Flashbacks At Starbucks While Waiting To Steal A Car

D and I went to Starbucks yesterday morning to celebrate Groundhog Day. Just kidding, I don’t give a crap about those oversized rats, we just went for coffee. What I didn’t realize was that it was RETRO day at that Starbucks. The decade was the 1980’s. There was the chick with the shitty geometric hair cut and equally crappy tattoos, then Mr. Poodle hair making me remember all those guys back in the 80’s with bad perms. Before I could even stop snicker at that in walks Neil Diamond (black leather jacket and bald spot included) followed by none other than Gary Coleman accompanied by Sally Struthers – it’s heart warming to see that she’s still very involved in feeding the children… as well as herself. Then in walks Mary Lou Retton. I’m going to have to get a job at that Starbucks so I can relive the 80’s at least once a week.

Then we left, we walked out to D’s car parked right out front. Upon opening the door to her car I was shocked by an apparently empty McDonald’s bag and half a dozen Riccola cough drops occupying my seat. I thought “We didn’t go to McDonald’s… Riccola? She didn’t have those in the car…” about that time D says “This isn’t my car!” We both start laughing as we close the door and go AROUND the corner to D’s car, all the while musing over why anyone would leave a Mercedes Benz unlocked outside a Starbucks.

Later this conversation took place:

Her: I’ve decided I’m just taking two sets of bra and panties and that’s it.
Me: hmmm… Well I’m glad to hear you are going to make this a working vacation.

Okay, I’m off to wake up everyone and get on to the airport! Have a fabulous weekend everyone!

Excitement From The Heavens

This morning the Little People were blown away by what they saw outside. SNOW! You would have thought that the jolly fat guy who handles that tree holiday had made a second visit to them and left them the keys to the warehouse for Toys R Us. I’m not a huge fan of this SNOW stuff as it’s usually just a big pain in the butt what with it being COLD and WET and how it’s accompanied with nasty ICE that makes driving hazardous and WORST of all how it usually causes the SCHOOLS TO CLOSE! Today’s SNOW is an exception, I doubt it’ll last all day and though there are some slick spots on the road, it appears that it’s not all that bad out there and best of all – the SCHOOLS ARE OPEN! YAY!!!!

Ahhhh now if only I had some hot chocolate, Amaretto and a certain sexy man to snuggle with – this day would be PERFECT.

Enjoy some photos I took this morning (in my bathrobe and slippers no less!).


See all that excitement???


This is why I moved where I live - I love this view... if only I had known that in the spring and summer it's COVERED in poison ivy of which Super Girl and I are terribly allergic... well that view wouldn't have been so tempting!


Because I just HAD to show yet another photo of La Seg's offspring! This is how she USUALLY looks! Such a good baby.

Baby Photo!!!



She's so beautiful!!! (yes I did take that photo)

EDIT*

By popular demand...

MORE BABY PHOTOS!

IT IS DONE!

Shana had her darling daughter yesterday evening at 8 pm via c-section. Her little angel was 7 lbs 5 oz and 21 in. long.

Yesterday was a REALLY hard day for her that started with her arriving at 6 am to the hospital, included her getting 3 epidurals – yes 3 freaking times – before she got any relief and her not dilating for the most part.

As expected, she’s super tired today and really sore.

No I don’t have any photos of the baby – so sorry. Planning to visit tomorrow when she’s feeling more up to visitors and THEN I promise I’ll take a million photos.

Some People Are Fucking Stupid
Or
Proof That Even The Stupidest Warning Sticker Is Needed

I just ran across this news article. WTF? How STUID must one be to not realize that sponge should be WET before you nuke it for 2 minutes or it’ll burst into flames?!?!?!?! Come on people, the original article described how they soaked the sponges in dirty water prior to sticking them in the microwave.

This is my favorite paragraph:

"Just wanted you to know that your article on microwaving sponges and scrubbers aroused my interest. However, when I put my sponge/scrubber into the microwave, it caught fire, smoked up the house, ruined my microwave, and pissed me off," one correspondent wrote in an e-mail to Reuters.

I wish I had that person’s e-mail so I could send them a thank you note for making me laugh at someone’s incredible stupidity. I usually have to rely on tales of current hijinks by certain people’s idiot ex’s.

On to other news. This article talks about how Viagra may decrease a man’s ability to smell. Apparently researchers studied 20 young men and found that the ones given 100 mg dose of Viagra had a ‘drop in olfactory ability”. I wanted this article to end with this statement: “An informal exit interview found that none of these men cared if they couldn’t smell when they had an enormous erection.”

Since we are talking about Viagra, I think you all should know not to give it to your pet iguana no matter how much he begs for it. Poor Mozart’s going to get the Lorena Bobbitt treatment because of his week long erection. Shed no tears for him people, iguana’s have two penises so this won’t even put a dent in his sex life. (though part of me is REALLY curious as to why Mozart was getting Viagra!)

In other animal news, NJ has issued a warning to squirrel hunters to NOT eat the squirrel that live near a TOXIC WASTE DUMP. WTF? WHY does anyone NEED to be told that? Ewww… I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.

And that is all, go about your business.

Badger, Badger, Badger, Badger…

This morning I witnessed the return of THE BADGER. This is Cabbage Patches alter ego that only makes an appearance when she is awoken. When Super Girl started kindergarten a couple of years ago I discovered this horrible personality and often took great care in doing whatever possible to not come in contact with it, i.e. after a couple of weeks of dealing with it while trying to get Super Girl ready for school, I just let her sleep until whenever since she didn’t have to go to school anyway. The kid loves her sleep, I can respect that.

As this school year approached I had a growing sense of foreboding. I had horrible dreams of every morning her screaming and crying from the time she got up until she got on the bus. Images of me wrestling her into clothing every morning and putting her in a head lock to get her hair in a ponytail. Not good, not good. The beginning of kindergarten didn’t start like that; she was amazingly eager to go and was mostly happy to get up in the morning. As the months progressed she wasn’t quite so eager to get up though. She’d come down stairs and lay on the couch, pulling the afghan over her head and wouldn’t move until she absolutely HAD to. Eventually she figured that if she refused breakfast she could get 10 more minutes of sleep. And hey, isn’t sleeping more important than a bowl of Cheerios?

Last week she was sick one day, so she got some medicine and was sent back to bed. She was so totally cool with that. Funny thing was that she woke up at 9:30 am feeling better and announced to me that she was getting dressed and I’d need to walk her to school. She doesn’t quite understand the concept of staying HOME from school. A couple of times this week she’s tried to convince me she was SICK so she could sleep in – she can’t fool the thermometer though. Tuesday and Wednesday she just wouldn’t get dressed so I had to wrestle her into clothes (of which she told me she didn’t want to wear) – what fun!

Today was the day I’ve dreaded. She was in full on BADGER mode. From the moment I flipped on the light in their bedroom until she stepped out the door (and I’m assuming got on the bus… maybe even now as she’s headed to lunch) she screamed and cried and gnashed her teeth. She denounced us all and proclaimed that she hated her clothes, she hated the cats, she hated me, she hated her sister, she hated the dog, she hated those shoes, she hated her backpack, she hated her coat… you get the picture. It was something else. (And for all of you soon to be parents and parents of tiny angelic babies, who happen to be snickering, be warned… it WILL happen to you. All children are born to appear angelic, but they are really little time bombs of terror just waiting to unleash it on you when you least expect it… and then they’ll be adorable and cute again so you don’t actually lock them in a dog crate, you just really, really consider it).

So… what’s the point of this post? Fuck if I know, I thought it might more socially acceptable to write about that than a detailed inventory of my sex toys or a boring account of folding laundry.

LAST CHANCE TO ORDER GIRL SCOUT COOKIES!!!

Hey just wanted to let you know that today is the last day for you to order cookies - I have to turn in the orders this evening at Super Girl's Girl Scout meeting. (If you've already ordered, I've got your information written down already, if you'd like to add to your order, feel free though ;) )
If you'd like to order some cookies, she'd need to haveyour order by 1-24-07 (today). The cookies are $3.50 a box and she needs to have themoney by 2-20-07 so she can deliver cookies shortly there after. Here are the fabulous varieties:

Samoas - vanilla cookies, vovered with caramel, rolled in toasted coconut and striped with chocolate
Thin Mints - oh you know what those are!
Do-Si-Dos - Oatmeal cookies with creamy peanut butter filling
All Abouts - these are new. Shortbread cookies with fudge on one side.
Trefoils - shortbread cookies
Tagalongs (my favorite) - coookies topped with peanut butter and covered in chocolate
Sugar Free Little Brownies (another new one)
Cafe Cookies - gourmet-styled cookies caramelized with brown sugar and a hint of cinnamon

If you'd like to pay with PayPal use this e-mail address (moocowmoo at hotmail.com) and please inclued a $.50 or so more to cover the cost of PayPal. If you'd like to mail acheck - let me know and I'll give you my address to send to and the informationto put on the check.
Anyway, that's about it.

Let me know by 5 pm if you'd like COOKIES!!!

Hugs
Judy

The Shoes That Saved My Life!

(Not really, but they are really fabulous)

WOW! Look! I’m not dead! The three of you who do read this brain damage causing blog may be wondering where I have been. Let me tell you. I was abducted by aliens. Yup, they just sucked me up in their ship and made me play cards with them. I couldn’t leave. Just up in the mother ship hanging out. It was a lot more boring that you might think. They aren’t very good at conversation, everything leads back to them talking about anal probes and I’m all like “Okay, whatever, enough about that. We are playing bridge and I just have to tell you, conversation about probing of the buttal region is completely inappropriate for a bridge game. Maybe it would be appropriate for a poker game but definitely not this.” And they’d be all “Ohhhhhhh…” giving me that look with their big shiny eyes and all…

Um... yeah... so where was I? Oh yeah, so I have been MIA because of aliens and being abducted. Except I wasn’t really, I just thought that being abducted by aliens sounded better than admitting that I was just fucking depressed. Yeah, just fucking depressed. So I just didn’t have anything that was even remotely cheerful and happy to write so I didn’t. In fact I didn’t even talk to people. Didn’t read much of my e-mail or take many phone calls. Because I was depressed. And ya know what, that’s just depressing. I know, I suck as a friend for not returning e-mails or phone calls. I didn’t think you really wanted me pissing in your Wheaties so to speak though. But I’m feeling better now. This past weekend I got the old metaphorical crow bar out and pried my head out of my ass. It’s amazing how that can change ones shitty outlook on life. That and a little therapy. And that of course brings me to… My Day of Retail Therapy AND THE SHOES!

Yesterday D was over (I have my time share dog Coco back for a couple of weeks. It’s good I was starting to wonder when I’d have custody of her again. I’ve got a hankering to have a hot pink pooch!) and she had the urge to shop and drag me along. Usually I don’t indulge in retail therapy because I’m a broke dick and I’m incredibly cheap. Currently being unemployed means that my spending money is non-existent. D took pity on me though (well paid me for watching Coco) and financed the therapy for the day.

As with all therapy, it always starts with a lot of mixed feelings and often is painful and frustrating though hopeful. The first place of therapy involved me trying to find a pair of jeans. Now let me take a moment and explain, I don’t wear jeans. I look shitty in jeans. I’m the wrong shape to wear jeans. It’s an abomination. The mirror in the fitting room reflected the abomination that was high lighted with the harsh fluorescent lights. Out I went to model the horror for D to witness. Children cried and old people wet their Depends as I emerged from the fitting room in the terrifying ensemble. The jeans hugged places they should have never come near, they bagged in places they should have hugged and they were two feet to long. I myself had to fight off the urge to jab my own eyes out with spoons at the very sight in the mirror stareing back at me with a pathetic twisted visage. (It didn’t help anything that we had left to run a quick errand early in the morning and I had not bothered to wear make up… or do anything other than clip up my hair… or to wear decent clothes… yes, yes I was looking all of Britney Spears fatter older sister who has the same terrifying fashion sense, all I needed was a baby to almost drop and a K Fed look alike to complete that look.) Hopes dashed by the deceitful jeans, I chalked it up to a learning experience – I learned to not shove my ass in a pair of them!

Later that afternoon the clouds parted and the angels sang as we went to another place to continue our therapy. I scored a shirt and some half price perfume. The trauma was over. One more stop and I heard the cherubic choir as I sat in the shoe department and convinced my offspring to bring me shoes to try on… I convinced Cabbage Patch to actually PUT the shoes ON my feet. I knew this was a sign of celestial harmony. And then it happened, Cabbage Patch brought THEM to me. The shoes were ringed with a heavenly aura as I looked on with awe. She placed them on my feet as though The Creator himself (instead of Liz Claiborne) had just made them especially for me. I gazed lovingly at THE SHOES as she fumbled with the buckle (then impatiently shoved her aside as I strapped them on). With much excitement I took a few steps in them and was delighted that they were amazingly comfortable. I was in LOVE. After a short moment of hesitation I allowed D to convince me to buy those bad boys and we were off! Take a gander at the photo of THE SHOES. Do they not look as though they were made by a heavenly presence? Oh yes, yes they do. And now I must go and snuggle my shoes before bed.

New Year Whine

(sorry, it's not funny or anything, just whiney)

The New Year rang in not as expected. The trip I was planning to go on didn’t happen (let’s just say some people are incredible assholes deep down – no I’m not talking about K who is far from an asshole). After getting past the stomach flu I got hit with a lovely cold. Why? Because I gave birth to two walking-talking bio-hazard germ magnets that live to spread their diseases to me like Pestilence of the Four Horsemen.

I’ve been living in a veritable haze of medication, tissues and migraines. I don’t recommend it for anyone. Some of the medication has been very interesting, as in leaving me seriously spaced out (Drixoral cold & allergy 12 hour sustained relief ) to where I had difficulty carrying on a coherent conversation and let’s not even think about the ever so entertaining shopping trip with D and the offspring. My bursts of energy have been spent doing the never ending mound of laundry and reading. I haven’t even felt much up to being on the computer and just haven’t. I haven’t even been reading e-mail or answering the phone. Sorry, just not in the mood to be social, really in the mood to just crawl in a cave and be left alone until I feel like a human again. The progeny don’t much go for that idea though, they have needs and they seem to believe that I am the only one who can take care of that for them. Aren’t they supposed to be self sufficient by now? You know, make their own meals, and work a job or something? Whatever, I’ll be thankful when school starts again on Tuesday. (This damned school district has the longest winter break!)

Another added bonus for the New Year is that Easy Bake Oven is not working. It was briefly fixed and now it’s not again. *sigh* I don’t even want to go into it now, but hopefully it’ll be up and running soon.

The job situation is completely uncertain at this moment. I don’t know if I’m fired or not. Honestly I’m not sure I care either. I lack any respect for my boss and simply can’t stand her. So maybe this is a good thing, I don’t really want to go back to work even though I do love what I do, I completely dislike the company I work for and of course my boss and the ‘new changes’ to the company that the new owners are convinced will make things ‘better’ yet seem to only make things shittier and more stressed. So I may be looking for new employment soon and with that I’ll need to figure exactly what it is that I do want to do as far as employment and all like that. Who knows, maybe this is all the cold medication speaking for now.

And on that note I’m going to go back to the couch as I’m not even making sense to myself anymore. Hmmm.. I guess that Aleve Cold & Sinus makes me spacey also. At least I enjoy it more than the Drixoral.

Proof That Santa Hates Jews

Monday night after working that day and celebrating the tree holiday with K’s family and seeing a movie with La Seg I was struck down in my prime! STRUCK DOWN I TELL YOU! Within 10 or 15 minutes of returning home at 11:30 pm I began tossing my cookies (actually fudge, I didn’t eat the cookies) and continued to hurl well beyond the cookies and turkey and frosted mini wheats I had for breakfast. I continued this fun adventure in ralphing (teehee… I have an Uncle Ralph) for 16 freaking hours! I only wish that was an exaggeration. At one point I was sipping water prior to the act so that I could avoid chundering any vital organs.

Morning happened and I called K on his cell phone (yes, yes we live in the same casa, he just couldn’t hear my sad little whimper upstairs) and suggested he call my sister to take the Tiny Terrorists and call my boss to call me in dead for the day. He called D but refused to call my boss as she bitched him out when I had a migraine. D fetched the Little People shortly after K left for work and as luck would have it she was here when my boss called to let it be known that she was pissed yet again at me for being too sick to work. I let D handle the call – no one can out do her in the BITCHY department. Then they left. The rest of the day was a blur of misery.

The next day I managed to keep down half a cup of broccoli cheese soup and some ice tea! Today I’m not cringing when I cough nor do I curl into the fetal position after a sneeze. And honestly, WTF? WHY are my SHOULDERS SORE??? I don’t remember using THEM while shouting groceries.

And, whatever, that’s it. I’m tired now. I’ll write more later.

Kosher Gerbil Day

I know I haven’t posted much about Chanukkah this year. I honestly wasn’t much into the holidays until RIGHT before the first night of Chanukkah, then I was pissed because no one else seemed to really be into it enough to help me get my fucking Chanukkah garlands up (you know, the one’s I obsess over) so I had a little temper fit and declared that ALL HOLIDAYS in December were CANCLED. The Tiny Terrorists took no notice of their mentally challenged parental unit. They knew that once their daddy returned from Colorado (where he was that day) that he would once again fill the house with the gayness of the season – he gay after all – and that the holidays would once again be back on.

Well he returned if nothing else. And there is always a certain amount of gayness floating around this house even without holidays, so whatever, the holidays are still happening despite my proclamation.

Prior to K’s trip to Colorado, we discussed GIFTS for the Tiny Terrorists. I always cringe at this time of year. My family has usually showered my offspring with many, many toys and things in the spirit of whatever this gift giving time is. This is GREAT for the progeny, but not so good for me – ME the person who has to CLEAN up all of the FABULOUS TOYS and CRAP that end up littering every square inch of open floor in our living space. I kid you not. EVER SQUARE INCH. Mi casa is too small and mi kiddos are over indulged. So sue me. In the past I’ve sent out emails mid October suggesting that ANYONE feeling the urge to buy ANYTHING for my offspring to think not of TOYS but of books and maybe clothes, but definitely NO TOYS – and that honestly they don’t even have to buy them ANYTHING, and honestly I hoped they would heed that advice. HEED THE ADVICE I SAY! But no. No they didn’t. In years past I’ve been literally overwhelmed when the UPS guy arrived at my door with boxes that took up half of my living room that were full up with kid crap. Crap that my progeny absolutely LOVED, crap that I spend much time cleaning up and putting away. *sigh*

This year my general ambivalence toward the holidays in general left me a bit behind in my e-mailing pleas to NOT SEND MY KIDS ANYTHING. By the time I realized that it was nearing that gift giving time of year (hey I was working on some major denial, I figured if I pretended it wasn’t happening, it wouldn’t!) it was already a week into December. YIKES! The next thing I knew I was picking up a box at the office! I read the return address and CRINGED! My FAMILY! They SENT GIFTS! (or a mail bomb – either way a good reason to cringe.) With trembling hands I opened the box and discovered… GIFT CARDS! They sent my kids GIFT CARDS and an ornament! I LOVE THEM!

But I digress… I got side tracked… that’s how I am (isn’t it easy to understand how I get so freaking lost when driving?!?!?!?!). This is about Kosher Gerbil day. K and I discussed what to get our offspring for gifts. I suggested the PETS that Super Girl has been begging for. (Pets because I couldn’t just get Super Girl a pet and not Cabbage Patch so it would have to be PETS instead of PET). In previous discussions with Super Girl I had narrowed her pet choice to anything that wasn’t a CAT (we have two, we are at the maximum cattage here), or a DOG (I have a time share dog – Coco), was in the mammalian phyla (K doesn’t like reptiles or amphibians – what a bitch) and was SMALL. Which pretty much left the RODENT category. I’m totally down with that, I love my rodents and the offspring love my rodents also. It was decided that I would give the Tiny Terrorists gerbils for Chanukah.

On the first night of Chanukah I told the offspring that they would get one and only one present for Chanukah but it would be a BIG DEAL pressie. They were TOTALLY psyched and immediately started guessing what the BIG DEAL PRESSIE could be – the second guess was “Is it a pet?” Sunday (the third night of Chanukah) we took them to the pet store to select their gerbils. Super Girl got an albino and Cabbage Patch got a little ginger colored one with black eyes. Then it was time to name them. I had told K to remind me that I could not name the rodents since they aren’t MY pets – I would have named them Latke and Matzo (thanks Mystic for those suggestions) and I did suggest it to the progeny – which of course got me a dirty look from K. While in the store Super Girl looked at me and said “I’ll name mine WHITEY.” To which my eyes bugged out of my head and all the air left my lungs as I thought of the reaction my ‘former gang member’ neighbor would have to hearing that. I firmly and politely told her “NO! Absolutely NOT!” and then refused to explain why. She settled on Dragon for hers. Cabbage Patch took a tad longer to decide, at first she said Staph to which I giggled and said what a great name it was (What? My gerbils are Bubonic Plague and Hanta Virus – it fits!), then she said Scrap and finally she came up with Spike.

Sooooo… Kosher Gerbil day was a success. Dragon and Spike are settled in well and the offspring think I ROCK! Until their dad gives them something EVEN BETTER for that other gift giving holiday… you know, that one that involves the tree and the reindeer and that fat guy in a red suit and that baby and all the animals and stuff. I don’t get it, sounds like something inappropriate that people would have to pay money to attend. Whatever, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Happy Chanukah!

Never A Good Thing…

When the day starts with a puking child. That was yesterday for me. K and I split sick kid duty. I went to work and he called in for the morning. I intended to blog about Bast’s party and post the ever so amazing photos from said party, but when I got home I was a bit preoccupied with a feverish child.

Later that night it was time for more LATKES! I made another batch of fabulous potato latkes for dinner and then attempted to make apple latkes. The potato latkes were fabulous yet again, but the apple latkes… well not so much, in fact they weren’t even fit for human consumption… maybe not even animal consumption. No worries, they are tied up tight in a garbage bag. *sigh* I think I’m done making latkes for the year, I MIGHT make donuts, but who knows, I’m kind of tired of frying things. This might be the night of Lays potato chips and Krispy Kreame donuts. Rah, rah, the festival of oil.

Oh yeah, happy Chanukkah to everyone one… even you cute little goyim readers! Keep it kosher! ;)

Weekend of Activities

Ya know, one of the main reasons I quit working weekends was so that I could sleep in! Well whatever. Now that both of the Tiny Terrorists are in Girl Scouts (Daisy Scouts and Brownies) I have yet to have just a weekend to sleep until noon. Not that I did that during the weekend when I was home, but hey I can dream.

This past weekend was FULL of activities. Super Girl went to the ballet with her troop and Cabbage Patch toured the Fire Station with her troop. Lucky for me, I organized the fire station tour so I HAD to go. Honestly it had NOTHING to do with me wanting to oogle hot firefighters. Well maybe just a little, but it WAS really for the kids.

Sadly only two girls showed up (including my progeny), but that meant we got a very personal tour with the three firefighters. (NOT like THAT, there were children there! – Though I wouldn’t mind that kind of tour just for ME. “Oh Mr. Fireman! Have I got a fire for you to put out.”)

The girls completely enjoyed the tour and got to climb on the fire trucks and ring the bells. I completely enjoyed the tour though I didn’t get to climb on any firefighters or ring their bells. I did however take many, many photos to *ahem* document the tour (i.e. I got to take photos of the hot firefighter for masturbation material and pretend it was totally innocent) – yes I know I’m a total DORK, I even wore my DORK shirt that day.

Sadly the fire station was a one story building so there was no POLE to slide down, and no occasion to make cheesy jokes about said fire pole. There also was no Dalmatian. Two stereo types ruined in one afternoon. But firefighters do wear red suspenders… on their fire thingy outfits. And they are hot. Well one was hot, the other two had wedding rings so that kind of turned the HOTNESS factor off for them. They were still cute, but I wanted to practice mouth to mouth with the single one. I may have to stalk him. Maybe just set fires and hope he shows up (KIDDING! KIDDING! I shall just lick his photo often and consider driving by before engaging in masterbatory pleasures).

Later that night I went to Bast’s party… but that’s another post.

Yep... I got tagged.... here ya go

Ok.. I got tagged by Princess Heart AND Queen Mystic! So I guess I HAVE to do what the princess ... so here it goes!!!!



Rules:



Each player of this game starts with honesty, answering these questions.



People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own, providing their answers.



At the end you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don't pick someone who has already been tagged with these questions.



Don't forget to leave a comment that say's "Tag...You're it!" and tell them to read your blog.



1. What is your favorite faire and why? Hmmmm… I do love Scarby because it's home fair, but I love TRF too! I'd have to say whatever faire I'm at with all my friends.


2. Most common color in your wardrobe? Red and black.

3. How many faire-related weapons do you own? None…. Yet.

4. How old is your character? No comment…

5. How many characters do you have? The fair Duchess Fate (aka Judypooh)

6. Nationality of your present persona: ummmm... fae

7. What kind of shoes do you wear? Sandals or maryjanes


8. Socks or hose? Knee socks or thigh high stockings.



9. Have you ever gotten so drunk at a faire that you don't remember parts of it? Nooooooooooooooooooo… But I've put forth a great effort from time to time to make that happen.

10. What were you drinking at the time? Water.

11. Have you ever been on cast? Nope.

12. Would you like to be on cast? Not so much.

13. Why? why what??

14. Have you ever been a vendor at a faire? no

15. Have you ever worked a booth at a faire? Again… no.

16. How many groups are you in? SPCF, Emerald Dragon, McBuggins and Gnomes.

17. List your titles: Duchess Fate, Judypooh, DORK

18. Are you in the SCA? Isn't that one of those veneral diseases?

19. List your titles and awards: Duchess Fate

20. Caffeinated beverage of choice: Coffee

21. Alcoholic beverage of choice: Loki… Just hand me some and I'll drink it.

22. Have you had sex while at faire or in the campground of faire? Why? Have you HEARD something? Was your tent next to mine? I'll try to keep it down from now on… NOT that I'd ever do that anyway.

23. How many times? Why? Have you HEARD something again? Well if your tent was NEXT to mine then you could have just kept count now couldn't you?

24. Do you sew your own clothes? Actually I have a herd of beautiful tiny faries who sew garb for me at night as I sleep. Sadly they tend to procrastinate only sew right before faire.

25. What does a Faire Scotsman wear under his kilt? And what makes you think I've ever investigated THAT? I'm royalty after all – I get others to do that for me… then let me know if it's worth my time. ;)

26. What is the most embarrassing thing that has happened to you at faire? IN faire… ummm… I'd rather just forget that. In CAMP, well – I really am just one embarrassing moment just waiting to happen at any time, just add alcohol.

27. Do you have a favorite show? Sound & Fury, Ded Bob, Iris & Rose

28. What is your favorite faire food that you eat at a faire? Fried Macaroni and cheese

29. Do you wear period underwear? Um… did you just ask me about my undies??

30. Do you camp or hotel when attend out of town faires? I love to camp… as long as I have access to a SHOWER. The parties in the camp grounds ROCK!

31. Have you ever lost your shoe or shoes while walking around faire? Not so far.

32. Have you ever been assaulted by the alcohol-impaired while attending? Who hasn't???

33. Head gear: Tiara, feathers, something fabulous

34. Have you ever been picked to be in a show? No

35. Who gave you your faire name? Fate – The lovely and eloquent Queen Mystic gave it to me. I've always been Judypooh, it's a combination of what people called me while growing up. No Pooh is not my real last name, nor is Judypooh what's on my birth certificate.

36. Have you ever met a special someone at faire? Depends on what you mean – as far as a Special Someone as in romantic interest – not so much, Special Someone as in Wonderful Friend and Long Lost Sibling Type Person – Yes.

37. Does your spouse or significant other attend faire with you? My Gay Husband attends faire sometimes. It makes life interesting. (Just wait until he convinces his boyfriend to attend too!)

38. Can you fit into a porta-potty while in garb or do you have to remove some pieces before stepping in? EWWWWWWW! I avoide port-potties at all cost.

39. Do you speak with an accent or stay in character when mingling with the mundanes? Not so much.

40. Invent one question on your own and ask your six tagged pals.

Have you ever seen a accident at the faire when one of the mundanes was hurt by a reinnes carelessness? nope

Ok... my question for you.... If you could add one thing to TRF (not change... add) what would you add? I don't know, I haven't explored TRF enough to make that call.

What's your most cherished faire memory?
PS I tag no one... feel free to pretend I tag you if you like ;)

At the Copacabana... Is that Next To Taco Cabana?

I guess I should be disturbed that my 7 year old just sang Copacabana in it's entirity this fine morning. I find it amusing.

Blood Spilled At The Target

Last Friday on the way home from picking up K we stopped off at the Super Target to pick up a few things for K’s trip to Colorado. I parked and people started getting out of the car, then my ever so graceful offspring Super Girl proceeded to slam her finger in the car door. Oh great. There was crying. And there was blood. There was one 7 year old little girl screaming “It’s BLEEDING! It’s BLEEDING!” and then there was me. The mom. I told my wee person to CALM DOWN NOW, and surprisingly she did as K followed my directions to find a paper towel in the car. (at this point some nosy old lady in the parking lot started asking if we needed help – I think just trying to see what was going on really – and I told her firmly no, that I was handling my business). Since the screaming had stopped, we headed to the Super Target where in I asked the security guard where the snack bar was so I could get a cup of ice for Super Girl to stick her finger in, then we headed to the bathroom for clean up and assessment. Things looked okay except for the cut on her finger which extended all the way across her fingernail. Ew.

When we came out of the restroom to meet up with K and Cabbage Patch, the helpful security guard was there asking if anything happened in the parking lot that he should know about and then he said something about someone having been bit by a dog earlier. Um, no, just a car door.

I made Super Girl keep her finger in the cup of ice as we shopped – she got a bag of Gummi Bears to help her healing and for pain management (hey, Mary Poppins said a spoonful of sugar helps medicine go down. I figure a bag of candy can help the pain go way for a painful injury, a whole cake for a broken limb and probably a case of Hershey bars for a dismemberment.) Things were good, she got candy and she knew she’d get band aids too.

Later I pointed out to K that this was the second of our two progeny to have their fingers injured and bleeding on a shopping trip involving him being on watch. He denied such charges and said he did not cause the injuries in question. I asserted that though he had not in fact injured either of the beings that I had nurtured in my body for 9 months and birthed, he was in fact in the vicinity when both of them bloodied their tiny fingers therefore it is his fault. He conceded that I was mostly right.

So boys and girls, the lesson here is that you should not shop with K! You might lose a finger!

PS the kid is fine now.

Now How Does That Go? Specticals... Testicals... Wallet...


Due to my recent breakage of my glasses, I was forced to get some stylish new glasses. I wanted something that was funny and would stand out - sadly the didn't have any rhinstoned cats eye frames. Darn it. Now I can see and I look good doing it ;)

Snow (ice) Day In Dallas And Why Holiday Parades SUCK

Thursday morning I woke to terribly cold weather and the promise that it would only get worse. After a near panic attack at the thought of driving home in sleet and ice (and a few flash backs from my 2001 spin out on ice that totaled my tiny car) I decided to stay home, drink cocoa and watch DVD’s with my offspring. Even though school wasn’t closed that day, my mental issues dictated that they get a day off. I figured it was better than me envisioning their school bus sliding off the highway on the way home, crashing into a recently overturned semi carrying gasoline and bursting into flames. PTSD is fun! (Therapy isn’t for me folks – I prefer to live in denial and develop additions to deal with my issues.)

Now before you start calling me a pussy for not driving in that weather or saying that the roads weren’t that bad, take into consideration that all except maybe 5 years of my life have been spent in the non snowing Southern areas. Hell I was born in Louisiana, spent my formative childhood years in Southern Louisiana where the only kind of ice they regularly encounter is in a drink glass surrounded by a tasty alcoholic beverage where the only danger of slippage from is if you drink too much of the alcoholic beverage. I prefer it in my glass and not on the roads, so cut me some slack.

The highlight of that day was copious amounts of hot alcohol infused cocoa and long naps. Oh yes there was that nasty little event of my boss calling me and giving me shit for not going in which ended with me telling her that some gawddamn’d $6 an hour job isn’t worth getting caught in the weather while driving home – then hanging up on her. I’m sure it was a surprise to her that the hospital didn’t implode from my not showing up and they were completely fine with me not being there.

Friday was interesting at work, very busy, ‘nuf said.

I rushed home to get Cabbage Patch as her Daisy Scout troop was supposed to march in the local Christmas Parade. The plans changed a few times on Thursday and early Friday as to where we were supposed to meet. Originally the plan was to meet at the leaders house at 5:10 pm, then it changed to meeting ‘somewhere downtown’ as the leader might not be able to be there, to ‘we’ll meet at 5:30 pm downtown’ and finally ‘let’s meet at 5:30 pm at the Londoner in the town square.’ This seemed fairly straight forward and easy as I knew exactly where the Londoner is (I know it’s a shock, right). We left our abode at 5:20 pm as the Londoner is less than 10 minutes from my doorstep. I was feeling confident in my plan… there for it was doomed! Doomed I tell you! Anytime I feel confident in something involving directions, it’s a BAD sign.

Everything was proceeding along well until we were within 3 blocks of our destination, then I could see signs of trouble… actually signs of DETOUR! The street that the Londoner was on was being CLOSED OFF for the parade. YIKES! The ONLY way I knew to get to this damn place was being closed off and I was being diverted into foreign territory! Dear Gawd, we’d be lost forever! Not only was I being diverted, but I was being diverted onto a street full of SLOW MOVING traffic. COME ON PEOPLE! I drive a STANDARD for fucks sake! I had already endured my quota of slow moving traffic and constant clutching for one day, my damn clutch foot was threatening to CRAMP up on me. And I was starting to get BITCHY (say it isn’t so)! I told the offspring the prospects of parade marching were slim due to their mother’s horrible direction sense and someone’s stupid idea to meet in the middle of parade central RIGHT when the streets were being blocked off.

Eventually we inched out way to what looked to be a blocked off street – a DEAD END! With some official looking person standing there pointing in different directions when anyone asked him questions. I pulled my car up to him and explained the issue at hand. The man looked at me, then looked at his crumpled piece of paper in his hand and then asked me a question I should know the answer to but I don’t. It all came out in slow motion to me, just to punctuate my absolute lack of preparation and suck ass mothering skills for this area. He said “What troop number?” and I said “Uhhhhhhhh….” He said there were 4 different GS troops (some Daisy Girls, some Brownies) and he couldn’t direct me to the right place unless I knew the number. I racked my brain and got a busy signal. This sucked! First I can’t get to the Londoner now I can’t even remember the damn troop number! Fine, fine, fine. I just asked the man the easiest way OUT of the area before my head exploded and he did what he does best, he pointed me in a direction.

I told my progeny that we weren’t going to be doing this and it was nearly time to go fetch their father from work so that’s where we would be headed … or something like that, it may have been more like “Muther fuck! First I can’t get to the goddamned Londoner because all the fucking streets are blocked off and I don’t know my fucking way around a city I’ve lived in for 8 fucking years! NOW I don’t know the damned troop number. Fine. Just fuck it all! It’s to damn cold to march anyway. AND I’m going to be late to pick up K because I don’t have a goddamned clue where the hell I am! Fuck!” (Give or take a few FUCKs)

And about that time as I inched along yet another traffic packed street, the clouds parted and the angels began to sing. A celestial light shone from above, illuminating a destination up ahead. By some miracle, I RECOGNIZED WHERE WE WERE! We were right NEXT to the Londoner and we were only 7 minutes LATE! I parked the car quickly and ushered the fruit of my loins out of the car and off to stand in front of the Londoner. I saw no other little girls. We waited a few minutes. I looked around and watched for what might look like girls in the troop. Nothing. I peaked into the bar and didn’t see any tiny children (thank goodness!). I looked around and saw something frightening. A barricade! Headed for the street I was parked on! Blocking off the street in the only direction it goes! SHIT! Waiting time was over. It was 5:45 pm and I didn’t want to get stuck in the town square with the Tiny Terrorist until 8 pm making K wait at work that whole time. Oh no. not going to happen. I told them the marching wasn’t happening and we had to go NOW! I practically threw the Tiny Terrorists into the car and leapt into the car the whole while Super Girl is BAWLING about not being able to see sister march in the parade. Cabbage Patch on the other hand doesn’t give two shits and is talking to the birds outside. WTF?

We escape the square just as the barricade is being shoved across the street. Of course NOW I’m DETOURED AGAIN. And once again I’m fucking lost. We drive around aimlessly until Super Girl (who has since regained her composure) says “Oh I know where we are!” to which I reply “bullshit.” And continue to drive thinking I kind of know where I am. Very quickly I’m fucking lost and not sure I’m even still in Texas. We come to a place where I have to turn either left or right and I ask Super Girl which way she thinks we should go. Against my better judgment I go the way she directs, to which she says “I know where we are.” Much to my fucking surprise, she actually does – proving that she has inherited her directional genetics from her father. She recognized the farm that we went to ONCE for a boring political picnic! But… that victory was fleeting. A few more turns and I had no clue where we were once again. Lost in suburbia.

Just as I was losing my will to go on, the clouds parted, angels sang and all that happy crap. I took a turn on a whim and wouldn’t you fucking know it, I was back on the street I live on! Right by the damned lake! Unbelievable, I found my way home and didn’t even need to call anyone for assistance.

I leave you with this for now… I know… long winded. Sorry. That’s me. I’m hopped up on the coffee and sugar! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

Vehicular Rape

Now before I start in on this sordid little tale, I need to state that I am not DEAD. I’m sorry to all of you who are bored at work and have had to resort to actual WORK to alleviate the boredom for the 30 seconds that it takes to read my insane ramblings. I’ve let you down and for that I am sorry. BUT! I have a good reason and THAT I’ll save for another blog. (Actually SEVERAL good reasons and none of them are my offspring…except the ones from last week; those involve the Tiny Terrorists and their near death experience – near death that would have been brought on my none other than ME). Another day, all in good time, yadda, yadda, yadda. I’ll just write about this one incident now. It’s been said that when I post many times in one day that there are those who can’t keep up and can’t read it all and there fore miss things (which to be honest, really isn’t important ) – kind of like talking to me in person after I’ve eaten *heavenly music starts and choir of angels sing* CUPCAKES! *sigh* Nothing like a sugar buzz. But I digress, I promise to write about the other things that have happened if for no other reason to fill this space with brain numbing ramblings born from my insane hyper squirrel brain. Really, I promise. Mostly. Well I promise to write about something, I may forget some of the incidents and choose to actually just make crap up and match them to random photos on my camera (must tell about accidentally wiping the 1500 or so photos off my camera – it was absolute brilliance) or possibly just ignore everything and write about new stuff.

ANYWAY! I was the victim of vehicular rape… or rather, Easy Bake Oven was. Please, sit if you aren’t. The tale is ugly, have some coffee or cocoa. Comfee now? Good.

It all started as a fairly normal day a couple of weeks ago. Me trying to force the Little People to get ready for school and leave on time in a CHEERFULL and HAPPY mood. It involves lots of yelling and whining and this fabulous day it meant that I was running late. Because one of my important (and unpaid jobs) is to be the CHAUFER of mi familia (life sucks with one car) I dropped K off at work and headed off to my work. I take the service road of the toll road to get to work and this fateful day was no different except that I was about 20 minutes late. I come to a stop light after a toll exit where people are trying to crowd over to the far right lane to make their turns. As I approach there are two trucks acting like they are going to get into the lane I’m in (middle lane), neither one have their turn signal on and they are both pretty far from the actual exit. I pull forward just past the front of the back truck (shiny new white Cadillac Escalade) and leave enough room for the front truck to get in when the light changes. This light is so damn long it’s just painful at times (that whole clutch thing). As I’m sitting there singing badly in my car I look over at the Escalade and the driver is looking at me then he inches his SUV forward just a touch in the universal “I want in that lane” move, so I pull my car all the way up to the bumper of the front truck in the universal “Oh hell no you aren’t” move. I look back over and see him looking at me, so I figure he got the message and I go back to the Journey lyrics at hand while waiting for the light to change. The light changes and I go forward, the first truck goes forward, and the SUV goes sideways – to the right. I’m looking in horror as this big monstrosity pushes my side mirror back as it comes side to side with The Easy Bake. The fucker in the Escalade didn’t even stop until I started honking my horn! Then he just pulled back into his lane and turned on his left turn signal. The light has changed and he’s sitting at the light right next to me now, he doesn’t even acknowledge me as I shower him with some of my most colorful and inventive insulting swearwords. The light changes and he just fucking turns! He doesn’t even attempt to stop! Fucker! Ahhh but karma is a bitch you know, I see a enormous black scratch down the length of his shiny new SUV. I laugh as he turns and I drive off, knowing that a new scratch on The Easy Bake won’t even be noticed but he’ll have fun explaining that one to his wife. BUT WAIT! There’s more!

I’m still pissed but pleased that karma has done her own part of balancing things. I call K to tell him that the side mirror – the ONLY SIDE MIRROR on the car – is now bent back for which I am seriously pissed. K has all the joys of listening to me speak sentences comprised entirely of swear words. (It’s a gift) While driving I realize that I fucking need my side mirror and since it isn’t shattered, just bent back, maybe I can get it back into position. So I start messing with it at each stop light – K is still on the phone with me as I continue to cuss about the mirror when suddenly it snaps back into place! Right back into place! Of course it also caught my thumb in the process. So now I’m cussing in earnest because it FUCKING HURT! And I’m trying not to bleed on my work clothes while driving. It was fun. I finally let K off the phone when I stopped seeing stars and found something disposable to bleed on in the car. It’s all good.

SOOOOOOOOOOOO what’s the message from this fun story kiddies? Don’t play chicken with a piece of shit car, chances are they don’t have jack to lose. I think Mr. Dickhole in the Escalade learned that. Oh and the best part was that when I got to work, I saw white paint on my car (the whole damn length of it) but it wiped right off with my paper towel. As for me, my thumb is still sporting a nasty bruise but the icky cut is no longer looking disgusting, inflamed and somewhat like zombie flesh.

Okay kids that’s enough bed time stories for now, go brush your teeth and use the potty. Shoo, shoo, off to bed with ya.

CSI is Quality Children’s Programming

My offspring love CSI. It’s maybe a wee bit frightening at times. Last night at dinner with the Little People and La Seg was one of those moments. We ordered sopapias after our delightful Mexican dinner. They brought the Little People sopapias shaped like people. I, like any good mother, make a comment about how it looks like they are doing an autopsy when they cut it with a knife. Cabbage Patched proceeded to drown hers in honey and gleefully stab it with her knife and fork saying that it looked like blood. La Seg didn’t seem to appreciate the Sesame Street version of an autopsy as much as I did. Though when suggested that they actually looked like voodoo dolls she thought that was great. It is. Everyone should go to El Fenix and get the people shaped voodoo sopapias. I wish I had thought of that first!