This is my happy. At least until I am there again.

Isn't this the coolest thing? Amazing!

Whoever invented Snickers was a genius.

Because those wonderful little bite-sized edible orgasms in a wrapper are the best fucking things ever invented!

Oh, and mad props go to the folks that thought up the concept of letting your freak flag fly and dressing up to go relieve your neighbors of all their candy. Awesome.

So been a little busty...er busy. (typo. left it. made me giggle.)

There was Punk's surgery a couple of weeks ago to remove some teeth. Then we had to party like it was her birthday (it was) in Disney last Tuesday. Best moment of the day? I was watching littlest niece while family trudged through the Swiss Family Robinson Treehouse. I was sitting in my fart cart watching the camel at the Carpet Ride not so randomly spit on people. Not so random, you say Persnickety? Why yes! Yes I said that!

Case in point. A man was yelling at his little boy while his wife walked a couple of paces behind pouting. The whole family looked miserable as shit. This guy was just going at the boy and berating him when all the sudden....

CAMEL SPIT! RIGHT IN THE FACE! BULLSEYE!

I want THAT job. The job where you get to sit in a little booth somewhere with a little red button to squirt all the assholes at Disney. Dream job.

Said asshole was PISSED. He started ranting about how disgusting this and that and sue Disney this and that and blah blah whine blah.

Awesome.

We had a great day. Only sad thing? No pass renewal. FCB told me I was going to be able to re-up my seasonal passes and then called me halfway through the day to tell me I couldn't. Asshole. I swear on my own grave I will have those passes by Thanksgiving even if I have to go out hooking with a sign that says will laugh at your dick for Disney passes.

Anyway.

Lots going on today. Epic battle with Social Security and their phone system. Post office, therapy, grocery store...the usual supermom stuff.

Just thought I would dash off a quick update to let you all know I wasn't dead or lost forever in Disney (I wish!)

Hope everyone is having a non-sucky Monday!

Do you think I could get them to write Happy Birthday Asshole on the cake?

Do you ever get so busy that you never have time to write? Or do you ever have so much to write that you dread sitting down to do it because there is just so much to put out there and you don't know if one blog can hold it all or even if your readers would want to hear it because it isn't all coated in a warm chocolaty layer of snark? Or are you just to damn addicted to Facebook to click over to blogger and bang out a post because there are virtual crops to harvest and high scores to beat in Bejeweled?

I leave it up to you to decide which one of those excuses will serve purpose enough for you my dear readers.

Although, I have to admit, Facebook has it's perks besides being a time wasting sucking vortex of unproductivity. I can whip out a sarcastic comment several times a day that has nothing to do with anything and I don't have to worry about weaving a blog post around it. Hell, I don't even have to worry so much about spelling and grammar and blogger's wonky spellcheck that thinks words like WONKY don't exist.

Excuse me a moment while I go on a booger excavating mission for my Punk. She comes to me with a flashlight and a hankie and expects me to work miracles.

OK. Back now. And thoroughly washed my hands up to my armpits. Can't be too careful with all that yuck floating around in the world today.

So the reason for the title of the post is because it was FCB's (That's Fat Cranky Bastard to any new people out there. Oh, and Punk is my 5 year old daughter. Soon to be 6 though.) birthday on Friday. We went to Disney. He got a cupcake from the Prime Time Cafe in Hollywood Studios. He came home and said he still needed a WHOLE CAKE to celebrate. Oink. I went to the bakery today and picked out the cake, and when the nice lady asked if I wanted anything written on it, I asked for "Happy Birthday Asshole!" She told me they aren't allowed to write swear words and besides, it wouldn't all fit on there anyway. So I asked if we could just skip the Happy Birthday. She wasn't amused. I then asked if I could hold the icing bag. She wouldn't let me do that either. Harumph. Evil bakery hoity toity stickler for the rules...

FCB has been on a roll lately with the assholiness of his attitude. Excuse me a moment again while we have yet another argument. OK. Done. Still think it should be legal to stab people with a spork and then tenderize them with an aluminum baseball bat (chink!) before feeding them to all the starving rabid wild animals that have lost their homes to deforestation.

Ahem. Where was I?

So life has been blogerific here. Lots to write about. Yet I haven't cranked out a post in a while. I figure one post this week alone will just be pictures of all the shit I have been taking pictures of and promising myself to put on the blog. Don't go all cardiac arrest on me dear followers, but I plan on posting more than once this week. I know. Shocking. Maybe even a little pshaw of disbelief. But it's true. Lots to get off my chesticular area, and what better place that this blog that I set up so long ago to do just that with.

This post was just a warning of posts to come. I actually have to cut it short because I am getting yelled at that there are people in this house that need to eat to survive (the nerve!) and it seems I am the only one that knows how to turn on the stove or open the refrigerator and actually remove the edible stuff inside. So farewell for now you lovely people that are actually still coming to read this blog and haven't given up on me. I really appreciate you. I should get you guys a cake or something.

I promise not to write and swear words on it when I do. (Well, at least not any legible ones.)

Thucked Up Thursday.

There is a guy standing in my back yard watching concrete dry.

I want THAT job when I grow up!

Other than that, I am having a bad heart day. I awoke last night from a slight case of death, only to start breathing again. Eh. It happens. At least I wake up in time to start breathing again. But after that I not only couldn't breathe right, but my heart is just working too damn hard today. I had to sleep on the couch sitting completely upright just to not feel like I was trying to tour the inside of a tight plastic bag wrapped around my head. It is thumping like crazy and I get winded from just changing my mind. I answered the phone from when Feisty called this morning to tell me she had found fodder for our Crazy Lady Saw What?!? blog, and I was out of breath. She asked me if I had ran across the house to get the phone...I told her nope, just leaned over the sink. That's not good.

So just generally feeling like I am craptacular at this whole staying alive and vertical thing today. Hopefully it will get better.

The backyard in coming along. The house is getting unpacked. I have been given free range to decorate the crap out of this place for Halloween. (YAY!) FCB's reasoning is that our yard ornaments shouldn't walk away now that we are in a better 'hood. I am just sad that they only offer cool shopping choices for lawn and door decoration once a year. I even have my two gargoyles, Winston and Egon, from the last 2 years posted at my new front door along with my spiderweb welcome mat. Christmas? BAH! Halloween? BRING IT ON! THE DARKER THE BETTER!! I do everything in my power to leave that stuff out all year. If I am going to be forced to live in Stepford Suburbia, I might as well use every opportunity to scare the shit out of the locals. I'm never going to fit in here, anyway.

Little update on Punk's school sitch. A meeting was had. My demands were met entirely. She is going to stay in a "normal" class with "normal" kids and a resource teacher is going to come once a day to help with one on one instruction during learning time. Way to use that grant money from the gov't that you are getting paid for my daughter anyway, school! So I am happy, my daughter is less confused about being shuffled around since they weren't sure where she belonged, and I think I made the administrators pee a little in fear of me during the meeting. All is well in that part of my world.

Now if only I could get this persnickety ticker of mine to work properly, we would be groovy.

If any of you happen to have a spare heart shoved in the back of your garage or attic that you aren't using any longer, could you FedEx that over to me? Kthnx.

Not dead...or circling the drain even...

I have just been trying to take care of so many things all at once, and dammit! I only have two hands, one head and one heart. Gimme a little slack, huh?

There was no WUW or Thucked Up Thursday because, well...I was in Disney. Again. This time with my best friend, Moose. Or Meuse as she likes to spell it now. I tease her because I just see Me-Use. Me use phone. Me use bathroom. Me use wheelchair. She laughs but I secretly thinks she hates it when I tease her like that. My other best friend (I have three currently, and just wait, cuz I am saving the doozie for last) is going to give birth any moment. If only that baby would get the hint that it is time to come out. I volunteered to wave a green flashlight at her cootch to let the baby know it was an OK-GO, and she politely snickered a negative on that one. So luckily she didn't squat a watermelon while I was gone, but she is very done with being pregnant. The third best friend is going through a really rough patch right now, indeed. A couple of weeks ago, a day after her birthday, and on a day when they were supposed to go to lunch to celebrate her birthday...he never came home. Turns out he was arrested for allegedly killing his own stepfather. And then the news said he confessed. I think he is covering for his mom, who he thought was being abused. But then again, everyone has their theories.

She is as we speak, having to pack all of her belongings and her two girls and move into her mom's house while she tries to figure out how to be a single mom with no job and no husband and no insurance, all in a small town where the townies are all treating her like the wife of Charles Manson and the concubine of Ted Bundy. It hasn't been pretty. She is overwhelmed and lost and confused and I am three states away and can't give her a hug and tell her it's all going to be alright. I can't because I don't know that it is and my arms don't stretch that far...

I had a good time at Disney, but I feel guilty for going when someone I love is suffering so. I thought about her, and Feisty the Preggo, non-stop while I was there.

The really great news to come out of it all though? I may be able to either work at Disney selling my jewelry at festivals, or I may be able to get Disney interested in buying my stuff. I got a card from a woman there that was admiring my designs and said I should contact headquarters. Fingers crossed and we will see how this goes.

I have a whole blog entry in the works about the Disney trip, because with just us two adults and no Punk? It was hilarious. I even took notes so I would be sure to blog about it all. But I just got my stats for the week and it turns out, for some strange reason, no one comes to read my blog when I don't post something new. Huh. Go figure.

Thanks to all my loyalies to hanging with me. I promise to eventually get my house unpacked, my kid's school straightened out, my best friends lives back on track, my Facebook and Disney addictions under control, and crank out more massed produce funniness with the blog. Oh, and if any of you are as addicted as I am to Facebook and miss me so much you want a daily dose of random? I am AbsoluteLeigh on Facebook. Just sayin'.

Thucked up Thursday.

Because I missed WUW (What's Up Wed-Nes-Day.) And I say Thucked up because? Oh it so is. Let's start from last night. While driving in the dark (I don't see well in the dark) and in the rain (I really don't see well in the wet dark) I had the uber pleasure of sharing the road with some drivers that shouldn't even be allowed out of their cages.

Please Mr. Motorist: If you must get a blowjob while eating your burger, smoking a cigar, and texting on your phone? Please pull over and park somewhere out of the way like the rest of us do when participating in all of those activities simultaneously. The rest of us sure would appreciate it, and I am sure that blonde whose head was bobbing up and down would love it if you didn't get all that ketchup and those ashes in her hair. OK? Great! Thanks!

Oooops. Movers are here. For the second time in 2 weeks. Because they thucked up the first time. Be right back.

Still with me? Fabulous. So the movers just finished moving the second half of my stuff. They didn't move it the first time because one guy was on the ball with the packing and the lifting and the moving and the other guy hadn't discovered the many joys of deodorant let alone the motivation to DO HIS THUCKING JOB. So my garage stuff and all the boxed stuff in my house? Didn't get moved. Which might be a good thing considering that almost none of my stuff in the first round of moving escaped damage of some sort. Mr. Stinky Mover just didn't give a thuck and decided to toss, throw and generally pitch all my possessions at random where ever he thought they belonged and not where I told him to. What a thucking moron.

So now all my stuff is in the new house. We are now ready for our own episode of hoarders on A&E. We have tower of boxes and stuff and little paths through the house. Anyone bored and wanting to come help unpack with me will be welcomed with fanfare, a parade and pizza. Vodka and mixers are available.

So anyway, while I was waiting on the movers to get here, and having dropped off Punk at school a little later than I would have liked due to her morning attitude, I was rearranging the garage so that the movers could basically unload the truck into it and we could just sort it all out later. They weren't getting paid for this second trip and I thought I would try to make it all easier on them. While I was doing that the landscaping guys in the front yard decided it was time for a thucking throw down.

Let me give you a little back story on the landscaping. We live in a swamp. All of Florida is a swamp. Once upon a time a bunch of developers took a long hard look at this swamp and said with the brilliance of stoner who just found his long lost stash, "Duuuude. Let build some houses here and call it thucking stepford suburbia!" And thus? I live in a swamp. Lots of frogs, lizards, toads, a pond with fish big enough to eat your head and a gator in heat that lives out in the woods behind my house. But I digress. So this swampy yard is looking a little shabby, and since we live in an association, we have to keep it well maintained and green. Maintained? Checkeroo! Green? Eh...not so much in some spots.

So we called around to some companies to find out how much it would cost us to resod some of the yard. $300. $600. $6000. Uh, yeah. You read that right. One company wanted $6000. Just to resod with ONE pallet of grass. For that much money it better be the thucking Chippendale dancers resodding my lawn. Naked. With free pina colodas thrown in.

So we went with the $600 guys. Why? Because we learned from the past mistake of hiring the cheapest painter who couldn't even show up to do the job with a ladder and yelled at me because I didn't have one for him to use. Ahem. Issues there.

Well the $600 guys show up on Monday. Three guys in a truck sitting across the street from my house staring at me creepily as I shuttle my kid off to school. The head drunk gets out of the truck and says gruffly, "Hey! Where is it we are supposed to lay yer sod?"

"Um...the brown spots?" I got a half-pissed, half-confused look.

"Well you only got one pallet comin' and I ain't gonna have enough to do all of it!" He snapped, nastily at me.

I then pointed out the worst spots with as much dripping ire as I could muster. Told him to do what he could and we could always order more sod. He grumbles at me that he would be back the next day since the sod hadn't even been delivered yet. The next morning? Back. Sod was delivered the previous afternoon. On my way to drop the Punk off at school? Accosted by the snappy head drunk sod guy.

"Hey! Lady! This here sod is to damn thick! I can't work with this! I don't have a shovel or any of the tools I would need to lay this thick sod! Why did you order it so thick?"

I resisted all urge to lay into this guy verbally. It just would have confused the shit out of him. I told him I wasn't aware that there was a sod thickness standard, but I was running late and would take care of it when I got back in ten minutes. He got pissy and stormed off to his truck. Then the second guy comes over to me and politely tells me that they are under equipped to handle the sod laying for the day, so they would be back Wednesday to prepare the ground with the proper tools. Which translated into redneck is, "We'll be back termorrah with a shovel."

So yesterday they showed up with...weedwackers*. They then tore up the dead grass with them and left for the day. I guess they are union and they did their 20 minutes for the day.

This morning they show up, with shovels, and start working. I was getting Punk off to school when drunk sod guy #1 comes up to me and said, "I need to get rid of this dirt! I am gonna throw it in yer pond out back!" Umm...OK. Fine by me.

When I got back from school drop off, the three landscapers in the front yard are about to have an all out throw down bitch slapping smack down. Who knows what they were fighting about, but I was afraid I was going to have to get the hose. And sell tickets.

Lots of thucking swearing going on. Head drunk sod guy about to pulverize #3 sod guy with #2 sod guy trying to break it up. Head drunk sod guy threw his shovel into the ground and impaled one of my new pieces of sod.

"Hey! I don't mind if you kill each other but could you not take it out on my lawn? Oh and hose the blood off the sidewalks when you are done, huh? We just had those pressure washed!" By the cheap painter who didn't have a ladder and killed all my grass when he pressure washed my house and walk. Ah...good times.

So we are going to let the $600 guys finish out the day and the job of totally screwing up the resod while refraining from killing each other. Then we are going to make a call and hire some more guys to come fix the mess. Word to the wise in case anyone ever got a wild hair up their ass to inherit a house, remodel it, and move into it, all the while trying to improve it. DON'T DO IT! Back away from the dead relative's will and run as fast as you can with the cash to some tropical paradise! You'll thank me.

Hey?!? How come none of you are thucking knocking on my door to help me unpack yet? Thucking slackers...



*Blogger's suggestion for my misspelling of weedwacker? Wetback. So.Not.Even.Kidding. I shouldn't laugh, but my computer screen has been clean of laughed out coffee spray for way too long, now.

I feel like I should break out into song!

So I am standing in my new kitchen and loading up my new dishwasher (ehembraggingehem) when my daughter comes up behind me, evaluates the situation and promptly proclaims, "Mommy! You're doing it wrong!"

"Doing what wrong, Punk?"

"The dishes! All WRONG!" (At this I am giggling because I have no clue what she is talking about.)

Pad-pad-pad-pad-pad go her little feet as she runs off to the other room, then pad-pad-pad-pad as she runs back into the kitchen and plops down my high heels in front of my feet and then assists me in putting them on.

"There. You have to wear heels while you do the dishes or else Prince Charming will never come to rescue you!" Pad-pad-pad as she runs from the room laughing like a madwoman.

At this point, I was glad I wasn't holding anything breakable because I was near tears with laughter. I continued to load the dishwasher when I hear the little pad-pad-pad come up behind me again.

"Mommy? Where are the jelly beans?"

"We don't have any jelly beans, Punk. Why do you need jelly beans?"

"Because my arm is asleep and that is the only thing that can wake it up!"


I love that my kid can be just as random as I am. Thought I would share the funny with y'all.

WU-WTF-W

So I get the phone call today from Punk's new school. I am conflicted about how I feel about it. On the one hand I an glad that it seems someone finally woke up and read her registration, on the other hand, they have yanked her out of a mainstream class and plopped her right back into a special needs class. A.R.G.H.

It seems someone saw me crying hysterically in my minivan after I went to orientation on the wrong day last week. I was told Friday. Kindergarten orientation was Thurs. I was the only parent in the random class that they placed my child in that didn't show up on the right day. I showed up on the day the front office told me was the day to show up when I had registered her the week prior. A.R.G.H.

The nice lady on the phone started every other sentence with, "I heard a rumor..."

I wasn't very good at the high school games in high school. I sucked at playing Telephone in the third grade. I have been plucked out of Normalville and dropped-kicked into Creepy-Assed-Stepford-Yuppyville-Where-Everyone-Repeats-Every-Single-Move/Word/Shit-You-Take-And-Discusses/Evaluates-It-At-Length. (Just for the record the Post Office officially groans when they see that addressed on an envelope. They don't fucking like to venture out here, anyway. These folks bite, y'all.)

So I have to go into the school tomorrow to straighten out all the misunderstandings (theirs) and help to get my child situated into the correct learning environment. (Did y'all just hear that creepy voice chanting "homeschool"? No? Just me then? Alrighty.)

This should be interesting since they have very strict rules about where you are allowed to drive and park when it comes to dropping your kid off. They would like you to toss them out of the side of a rolling SUV to help streamline things. Or better yet, it you live less than 5 miles from the school, "We encourage parents to walk or bike ride with their children to school to help in the pick up/drop off process. This will cut down on automobile traffic and help our kids get healthier!" Yeah, I see the reasoning in that. Or here's a thought, Muffy! Stop driving your huge-assed SUV that sucks the planet dry of resources to a school that you know you aren't zoned for but you lied on your registration so that your kid could go to the "right" school anyway and you just have to have a vehicle that big when there is only your 5 foot tall ass and your snotty little 10 year old fucktard that told me in the hallway at orientation that I should "Move it, fat-ass!" before he jaunted off down the hallway proclaiming that, "people that wide shouldn't be allowed in the building."

Ooops. I seem to have gotten carried away there. (True story, though. Got called a fat-ass. Just another little push over the edge that had me bawling in the minivan last Friday that is now the talk of the neighborhood this week because these people have nothing better to do or are all out of their little prescriptions that make them normal or some shit....ahem. Sorry. Got carried away again.)

So. What's up with your Wed-Nes-Day? Wanna come help me unpack? I have to find some "normal" clothes to go to this meeting in tomorrow. FCB has forbodden me from shaving my head into a mohawk and dying it purple. I am resisting the temptation to put my nose ring in. Think I could find a tattoo shop close by that would stamp me with Yuppyville Sucks? I miss my friends. They are nice "real" people that don't judge. One of them is off pregnant somewhere about to give birth, another is trying to earn a living in Orlando. Yet another "friend" that I haven't met yet but I have a suspicion lives close by, thinks her 2 year old will tear up my house...I say anything he can do would be an improvement at this point.

I need a drink. I need some of my "normal". I am tired of this move already. I want a pool in the backyard. Oh, and a hot pool boy wearing a thong and holding a tray with a fruity tropical drink and a check for 10 million dollars. Yeah...that would hit the spot.

Anyone else ever feel like a bleeding guppy in a large shark tank? And how was your Wednesday?

Because I am lazy-sick-overwhelmed-takeyourpick.

I know...I know...BAD PERSNICKETY!

I was reading my daily blog list today when I left a comment on something BusyBeeSuz wrote.

I got an email back from her.

This was my comment...

Persnickety Ticker has left a new comment on your post "If walls could talk, what would yours say?": My Mom's would say, "Complimentary socks provided under the table for all your brussel sprout disposal needs."

Mine would say, "All uneaten mashed potato sculptures will be sold to cover the cost of your meal."


She wrote me: "You are too darn funny…hey, you should start a blog..."

I wrote her: "Yeah...hint hint. Been swamped with the finishing of the house, the move, and now I am on the brink of a hospital visit-sick. Plus I still haven't removed all of my possessions out of my old house. I have 6 days. I am overwhelmed and out of help. The blog will come back...just as soon as I get some spare time. I am pretty sure I know which box I packed that in....

Aaaaand as I write you this little email I realized that that paragraph right there could be a blog update. See? You inspire me!

So there you go, folks. I'm not dead. And my funny is half-way unpacked.

What's Up Wednesday is Thankful Thursday.

Why? Because I am thankful that Thursday is over. It.Was.A.Long.Damn.Day. But my kid is registered for school, the new house is finished (mostly) and I have moved in, and "What are you going to do now Persnickety?"

"Why...I'm going to Disney, of course!"

Yup. Going to get up at the ass crack of the break of day and get my groove on down in 'Lando.

"How long are you going to be gone, Persnickety?"

"Oh...just Friday, Saturday, Sunday and September."

"No really, Persnick. How long did you plan on staying?"

"Do you think they would let me rent a room at the Haunted Mansion? Or better yet! I could shack up in the Hall of Presidents! I like older men! No wait! I'll bet that I could get a job as the fat wench in the Pirates of the Caribbean and never have to leave!"

I will probably be home some time next week. Or whenever my gracious host gets sick of me and kicks my snoring ass out. Well...not that my ass snores...but you know what I mean...

Until then, if you are dying for a dose of snark, read the archives. I used to be funny. Then I started this whole house project. Now I am jaded and tired and running away from home in a fit of teenage rebellion. Because? I can so totally pull of the teenage tude with great flair and flourish! And on that note? ::eyeroll: and whatever...

What's Up Wedesday

So how is your Wednesday going? Mine? So far so good. I have rebelled all week from going to the house. I think I have moving issues or change issues or I can't believe the house is almost finished and I am sick and tired of painting and cleaning and I just can't muster the gumption to finish the damn project issues. Oh and then there was that whole food-poisoning/Rotovirus for the weekend...and Monday/Tuesday issue. I have spent half the week in bed. FCB has been chomping at the bit to get me to get up and go finish the house with him. I don't wanna. If I finish I have to move. If I move I lose closet space. See? That's a good enough reason to stay in bed right there!

Speaking of staying in bed...I have been having some wacky dreams lately. Involving people from my distant past. I chalk it all up to my subconscious resistance to moving. I don't deal well with change. Hell, I don't even like to make change. Or carry change. The jingling bugs me.

Anyway...while I was down sick one of the past few days, Punk decided that I needed soup and ice to make me feel all better. But of course, delivering these things to me required me to get out of bed to help her make these things. She decided to inform me that our refrigerator produces ice, "little ice", and lemons. She based this all on the little pictures on the automatic ice maker. The water drop is the ice. The "little ice" is crushed, and the whole ice cubes are lemon wedge shaped. Thus? My fridge produces lemons. Viola!

"Mommy? Where's the soup button?"

So how is your Wed-Nes-Day going?

Mine is about to get more tedious as I am about to head to the house to clean and finish painting. FCB is so totally going to have to build me a pool. And a hot tub. And buy me a golf cart. Something has to make up for me losing closet space.

What's Up Wednesday Late Edition

So here is your WUW late style. Been busting my ass, busier than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs trying to impersonate a one legged man in an ass kicking contest.

And is that isn't busy, I don't know what is.

So a couple of random things, a little update, and this WUW is underway and done.

I read today that Coca-Cola is coming out with a carbonated milk drink. I said it a couple of years ago...thought it would be an interesting idea...someone somewhere STOLE my idea and went ahead and did it. Not that I would have had the first idea on how to carbonate milk or have the funds to mass market it, but you get my whole "petulant indignation" attitude, anyway. So there.

What is up with people putting that memorial shit all over their rear windows on their vehicle? I don't get it? Nothing says love and remembrance like "immortalizing Uncle Bob on the tints of my bitchin' civic." Just seems lame to me. Maybe it's just me.

The house is coming along. I debated putting up pics to show what we have been doing but I thing a before/after montage when it is all said and done will have more of an impact. Kinda like, "Holy fucking Jesus H. Christ Jumped Up On A Waffle Iron that is a nasty-assed house!" to "Oh sweet Mary And Joseph Riding Side Saddle On A Unicycle that is an AWESOME house!!"

Needless to say the painting continues. I am still fixing the TERRIBLE JOB THAT KEVIN EDWARDS DID ON MY HOUSE! I say that in all caps because I am inventing all kinds of new swear words while I am fixing his MANY mistakes. I am saving them up though because they are doozies and sound really funny when they come out of my 5 year old's mouth. I can also make that statement and it isn't libelous or slanderous or whatever because he really did do a completely shittacular job on my house. And while I appreciate him hitting on me (cuz it was flattering in a way) I would rather fuck a porcupine sideways than help him cheat on his girlfriend.

In other news, Punk was messing with one of the new "Energy Efficient" light bulbs and broke it. In the process she cut her finger. She bled all over my new floors for 5 minutes before she thought it was a good idea to bring the injury to our attention. We immediately put her finger under running cold water to stop the bleeding and clean the wound when she starts freaking out and screams, "I don't want to put my finger in the water! What if I bleed out?!?"

Two things. She watches waaaaayyyy to much TV to know the term "bleed out" and the new floors would argue with her that she had already done so all over them. (Because if my floors can bring me to floorgasm on a daily basis, they can argue the degree of "bleeding out" that my child is doing. They are just such badass cool floors that way!)

So that was my Wed-Nes-Day. I realize that by the time you read this it is going to be Thursday, but hey...they both end in Y so I am all forgiven for getting this out late, right? Right? Helllllllooooooo????

What's Up Wednesday!

Good Day to you all out there in Bloggyland! This morning is starting out with a truckload of OWWW sprinkled with healthy heaping of "OH MY EVERLOVIN HOLY FUCKNUTS I HURT LIKE A SOMBITCH!"

And that is what I get for two days of non stop painting.

I am painting because I don't want our house painter to come back to our house because he always has his hand out expecting to be paid. Now while I was flattered that last week he told me he "liked big women" and was willing to enlist me in a rousing round of "hide the salami (as long as you don't tell my girlfriend)", I am slowing starting to detest even the mere thought of him. He came back Monday to paint our chimney and didn't bring a ladder. Then got pissed when we didn't have one for him to use. Then got even more pissed when he said he was expecting to be paid AGAIN for work he had already been paid for. He has been doing this since he started the job. Every day he showed he would say he would come back to "clean up and fix the mistakes" and it would ONLY cost us a FEW HUNDRED EXTRA!! Hmm. Really? Only a few hundred for you to clean up the mess YOU made and fix the mistakes YOU made? How generous.

Then there is the general carpenter that has been on the job. Now, having ADD I appreciate when I see it in other people and those people are able to overcome and hold a steady job. What I don't like is when your ADD as well as your PREACHING AT ME FOR 10 HOURS STRAIGHT SO YOU CAN SAVE MY EVERLASTING SOUL in the most obnoxious way, prevents you from doing your job correctly and efficiently. And then you leave the job for your 3 hour lunch break. Before you come back to work until way past the time I want to go home. And then you just show up randomly in the morning or afternoon the next day. Ahem. That seemed to have gotten away from me. I am not pissed. Really. Well...maybe a little.

Anyway. So far the only part of the remodel that is going perfectly is the Floor Guy. I love me some Floor Guy. He is from Brazil, cute, funny and a pleasure to talk to. As well as being able to give me multiple floorgasms a day. Who wouldn't love Floor Guy!

So now I am off for another day of painting, cleaning and general waiting on people to show up. I get shiny new appliances today. I should get shiny new counter tops and fuzzy NON-BERBER carpet any day now. But for right now? Off to the "Pancake Store" (IHOP) to spend some quality time with Punk since she is feeling quite neglected lately.

So...What's Up with your Wed-Nes-Day?

What's Up Wednesday is catching on!

Because somebody totally GOOGLED it this past week.

See? I knew there were actual people out there that read my blog! I know this because I see them come in my bloggy front door, walk through a few posts and then totally leave with out even having wiped their feet or commented or gone through my medicine cabinet or anything!

So for this edition of WUW, I am going to post a few things that people are searching for that lead them to my little corner of the interwebs.

Be afraid.


First of all, we have the person that searched most recently for "like a delicate flower". Now I am sure that when they got here, they weren't expecting the rest of the sentence that ended with "that is blooming from a dead buzzard's ass". Hehehehe...I love to surprise people with random acts of crude WTFness.

Then we have the person who searched for..."site:blogspot.com mom 'tie him up'". OK. While I know (better than most I should say thanks to a colorful background) that some people really like the S&M, this is not exactly the blog where you are going to find instructions on binding and gagging someone. Because? If I had actually tied up FCB and duct taped the crap out his mouth, I wouldn't necessarily post it for all the world to see....ahem...moving on!

"You make me run and you make me want to live" was a very popular search this week. That is a song by a group named Fisher. I was watching an episode of Bones (David Boreanaz rocks my socks) and the song was used in a scene where a guy sailed away. It was pretty. I Googled it. I found out who sang the song based on the lyrics and then Youtubed it and then eventually found the mp3. I love the song. I used it in a blog post. They showed a rerun of the episode of Bones on TNT this past week. Thus the explosion of searches that led to my blog. Hope everyone found the info they were looking for!

"Groundhog day ticker" because you just can't wait for that eventful holiday to roll around again and want to count down the minutes?

"25 way to improve your health" is weekly standard for Google results that lead to my blog. There are quite a few people out there that want to get healthy. I seriously doubt my blog will help with that. Plus it is just jammed packed with excess calories.

"Osmil Clan". Really?? This led you to MY blog? Why? WTF is an 'Osmil Clan' and when the hell have those word EVER been on my blog before today? I think the great and powerful Google has been smoking its own shoelaces.

"Hair doesn't move easily" means you are using WAY TO MUCH AQUANET! Cut it out!

"Hair ticker". Because you want to know how fast your hair grows or how many people come to visit it? Have you got nothing better to do? Go watch paint dry or grass grow. Really. Think of better ways to use your time wisely.

"How to put a ticker on a blog". Google it the same way the rest of us did. I can't tell you how everything in this world works! I would lose some of my mysterious charm.

"She is growing up so fast ticker". Are you kidding me? You need a ticker for this? Just go look at the snap shots. Or better yet...get off the damn computer and go read her a book or push her on a swing. They do grow up fast and before you blink their childhood is gone. I should know...my baby is going to be six years old in a couple of months and starting kindergarten in the fall. I just turn around and she grows another inch on me! Ahh...I remember her tiny little beginnings....ahem. Moving on!


So those are some of the search terms that brought people here. If you are bored click the links and peruse the funny that was me...or bogarted by me...from the past.

Only this time? Wipe your feet when you visit my little corner of the blogosphere. Really. Comment or something. If for no other reason? To tell me how your Wednesday is going because I need distraction from the stress of my remodel.

Happy What's Up Wed-nes-day!

I smell like a delicate flower...

That is blooming out of a dead buzzard's ass.

Because today at the new house? No A/C. NONE. Nada. Windows and doors open and not a breeze to be found. I live in FLORIDA people. If the heat doesn't kill you then the humidity will finish the job nice and wetly.

We had the old unit replaced because there was mold in the unit. And in the ducts. And that was more than likely the reason that I was getting violently ill every time I spent any time in that house.

And then?

They ripped out the wall behind the tub in the guest bath. They needed to do this to get rid of the old tile before they installed the new stuff.

And behind the drywall and tile?

Mold, mildew, and.......massive termite damage. OH JOY!! RAPTURE!!

So all that has to be replaced. As if the A/C wasn't enough $$$.

I figure we should just get a shovel and start scooping money into the nearest deep pit. It would be cheaper.

So work continues on the house. Day after day after day....

The plus side? Every time I walk into the house I have a floorgasm. I love the floors. They are gorgeous!

As the A/C guys were collecting their check this afternoon, one of them looks at it, asks me if I am FCB (Do I look like a Fat, Bald MAN?) and said he couldn't take the check with out a driver's license number on it. I looked at him and said for the money they were charging they should be happy they are getting paid all at once, period! I then proceeded to tell him that I know for a fact the whole unit plus labor probably didn't even cost half what they were charging.

Then I said, "I know we got screwed on this because there is a tingling in my butt and I doubt you throw in lube for that price!"

The one guy was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. The one that wanted the DL number had a blank look on his face because he barely understood English. Eh...at least someone got a laugh.

I also found out today that the Blank Stare doesn't work in Lowe's. I was in there today for a drain and when I stood in the plumbing section I got no help and a lot of employees looking at me apathetically. I ended up asking one guy for assistance. He actually SUCKED WIND THROUGH HIS TEETH before going over to a phone to call for assistance in plumbing. The 4 different employees standing around watched him do this. Then...they all just stood there. And then they stood there some more. (Gee I want THAT job!) Eventually, I found what I was looking for myself. But not before proclaiming loudly that I was about 5 seconds away from going to Home Depot. (No reaction from Mr. Attitude and the Starers.)

It's just been a long and expensive and frustrating day.

When I went to the school to pick up the Punk this afternoon, I walked in the door and the "Summer School Principal" looked and me and smiled and said, "Are you here to pick up 'Punk'?"

I actually had to stop myself from retorting, "Nope! I just figured I would wander the hallways for a while for the exercise! Here's your sign!"

My child is matriculating at genius central. Those people deserve a cookie or something.


The one thing that has been making me smile all day?

My daughter keeps walking around going..."Gotta get-get. Gotta get-get. Gotta get-get. Hey Mommy? Can I listen to the Boom-Boom song again?*"

She's a trip!



*Boom Boom Pow by the Black Eyed Peas.

Here's your Random. Want fries with that?

It's been rainy here in FL for the last couple of days. All this rain has led me to one conclusion. That all the Fucknards, Douchenozzles and Twatwaffles have migrated to FL and forgot to pack their driving skills in their little over night baggies. It SUCKS. I would feel safer driving through a pack of grannies that are blindfolded, too short to see over the steering wheel, anyway, and late to go play Bingo.

It's infuriating. Just because I drive a mini-van, doesn't mean I automatically drive like I am driving a mini-van. No, Sir. I don't particularly want to drive 25 in a 45. Call me crazy.

Feisty's Oldest Spawn turned 16 today. I remember the day he was born. Ahh...such a cute baby. It still leaves us wondering what the hell happened. Feisty says it's because I constantly screamed "HELLO BAYBAY!" to her tummy while she was pregnant. She is so screwed because I have been doing it to her this whole pregnancy as well.

I saw a bumper sticker on a car today that said, "Impeach Obama." At first all I could think was, "Why? He hasn't had enough time to screw or screw up that badly, yet." And then I thought, "They can't impeach Obama. That would just completely fuck up the new addition to the Hall of Presidents and Disney!"

Progress on the house is coming along. The first painters completely screwed the pooch on the whole job and had to be replaced by Speedy "Tattoo" Gonzales. That man can paint like a mad streak! Blink and your walls are a different color! I was so impressed and thought things were going to turn out all right....until...I got to the house this morning and the guest bath is completely the wrong color. I picked up the can of paint on the floor that it was supposed to be. Completely full. ARGHHHH!!!!

I asked FCB if we could just hire someone to be me for the next couple of weeks. That would be groovy. Then I could sleep in, play Farm Town on Facebook, and make her pack my shit. That would suit me just fine. He laughed hysterically and said he would replace me in a heartbeat if he could find someone that cleaned. That man is never satisfied. He hated that his wife never cooked anything more complicated than Hamburger Helper. I am a fabulous cook. His wife was an anal neat freak. Meh. I'm neat enough. Clutter is the new clean, I say.

Speaking of clean, the dust bunnies at the new house are throwing a parade in my honor for rescuing them from the filth. They are planning on painting a mural of me right over the shrine they have erected. I feel honored.

I make almost daily trips to Home Depot. Buy this, get that, mix paint. It's getting to the point where the employees know us by first name and are practically rolling their eyes at us when we walk in. I was actually pissed today when I went in and on a hunch decided to check to see if my faucet and ceiling fan had been restocked. They had. I was supposed to get a phone call when the items got in. No call. Makes me want to tie someone up with an orange apron and beat them senseless with a paint stick.

So that is most of the Random that I have for today. Punk is rocking out at summer school. Having a great time and progressing nicely. I am seesawing on the health issues. I have good days and bad. Was in bed last night at 8pm, and sitting here thinking that 5pm isn't too early to call it a night, either. So I am off to hoe myself out at Farm Town for a bit. Gotta make some coin to buy some new seeds to plant. I am such a total cropstitute.

WUW and I'm sooo proud (eyeroll)

So construction started today on the new house. Or should I say DEstruction. The floors where all ripped out and the carpet came up. The doors removed and everything taped up in prep for painting. I also had to buy this special enzyme stuff because when the carpet was taken up, the pet stains that had saturated through the carpet were everywhere. GAG!! The concrete under all the carpet smelled like pee. CAT PEE!!! Ugh. Nasty. Uber-nasty. EWW.

Did I mention it was gross?

When you walk in this house, you get bitch-slapped back out the door and onto your ass by the cat pee smell. It is truly gag-worthy.

More deconstruction tomorrow and painting to follow. I am there all day, every day, for the next week or two so I have no Internet connection. No TV. Just my Nintendo DS and my MP3 player. Ahh...good times. Not really.

So the reason for the proud eyeroll in the title? We were getting packed up to come home and I gave Punk a little snack pack of cookies. I opened them for her and she dropped them, spilling them all over the floor of my car.

What came out of her mouth next was priceless. I elaborate a little first by letting you know that we have been working on her pronouncing her 'F' sounds lately. She is getting pretty good at it, I'd say.

The cookies drop...the Punk says, "Gods Phhhucking!"

I am overwhelmed with sheer pride. Really. I couldn't have said it better myself.


So how was your Wednesday?

Mourning, Moving, Sick & Tired

And that about sums me up.

We have been packing and organizing and running all over creation and falling into bed at midnight or later. (Later because I am addicted to Farm Town on Facebook. That shit is worse than crack y'all. Not that I would know what crack is actually like. But I've heard shit. Seriously.)

The living room wall in the new house looks like a paint store puked on it. We have settled on the colors for all the bedrooms and the baths, but can't pick a color we like for the rest of the house. We had picked out this lovely sage, but once that shit went up on the wall it looked like margarita lime. Eww. I know I am ghetto fabulous and all, but even I have limits.

So back to the paint store where the guys behind the counter are laughing at us because we have bought about 2 gallons so far in those little paint sample sizes. The floor guy just looked at us with pity and handed us a number to a color guy that could hook us up. We may actually have to use him.

Then in the mess of all this, I get to the house yesterday and it's all over the news that Michael Jackson died. I dropped to the couch and started weeping like a baby. I am a fan. A BIG ONE. Have been all my life. Even to the point that when Feisty heard the news the first thought she had was, "All that memorabilia Persnick has will be worth tons, now."

I loved that wacko freak. I did. He may have been an evil little troll in some people's eyes, but I had a crush on him since he was black and normal. I even liked him when he went white and weird. Sue me.

I called my sister and was crying and you know what her loving and supporting reaction was to my very obvious sorrow?

The bitch laughed at me.

And then swore she would never let me live it down. That's love, peeps.

My story about MJ was that I was at Epcot once when I was a teen and we were watching the Illuminations. I noticed a Double Decker bus had pulled up behind us. Then up at the top of the bus, I saw....HIM. He was there to watch the show too. I looked up in awe and my mom turned around to see what I was staring at. I said, "Mom, that's Michael Jackson!!!"

At that utterance a Disney employee that was standing guard at the bottom of the bus almost reached out to slap me. She raised her hand then lowered it and asked me to hush and move along. I guess she thought I was going to cause a scene and start a mob. I just stood there and stared at him while he watched the show. As it was ending and he got up to leave, I said, "Michael!! I love you!!"

And HE spoke to me. "Hi! Thank you!" Those words were directed right at me. MICHAEL JACKSON SPOKE TO ME!

I melted into a puddle of teenage goo and started freaking and weeping and jumping up and down like a....well...like a teenage Michael Jackson fan.

And then I wouldn't shut up about it for the next hour. At one point my mom threatened me with death if I didn't shut my trap. And then? I fell asleep in the car before we left the parking lot of Epcot.

I could never make it out of the parking lot as a kid. I can barely do it now as an adult. They should just let us set up a cot and camp. That would be great.

So I am in mourning. I am really going to miss the guy. He had such great potential to make a phenomenal comeback. I honestly have been having crying jags on and off since yesterday.

So go ahead and laugh now, Older Sister.

Still coughing up a lung every now and then. And probably working myself way too hard. Don't even get me started on the problems I have had this week with the bus company that was SUPPOSED to be transporting my child to and from summer school. That is a post in the making and I haven't quite finished it to the angered eloquence that it truly deserves.

Gotta run, there is a granite yard out there somewhere waiting for me to adopt some lonely slab.

Hope y'all have a fabulous Friday.

Oh yeah...and RIP Farah and Ed.

It's a totally accredited course!

Yeah, that's right folks! Step right up and join my class, Fart Carting 101! I am an easygoing professor that explains things in simple and fun terms. I even grade on a curve!

In my class you will learn things like; "Aiming for that bitch with the dirty look on her face" and "How to totally defend your use of a Fart Cart in 15 swear words or less" as well as gems like "How to not only run over their feet 'accidentally' but aim for their rude little offspring, too!" And my favorite topic of all time, (and this class is a must attend) "How to avoid going to prison for mauling smart assed, idiotic, should have kept their opinions to themselves tourists by backing over their face after they called you fat and lazy by using a totally plausible insanity defense!"

Sign up now! Class space is limited! Refreshments in the form of ice cream and beer (beer floats?) served after every class!




***Update on the news that is me...I failed my Pulmonary Function Test with flying colors today which proves 2 things.

#1. I can't breathe deeply without breaking down into a coughing fit that leaves me peeing my pants and/or passing out. (You should have seen the look on the tech's face when I fell out of the booth, yeah the test is done in a phone booth...don't ask. She lunged to catch me as I was going down and right before I passed out I saw the look of terror on her face as the realization hit her she was trying to catch the full weight of me and there was no way she wasn't going down with me. Ah...fun times.

#2. That little man named Dinesh that is my new doc is going to freak out a little when he sees those results. He wasn't sure how to handle me in the first place, and had no plausible excuse for what was going on with me so he just pulled the term Cardiac Asthma out of his ass to make himself look all smart and shit. Feisty was with me at the time and it took all the restraint we had not to call BULLSHITE on him when the term uttered out of his little mouth. Cardiac asthma was his sellf-important way to diagnose me with congestive heart failure which we knew I already had because all the rest of the docs had already diagnosed that. But I'm sure in his little world he felt he had done a great job and impressed the sheep that he thought I was.

I still don't feel great, but I am still breathing on my own and at this moment upright, so I guess in the grand scheme of things...it's all good!

Move your hair.

My daughter has this thing lately where she is getting very huggy. I know it is mostly because I have been practically bedridden and she is scared, but she is coming to me and asking for a hug about every 15 minutes. The only problem? My hair.

I used to have shorter hair. (My mom doesn't understand "just a little off the ends". Don't believe me? Ask Older Sister. She has the same problem with the woman.) I usually like having my hair long because I just think it looks better on me. (Plus there were just waaay, waaay too many hair experiments from my school days...) So I have been letting it grow out from the last hack job my mom did. It was chin length...now it is mid back. It hangs down over my shoulders and rests on my chest. She will hug my midsection or even my thighs if my hair is hanging over my shoulders.

"Mommy? Move your hair."

I'll pull it back behind my shoulders and she just tackles me.

I don't know why she won't hug me with my hair hanging...but she doesn't want the stuff to touch her in any way. Such a persnickety kid.

*****

Update on the health: I am going to the pulmonologist* tomorrow. Let's hope I just have heart failure or pneumonia and not Cancer, emphysema, COPD or TB. Not that heart failure is a good thing...but I have traveled that road before and I know where I left all the bread crumbs if ya catch my drift. Because I have to drive myself to the doc tomorrow, I was trying to prolong taking my narcotic cough syrup as long as possible to see how long I could go without it before the coughing fit overcame me. I was all stoked about doing well with out it until a massive coughing attack hit me. It turned out I was only an hour past my timed dose. During this coughing attack I was trying to make my homemade mac 'n cheese. Needless to say...I coughed till I passed out. SPLAT! Fat woman meets kitchen floor. I wasn't out long, but when I got up, Punk was standing over me with dirty panties and needed my help. (Lesson you are never too young to learn? Never trust a fart.) I had to dash off to the bathroom to help her clean up and then quickly wash my hands before dashing back to the kitchen to try to save the mac 'n cheese. It turned out really thick...not usually the way it turns out. I thinned it with a little milk, but by the time I tried to eat it, my throat was tore up from all the coughing. So I didn't even get to enjoy my own cooking. I have since taken my meds...

Ladadadada....feeling groooooovy.....

I am off to lay back down now. It has taken me over an hour just to type this little post. It never takes me that long. I could type out War & Peace in 20 minutes. (Not really. Maybe. Possibly not.)

Fingers crossed that I am not dying of consumption, folks. And that this new doc has the gonads to treat me and not wank out by telling me to just go to the ER. My other new doc has just had the bejeezus scared out of him by my internal fuckedupedness. He wanked out and just told me to go to the ER instead of giving me a stronger inhaler. I let everyone know how it goes tomorrow. Hopefully I won't cough myself off of an overpass while I am driving.




*I'll be damned if blogger spell check had no fucking clue what a pulmonologist was. That's a bad sign, isn't it?

What's Up Wednesday

Sorry I have been so absent from the blogginess lately, but I haven't been feeling so hot. Most likely (according to the new hunky doctor that I saw today) I am going through another session of pneumonia or heart failure or both. Thankfully he joins me in the opinion that hospital visits suck and is trying to aggressively treat me in the comfort of my own home. (With the solemn promise that I will get my ass to the ER toot-sweet if I become worse on the meds or start hallucinating...whichever comes first.)

Add to all that loveliness that this has been going on for almost 4 weeks and I went to Disney last week for a couple of days to have a good time with my best friend and daughter. I actually started feeling better the few days I was down in Orlando. The day I got back? It was like crashing through a brick wall. The breathing became almost impossible and the coughing started in full force. Now I feel like I have had the shit kicked out of me from all the coughing and puking. Muscles hurt that I didn't even know I had. I have had a low grade fever of at least a month, which spikes when I cough, puke, move, breathe....you get the idea.

So not having the best of WUW's. Only good news? FCBMom's house (finally) is officially owned by the FCB as of today. Free and clear. Now we just have to wait for the redneck trash that is FCBSis and her drunk husband to pack up all their shit and move to their "brand new" trailer in the sticks. Those two not high on my list of people I can tolerate right now. Being sick makes it worse. Every time FCBSis and The Drunkwad open their mouths I want to take a flame thrower to them.

So that is what is going on in my little world. Just trying to breathe from one moment to the next. How has your week or Wednesday been?

Put down the Google and step away slowly...

I have been checking to see what people Googled to get to my blog and the results made me chuckle. I'll share because I care...well that, and it amazes me how many people seem to be allergic to clothes.

25 ways to improve your health. That one gets clicked on more that the rest.

Ticker snarky. Sounds like the name of a band.

Ticker cough. Sounds dreadful. Maybe you should go see a doctor.

"Am I in a coma." I swear someone not only Googled that, but followed it to my blog.

Cranky bastard. I guess I am not the only one plagued with one of those.

"I think I am allergic to clothes." Yeah, me too.

Persnickety. That gets Googled a lot. Then people come here. Yay! Traffic! Don't forget to leave a tip on your way out! (And by tip I mean check out the ads all over the sides of the blog. If only for the giggle factor at what they offer based on what I write.)

And the number one all time winner of the WTFness award...

"I think I have a boil on my ticker and what should I do." First of all, I don't even want to know what YOUR ticker is and how in the hell you have a boil on it. Second, I think you and the allergic to clothes people and the coma patient all need to get to a DOCTOR! STAT!

Proof that there are people in this world that are sicker than I am. In more ways than one.

Now I am just waiting on someone to Google "poop a condo." Cuz you just KNOW someone is going to...hehehe.

Well, at least she isn't swallowing quarters or swords or anything.

I swear that the Tooth Fairy must have a summer home in my daughter's lower intestines. She swallowed her sixth lost tooth sometime today. I went looking for it about the house, but I am pretty sure she swallowed this one just like all the rest.

And there is NO WAY I am going after it.

I asked her doctor the first time she swallowed one if she would be OK. He said that they are small and she should be alright but to just make sure I check for her throwing up blood or pooping blood. Oh, and if I wanted to save the tooth for posterity then I would have to wait until it came out of her posterior and go treasure hunting for it. Um...no. Ewww.

I discovered the missing tooth when she came up to me this evening and asked for waffles for dinner. She had already had a couple earlier today, and I said, "Yeah, I guess so."

In Punk's mind, that meant, "Absolutely anything you want and please go make it yourself."

So I get up off the couch when I hear her rooting around in the freezer and then shut the door. By the time I got in there, she is up on the stool grinning at me and telling me that she made 3 waffles. Sure enough, there are waffles in the toaster. FOUR of them. I admonished her for making so many, and told her she was never going to eat that many (yeah right...this is Punk we are talking about...a pure carbivore, that one) as she was grinning proudly at me for doing it all by herself. I noticed the tooth was gone with that smile. I questioned her about what happened to the tooth and got 12 different versions of what MAY have happened. She has a vivid imagination.

I went back through the house looking to see if I could find the tooth, meanwhile my 5 year old had piled all the waffles on a plate and made a bee line back to the bedroom where she was currently engrossed in her latest favorite Disney movie.

She is growing up so fast.

By the time she is a teenager, she should be able to poop a condo made of teeth. If there really is a tooth fairy, I feel so sorry for her.

We interupt this blog to interject a brief belief (and a WUW)

Rob Thomas, the singer/songwriter, wrote an article for Huffington Post today. I personally think it ROCKED OUT LOUD! He made several well thought out, articulate, and well expressed statements of his beliefs. While this article may raise some hackles of some readers, I think if most people thought along the same lines as he does, this world would be a much better place.

Just step away from the controversy and think about the concept of fighting for the underdog.

Here is an excerpt from the article if you don't want to read the whole thing that I thought was especially well written.

I believe that America is a great nation of even greater people. I also believe
that anyone who says that this is a "Christian nation" has RHS, or revisionist
history syndrome, and doesn't realize that most of our founding fathers were
either atheist or at least could see, even in the 1700s, that all through Europe
at the time, religion was the cause of so much persecution that they needed to
put into their brand new constitution a SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND STATE so that the ideals of a group of people could never be forced onto the whole. (I also
find it funny when people point out to me that it says "one nation under god" in
our pledge of allegiance, not realizing that this was an addition made in 1954
during the communism scare of the McCarthy era. It's not surprising, however,
knowing that these same people would punch me in the mouth if I called Jesus a
Jew.)

Thank you and we now return you to your regularly scheduled WUW (What's Up Wednesday?)

Because I am just like a brothel for germs.

They just keep coming and coming and coming to party all over my body with plenty of extra lube (snot and phlegm) and they leave me all spent and exhausted in the morning because I haven't had any sleep.

Fuckers.

A friend of mine called to see how I was doing and when he heard I was sick again, his exact words were, "What? Again? Are you faking it? You have to be one of the sickest people I have met! And I mean that in the nicest possible way..."

On to other news...I think I sprained my eyeballs from rolling them at FCBSis this past week. So many issues there, that it would take a whole 'nother blog post to get it all out. I assure you when the viral orgy is done with my body I will elaborate.

One thing I did want to share, Punk can now read.

So knock me over with a feather and pick my ass up off the floor. When the hell did she learn that? I have been trying forever and no such luck. The school told me she never cooperates.

I am standing in the lobby of the hotel and there are three coffee urns (regular, bold and decaf) plus a smaller urn with hot water in it for tea. I make myself a cup of bold and standing next to me is Punk. She looks at the small urn and slowly says...."Hhh-hot wuh-wuh-water."

There were no pictures. Nothing to indicate that was what it said. She just sounded out the letters and BOOM!! My jaw hit the floor in disbelief. My 5 year old just read. I started doing a happy dance in the lobby. I was jumping up and down and congratulating her and she was looking at me the exact same way the rest of the lobby staff was.

LIKE I HAD JUST LOST MY EVERLOVING MIND.

Bah! I don't care! My kid can read!! Take that Einstein! Up yours Steven Hawking!

"So, what are we going to do tomorrow then, Punk?"

"Tomorrow, we shall take over the world."

What's Up Wednesday?

So..if you came here yesterday, you know what's up with me. By the time you read this, I will be knee deep in and not give a damn that it is even Wed-Nes-Day.

So what's up with your Wednesday? Hmm? Come on! Share! I'm talking to you. Yeah you...the lurker over there in the corner that comes here for the giggles but doesn't even bother to share a word vert. Come on! Tell me how your life is going!

What The Farklenuts???

I posted a post yesterday, but it seems like it didn't show up in anyones readers or bloglists.

It's finally happened.

Blogger is spanking my ass for my naughty non-posting behavior of late.

Maybe this will show up.

Look for WUW to post later today. I will be on the road hopefully heading away from all this dadblasted rain.

We're off to dump the parents. Who knew dead people could swim?

Yep, that's right. Off to a little mini-vacation to dispose of the FCBMom and FCBDad. I am going to be stuck in a condo with FCB and FCBSis for 3 days. We are dumping the ashes in the ocean per request of the dead people. I guess they wanted to have a swimmingly good time in the afterlife.
The good news is there will be lots of this and this



and this.... And I get to spend some quality pool time with the Punk.

The bad news is...I will more than likely have to do all the cooking and cleaning and not get to watch what I want to watch on TV. Eh. Because did I mention?



So worth putting up with the FCB clan.

In trying to book this little mini vacation, FCB called the hotel directly to get the best rate. The guy on the phone, named Patrick, quoted him a price of $430+. Frustrated, FCB handed me the phone and said, "do what you do."

At least he has lived with me long enough to know that I can talk a man dying of thirst out of his last glass of water.

So I got on the phone and said, "Patrick, my good man, what can you do for me? We stayed there about a year ago and had an absolutely wonderful time. It was lovely. Coincidentally, while we were there, they had a little funeral service by the pool that was then moved down to the private beach where they scattered the remains. It was lovely. We are going to be there in your area disposing of 'Mom and Dad' and we want to stay there with you to make it all as pleasant a memory as possible. Now, when we stayed there, we just had the one deluxe room with kitchen, but as we are going to have more people with us this time, we need a little more space. What do you have?"


He then told me that they had a 2 bedroom or a 1 bedroom suite with a pull out couch. Thinking about our wallet and the fact that the FCBSis is cheap and more than likely not going to throw in, I asked about the 1 bedroom suite with the pull out. He quoted me a price.

"Patrick, (heavy sigh) I understand that you must charge a certain rate for each room. I get that. But we are GRIEVING. Are you aware of how much it costs to just BBQ a person now-a-days? Seriously. Give me a break here. When we were there last year, we only paid $160 a night. How close can you get me to that price? Preferably on the lower side of that price. Come on...make my day, here."

He then told me since prices are up from last year, the room we had last year would be $167 this year. He hemmed and hawed a bit and then said he could let me have the one bedroom with the pull out for that price.

To which I replied, "Patrick, I love you and I want to bear your children!"

He laughed and said that was really sweet of me, but that he batted for the other team.

So we got the room for cheap...well...cheaper than $400+ a night. That and I am so going to try to hunt down Patrick when I get there for some more laughs and good conversation. You can never have too many gay friends.

So, I am off to enjoy some of while escaping a whole bunch of hopefully.

Don't hate.

I am out of the coma!

Not really in a coma. But I bet you did think that after I was all bloggy all over the place 2 weeks ago and non-existent last week. I have no excuse except life+DRAMA+exhaustion=Bad PERSNICKETY!

Plus I ran out of Captain Crunch.

I guess that was the fuel that fed the fire.

Come to think of it, that stuff probably is flammable, and more than likely highly addictive if smoked.

Someone let me know how that turns out, K?

So anyway. Best friend graduated from "college". I say "college" because she is now a massage therapist and going to be making an assload of money. She completed a full 9 months or something like that. I am proud of her! Super proud! "You are the wind beneath my wiiiiiiiiiiings."

She will laugh. Hell most of you might laugh. That typed out way way more sarcastic than it sounded in my head. I really am proud of her. She even managed to run away from home at the ripe old age of 33 to start her life all over again. All I can say about that is her balls are WAY bigger than mine. (But mine are hairier. thpppppthhhh! [that was a raspberry] I'll stop now.)

So at best friend's graduation the Redneck Joke with a Vagina (scroll down to the bottom of that link if you forget who that is) was also walking the stage even though she hadn't passed enough courses to actually get her degree in criminal justice. My friends and I were all standing in a group Friday afternoon before the ceremony outside of the theater. RJWAV comes bowling through the group and heads straight to me and tells me "Don't tell FCB or FCBSis this but FCBSis is not divorcing her husband, just bought him a truck today from the XXXX-Ford dealership and also went out and bought the lazy unemployed alcoholic a home/land package. She then looked at all of MY friends and says, "Hey y'all! Ain'tchoo excited 'bout graduatin'? I know I shore am! Good to see ya! How ya been?" (insert massive group cringe here based on her accent and demeanor)

They all looked at me like, "Who the fuck is that?"

No one knew her. These were the people in her graduating class and NO ONE knew her.

But me. I'm so special. (GAG-HORK-HOCK-SPEW)

I looked at her and said that I didn't care what FCBSis did with her life as long as she was happy. I also then told her I hoped she was prepared to vacate the FCBMom's house on time. She looked at me strangely and then her mother walked up to us. This woman had an even worse accent and less teeth. I couldn't understand a word she said. RJWAV then told her mother to "Stick wit her and she'll watch out for ya. Oh and can ya take a picture of me and my momma and then print it out an give it ter me?"

I took one. And then I deleted it before the ceremony even started. I found a seat and was trying to figure out how to save seats for people coming later when RJWAV's Mom found me. I thought I had done a great job of shaking her like the piece of clinging toilet paper that you finally manage to get off of the bottom of your shoe. I guess I am not as good as I think I am. She tried to sit next to me and I told her it would be great if she could sit about 5 seats down so we could save the seats in between. She did. That eliminated the small talk.

I am not as stupid as people perceive me to be. I would go so far as to say cunning. Yeah. Cunning. (No cracks from the peanut gallery on that one.)

I will skim over most of the details because this post is getting long enough and I am not even half done with my weekend and my buzzer just went off for my lasagna. But on Saturday phone calls were made, RJWAV got caught in a bunch of backstabbing and underhanded lies, and FCBSis and I were tight like buds. Thus, the Redneck Joke wit a Vagina was evicted from the FCBMom's house. Voted off the island as it were. Since none of us liked her anyway, and she wasn't doing anything she was supposed to be doing like cooking and cleaning and being the home helper she was hired for. Instead she was eating and drinking and laying around on her ass and using up all the cell phone minutes and asking anyone who would listen when we thought we were going to get our money from FCBMom dying. Ding Dong, the Evil Bitch is gone.

So my Mother's Day was eventful. I went over to my Older Sister's house for lunch with her and my mother. It was pleasant. My mother seemed to have checked the crazy at the door, and the only argument I had with her was the fact that I started my period at 12 not 13 like she insisted. I stopped her cold in her tracks with a comment about it being MY body and I think I remember when "The CURSE" started. After the lunch, at the insistence of the Punk, we went over to my Older Sister's Mother in Law's house. She has a pool and a piano and is coolest person my daughter knows because of those things. On the way out of the driveway of my OS's house, she backed into my front license plate on my van when she put her van out of park and it rolled. No biggie. Just a plate. Can be replaced. Matter of fact OS and I are supposed to be taking a trip to EPCOT on Friday for a little "Mom's day out" and to take pictures for my sister to sell. She is really talented at the photography and the Flower and Garden Festival is going on at EPCOT right now. We can swing over to the Magic Kingdom and get a new plate.

One the way to OSMIL's house, we'll call her Grandmama, because, hey...that's what they all call her, we almost got in a very smashy-bad accident when a redneck in a truck decided to slam on his brakes in the middle of the highway because he thought he MIGHT have missed his dirt road. My sister slammed on her brakes. The Cadillac Escalade behind me slammed on their brakes. End the end, the Cadillac was less than a foot away from my sister's van and I was in the ditch on the side of the road. Cause I am all BOOYAH! with the evasive maneuvering with my van that way! No one was crushed, crunched or harmed and I got a lovely scenic trip into some weeds and shit. Yay.

Got to Grandmama's house and started with all the small talk and the chitchat and then the fact that Sister and I were going to EPCOT got brought up. You would have thought I had told these people that I was kidnapping her to go out whoring and crack smoking for the day. Comments were made about how I never kept a schedule in my life and more comments were made about women should be at home with their children. I kept trying to fight, OS kept kicking me under the table to let it go. The family was under the impression that we were going to DISNEY for A WHOLE DAY AND NIGHT WITH OUT OUR CHILDREN OR AT LEAST THE BABY! How dare we! Who are we to think we are deserving of a day at an adult oriented theme park with out our children or spouses? OY VEY!

I left shortly there after. My parting gift was a lottery ticket from Grandmama. I guess it was a peace offering. I won $3. Gas money. Woot.

So my life just happened to be chock full of drama and I had to share because I care. Drama just keeps happening to me like a busload of nuns careening through Vegas. Shit happens. Habits fly. I just can't help who I am an what I believe and I am set in my ways when it comes to DON'T FUCK WITH MY FAMILY.

RJWAV learned that lesson the hard way. I am still up in the air about continuing the debate with Grandmama. At least my Mom took her sanity vitamins for Mother's Day. That made it mostly a great day. Lots of stuff going on. I am writing it down old school in note book to one day post here.

Now I am off to eat my lasagna and have a nice big glass of cold milk to go with it. Then I am going to sleep. I slept almost all day today because I guess drama and stress tire me out. I need to get caught up on my sleep so I have the energy to drag my sister off to EPCOT so we can go get jiggy with a overstuffed, furry character or two and maybe smoke some Captain Crunch.