Friday, May 18, 2007

Tuesday, May 15, 2007


:0( I'LL BE BACK SOON!!!!!!
I MISS YOU!!!!!!!

Friday, May 11, 2007

THIS IS BRA FAT and it needs to go!

Okay ladies, (and some of you men),

Can anyone tell me what the purpose of Bra Fat is? What does it do? Why is it there? How did it get in myyyy shirt?

Other than confusing people about which is the front and which is the back, what is it's function? The least it can do is store water like a camel!

I look like I have a sixpack on my upper back!
(and a Keg in the front).
This is rediculous!
theresa was over at her place talking about fashion and how there is an 80s revival in Spain right now. People... can we please just go back to the 1800s and bring back the Corset?

Ya know they also make them for guys with man-boobs!

Please post some suggestions here so that I can just STOP THE MADNESS ALREADY!

I need another bra for my back!!!
(Yeah yeah, I know.....ewwwww!)

Sunday, May 6, 2007


Isn’t that just straight up terrible of me to say? I can’t help it!
Sometimes you just have to depart from mental reality when it seems there will be no end to the incessant chatter. I learned to use this very valuable skill/state of mind a long time ago.
I think I remember learning it around the time the kids were still in diapers. Any on-going crying for no apparent reason induced me into a comma-like-state-of mind which allowed me to escape insanity for many fun filled hours at a time. :0)

I’m just kidding, it wasn’t that far back, but I did learn to zone out around the time that the children decided to master the art of bickering and babbling about pointless stuff
(I almost said “Pointless Drivel” but I think there’s a copy write).

I love my 3 children more than life itself. There isn’t anything I won’t do for them. I support them in everything they do, try to spend as much time with them as I can between multiple jobs, and just plain love to hang out with them whenever they are asleep.
(half kidding again).

HOWEVER, in my quest to be as loving and caring as a mother can possibly be, sometimes my brain just can’t absorb it all. Sometimes my brain just shuts down and escapes to a land where different thoughts reside. Other thoughts that don’t include;
“MOOOOM, she used my brush and now her putrid hair is all over it!”, or “MOM she called me anorexic again….yeah Mom but she called me a fat load first”. Or “Mikey stole my rap and he keeps saying he made it up”. (Excuse me, but I wasn’t aware that you are getting ready to launch a new Rap CD. Call your attorney and have him send your 18 yr old brother a letter telling him to cease and desist or else.)

Here is an example of my day which warrants Zoning Out.

~I come home from working all day, knowing there are still many tasks to take care of before I can answer the beckoning of my sweet, warm and cozy bed.

During dinner I usually engage the kids in a discussion about their day by asking how it was.
(I don’t really want to know. Okay, yes I do, but I always hope for the shortest version).
(I sound like such a guy right now don’t I? I sure don’t blame my husband for ignoring me all these years. THAT’S WHERE I LEARNED IT FROM!). Ah, something else to blame him for! :0)
Anyhow, I have 3 kids who have a lot that happens during the school day, so most often our discussions turn into press conferences.

How many years does it take for people to learn that they have to wait their turn???
I got tired of reminding them, so as my brain started to zone out on it’s own, I found myself holding 3 conversations at once.
(It’s incredibly amazing how many adults I run into who act like kids and do the same thing).
Anyhow, that’s a different rant.

At the dinner table I ask each of my kids, “So babe, how was your day at school today?” (in my sweet mommie voice, and not the usual I HAVE A TON OF WORK TO DO SO MAKE IT QUICK tone that a mean mom would use).

Usually, I just want to know about the important facts.
“How did you do on your tests today? Did you turn in your homework? How was lunch? You spent how much time in the nurses office again even though you weren’t really sick?”
Instead of the short simple answers to my actual questions the answers snowball into stories similar to ‘why one of them and a friend had started a “let’s trip each other in the hall game and see who goes down the hardest” tangent. (Shouldn’t that be a game for boys in..…well….any grade really?!) Naturally there would be a 30 minute lecture on why that isn’t going to continue.

It’s amazing how fast the evening hours go by! Three interviews like this with all of the other usual shenanigans and before I know it, it’s 11PM. I thought it would a little easier when you have teenagers. My girls are so cute because they still want to be tucked in every night. I love that. It gives me a little more time to talk and spend another hour trying to escape from each of their rooms so that I can finally sit back to relax at 2AM. :0)

I’ve accepted the fact that I can’t kill my husband for getting me pregnant, or kidnap and hold myself hostage on a secluded island somewhere in the West Indies. I realize that the bickering and just plain motor-mouthing my already gridlocked mind is something I’m going to have to live with as long as I own ears.

Zoning Out is the alternative. It’s become an art form! I didn’t realize I was doing it until the kids pointed it out. I don’t mean to be so rude, but it beats thinking or God forbid saying out loud..... “SSSSHHHHHHUTTY!” or "Guess what? I bought some Shut-upsicles! They're in the fridge, go get one."

It’s my brain’s fault! That’s what I tell them. In a very familiar tattle-tale-tone I say
They just roll their eyes and leave the room.
I love turning the tables! Is that mean? Oh well.
You’ll be doing it someday and you’ll thank me for the tip!

If you weren’t Zoning Out during this entire post, leave me a comment. I promise to pay attention! For the first part of it at least~ :0)

Thursday, May 3, 2007

GET OVER TO diesel AND theresa's place to read...

diesel wrote this HILARIOUS post about a conversation between God and Adam on the day he and Eve had to exit the Garden of Eden. I literally pee'd myself reading it! When I complained to diesel that in the last few days I've gone through several pair of pants reading all of his posts, the sicko told me to go commando like Adam did in his leafy trousers.
I'm sure you'd like that diesel! Ya Sicko! With my luck you'd recommend the itchy leaves and not tell me!

Then Theresa brilliantly tied her version of the story in.
Great stuff! Get over to both of their places and read them! diesel's first though in order to appreciate Theresa's post! (Mixed Fruits and Metaphors) and (All About Eve).

I love you funny people!

Tuesday, May 1, 2007

Heck Yeah Mutha Trucka!

(That title has nothing to do with today’s post. It just felt good to say it.)

Hi everyone, I’m back. I’ve been released from the blog penalty box. I don’t have much to say, so I may end up back in the box very soon.

My daughter came home today with a health class project that has her caring for an egg (which is supposed to be a baby). The assignment is that each student is to take their egg with them everywhere and bring the egg back within a week, unscathed. The teacher marked the eggs with a special pen that only a blue light will detect to make sure the students don’t cheat and bring in any old egg after breaking the original.

The very first day of the assignment, my daughter had the nerve to ask me to baby-sit her egg. It really is a great learning experience because I can teach her right now that I WILL NOT be BABYSITTING squat! I’ve been babysitting and then some for the last 19 years! It's bad enough that I have to baby-sit my husband for the rest of my life. I have 4 more years to go with our kids and then my plan is to drink some special Kool-Aide, lie down on a cot and wait for Hailey’s Comet to come and pick me up!

It's a nice concept as a health project though isn't it? It's geared to show teenagers how stressful it can be to care for a child if they are irresponsible and end up pregnant at an early age. I wish these eggs could scream at the top of their non-existent lungs and crap in their non-existent pants!

I’m going back to the penalty box!