Saturday, February 17, 2007


Less than 12 hours after waking up on my sofa in a pool of my own drool and shaking out the cobwebs from my Benadryl drug binge, I read THIS SHIT ABOUT BRITNEY!!! THIS is a DIRECT affront to ME! Talk about transparent. That trite little whore could have waited a week to make her move, but NOOOOOO she had to do it on the SAME day. Bitch.

I totally understand she feels threatened by me and the strong competition I pose for her. After all I AM unemployed AND I have a gay husband – that is damn strong showing for Ghetto Mamma Of The Year and when you add in that I DO live next door to a *ahem* ‘former gang member’, I truly do have an unfair advantage. I mean what does she have? 2 babies by a deadbeat, unwashed, coat tail riding mimbo with no talent - oh pardon me that's her EX. I know she’s publicly nearly dropped one of her kids and dressed like a retarded trailer park hooker, but come on – I’ve dropped my kids before! I’ve got a complete collection of wife beaters to wear! I can ‘forget’ to wear my panties to the club. DAMN, that’s amateur shit.

It’s fine, if wants a war, then she can have it. I say to Britney – BRING IT HO! I can out ghetto you ANY DAY!

To be honest, it’s just an obviously desperate move by a desperate woman. She LEAVES rehab just hours after finding out about my Benadryl binge, shaves her head and heads to a tattoo parlor. I honestly think the judges should count off for that move – far to desperate and obvious. But in this competition desperate and obvious is almost as good as giving one of the judges a hummer while he snorts coke off your head… which she can do really well now.

I refuse to sink to her level and make sloppy desperate moves, because that kind of shit is just going to land her ass in court appointed rehab which will only end up making her look like a GOOD MOTHER. Just ask Courtney Love about that. My complete outrage by this personal attack has subsided and I’ve had a few moments to formulate a well thought out plan. I’ve been discussing much of this with my Gay Boyfriend Savol for the past few days, so don’t think this is some gut reaction to Ms. Spears actions of late.

Step one – I’ll continue my gang affiliation with my *ahem* ‘former gang member’ neighbor. You have got to love any man who says he’ll answer his door with his ‘cock in one hand and his glock in the other’. Well maybe not love, but RESPECT and as we all know the ghetto is all about RESPECT.

Step two – the gay husband angle seems to work pretty well for this so I think I’ll keep status quo on that.

Step three – employment… or should I say unemployment. Again if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it… or employ it. It worked well for K Fed.

Step four – get my already very classy tat enhanced. I’m thinking of getting some lettering added to it. Something profound like “FUK U!” or “I *heart* COCK”. Still working on the exact phrasing. Because just GOING to get a tat doesn’t get one noticed, I plan to take my offspring with me – sort of as an educational field trip, and to hold my 40 when it hurts. My angle is to also show up at said tattoo establishment wearing a really short skirt sans panties and hope for a discount. Again this is will benefit my progeny by illustrating real world business actions in ways that selling Girl Scout cookies never can.

Step five – I need to work on getting a dead beat boyfriend. Some bad ass thug I can refer to as my “baby daddy”. It won’t be entirely true, but who cares. I believe that having two men to refer to as my “baby daddy” can only add to my claim. Connections with above mentioned neighbor should help aquiring one nicely (haven’t had much luck at

Step six – Don’t get so high/drunk as to actually shave my head. I mean WHAT the fuck was she thinking??? The dyke/lesbian head shaving thing is soooooooo Demi Moore/GI Jane circa 1997 or 1980’s Sinead O’Connor and you know that look did not work for EITHER of them… well, not Demi, but it did sort of work for Sinead, but whatever. It’s used and it’s old and it’s just plain creepy.

As you see I have a VERY strong position and as long as Ms. Spears doesn’t suddenly become BFFs with Courtney Love, this time next year I should be thanking all of you for your kind support as I accept my award of Ghetto Mamma Of The Year.

Friday, February 16, 2007

High Everybody

I took some allergy tablets and now I’m a little high. And by a little I mean that if I had of had to take a train or a bus to a job type place this morning I would have ended up waking up under a bridge with a whole new set of friends, a head full of lice and no shoes.

Shit every time I sit on the couch I pass out like Liza Minnelli at 4 in the afternoon. It’s disturbing. I swear I followed the instructions precisely! I avoided alcoholic drinks (and alcoholics too), I experienced excitability, especially around children, and I definitely did not exceed the recommended dosage of 1 or 2 tablets… though maybe that LSD chaser was a bit much.

*hours later*

Okay my brain has completely cleared (I know, it’s a first). Don’t ask about all that crap earlier this morning – let’s just say Benadryl is now my party drug of choice. And by party I mean being passed out on the couch drooling on myself while Sponge Bob blares on the TV and the cats try to suffocate me repeatedly. Eh, whatever. It was fun. I think I had a phone call or two. Did you call me? Did I offer you anything? Did you promise me money or babysitting services? Can that be considered ‘legal and binding’? Ah whatever! It’s all good, right?

I’m #5!!

Yay! Someone found this blog by searching ‘getting through airport with expired license’ and I was #5 on the list! Woohoo! Just take a look! I would not be surprised if I get contacted by the local chapter of Al-Qaeda (probably membership drive time). How fun! I’ll bring the Benadryl and Girl Scout cookies. Anyway – what the heck is a Blingo anyway? Is it sanctioned by the local terrorist chapter?

In The News (pretending like I really care)

I just read this article (the headlines anyway) about how pregnant women who eat fish may have smarter kids. Yeah whatever, I might have felt even the tiniest bit guilty about only eating pizza and hamburgers while pregnant with Super Girl if weren’t for the fact that despite that she’s damn smart. It’s all a load of crap, I just read another article about how breastfed babies were supposed to be smarter also – yeah whatever, I suppose me breast feeding Cabbage Patch for a year is why she’s not quite GETTING this kindergarten thing. No worries, my kid failing kindergarten will only help in my chances for Ghetto Mom Of The Year, right?

Or how about this? Peanut butter contaminated with salmonella. Ewww… As if kids aren’t gross enough without those symptoms! (‘It can cause diarrhea, fever, dehydration, abdominal pain and vomiting.’ To quote the article.) I enjoy in the article where they say “The suspect peanut butter”. I have this image of a peanut butter line up at the local police department. But on a serious note, I hope this all gets taken care of soon – I’d hate for my offspring to starve to death!

And of course it’s almost time for the Chinese New Year! The year of the PIG starts this weekend. It’s my year, I happened to have been born in the year of the Pig. “According to Chinese astrology, people born in pig years are polite, honest, hardworking and loyal.” Oh yeah baby, that’s me. Although it did say “They are also lucky…” Dude, seriously? I haven’t won the lottery yet. I’m not sure that whole gay husband thing would be considered lucky either. Unless of course by LUCKY they mean that people born in the year of the PIG get LUCKY a lot. And in that area… yeah well, it’s all bullshit, but it’s a great excuse to go out and get some Chinese food and get drunk!

On that note, I think I’ll go finish the laundry.

PS - have you noticed all the COOL links I've been adding these past couple of posts? They are all for you baby! Click them all! You know you want to! I'll make you popular!

Thursday, February 15, 2007

It’s Only February and I’m Already Out Of The Running

For what you might be asking. For that oh so coveted position of Mother Of The Year of course. I’m usually still in the running for a couple of more months before some heinous unthinking act by me ruins my chances for the year. Today was my day for a quick decent into the depths of the parental abyss of atrocities. I had the gall to take away Super Girls brand new rainbow colored Barbie DVD remote thingy. Oddly enough earlier in the evening when the Tiny Terrorists had ignited my ire by getting the bathroom floor wet while bathing and I had punished them by making them take out the trash in my bathroom (yes, be forewarned, don’t leave my bathroom floor wet or you too will have to take out the trash in there – and believe me that’s just NASTY!), but THAT had not taken me out of the running. Not even my serving them a fabulous dinner of Italian chicken with pasta and zucchini and squash (which they mostly refused to eat because it wasn’t macaroni and cheese or peanut butter and jelly) earned me enough negative marks for me to lose any ground. Taking that stupid gay pride Barbie thingy away sure as hell did though. And OHHHHH the drama. Super Girl did her best wounded and orphaned calf impression and mooed all the way up the stairs and in to bed. For a good 15 minutes after I sent them off to bed I heard that awful barn yard noise and Cabbage Patch yelling at her sister to SHUT UP! It was fabulous.

Well now that I’m officially out of the running I can at least relax a bit and not feel bad about having my kids hold my tequila bottle while I line up shots for my friends or duct taping them to the closet door when I need a night out at the club. If I’m damn lucky I might even manage to kick Brittany Spears ass in the Ghetto Mother Of the Year Award… though I suspect I might just have to get one of my kids addicted to crack to achieve that.

Pharmaceuticals To Make Life Better

Yesterday I had a Dr. appointment. No, not the head shrink Dr. I don’t go there anymore, just my regular GP. It was just a follow up visit to make sure the acid blockers (Prevacid) prescribed for my reflux are working – and they are. The visit took all of 5 minutes and in the 5 minutes that my Dr’s assistant spoke to me I became convince she was either smoking crack or one of those hippie homeopathic “Doctors” as she followed up her question of how well the prescription was working for me with this statement “I’m going to give you a prescription with 6 months of refills on it and then we’ll see about getting you off them completely.” I said “Uhhhh…” and luckily for me my expression said quite a bit (probably “Are you out of your fucking mind?”) because she said “I see you have doubts about getting off them.” I said “I’ve been on them for a long time… like 10 years or more.” And before I could add anything she said some shit about the makers of this delightful drug suggest people only stay on their drug for a certain amount of time, yadda, yadda, yadda. I don’t know what she said after that, my mind sort of blanked out and was full of vivid imagery of me plotting her death and my wondering what the hell kind of ‘doctor’ she was for wanting someone to be off a major pharmaceutical? Did the makers of my pills stop sending her gifts? Was she tired of the samples and pens they give? I wanted to tell her that unless the magical fairies had suddenly crapped a whole load of magical pixie dust on her giving her some special power to make my horrible reflux disappear that getting me off the Prevacid for good wasn’t in the cards. I’m not psychic but I’ve been off the pills before and it’s a little uncomfortable and somewhat painful for me. That is if you were to consider someone holding a blow torch to any part of your body for ‘uncomfortable’ and if by ‘painful’ you mean the feeling of your entire body being bitten by red ants – then my stomach is uncomfortable and painful without the medication. Me personally, I’d prefer to avoid all that, I’d prefer not to have my stomach acids boiling like an angry volcano and I’d definitely prefer to not have my stomach acids trying to eat a hole through my esophagus. I’m just funny like that. She’s out of her damn mind.

I figured the next visit in 6 months will have to be with my primary dr. and not this chick as I KNOW for a fact my primary Dr. is paid off by the drug companies – she’s the QUEEN of the samples! I have yet to visit her and not leave the office with out at least a 6 week supply of whatever she has on hand.

Moving on now…

Kindergarten Valentine’s

Today when Cabbage Patch got off the bus, she was nearly bursting with jubilation. It was quite cute. Her extreme enthusiasm was caused by none other than Valentine’s Day! To be exact, the fact that SHE HAD GOTTEN VALENTINES! AND! CANDY! I couldn’t help but laugh at her joy over her first school Valentine’s party and how great it was that she had a box full of cheap sappy pieces of paper and some crappy candy (and a temporary tattoo!). It was the cutest thing in the whole fucking world. Damn she’ll be funny when she has her first boyfriend… which is not going to happen until she’s 20... or 30. Sheesh… I think I threw up a little bit in my mouth.

Valentine’s Part II Blame The Man

K relayed this story that brought tears to my eyes. Tears of pride in my tiny little girls. Pride that the genetics of being a WOMAN have taken hold in my offspring. When K got home from work – shortly after they went to bed, he went upstairs to tell them to quiet down, go to bed and good night. The first thing they asked was if he got them a Valentine. His completely incorrect response was “I thought your mother handled that, didn’t she buy some chocolates yesterday.” Super Girl responded “*sigh* Those were for school dad.” She’s only just now 8 and she already knows it’s the mans fault… always.

As for me, well I really didn’t expect BOB to go shopping for me. I did however give him some fresh batteries. ;-) And nothing says love like BOB with fresh batteries.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Birthday Survived…

Somehow Super Girl survived her birthday despite the intense amounts of whining that happened and her really horrible smart assed attitude I swear, if she answered me with "But It's MY birthday!" one more time, I'd be looking for a place to hide her body right now.

This next part of hell, I blame on K because it was HIS idea. We took the Tiny Terrorists to Super Target last night so Super Girl (AKA Destruction of Chaos and Destruction) could choose her present. While he braved the pink and purple ales of girl toys I took the cart and the Cabbage Patch (AKA Chaos) off to find a few items I needed. Then the real torture began.

As I pushed the cart away from the hypnotic pink and purple section, Chaos began chanting "I want a toy" over and over like a little robot. A little whiny robot. Using my super human mother skills, I blocked out most of the whining to until it was just a dull hum in the back ground.

After picking up the things I needed, I headed to the bakery section to check out the selections of birthday cakes. Usually I let her select her own cake, but seeing as there was a rather small selection of cakes I felt confident in selecting one and not giving her the option of the frightening looking cupcakes with small plastic toys nestled in rainbow icing. Then came the HARD part, though I didn't imagine that it would be. I wanted 'Happy Birthday Destruction' (well her actual name) written on the cake. I ask someone hovering around the bakery/deli area if someone could write on the cake for me. He looked at me blankly and said he'd ask someone. He went to ask someone then came back to tell me that the person who could write on the cake was on her dinner break. I looked at him, expecting him to start laughing and say he was joking any second... but he didn't so I said "No one else can write on the cake?" Again with the blank stare. Then he saw the store manager walking through so he called him over and told him my situation. Seeing the store manager I had a tiny spark of hope upon seeing his pretty red shirt and big boy badge. That was false hope though, it often feels much like REAL hope but then kind of tastes like you just threw up in your mouth. The store manager was apparently reading off the same script as the other worker; he told me that the girl who could write on cakes was on her dinner break. So I asked him the same question "No one else can write on the cake?" and he said "Well they probably could but it might not look good." I started to get pissed right then, I cut him a look that should have made his brain explode had he possessed one and asked him sternly "Can you at least put something on the cake? A Barbie something or those Disney Princess rings?" He grudgingly said yes and took the cake. When he came back it had 4 little plastic Disney Princess rings on top of it. At first I was thrilled, and then I saw that it was two sets of the same rings. Not going to work… Chaos and Destruction have been brain washed by the Disney Industry and they identify themselves by two certain princesses (in fact Chaos at that very moment was asking if one of the rings was HER princess). I asked the manager if these were the only ones they had. He started to say yes but I guess the semi-homicidal look on my face made him reconsider, and he handed over the bag of plastic rings to me mumbling something about me just taking what I wanted. And I did.

I had no idea that it took a fucking degree to write on a cake. Who knew?

K suffered through the pink and purple section and met us at the check out with Destruction holding up the latest and greatest offering by Mattel triumphantly. Ahhh a rainbow fairy Barbie something. I shouldn't have been surprised by that being that she was shopping with her gay daddy.

And finally it was over. In a sugar coated cloud of rainbow Barbie princess madness it was over and the kids were in bed.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

It’s My Party And I’ll Whine If I Want Too…

Holy shit! What the hell happened to my child? Why the hell is she whining and being a BRAT?? And when I told her she had to sit in time out for back talking me she looked right at me and said “No! It’s my birthday!” to which I responded “Keep that up and your birthday will be over right now.” Well whatever, she’s in the corner right now cursing me mentally for being such a bitch on her birthday. Which is fine because I’m mentally envisioning her tightly duct taped to the wall. It’s all good.

On to other things…

Last night at dinner the waitress came to the table to get our order and immediately commented on my hair and asked me if it was naturally red to which I answered that it wasn’t. For the next 5 minutes she asked me questions on how I keep it so fabulously red and I gave her coloring tips and suggestions. Then she took our order. My date thought this was quite funny. Later when my date asked for some egg rolls she was more than happy to bring them as well as more rice and anything else we needed. My date started teasing me that the waitress had a crush on me which prompted me to laugh and tell him to shut up. When we were leaving the waitress yells “Thanks for the tips!... I mean the hair care tips!” and more snickers and jibes from the date. A surreal moment.

Dr. Offices Suck!

I had a follow up visit with my Dr. just to check that my prescription is working well (and it is). I waited 20 minutes before I got called into the office – that was fine, my appointment was at 3 pm and I went in right at 3 pm. Then I waited 43 minutes before the dr. came in, and the visit lasted less than 10 minutes. I was back in my car by 3:50 pm. Crazy.

I need a nap.
More Random Crap Cluttering Up My Brain

Super Girl turned 8 this morning. 8 years of being a mom. How the fuck did that happen? She wore the “Birthday Girl” pin to school today. It’s a tradition here. Everyone (except K) wears the button on their birthday. I was going to surprise her and put it on her this morning, but she started asking about it before I could even start to look for it. It’s cute… to me.

She had a breakfast of cookies because damn it, she wanted that and who the hell am I to deprive her of a cookie breakfast on her birthday? I sent a box of Girl Scout cookies to school with her to be shared with her class for her birthday. Tonight will be birthday cake (she already requested that this morning), but come on, aren’t birthdays all about the sugar rush? Well that’s what I’m looking forward to.

Speaking of children, as much as I’m in shock that I’ve been doing this mom thing for 8 years, I’m still stunned that my best friend has a brand new bambino. It seemed like that baby would never be born and now that she’s here, well it’s just not real yet. Super Girl mentioned the other day that she was mildly disappointed that Miss Shana’s baby wasn’t born on her birthday. Kids.

And now, before you all start to throw up in your mouths; I’ll stop talking about kids…

Is it a coincidence that my neighbor is just a tad friendlier to me since he saw me letting Coco out a few weeks ago at 4:30 am in my nightgown? Don’t give me that look. It was 4:30 am, how was I to know that he’d be out on his porch smoking a cigarette? No one in their right mind is up at 4:30 am – I mean other than small white puffy dogs trying to make me crazy. I think I really need to start wearing clothes around the house from now on, as much as it may disappoint the UPS guy.

D just got back from China. With GIFTS. And knowledge. I now know how to say “Shut up” in Chinese. She told me a couple of other interesting and fun insulting phrases, but I can’t remember them. One of the coolest things she brought back is this most awesome ceramic cricket! I LOVE it! I’ve always wanted a ceramic cricket – really, I have. It’s so cute; I have no idea where to put it so it’s in a box by the monitor and I open it up to pet it several times a day. What? Stop looking at me like that!

My new favorite movie! OVER THE HEDGE! I love, love, love that movie. I love Hammy the squirrel. I am a red squirrel. *hearts and stars spinning around head for squirrel love*

I’ve been reading lately. No! Really! I have! I know it’s hard to imagine me doing that, but I do. I finished a book in early January and then another one and then I started this book that I’m reading now – I’m almost done with this book but it’s a fucking struggle to finish it. Because it’s so fucked up! And THAT is what is compelling me to FINISH the book. I wont’ tell you what book it is because I don’t want anyone to tell me the ending or worse to laugh at me just yet (no it’s not one of the Dick and Jane books, I’m WAY beyond that reading level fuckers). But I’ll finish it soon and post an all important REVIEW!!

Wow… cookies for breakfast really do rock. Off to shower.
Because I Lack Any Time For Anything Interesting To Say


Since you are such an attention craver, you are into wearing the sexiest clothes and going straight for the sexiest person in the room. You like secure people who are genuine and have a good fashion sense.

In bed, you like to get all of the attention, so you need a partner who can worship you for the hottie that you are. You like to dance and strip for your partner and you enjoy buying the sexiest lingere for yourself.

Sex matches: Aries, Sagittarius, Libra

Take this quiz at

Me? Go figure!

I need a partner who can worship me for the hottie that I am - That's gotta be my favorite line.