted to the internet when I was chained to a chair rocking the world's crankiest baby in a bouncy seat.

2005 - Still dealing with the world's crankiest baby, don't remember much.

2006 - Bought our third house. Took first cruise.

2007 - Tootie started Kindergarten. Mama Fidel was created.

*"The One" was in no way The One for me. It's just funny because I thought I was in love and it turns out after I married my Fidel that it wasn't the case at all.

I'm not sure who to tag, so the first five people who are interested in strolling down memory lane, knock yourselves out!