Monday, March 31, 2008

Out of the Mouths of Babes and Smartalecs

I climbed into the shower this afternoon because it was high time I shaved these fur trees masquerading as legs (all you ladies know what I am talking about 'cause you know damn well you have been there at least ONCE in your lives) and as I am getting out, my daughter is standing there in the bathroom staring at me with the oddest expression on her face.

"Mommy, I think you're very wet," she says.

"Yes, Punk, (short for punkin) I think that is what happens when you take a shower," I reply.

"And ya' know? You're kinda naked, too."

I fell in the shower from laughing so hard.


Another conversation that took place today...and remember, she is only 4. (Going on 13)

"Mommy, my boobies are too small."

"They'll get bigger Punk, trust me on this. Genetics has a sense of humor that way."

"Mommy, your boobies are too big."

"Yes honey, I agree with you." (Last measurement was 48 H)

"What's inside them, Mommy?"


" balloons! Don't pop 'em, Mommy!"

(more uncontrollable laughter) "I'll try not to, Baby."

Still Breathing

Sorry I haven't posted much in the last 10 days. ::Smacking self:: I really did promise I would blog more often. This post is gonna be a short one for the moment but did have a couple things to share...I'm a giver that way.

I have a friend that just got fired from her job. I hardly ever talk to her anymore because life keeps us both busy, but I decided to toss an email her way to make sure she was still alive. I got all the sordid details about all that was going on in her life plus the fact that she was fired. (I really didn't need to know as much as she shared, but hey...everyone needs to unload every once in a while. She told me that she found it amazing that I always seemed to know when she was at her weakest point, and always managed to come back into her life.

"Yeah," I told her, "I am like herpes, that way."

Had another weird interlude happen the last couple of days, too. A friend of mine that I had not heard from for a while called me today. The odd thing is, I was just scrounging through emails yesterday trying to find his number. This friend (and by friend I mean he is actually my occasional humpany) had leukemia again for like the fourth time in his life, and the last time I had talked to him he was finishing chemo. He just up and calls me out of the blue...weird.

Just been like that this whole past week. Strange things. My déjà vu's are having déjà vu's. Kinda making me anxious about venturing out in the world today...but alas, I have appointments to keep. So on that note, I am out of here.

Hope everyone has days that are as NORMAL as possible. Normal is good. Doesn't make for interesting blog fodder, but still good.

Friday, March 21, 2008

Stuff That Bears Repeating Part II

So I have been really feeling pretty funky last few days. The dysfunctional heart has been particularly persnickety and I have just been sitting here melding with my couch and trying to remember that breathing is an essential part of life, and no matter how difficult it may be, has to be performed repeatedly throughout the day. You can hire people to do your lawn, clean your house, cook your meals and get your kicks from...too bad you can't hire someone to breathe for you. And on that thought, here are some more mental ruminations from me for you to enjoy.

Monday, October 02, 2006
Insights and ramblings...currently taking applications!
Currently taking applications for co-conspirators and trouble makers. Come make my life different. Also in the market for a future ex...any type or gender may apply. Just sitting here wondering...they have back up batteries in alarm clocks for when the power goes off, but does that mean the alarm will still work? Just curious. Also wondering why the powers that be decided that one heart was enough. We have two lungs, kidneys, eyes, least I have the two mental testicles...plenty of back-up there just in case something isn't working right...or for that matter twice the misery if both fail. But just thinking...wouldn't it be nice if there was a second heart...a back up to take up the slack. Yeah. That would be cool. Or better yet, what if we could decide what sex we wanted to be and change genders whenever we wished? Just hold your breath while standing on your left leg and blinking your right eye, tug on an ear and out pops a who-who. Depends on which ear for which gender you want. See...that way you couldn't surprise someone in bed. Cause of the whole little dance you have to go through and all. No mid-copulation shifts to freak out your partner. That would be rude. You see your "partner" get out of bed (and now imagine they have had a few to drink) and try to attempt the old switcheroo on ya. While they are trying not to fall can swiftly bolt if you just aren't into it. HEEHEE just let me sit at the controls one day and see what all kinds of fun and chaos erupt. OK. That was enough mental chewing gum for the masses for right now. Gonna go play with something...

Sunday, March 16, 2008

V8 Splash Is Evil In A Glass

Not only am I ready to have "Kill Me Now" tattooed across my forehead, but I have been reduced (or induced) to tears by this sumbitchin' cold. Literally. My tear ducts are being pressured by my sinuses to create a whole fucking new ocean. Conspiratorial little bastids. I get cranky and cuss a lot when I don't feel good. You may not have been able to tell.

I have been trying to follow the sage advice of doctors, mom, and the nurse sister to hydrate, hydrate, hydrate, so I can pee this virus (or cold, whatever. Kill Me Now.) out of my system. I have been practically bathing in steaming teas of every flavor, marinating myself in hot showers, and slathering my upper body in mentholated goo. Really, I have been trying to ward off the inevitable hospital stay that is sure to ensue if my lungs decided to go all pneumonia on me again like they did a few months ago. My body has a mind of its own. I just live here, people.

Ironically, I was given weeks to live a few months ago. That is of course, par, for these doctors that are truly just PRACTICING medicine. (Did you notice the par-doctor-golf reference there? I did after I proofed this and it cracked me up. In my defense I am feverish...) These same geniuses told me years ago that I had months to live. At 32, being told that I wouldn't live past the age of 25, I think I am doing a pretty good job at rebelling against the man, there. Right on!

So (feverish ramblings aside) the reason for the post and the oddly Seussical rhyming of the title is because I have been hydrating with anything I can get my hands on. I looked in the fridge this morning and thought, why not try some veggie/fruit juice? It has vitamins and stuff and will help cure me. HA. Yeah, right. After downing a large glass of the strawberry banana flavored stuff, I went about my merry vanilla-pudding-new-ocean-producing day. After about an hour my stomach started chanting Beatles tunes backwards. (What can I say, I'm talented that way.) I have an ulcer and esophagitis and a hiatal hernia and G.E.R.D. There is a reason I don't drink O.J. The ball of whimpering pain I become after ingesting citric acid just isn't a pretty sight. I should have checked the label. My only defense is that I am being held hostage by my unruly bodily functions at this point. There is a reason I don't eat many vegetables, either. They don't like me. Don't get me wrong, I love green things. Very yummy when mixed with things like cheese and ranch dressing and cream of mushroom soup and fried onions. But they tend to rebel against my body by producing gas pockets of evil proportions.

So this stuff must just be a chemical combination of citric acid and vegetables. Don't be fooled by the somewhat enjoyable taste. It lies, folks. Tasty going down but absolutely unholy coming out and up. I think I actually burned a hole in my leather couch while simultaneously farting, sneezing flames and burping out nuclear grade toxic fumes. The juice is evil folks. Don't say you haven't been warned.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Vanilla Pudding

I have figured out that is what is currently being manufactured in my head. Normal human beings do not have the ability to produce this much snot of this consistency. So I guess that answers any questions about my origins. I swear in the last week I have gone through at least one box of tissues a day. Not to mention that wonderful two day mecca to worship at the throne of the porcelain god. Food poisoning, I suspect.

I didn't go see the shuttle launch. I was rudely awoken at 1 AM and asked if I was going to get up and get ready or not. Not. Suck it, old man. Leave me alone here, I am sleeping. I have a child I have to get up and get ready for school in a few short hours. Take your damn rocket and launch it where the sun don't shine.

As you can tell I am my usual cheerful self. That would be the reason for the lack of more regular posting.

I console myself with the fact that my 4 year old keeps coming up to me, handing me a tissue and patting my head while nodding and telling me I need a doctor and a cookie.

With sprinkles?!?

I am so loved.

Monday, March 10, 2008

INSANE Rocket Launch

I got home from errands today only to find my answering machine overloaded with desperate messages from FCB (that's Fat Cranky Bastard for those that don't know me) telling me to call NASA and get tickets to tomorrow morning's shuttle launch NO MATTER THE COST! Get a life, dude. He being unable to do this himself due to that annoying distraction he calls a job. He told me he planned to get me and my daughter loaded into the car so we can drive down there tonight so we can view the 2:28 AM launch. Yeah, you read that right. 2:28 in the everfuckinglovingmorning. He can just suck it. I tried to be nice and made the requested phone call to NASA about obtaining "tickets," although why we would pay for something that we can step out into the driveway and see for free is beyond me. I got a really nice man on the phone that said tickets were first come, first serve and we had to be there before 7 pm. I told him well that shot that idea down. He inquired as to where I was located and I told him Jax. He said, "You can make it if you leave now-wait no you can't-what time is it?" (He is answering the phone for the government's space program, folks. Be afraid. Be very afraid.)
My reply of course, "Sure I can make it, dude. I of course would have to break several laws of physics and the state of Florida, but I'll give it my best shot! Thanks for the help! ::Coughidiotcough::"
Which brings us back around to why would I want to sit around for over 6 hours just to watch 5 minutes of exploding jet fuel. I guess I have to have a penis to understand. As of right now he is still planning on going...His theory is that we can drive as far south and east as we can get and hope for a "good spot". Gee, this is going to be TONS of fun. Maybe I will pack the shovel in the trunk. Never know when an opportunity to do some "digging or burying at the beach" might come up.

Saturday, March 8, 2008

Bathing A Cat While Rollerskating

My child is addicted to sprinkles. I'm starting to wonder if they are more addictive than Feisty Irish Wench's child. (For those that aren't regular readers, Feisty is my best friend from junior high through high school that I lost touch with for over 10 years. We reconnected a little over a year ago when we found each other again through myspace.) Her daughter is a year older than mine, and my child is addicted to this child like a true junkie. She asks to go play with her constantly. She would rather go to her house than go to school. If we are out driving around town my kid is an instant GPS to her friend's location..." gotta go that way...her house is that way."

But I digress. Back to the sprinkles. Whenever ANYTHING goes wrong, gets hurt, or makes her upset and sad, she needs sprinkles. Fall off the couch? Trip over a toy? Mosquito bite? "Mommy, I need a cookie. That will make it better. With Sprinkles. Mommy, I need a cookie with cupcakes and sprinkles on top." She could be in total pain or panic mode and at the mere mention of sprinkles, she absolutely abandons any tantrum and is on full alert at any mention of a treat of ANY substance covered with sprinkles. She wants sprinkles on her yogurt, her peanut butter "smamich" and any thing else she could possibly get sprinkles on. Sprinkles make it all better. Well...and cookies. Can't forget the cookies. I foresee problems in the future because of her cookie and sprinkles habit. Even when she was in the hospital for adenoid surgery, she woke up from the anesthesia and was hollering into the hallway at anyone who would listen..."Docker, (doctor) I need a glass of cookies!!" I was dying. Laughing so hard it hurt to breathe. She cracks me up that way.

Another case in point. Last weekend we went to the hospital so that she could have a sleep study done. Everything went smoothly at first. She thought it was a really cool hotel room and was REALLY excited about the bed being all HERS. Mommy was sleeping in the chair, she had the whole big bed to herself. After watching a little TV, it was time to go to sleep. We needed her to fall asleep quickly so that we could hook up all the wires and gadgets after she was out. After she fell asleep, the poor unsuspecting nurse came in and started hooking my daughter up. She was really doing a great job too, until the kiddo stirred a little and opened her eyes. If the nurse had just backed off a little...waited just a few moments to let her fall back asleep. But alas, we had awoken the monster. My daughter bolted upright and started screaming like all get out. She started ripping off all the wires and was fighting and hollering for all she was worth. The nurse had to leave to go get her supervisor because she was so shocked and had no idea what to do. The supervisor and the nurse come back in and tell me that I need to calm her down, (yeah...right) and I need to RESTRAIN her so they can hook her back up. OhhhKaaaay. Gosh, folks, I hate to tell you this, but trying to bathe a cat while rollerskating isn't my forte. I mean, I can try to calm her down, but I am not strong enough or healthy enough to hold down a 50 lb. 4 year old while you try to attach electrodes all over her face and body. It just isn't going to happen. While we were all very frustrated at this point, we agreed that rescheduling and trying again another time might be the best option.

I started packing up our stuff, and my daughter is still screaming like we are trying to skin her, even though no one is near her. They give me some paperwork to sign and suddenly we hear, "You need to give a cookie with sprinkles and say you're sorry."

The nurse looks stunned. I am holding back giggles. My daughter looks straight at the nurse through teary red eyes and says to her, "You say you're sorry. Give me my cookie. Give me my sprinkles."

I of course apologized, and admonished my daughter for her rude behavior. I understand where she is coming from though. From her perspective, the nurse was trying to do "bad things" to her even though they needed to be done. From the nurse's perspective, she probably though I was insane and my daughter was a spoiled brat. Actually, going back to proof this, she does seem really spoiled. But in her defense (or ours for that matter), I have learned over time there are certain things that keep the autistic tendencies in check. (Hers, not mine.) That would be sprinkles. Who knows, they seem to be the cure for all things traumatic in a 4 year old's world. Makes you wonder what else they can cure.

Monday, March 3, 2008

Stuff that bears repeating. Part I.

I have been drowning myself in other people's blogs lately. So much so that I haven't been posting much here myself, which I promised myself I wouldn't do if I started this
I have decided that I am going to re post some of my old blog entries from another website that shall remain nameless. Mostly because they are funny, but also because I have been in a funk of unfunny proportions these last couple of weeks and I need to lighten up. I figured, if I can reread them and they make ME laugh, some of you, (all 3 of you, actually) might also find my ramblings amusing. So here goes.

Saturday, August 26, 2006
Oddly Uncomfortable...
I grew up with Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. I read the books, watched the movie...even had a crush on Gene Wilder. (I may insert random shudder or snide remark here) I even knew a guy that is the nephew of the lady that played Violet in the original movie...she didn't age well....anyway, I am getting off subject here. I have been in several uncomfortable situations in my lifetime. Awkward moments that make you feel all heebee-jeebee inside. I have even been in a room with at least a dozen complete strangers watching porn and have never felt as oddly uncomfortable as I have today. For lack of anything even remotely entertaining enough on T.V. to keep my daughter occupied, I was flipping channels and came across the new Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with Johnny Depp. I left it there and started watching...and OH MY GREAT GOOGLY MOOGLY!!! It was just WEIRD! I not only got he heebee-jeebees I also got a nasty case of the willies and an even wonkier feeling than I have ever had before. The whole movie was just odd....strangely odd...and what was even creepier, was my daughter was CAPTIVATED!!! She was smiling and laughing and dancing along with the oompa loompa...did you know there was only one guy playing the part? They just computer generated him into lots of oompa loompas. Thank good we have reached the end credits...I think I am going to need a strong drink just to get this feeling to go away...Oh NO!! Creepy weird music and the little one is just shaking her moneymaker all over the living room...she is eating it up....
Maybe I have lost the cheerful innocence of youth, or maybe I was just won over by the BETTER version of the movie made years ago...who knows. All I can say is, I would rather watch porn with my grandparents then ever have to sit through that oddly uncomfortable movie again. (Sadly, as I have no grandparents left, and unfortunately unlimited cable access, I have this creepy feeling that I will be seeing that movie again.) Oh well...time to go wash the willies and the wonkies away with a nice tall glass of vodka and juicy-juice.