Because tonight? Gonna party like I'm still breathing!

Because last year this time? Was on the bathroom floor, passed out near death, from pneumonia and heart failure. Feisty and my older sister had to come rescue me and haul my sorry ass to the ER.

And then there was that whole "code blue" nonsense which lead to people in my family freaking out and shit.

So this year, since I am still upright and breathing, and actually feeling half human today, I am going out with my Moose. We are going to a little hole in the wall place where hopefully we will have a good time. And if we don't? Then we will go down the street to another, bigger, hole in the wall and pay another 10 bucks to have a good time there. She plans on drinking. I plan on sobering. That's just how I roll.

Happy New Year, folks!

Because I'm all about the bargain!

Happy Holidays to everybody!

Merry F*ing Holiday, here's your shredded heart in a box with a bow.

Because? I was having a great fucking day up until I got this email from Bacardi. Regulars will remember him. Friends will groan at his mention. Me? Melting into a puddle of sadness, heartbreak, frustration and sheer-all-out-unadulterated-rip-his-balls-off-pissed.

Hey I'm sorry for treating you the way I have in the past. I've done a lot of soul searching and found that I'm not such a good person after all... I'm sorry if i ever hurt you. You were so good to me for so long taking someone for granted is a sin after all. I hope you have a great Christmas... thank you for all that you have done for me in the past...

Merry Christsmas

It didn't have a "Dear" and he didn't sign it.

Back in July I was going over to his house and we were getting reacquainted. We have been friends for so long and have had that on again-off again relationship. He was conflicted over wanting to leave his girlfriend of 2 years because she had cancer and he didn't want to look like a schmuck about not wanting to be with her anymore. Then one day she up and packed and hired the movers and got out. He was elated. Even I will admit I was happy.

Then I got the whole story.

In parts.

Or should I say "minute instances of sobriety".

She wanted kids, he didn't. She wanted marriage. He didn't. She put up with his alcoholism. He put up with her grass habit. He assured me it was over and there was no more to the relationship. She wasn't coming back. Ever.

Fast forward to the end of July. I was helping out my best friend by participating in the Pride festivities and the parade float that she was supposed to ride on along with other employees of the gay bar she worked at. She was the only lesbian that showed that day. I hopped on the float with her along with a straight Waffle House waitress. Ah...good times.

On the way to the parade I passed Bacardi's house. I saw the "supposed ex-girlfriend's" car parked outside his house. That coupled with the wacky dodging emails I had been getting from him in the days preceding the parade and everything became crystal clear. The fucktard took her back. Too spineless to sever the relationship and move on, he had welcomed her back.

My reaction? I screamed insanely loud and obnoxious obscenities at her AND him through the neighborhood for a good 10 minutes. I was hurt. I felt betrayed. I was venting.

She was on his front porch sparking up a doobie. He was passed out drunk out 3 in the afternoon in the bedroom. She heard every word. She knew I was yelling at her because of the repeated use of her name along with a plethora of derogatory female curse words I was hurling. She got mad. Woke him up. Told him some woman was screaming and saying all kinds of thing.

One word. BUSTED!

It seems he had not told her that he had any female friends or had tried to "move on" after the "breakup". I guess she must have just thought MOVING OUT COMPLETELY AND REFUSING ANY CONTACT WITH HIM FOR OVER 6 WEEKS meant they were just taking a "break".

The ensuing email I got from him was umm...entertaining to say the least.

what in the hell are u doing coming by my house and yelling at the woman that loves me... i'm sorry she doesn't live with another man, she doesn't have a girl friend on the side she loves me don't be fucking with the people that love me i care about you leigh but don't fuck with the ones that give me there all I was alseep when all this happened and it fricking pisses me off that you respect me that little.... i never knew you respected me that little . To me your nothing but WHITE TRASH---SO DO NOT CALL ME ANYMORE AND DO NOT LOOK FOR ME ANYMORE.--IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS REGARDING HOW I FELL YOU ARE MORE THANWELCOME TO CA;LL THE WOMAN THAT I LOVE HER CELL NUMBER IS ***-****.

*Let's not even get started on how much he respected me by telling me he was getting back together with her and he wanted me to go away quietly and discreetly. * (watch that puddle of dripping sarcasm now. We don't want you to slip and fall...)

So I didn't call him anymore. In fact I deleted all his numbers from all my phones. I blocked his emails. I put him on my blocked IMs list. I didn't answer that email. I just let it go. I figured, the pieces of my heart could be swept up and eventually glued back together. I would get over it. In time. I would survive, because that is just what I do.

Eventually as the days went on and other things filled my time and thoughts, my heart was mending itself. I wasn't pining away for him and even though he still invaded my dreams occasionally, I was getting over it all.

To be honest I hadn't even thought of Bacardi in over a month. I was sitting here at home today, working away at getting my gifts made for my relatives, and then BOOM!!

That stupid email shows up. I knew it was him from the email address it came from. He doesn't get creative when it comes to picking email addresses.

And now?

At a loss as to what to do. So for I have two votes for ignore it, delete it, and block that new email address.

One vote for email the fucking bastard back and wish him the unmerriest holiday of his life, and the hope a rabid family of porcupines crawls up his ass as camps out for the winter.

One vote for forgiveness in the spirit of the season, and just a simple "Merry Christmas and please honor your promise not to contact me."

(I should also note at this point that I occasionally experience a duality of personality and I will give you one guess as to who those last two votes came from.)

So I need some advice my bloggy friends. I would like to get some feedback as to what to do, before I act all impetuously and do something I might regret. You can either leave a comment or email me. My address is on my profile. Thanks for the help.

Oh and glad tidings and joyous holiday wishes to you and yours!

God wears boxers, Santa does briefs

Just thought I would clear that up for you. I was informed of these facts as I was helping my sister and her girls sort through laundry tonight. Turns out my favorite and only 9 year old niece has the direct line on this sort of info. Plus the entire evening was just an ongoing discussion of anything and everything as long as the word "butt" was inserted at random followed by uncontrollable fits of the giggles. What is it about the word "butt" that is so funny to a kid?

So that's my post, and I'm sorry it isn't long, but with the holidays and the baking and the ornament making and the helping with the sister and the taking of my computer by the FCB so he could clean my hard drive and then screw something up so he had to wipe out my whole computer and start all over and not allowing me to get access to his computer and basically severing my umbilical to my online life has all kept me a little busy. Rest assured I am writing things down to post when I get more time and my laptop back. I am just bubbling up to the brim with snark at this point and I have to be able to get it all somehow.

So to recap: God - Boxers, Santa - Briefs, Persnickety - busy but still ticking, Nieces (including new baby) - Doing great and keeping me supplied in blog fodder, Punk - Also doing well and thrilled at being able to spend time with cousins, FCB - Lucky I don't own a baseball bat to go all batting practice all over his shiny, bald head.

Hope everyone is have a chillaxing holiday season so far!

"Hey Mommy, I'm hungry."

"No problem Punk. What would you like for dinner? Would you like some macaroni and cheese?"

"Umm, no."

"Would you like a peanut butter and jelly snammich?" (What she calls a sandwich.)

"Umm, no."

"Do you want another noga (granola) bar?"

"Umm, no."

"Well, what do you think you want? Hey, how about pizza?"

"Oooh, yeah! And Mommy? Can we get that with brownies on top this time? I'll go get the phone for you...."

Pee First. Don't eat or drink during. Enjoy.

I aspire to be this funny in my next life. Cuz this dude wipes the floor with me in this life.

As the title states...go pee. Clear your computer area of any liquids you may be tempted to drink. Prepare to cease breathing from laughing too hard. Make sure your portable difbulator is charged.

(Oh, and if you are offended by anything he says, take it up with him, not me. Thanks.)

ENJOY!

They're home.

Older Sister and her now 1 month old are home.

This after the little one spent half her life already in the hospital.

The doctors finally found a medicine combo that worked.

I am glad I could be there for her when she needed me.

I am tired.

Because I am tired, I am getting sick.

Again.

I hope and pray (even though I stopped praying years ago) that Older Sister will never have another worry when it comes to this child and will never know the the pain and hardship it takes to raise a "special needs" child.

Even though I know she will never stop worrying.

My child misses me so much she thinks I am running away and abandoning her every time I leave the room.

We are going to Disney's Animal Kingdom tomorrow for some bonding time.

(even though it will weaken me more)

Because my "special" girl is my universe and I want her to have more happy memories of me than not.

Please keep sending prayers, positive energy and good thoughts to my Older Sister and her baby girl.

I fully believe it all helped and is still helping.

You guys are great and I love each and every one of ya!

I'm Thankful it's over.

Cuz family? (No one was even related to me except the throngs of children and the Punk.) And cooking? (If you call one dish of southern style special recipe mac 'n cheese that I came up with so my child would eat at least one thing because the mac 'n cheese they like to pass off as mac 'n cheese ever year is just a grease fest of no flavor and not enough salt, eww. Plus the fact that since Older Sister wasn't going to be there this year it fell to me to make her deviled eggs which I now know that apparently she is the only one in the world the can make OS deviled eggs cuz no one went back for seconds but I thought they tasted alright so everyone can just suck it cuz that means I can just take the rest home and so what that they were a little salty cuz it's not like any of the rest of the people there would even know a grain of salt if it jumped up and bit 'em on the ass. Ahem.) And FCB in rare extra cranky form? (He is so lucky that I don't actually own an aluminum baseball bat cuz I would so go all batting practice on his head.) And that was just the start of the day.

So when the dinner?!? came to pass? (We were late getting there since dinner was at 2 and it is cosmically impossible for me to be anywhere on time. Seriously. Me being on time would result in flaming frogs raining down from the sky to mark the end of the world as we know it. Even though my being late had nothing to do with me and everything to do with Punk and FCB draggin' ass and fighting and generally just goofing off to drive me to the edge of batty right before we had to leave the house, at which time FCB stated that he was driving and MY minivan at that, and proceeded to get in and start adjusting my seat controls as well as my mirrors and where the hell did I put that crowbar, cuz bat be damned, anything would do at this point!) So we got there at 3. (They were getting ready to start and we arrived just in time to catch the AMEN of the blessing and as I am standing there with food in my hands FCB just sat right down at the table to start feeding like a hoover-vac stuck on permanent suck. I found a place to put the food and when I uncovered my to-die-for mac 'n cheese noses curled up bigger than a whole closet full of elf shoes and was told promptly that there was already mac 'n cheese on the table. oh yeah? Bite me.) And the kids? (They all dove into my mac 'n cheese cuz it was kid friendly and made with Velveeta and actually had FLAVOR to it as well as SALT and PEPPER, and everyone who actually braved the wrath of the hostess to try it said it was WONDERFUL! And no that is not bragging it is just fact cuz I just know I am a good cook that way plus I have had to suffer the bland tasteless food that is this family's fare for the last umpteen years and I know that these people are ready to have something else besides unseasoned cardboard.) And the dinner? (Who the fuck makes mashed potatoes without any milk or butter or salt and pepper or maybe even a little sour cream and garlic? I swear these potatoes were cooked, thrown in a bowl and mashed. Nothing added. Nothing. Hork. Gag. WTF? The green beans? No casserole, just green beans thrown in a dish and heated. NO SALT AND PEPPER. The Stuffing? I honestly think they shredded some cardboard and threw in some cranberries. The corn? Same as the green beans. Canned, thrown in a bowl and heated without being seasoned. Creamed onions...WTF...orange whipped-looking something I didn't touch...rolls that were raw dough in the middle...TWO fried turkeys and one roasted one. I was given one slice of the roasted one. That's it. And don't get me started on the broccoli casserole that my BIL made. Bless his heart, with the wife in the hospital with the youngest of five, he attempted to make one of her dishes that she cranks out every year. I was with her in the hospital when the husband called 5 times to have her walk him through making it. At first taste it seemed that he got it right, but about 5 minutes after eating it my tummy decided that he didn't. I had a lovely view of the restroom for the remainder of the evening.) All in all these people have never even heard of seasoning food. It was tragic. Don't even get me started on dessert. If you can even call it that. I came home and had some ice cream.

So today? The easy-peasy turkey breast in a bag that goes straight to oven from the freezer is cooking away. The (well seasoned) creamed corn, is on the stove. The green bean casserole is ready to be made along with the (well seasoned) stuffing. The sour cream, chive and garlic (and salt and pepper) mashed potatoes are in the making. The mac 'n cheese will be reheated (because it tastes great even on the second day, and try doing that with greasy traditional stuff) and there will be blueberry pie and strawberry cheesecake. Oh and the deviled eggs? Plenty of them left over because I took what was left back home with me. So a nice, well seasoned dinner will be had by this family in my house with a nice plate made up for Older Sister that is still in the hospital with the baby. (Baby is still hanging in there through the wacky medicine changes.)
And after today? Will definitely be thankful that it will be finally, completely over. At least for a month. Then there is Xmas to worry about. But that is waaaaay far off in the distance and if I rock myself back and forth and chant that is doesn't exist, maybe it will go away. Maybe.

I have like 8 drafts just sitting here waiting to get finished.

I hardly ever finish anything. The fact that I have actually managed to complete and publish posts in the past is an outright miracle. I have so many things to say...nay...to express all over you folks like an upchuck after a trip to an all you can eat buffet. But like that puddle of shouldn't have ate goodness, it is just a giant mess of stuff all mixed together.

I have Attention Deficit Disorder. Bad. My ADD is usually quite comical to my friends and family because in any given situation I am carrying on at least 7 different conversations about 12 different things. My best friends (gotta love 'em!) can keep up with me without missing a beat. Or at least they have mastered faking it to a T. I just keep rambling on and on while my thought train derails like a 8 car pile up. (And that was a joke...if you didn't get it cause I'm all subtle like that...go back and read it again. I'll wait. Still waiting. Get it yet? Laughing yet? Need me to wait another second while you clean the coffee you spit out of your nose off the screen? Sure thing. I'll wait. OK. Back to the story.) So where was I? Hmm...scanning the screen for what I already wrote....

So my friends get me. My sister even gets me most of the time. Keeping up with me can be difficult on many levels. Through this blog I have found other people who get me and even think I am funny! Whodathunkit. I found out today that my friend's friends read me and think I am funny. Awesome! Thanks, that rocks! Y'all rock! So here's my shout out to all the Mooses, Gooses, Fruits, Vegetables, Monkeys, Squirts and any other freaky whacked out nickname you folks choose for yourselves.

I fully intend on finishing and posting all those posts that I have started and haven't seemed to find the time or thought train to finish. I may just cut and paste and put them all in one entry and let y'all try to figure it all out for yourselves. Who knows. As the family is circling the wagons around the latest health crisis and I have spent an innumerable amount of hours trying to be supportive to my sister, I have collected some amazing blog fodder for future postings. I just have to get it all out of my brain an on to the computer and organized in a way that my readers will understand and....oooh look...a kitty!

Cuz I could bottle that shit and be all rich and stuff.

Being a very hectic week here, I have had to do a lot more driving than usual. While out on the road dodging a charter bus that was changing lanes like he was driving a Mazda Miata, I realized that what is lacking in today's day and age is COMMON SENSE! Seriously. Get some. Better yet, I'll just bottle and sell that shit so I can get my unpoverty on.

I'm all for making people retake their driver's test every time the license comes up for renewal. Cuz some people? They would just never pass and at least it would legally get them off the road. I say legally even though you just know the dumbfucks would drive with out a license anyway. But I digress.

With all the extra driving I have been a little more stressed that I normally would, and while it makes for a great comedy routine to entertain my sister while she is trapped in a tiny hospital room, it makes me build up a bullshit intolerance. For everything. And everyone. Especially OLD FARTS!! Including the Fat Cranky Bastard I live with and the Batshit Crazy Nitpicky Mother.

Chip? Shoulder? Have you met?

Not that I am an ageist.

But old people are buggin' the shit out of me right now.

Holding my breath...

Older Sister and her newborn daughter are in the hospital tonight. They will probably be there for at least a few days. The new baby girl has a heart condition called atrial tachycardia. In such a new infant it is a scary and potentially VERY BAD thing. They are medicating the baby with different things to see what works best. I am medicating my sister with good ole fashioned southern comfort food like Mac'n'cheese. In tough times I only know how to do two things well...make good food, and make people laugh.

I have managed to make my sister practically pee her pants laughing today. Just doing my job to relieve some stress. Have no fear, I am taking notes, and will highlight y'all on some of the funnier stuff that transpires. Until then, go pick a back post at random and have a good chuckle. Pretty sure most of 'em have something funny in them. I am off to the hospital again to offer my comedic and cheesy support.

I've...

Got this from ChiTownGirl...I'm game!

OK, the rules are simple. Copy and paste the list, putting the things you've done in bold. I'm not tagging anyone, just play if you feel like it.

1. Started my own blog

2. Slept under the stars

3. Played in a band

4. Visited Hawaii

5. Watched a meteor shower

6. Given more than I can afford to charity

7. Been to Disneyland/world

8. Climbed a mountain

9. Held a praying mantis

10. Sung a solo

11. Bungee jumped

12. Visited Paris

13. Watched a lightning storm at sea

14. Taught myself an art from scratch

15. Adopted a child

16. Had food poisoning

17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty

18. Grown my own vegetables

19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France

20. Slept on an overnight train

21. Had a pillow fight

22. Hitchhiked

23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill

24. Built a snow fort

25. Held a lamb

26. Gone skinny dipping

27. Run a marathon

28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice

29. Seen a total eclipse

30. Watched a sunrise or sunset

31. Hit a home run

32. Been on a cruise

33. Seen Niagara Falls in person

34. Visited the birthplace of my ancestors

35. Seen an Amish community

36. Taught myself a new language

37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied

38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person

39. Gone rock climbing

40. Seen Michelangelo’s David

41. Sung karaoke

42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt

43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant

44. Visited Africa

45. Walked on a beach by moonlight

46. Been transported in an ambulance

47. Had my portrait painted

48. Gone deep sea fishing

49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person

50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris

51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling

52. Kissed in the rain

53. Played in the mud

54. Gone to a drive-in theater

55. Been in a movie

56. Visited the Great Wall of China

57. Started a business

58. Taken a martial arts class

59. Visited Russia

60. Served at a soup kitchen

61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies

62. Gone whale watching

63. Got flowers for no reason

64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma

65. Gone sky diving

66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp

67. Bounced a check

68. Flown in a helicopter

69. Saved a favorite childhood toy

70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial

71. Eaten caviar

72. Pieced a quilt

73. Stood in Times Square

74. Toured the Everglades

75. Been fired from a job

76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London

77. Broken a bone

78. Been on a speeding motorcycle

79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person

80. Published a book

81. Visited the Vatican

82. Bought a brand new car

83. Walked in Jerusalem

84. Had my picture in the newspaper

85. Read the entire Bible

86. Visited the White House

87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating

88. Had chickenpox

89. Saved someone’s life

90. Sat on a jury

91. Met someone famous

92. Joined a book club

93. Lost a loved one

94. Had a baby

95. Seen the Alamo in person

96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake

97. Been involved in a law suit

98. Owned a cell phone

99. Been stung by a bee

100. Had sex outside

Doing Disney Disabled, part 1

This is going to be a regular series on my blog for at least the next year. I promise it won't get boring. (My daughter and I are the new proud owners of Season Passes. If you are heading to Disney World with your free birthday ticket in 2009 and you want some company, just give me a shout. I'm looking at you Feisty.)

Anyone who knows me or has at least read my blog a little knows there are two things I am truly passionate about, Crocs and Disney World. The good thing about these two passions? Disney is a plethora of tourists who have discovered the comfiness of Crocs while wandering around a theme park. Just looking down at every pair of feet in the lines waiting to get on a ride and you would see at least 3 out of 5 people wearing them. It's like a cult. And the good news? I hear they are going to start giving away a free glass of Kool-Aid with each new purchase! (I'm kidding. Maybe.)

So last October I convinced FCB (Fat Cranky Bastard in case y'all forgot what that stood for) to go to Disney for the day while we were already down in Orlando trying to enjoy some still hot Florida weather. (If you're a Yankee don't hate. It's y'all's choice to live in that vast frozen wasteland you cling to.) So after many promises to FCB that when we got home I would clean the house and budget the money better (I still haven't done either) we went to the Magic Kingdom for a day. At the ticket window, the nice friendly ticket agent convinced us to purchase the 3 day ticket at a much better value. FCB relented. YAY! DISNEY!

That day, back in October, I rented an Electric Convenience Vehicle or ECV which I will from now on lovingly refer to as a Fart Cart since that is what it is due to the old farts and the disabled people (and lazy motherfucking idiots that ruin it for the people that really need one not that I am bitter or anything...eh-hem) that ride them. Plus the fact that they are slower than I would like them to move and when you are on one it seems like you are just fartin' along. I had a great day with my daughter in the park. She would ride on the fart cart with me when employees were being generous, and would walk beside me patiently when we would get reprimanded for her riding on the fart cart with me. We would have covered more park that day had it not been for FCB tagging along and bitching all day about his feet and back hurting. I told him he should have rented an ECV, too. He said he didn't feel right riding one when he was able to walk (and bitch and moan) and there were people like me that needed one. Aww. That day we had a great day. Mostly. Fart cart and all. The only downer? Fucktards that constantly commented as I passed by, like I couldn't hear them, that I was fat and lazy and didn't deserve to ride a fart cart because there appeared to be nothing wrong with me. Dumbassed Fucktards. They just must have been jealous because I got to go to the front of the lines every time. HEHEHE. I love ulterior motives.

That brings us to the Disney visit this past weekend. We went to Animal Kingdom on Thursday because the only reservation left for the character dining was on Friday at Epcot. So we moved our plans around. Both FCB and I rented fart carts for the day in Animal Kingdom. Neither of us had been before and we wanted to enjoy it fully without any bitching. Eh-hem. From what we managed to see, it was eh-tastic. Really. I was kinda hoping for much more. I was disappointed. The whole park was planned badly. While the general outlay of the park was supposed to resemble a bastard child of Magic Kingdom and Epcot combined, it failed miserably when the planners that be decided to save space by making the walkways in the whole park way too narrow. Fart Carts + Narrow Walkways + Idiots Who Refuse To Acknowledge Us OR Move The Fuck Out Of The WAY!!! = Vocally Abusive Disgruntled Park Guest.

The Punk (my daughter) was mostly a good girl, and walked beside the fart carts when we got reprimanded by park employees. Which was, it seemed, every ten feet. In large crowds I made her get in my lap or her father's lap so as not to get swept away, distracted and lost. We got yelled at. She fell down and skinned her hands and knees at one point and when I picked her up to comfort her, while sitting on the fart cart, I got yelled at for having her in my arms while sitting completely still on the thing. I was getting a little fed up.

In the past, when I have had and ECV or a wheelchair, I have been treated like a special princess on wheels. I get into the lines faster and onto the rides faster. I still have to wait, just like everyone else, just not as long. The employees have always been nice and accommodating, up until this trip, and have gone out of their way to make me feel "special" and not in the short-bus kind of way. They are normally kind and helpful.

This time I was treated like a second class (or third in some cases) pain in the ass. I tried to not let it bother me, after all, we had just started the first day of the trip and I was thinking it was just the park or a fluke or something. We managed to finish out the day at the Animal Kingdom and at the end of the day, FCB bought Season Passes for me and the Punk so that we can come back over and over again. While at Guest Relations, we were talking about how we could come back for FCB's birthday next year with his free pass. The man at the counter then pointed out that our upgrade to passes expired one year from the date of original ticket purchase. We had bought the tickets 3 days before his birthday. I was bummed that we wouldn't all be able to come back next year and celebrate his birthday in Disney. Then the coolest thing happened. The Guest Relations guy extended out our passes 3 days beyond FCB's birthday so that we could come down for his birthday and stay the rest of the weekend if we so chose. WOOT! What a nice experience after a day of feeling like a substandard guest!

The next day was adventures in Epcot. Once again, both FCB and I got fart carts. Once again, the day went by with us being constantly harassed by fucktards who voiced that we were fat and lazy. I let it roll off. FCB was bothered by it. We rode a few rides and generally had a good time. We had a 4:20 reservation at Norway in the World Showcase to eat at a character dinner where we would get to meet at least 4 princesses. For the low bargain price of $167 and some change, we got to eat a yummy meal that included my daughter's $20 pizza the size of a silver dollar pancake. She only ate about half of it. The reason?

"OOH, Mommy! Look at all the Princesses!!"

She got to meet Sleeping Beauty first and got her photo taken by the park photographer. It was at that time we learned that we would be getting a "free photo package" with our dinner that evening. (That helped lube us up for the bend-over price of dinner.) Next up was Belle, only she was dressed in her peasant clothes and not the customary big ballgown. So my daughter was unimpressed with her, not ever having seen the movie and with all her books showing a princess in a big yellow dress. After Belle was Ariel. Full turquoise dress and long red hair. FCB was disappointed. He was looking forward to half-naked character in a push-up shell bra.

Well...you can't please everyone all the time...

The next princess to appear was Jasmine. Ooooh. One of the Punk's current favorites. Pictures were taken and Punk asked Jasmine if she wanted to go on a ride with her. Punk also asked Jasmine if she like her Crocs. She was a lot more talkative with the princesses she likes best. During this whole meet and greet, there was this weird looking creepy guy hanging out watching the princesses. He made it into almost all my pictures. Turns out he was "The Princess Handler" and was in charge of making sure they made it to every table without leaving anyone out.

The last princess was Punk's all time favorite. Cinderella. Thank goodness potty training is still in force and a pull-up was on the Punk, because I know she must have peed herself in excitement. She showed Cinderella her Crocs, asked her to go on a ride, and asked if she wanted to come live with us. We all had a good laugh on that one. We finished our dinner, and had started the dessert course, when Creepy Handler Dude came over to ask us if we had seen at least 4 princesses. We assured him we had and he continued to talk with us and ask how we were enjoying the experience, we were polite, of course, but we made sure to answer in a way that didn't invite further questioning. We finished dessert and gathered up to leave, when we were approached by a Norwegian girl who worked in the restaurant. She asked us if we would like to accompany her on the boat ride that is featured in Norway. We agreed, and followed her past a long line and got on the ride immediately with a boat all to ourselves. COOL! Turns out, Handler Dude heard our daughter asking all the princesses to go on a ride and tried to give us the next best thing. That rocked.

We spent the rest of the day going on rides and at about 7:30pm FCB parked the fart cart in what he thought would be a good place to see the fireworks and Illuminations at 9pm. Punk and I spent the next hour and a half riding the boat ride in Mexico featuring Donald Duck. She adores that ride. She was in heaven. We watched the show at 9 and returned back to the hotel for the night. Originally we had planned to leave the next morning, but with my newly acquired Season Pass, I convinced FCB to let me and the Punk head to the Magic Kingdom Saturday morning for a little fun. He agreed and said he would sit by the pool after checkout and read for a few hours to give us time in the park.

The next day at the Magic Kingdom is a story all by itself. It started great and ended poorly. I fully plan to tell you all about it, but this post is long enough. I will leave you today with a few photos and a promise to divulge the rest in a couple of days along with the story of the Veterans' Day experience. Let's just say there are cracks in the magic that is Disney. Got any stories of your own? I would love to hear them! Meanwhile, enjoy the princess parade...

Word Verts Make Me Giggle.

I have noticed lately that the word verifications on blogger have gotten more imaginative, creative, and sometimes downright naughty. You could almost choose your next vanity plate for your car by them. Ya know, if you were weird like that. I had turned mine off because I figured other people might think they are a pain in the ass, but now? I have experienced so much plucky comic relief from them lately, that I have added that feature back on and encourage commenters to share their word verts with me. Even if it didn't come from my site or you saw a really funny or strange one from somewhere else, let me know about it. Come on...we all need the giggle.

Whew...geeze Mom!

My daughter walked up to me, planted her stuffed up nose that can't possibly smell anything right now to my stomach, and sniffed hard. She then walked away. I asked her if everything was OK and how did I smell?

She said, "um, Mommy? I think you are a little stinky. Here."

She was in the process of grabbing a bottle of bath splash from the bathroom while saying this and then presented it to me with the obvious "here."

Even though I just got out of the shower 15 minutes ago.

I guess the shower didn't take.

Gotta love the honesty or imagination of a 5 year old.



I have lots of stuff to post about my trip to Disney last Wednesday-Saturday, as well as my impromptu trip back down yesterday. Lots and lots of good, bad, and downright ugly. I am writing it, but it is going to be a long one. Even thinking about breaking it up in parts. Dunno yet. But it's currently in the works and will post it as soon as I am done typing it up. Thanks for your patience!

How can I be so happy and so pouty at the same time?

I went to the hearing screening at my daughter's school today. I was supposed to take over for the guy that ran it last year, as he was leaving due to his 5th grader graduating. I was prepared to be all responsible and shit and run the thing and organize volunteers. I knew the time was nearing for all this to happen and found out last week when I was volunteering for pictures that someone else had been recruited for the job. Huh? Oh, and the perky lady in the office wanted to know if I wanted to volunteer. Volunteer? I was supposed to run it all, I lamented to the chick. She looked at me like I just asked her if I could chew on her face for a snack. You know the look, disgusted and surprised all at the same time? Yeah that one. With just a hint of contempt and disdain. Come to think of it, at the moment, I really could have started gnawing her face off. I was pissed. Irked. Oddly rejected. How dare the PTB* AND the PTA* overlook me when I was willing to be so generous with my time and lack of talent at organizing and running things? Ungrateful snooty, uppity...gnaw, gnaw gnaw....

I got there late today to volunteer. Subconsciously delaying so that maybe when I got there they wouldn't need me and I could come home and sleep. The lady who was running it was pleased to see me and showed me where to go and started talking to me about what to do. I told her I knew what to do and could probably train everyone else. She shot me a dirty look. I noticed there were alcohol wipes at every station. Well at least someone listened to me. Little unknown fact about kids...they have dirty ears. And also as I found out today...apparently glittery ears as well. I swear at least every other girl came in with glitter all over her. But I digress.

Having recovered from the twitching that the dirty look caused me, I started testing the kiddies. Since I was there last year for hearing screening, and for pictures, and vision screening, and because I am who I am, look how I look, and have the added benefit of having the name "Oh look! It's Punk's Mommy!" I was recognized by many children and was the recipient of many squishy, kiddie hugs. I love those. Nothing cures what ails ya better than a hug or two or 50 from a 5 or 6 year old. That made my day. It so made up for the fact that I was overlooked, yet again, from those snooty, uppity, SUV driving, perfectly coiffed, perfectly done up, grown up cheerleaders that used to pick of the fat kid or hate on the girl that got boobs before anyone else....eh-hem. Where was I? What issues? I don't have issues! Much. Sometimes. OK, let's just call 'em subscriptions and move along. Anyway.

After the "event" was over, and I was trying to socialize with the other volunteers, I found out that the lady that was running it all today wasn't even from our school. She was from the neighboring elementary school and had brought 3 friends with her. Me and one other mom were the only ones with children attending that school. WTF?? The others were all contacted by "friends of the PTA" because of the "parental lack of support" that supposedly goes on at our school. I stated that the only reason I hadn't been to a PTA meeting was the lack of a babysitter. The other mom chimed in that I should just bring my daughter to the next meeting. (Insert mental, evil, maniacal laugh with hand wringing and plotting for the undoing of the whole damn meeting, here.) Bring MY child? Get anything accomplished with her in tow? BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Just wait, you washed out cheerleaders...I shall unleash the power that is my child. Beware ADD Girl! She is the master of distraction and being distracted. Add to that her mother's phenomenal powers of chronic tardiness and general obnoxiousness and you will never accomplish anything at a PTA meeting again!! HEHEHEHAHAHAHOHOHO....A-hem.

So to summarize...Cheerleaders bad, PTA evil...poor pitiful me for being overlooked yet again, (some of them are probably still chafing at the flirting with the photo guy and my mysterious 3 hour disappearance...) lots of squishy hugs from dirty and glittery eared kids, and I come home to find out there is some sort of presidential election going on and there is nothing good on TV. Who knew? Plus, the ultimate let down...I now have the least amount of blog followers of all the peoples blogs I follow, you follow? I feel oddly loved yet unloved. Happy and pouty. Oh well. I can cheer myself up by drowning myself in my child's Halloween stash, and then walk it all off in the next 4 days.**

So what are you going to do now Persnickety? I'm going to Disney World!!!



*PTB=Powers That Be. PTA=Parent Teacher Association. These two entities should never be allowed to join forces, because total chaos erupts.

**I don't actually walk Disney. I do it in style in a rented Disney Fart Cart. Easier to mow down stooopid people and it gets me on the rides faster than the Fast Pass folks.

Bipolar Halloween

The morning started with a cheerful little Punk, excited to be awake and starting a fresh new day! Because it is HALLOWEEN and she knows that means she gets to have enough sugar to make her dear sweet fragile mother want to choke the ever lovin' shit out of her before sending her to her room for the rest of her childhood because for the love of all that is decent and serene will you just sit still and shut up for 5 seconds please!

Breakfast of champions was a healthy dose of sugary goodness in the form of Dunkin Donut Munchkins completely dipped and covered in the tiniest sprinkles humanly possible which are all over the house for some ungodly reason and I think that old Fat Cranky Bastard bought them for the express purpose to hop her up on sugar and let her make a mess so he would have a legitimate reason to bitch all morning about it because he just vacuumed the floor last night dammit and can't you control her and sure I can let's just give her a little more sugar so that is even more possible...yeah, right.

Following breakfast was the adornment of the costume. The beautiful Cinderella dress complete with magic light up wand and beaded crown to make her look like the best damn princess in the whole wide world. The dress had been drooled over for weeks. The indecision to either be a mermaid or a princess discussed with a very patient mommy on a daily basis. The time had come for her shining moment of a definite pick of "I want to be a princess!" I gathered the materials, let her brush her sprinkle ridden face and hands off all over the floor, and proceeded to try and get her dressed only to have her throw the biggest conniption fit and tantrum that she has ever thrown, complete with carpet angels, more snot than any child should be allowed to produce by nature and crying and downright bitching that she couldn't possibly wear this dress because it was too, and I am quoting the 5 year old here, "DAMN ITCHY!!!" and get it off right this instant before I get even more upset and do something you might regret like oh let's see how we can make mommy's life that much better by PUKING all over daddy who is trying to console her and therefore causing the FCB to sympathy gag and puke right back at her. Joy. Rapture. Could my day get any fucking better.

Being the good mom and house cleaner that I am I managed to get everything wiped up and corrected all the while listening to the ranting of a seriously deranged princess who was just not pleased at the itchiness of the costume she had to wear. I placated her with promises of zoo adventures and Dumbo rides and pizza parties with her friends and all the candy she could eat that night when she went out trick or treating. I lovingly and thoughtfully threatened her within an inch of her ass that if she did not stop the insane blubbering and whining I was going to rip the dress off her and throw it in the trash and she would never in this lifetime ride a Dumbo nor eat any sugary substance again. She obviously didn't take me seriously because she continued with the drama parade all the way out to the car since we missed the bus and of course this was all in her evil plans to make sure I attended school with her so she could continue to exhibit my stellar parenting skills/threats in front of the rest of creation.

We got on our way to school, and since I was a last minute addition to the field trip that was planned today for the elementary school kids to walk over to the middle school to go trick or treating I had grabbed what my daughter lovingly refers to as my "pookie" hat (spooky) which is a witch hat that is bedecked with shiny rainbow colored spider webs. BooYah! I was already wearing a black dress, so add a hat and you have instant costume! I was enjoying a morning drive while I was half asleep and dead assed tired from being at the hospital all night with my sister and of course having to get up before the ass-crack of dawn in order to beat traffic so I could be home by 7AM to experience the joys of dressing my out of control maniacal daughter, when out of the back seat I hear that the screaming is down to a whimper and I am starting to breathe a sigh of relief only to be interrupted by the GPS-NavSystem herself that proclaimed loudly and with much malcontent that I was going the wrong way to go to the zoo or the Dumbo ride and that this was the way to school and NO I DON'T WANNA GO TO SCHOOL YOU TURN AROUND THIS VERY INSTANT MOMMY BECAUSE I AM NOT GOING TO SCHOOL OH NO NO NO dribble dribble tears whine snot snot more snot pout.

We got to school where my daughter who is usually the first to unbuckle was sitting slumped over in her seat and refusing to not only unbuckle but get out of the car no matter what I offered her now because she knows it was a ruse and I am just a liar and full of shit and she was too smart to be tricked again. I grabbed all the school items we would be needing that day and told her that I was just going in to see all the other princesses and costumes and to see what the only boy in her class (who all the girls are in love with) was wearing and did she want to come and check it out with me and I was met with a pout and an "I don't wanna and you are mean and I don't wanna," as I pried her fighting kicking and screaming little body out of the minivan and dragged her little princess butt across the parking lot where I had to get help and it took two full sized adults to drag the ultimate hell no we won't go protester down the hall to her classroom.

The school looked great as usual for a holiday and was all done up in the Halloween decorations and all the little kiddies looked so cute in all their costumes and my little princess proceeded to continue her tantrum into hour two with even more snot and 20 minutes of complaining to anyone that would listen that she was itchy and needed to get naked and how mean we all were for not helping her to rid herself of the horror that is a Halloween costume. She even tried to convince her teacher (who used to be a nurse) that she had a broken toe, foot, leg, arm, head, body, and needed a doctor, STAT. The teacher asked me if that was normal. I paused in my attempt to wash down a bottle a Valium with a bottle of vodka and nodded at her. (Not really......well, maybe....part of that statement is true. You guess which.)

Once distracted with toys and friends she forgot all about the dress and life got back to normal. Everyone lined up to walk down the street to proceed with the candy collecting. At this point, my daughter had pulled a Sybil, and was completely cooperative and calm. Trick or treating went off without a hitch and the day proceeded as smoothly as it possibly could until it came time to take off the ITCHY dress to which my daughter threw another tantrum because she wanted to keep it on because..."I look too beautiful in it, Mommy!"

Thus concludes the early portion of the bipolar Halloween. After feeding them all pizza and some sugar, the teachers tried to put everyone down for a nap and at that point I made a beeline for the door because I didn't want to be held liable for any wrong doing and was exhausted to the point that any more drama would have sent me to the funny farm. (Crazy? I was crazy once! They sent me to Sunny Hill....inside joke, those who know will get it...) I gathered the itchy dress and my purse and steeled my heart against the tormented cry that came from my daughter when she realized that I was leaving and with the sacred princess dress. She was wailing, "Mommy, please don't leave me!" I am not sure if it was the lack of sleep or the stress of the day but I started crying as I walked down the hall towards the parking lot. Hearing my baby so upset at the thought that I was abandoning her to nap amongst her friends then to wake and play for the remaining 3 hours of the day was tormenting. I wanted so badly to hug her and take her with me, but at that point....I need the 3 hours of "mommy time" to nap and collect my sanity.

She came home hopped up on sugar and has been dipping into the candy bowl already and it is only 4pm. This should make for an interesting evening. I am off to decorate now. I must just keep chanting to myself...

I love Halloween!! no I don't! Yes I do! no I don't! Yes I do! no I don't! Yes I do..........

Edit: I keep having to pick sprinkles out from between my toes. I wonder if this is a collaboration between the Punk and the FCB to secretly and slowly drive me to drink.

2nd Edit: We went out trick or treating tonight. She put on the dress willingly and with enthusiasm. We went down two streets in our three street subdivision. It was chilly and it drizzled the whole time. I was miserable. She was in heaven. We got to the end of the street and turned around and managed to sync up with a little boy in a dinosaur costume. She then wanted to be a dinosaur. I told her next year she could be. We went to one more house. An old lady answered the door. My daughter stepped into her house and proclaimed loudly, "Wow! What a cool house!! It's so pretty! I wanna live here, OK Mommy?"

I apologized to the old lady as she was quickly shuffling out my daughter out of her house. My daughter then proclaimed that once again she wanted to be a dinosaur. I told her again, next year. She then stated in a matter of fact way as she climbed into her little red wagon, "OK then, I'm done trickertreatin and we can go home now."

She might as well have cracked a whip and said, "Home, Jeeves." I was too tired to argue.

Quick post and back to the hospital...

I became an aunt again for the fifth time today. I will post details later after I get permission. It was a girl. I have a whole post about what my sister chooses to name her offspring.

I scored 5 pairs of Crocs today. They just opened an outlet store 20 miles from my home. If you don't know already, I worship at the Church of Crocs. I am believer. I convert people. I walked into the outlet store and had the biggest shoegasm of my life. Also more on that later. I will try to update everyone on all the goings ons. Right now I volunteered to stay with my sister in the hospital tonight to make sure she was comfortable after having the baby. Plus I get to spend some time with her and the new baby.

Oh, and I got the minivan back today. It's still doing the the things I took it in there for. ARGH!

You know Murphy? He's my bud.

Oh what a day! What a fucked up, fantastic, awful, glorious day! It all started with blog fodder from the Punk and continued into one long drawn out post that practically wrote itself. I actually kind wished it had written itself, cuz typing it all out? It's a bitch.

So today was picture day at Punk's school and I usually volunteer for it because...$35 credit for volunteering, yo! Which comes in handy since those damn pictures packages are like fifty fucking bucks, dammit. I was trying to figure out what to do with her hair since her cute little short cut has grown out enough that it isn't as cute any more and I was wanting the 'Haley Mills-Parent Trap' do and was getting the 'I just stole Bozo The Clown's look' do. So I took a squirt bottle and tried to wet her hair down so I could comb it back and hope for the best or at least a 'I'm trying too hard for a Princess Di' do. I sprayed her and got an immediate..."Hey! That's cold, Mommy! I don't like this! Don't touch me! Go away! You're mean!"

I was all apologetic to her and was going to resign myself to having her wear her Cinderella crown for the picture to detract from her out of control hair, then I realized I couldn't be a bad mom by sending my daughter out into the coldness that is Florida right now with a wet head. So I drag her into the bathroom kicking and screaming trying to convince her that she will look great and the hair dryer is nice and warm and PLEASE ALREADY THE BUS IS OUTSIDE! So we went into the bathroom and I was able to not only blow dry her hair in like less than a minute (it's thin) but I got rewarded with a little toss of her hair and a "How do I look, Mommy? Am I fabulous?"

I assured her that she was indeed absolutely beautiful and fabulous and I loved her look. She then took the blow dryer from me and asked me to turn so she could use it on me. I asked her how I looked and she replied, "You are the most beautifullist in the whole wide land, Mommy!"

Right on!

So I load her up on the bus, fully intending on going to the very same place, but she just does better in the morning at school when I am not around. I putz around the house a little and finish making a pair of earrings I was working on since last night. Glad I did, cause not only did I get a lot of compliments today, but I passed out like 8 business cards. Woot! Business! Maybe. Anyway...this is what they looked like....

So I get ready to head out and I climb into quasi-new mini van and turn the key and "wah-wah-wah I don't want to start for you on this unusually cold Florida morning so you can suck my carburetor if you don't like it!" Damn. Double Damn. Let's try that again. "wah wah wah...vroom. OK, you win, but I am going to act funky all 2 miles down the road, plus that high pitched whine that you have been hearing since you bought me? Gonna make that noise louder for ya just to show you who's the boss in this relationship. So there."

Because this is the normal imaginary conversation that I have with my car. Usually. Sometimes. OK, well this is the first imaginary conversation that I have had, but hey! My Mom thinks I's special. And my kid. Um...eh-hem...moving on.

So I will spare you the semi-boring details of getting started with the volunteering for the picture day and skip right to the hunky, gorgeous, totally hot photographer. Mmmmm. Mancake. Yummy. I am all helping and stuff and when we hit a lag between classes he started chatting me up about my Pink Floyd shirt that I was wearing. (Cause, that's my goal and all...to get men by luring them in with Pink Floyd shirts. Do it all the time since I own like 4 different shirts and never fail to get a compliment. The boobs that make the decorations really stand out help. So maybe it has nothing to do with Pink Floyd and everything to do with tatas. Whatever. I stick with what works.) As we are talking he asks my name and I tell him. I ask his and he tells me...Tony. Tony Figs. I laugh because I thought he was kidding. I told him that sounded like a mob name. He laughed and said he gets that all the time. To make things even better? He is a New York Italian/Puerto Rican. Tall, dark and handsome with an accent. Hello Jello knees!

So we hit it off. Really off. Out of this world off. OK...so not really, but we had a great chat. (While I was mentally doing shameful things to him in my imagination.)

I had to sing to gets the kids to smile at one point, and the whole "audience" of kids, teachers, helpers and volunteers thought I was terrific. Got lots of compliments on my voice. Blush. Tony gave me a high 5. Bigger (bliss) blush. I remembered all the words to the Little Einstein's theme song. I SO ROCK!

So Tony and I continue to chat while he packs up his equipment (his photo stuff in case any of you have dirty minds like me) and we get to know a little about each other. I give him my number. While he lives in Orlando, and I live in Jacksonville, I fully plan on visiting Orlando often in the near future with my Disney season pass to escape the torturous hell that is the FCB working from home, now. So maybe, hopefully...in a magical land far, far away...there will be a hot, sweaty, much needed...ahem...hook-up. Hey, a girl can always dream right? "A dream is a wish....your loins make...."

OK. Back to the Murphiness that was my day. So I go out to the mini van after I am done and the fucker wouldn't start. Wouldn't even turn over. So I pulled out the manual and tried to troubleshoot. No luck. No start. Damn. Double damn. Triple damn. Fuck. Then I had to call the FCB to come give me a jump. But does he do that? Nope. He brings tools to take the battery out so we can take it to Pep Boys and have the battery tested and charged. Pep Boys guy said? Not the battery. Well fuck a duck. Can this day get any better? So we managed to get the battery back to the van and the van over to Honda. Because of course it started right up with the "nothing's wrong with your battery, it is probably the alternator" battery back in it. I swear we could have saved an hour and a half by just giving me a jump. Live. Learn. Moving on.

The coolest part about that hour and a half though? All those faculty members that were shooting me dirty looks for flirting with the photo guy, were probably tongue wagging all afternoon about me conveniently not being around while my van was in the parking lot. They were probably imagining that I was doing what I imagined what I was doing with Tony in the back of some car or nearby hotel. Hehehehehehe. I love to stir the pot. Those uppity bitches can kiss my ass. Anyway.

So once at the dealership, I pulled into the bay and got out and stood there. Waiting. And waiting. Finally, a service tech came up to me and asked me if I could be helped in a sarcastic and disdainful way after eyeing the van up and down with my choice of decorations. I wanted to tell him to suck my dick, but unfortunately I forgot it at home and therefore was subjected to the "Little lady" attitude that most men working at a dealership here in the south must genetically possess in order to completely belittle anything without a penis that walks through the door. I proceeded to tell him all the problems that were going on. I made sure to mention at least 25 3 times that the high pitched whine that had been going on since I bought the thing was getting even louder and more annoying. He started writing and stopped listening to me at that point, even though I was still trying to describe the problems.

I then made the mistake of telling him that the van was under warranty and asked if it would be covered. He looked at me like I was a stupid cow and said, "You have over 89,000 miles on this van...there is no more warranty."

I assured him there was and I had purchased and paid good money for a full warranty on the sucker and he once again looked at me like I had eight heads that were all speaking Chinese. Fucker.

I hate that these guys act like I know nothing, nor can I ever comprehend anything that has to do with a vehicle simply because I lack a brain between my legs. HA! Not only do I have a brain between my legs, it is smart enough to have crawled up inside me to get out of the cold! Sexist Bastard.

Once the computer was checked and I slightly improved my believability by dropping the name of the finance guy that sold me the extended warranty, Tiny the Tech said that he would call when they knew something. I came home and checked my paper work as well as called the warranty company to confirm my coverage. (My brain's bigger that yours is, Tiny. FCB said I need to pack the biggest dick I own in my purse so that the next time I go to the dealership I can just whip that bad boy out so I will be taken more seriously. Bwahaahahahaha!) As of this afternoon, Tiny Tech called to say that the battery was fine (duh) but they were going to try cold starting it tomorrow morning as well as further investigation into the whining noise.

If they keep my car longer than tomorrow? So going to get a courtesy vehicle. Maybe I can try out a Fit. So that was my day. The good, the hot hunky good, the bad, the worse, and the asshole. All in a day's adventure for me. Like I said before, at least the day was a rolling buffet of blog fodder. We'll see what tomorrow brings. Oh, and Murphy? So totally my main man. Cause everything that could, did.

I needed that laugh.

Stumbled on this blog today and while I have vowed to stay the hell out of the "political" shit slinging fest, I just had to give the Sarah Palin baby name generator a try.

As Missle Blunt Palin, I am giddy giggly happy to be appointed the "Stoned, Secretary of Defence."

Be skeerrrd, people...very skeerrrd. (hehehehehehehe...why do I have the munchies?)




If you check it out and haven't passed out from laughing at the comments, come on back and tell me what your name would be. This should be fun!

Penises should not be allowed to drive.

I'll leave it to you to mentally picture how they even held the pencil to do the written portion of the driving test.

Just because I drive a mini-van, does not mean I WANT to drive the speed limit everywhere I go and I have your upmost safety in the forefront of my mind. I have good insurance and airbags. Get the fuck out of the way!

If you are unable to see over the steering wheel any longer because age has shrunk you to the size of a smurf with a stunted growth problem....get the fuck off the road!

If your brain and your inability to stop wasting every one else's oxygen prevent you from screaming the correct homophobic slur at me while driving next to me? Get a life, get a therapist...get the fuck off the planet!

But above all, you twatwaffle, educate yourself on the fact that I lack the equipment to be a fag. Being a female, I would be called a lesbo, a dyke, or your wildest, wet dream that will never happen. But I am not a fag.

(Actually...I would classify myself as tri-sexual...but that is another post or possibly a whole 'nother blog all together. Anyway...)

I shall explain the reasoning for this assbiscuit's decision to hate all over me this afternoon. (Other than the fact that he just needs to be thrown back into the gene pool that spawned him and drowned.) You see...I like color. Lots of color. Rainbow anything just simply rocks. Thus my mini-van is bedecked in lots of rainbow colored accessories. While I realize that my choice of decoration is also the color scheme of Gay/Lesbian/Bi-sexual/Trans-sexual/Trans-gendered/sorry if I left anything out....it doesn't mean I am automatically a carpet munching, card carrying member of the Gay Nation. Not that there is anything wrong with that.

But above all, people should know a person, personally, before judging. Shouting homophobic slurs then trying to "scare me straight" by running me over with your obviously overly endorsing Republican Jeep Cherokee (there was hardly an uncovered inch on the back of that car) is just as narrow-minded, stupid and lame as you are.

This is what my mini-van is decorated with.

There is also a rainbow lei hanging from the rear view, but blogger is having some sort of bitchy-fit right now and it won't let me upload the picture. So I'll have to try to add it later. Edit: It's later and there is the picture. Yay!

As far as the whole judging thing goes? Get to know a person before you get all judgy all over them. One of my best friends is a married, devout Catholic. Another one is an Atheist lesbian. The third best friend is a unique creature that hops from one religion to another faster than the Easter Bunny on speed. She is married, but has "played for the other team." We are friends because we don't judge....or at least not to each other's faces.

So the lesson to be learned from today's post? If you have issues (or in the fucktard's case above, whole damn subscriptions) don't get on the road and try to express them through your penile driving skills. If you can't see over the steering wheel, Mrs. Daisy, it's time to get a driver or start riding the bus. And finally, if the posted speed limit sign is 45 mph, please don't block me in next to a trucker and set your cruise control to 40 mph while driving in front of me. It REALLY PISSES ME OFF!

Finally, the best part of the whole outing today was when I sped past a state trooper doing 80-85 mph in a posted 65 zone and the trooper flashed on his lights and pulled out to chase down....
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the dumbass who slowed down and got pulled over because the trooper could actually catch him...BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

Sucker.

Cakes and Kids and Two-Headed Giraffes

So this past weekend started out with a trip to the zoo. My daughter adores the zoo, and loves it even more if her Moose goes with her.

No not that Moose...this Moose.

So we spent a few hours at the zoo on Saturday and a good time was had by all...even the two-headed giraffe. I was so tired by the time I got home that I wasn't even going to attempt to start baking for the party on Monday.So on Sunday I started the baking. Oh the baking! I had a castle cake to make and a Cinderella cake to make and cupcakes to make for the Punk to take to school. Not that I am an overachiever or anything. Just an overcommiter. Plus...I had to live up to the awesomeness that was the cake last year....

So I started with the baking after sleeping in late on Sunday. And I baked, and I baked......and I baked. I was trying to get it all done before going to my niece's birthday party. She is turning 3 this coming Sunday. My sister is due with her 5th child on Saturday. The second child is having a birthday on Nov. 5th. What does this all mean other than my sister has a lot of children? It also means she gets laid on her birthday every year and never fails to get pregnant. But I digress.

This is the progression of cake baking that transpired on Sunday. It started with the castle cake and half the cupcakes.

I didn't take pictures of the cupcakes because, let's be honest, everyone has either baked those puppies or decorated them and I didn't do anything special because they were all going to be devoured by sugar starved preschoolers, anyway. So I managed to get that up there and the Cinderella cake baked. The story on the Cinderella cake was when I asked the Punk what kind of cake she wanted for her birthday, she informed me that she wanted a chocolate happy face cake, a chocolate Cinderella cake and a castle cake. I planned on just making the castle cake until I found the "now discontinued in stores" Cinderella cake pan in the clearance section at the craft store. $12.99 marked down to $3.69. BOO-YAH! While I may be the clearance queen, I am also over ambitious and a poor judge of time management. So I took a break from the Cinderella and castle cakes to go to the niece's party. I can't show pics because I don't have permission, but I can show you the almost done bun in the oven.

So after the party was over, I came home to decorate some cakes. I got the cupcakes and the castle done before I realized it was 3am and I was about to fall out. Here's the finished castle.

I fully planned on getting up the next day and decorating the Cinderella cake, the house, and wrapping all the Punk's presents. The party was at 4:30pm. I ended up putting the gifts in bags and I quickly put up about half of the decorations. Eh. She's 5. She won't remember that the entire room was supposed to be hosed down with silly string like I promised. I'm not even going to show pictures of the undecorated disaster of a Cinderella cake. Thank goodness it tasted OK with just a slapped on layer of frosting. She got a great haul of presents, and was thrilled to the point of ecstatic at being able to blow out the candles. There was a paper princess decoration on the table that almost got in the way of the flaming candles, but we managed to avoid disaster. When she got home from school and saw all the decorations, her first reaction was to tear the castle and the Cinderella off the wall all the while complaining, "What the name is going on here? It's not the same! Someone hurt my house! It's not the same! Ooh...balloons!"
Here are some pictures from the party. She hasn't let go of that card since the party. She just keeps opening it and singing along to "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes."



There is a picture of the centerpiece we almost set on fire, a picture of me with a flaming cake and a picture of Punk after she blew out the candles. So that's about it. Lots of sugar and kids and energy (not mine) and princesses. She had a great time. She was so happy with all the Cinderella stuff she got. She has come such a long way. I can't believe my baby is 5 years old already. Since Tysgirl asked, I am going to post a few pictures of Punk's miraculous beginnings.



She was only 1lb. 5oz. She was 11 3/4" long. I was only 23 weeks along when I had her. She was born dead. I died during delivery. We are both survivors.