Thursday, January 29, 2009

Rat Bastards....

What now? Let me tell ya.

I spent two hours of my life at the bank, filling out papers to dispute fraudulent charges on my account. Well. It's "our" checking account but I do use it the most.

Regardless....I got screwed out of $1200. And I am pissy, pissy Krissy.

The nerve of these corrupted geeks is disgusting. I wanna play kickball with their testecles. If only I knew who they were.

The paperwork was astronomical amounts. We had to wait for a Sheriff to file a police report. I looked like a criminal. I'm pissed, stressed and really, really just miffed. Ahhhh.

I'm having so many anxiety attacks that my hot flashes are in over drive. I'm sweating like a crack addict.

My bank will make good on the money yet I am still worried. What if it turns into Identity Theft? Do you have any idea how hard it is to prove yourself right in those cases. It is grueling and intense and it sucks hairy balls. I know someone who went through it and it took over 5yrs to get it straight.

Yet I sat on my dumb cloud thinking it could never happen to me. Thank God it wasn't identity theft or more money. They could have bled us dry. *sigh*

I'm gonna pass on some valuable information that you MUST do to prevent this from happening to you. It could have been worse. Had we have not had the adequate amount of money in our account, we would have been slammed with overdraft fees too. It could have been doubled the amount. And that money doesn't just reappear back into your account that day or even the next day.

This could happen to you. If you have never listened to me before, just listen to this. Pretty Please?

  • Do not ever hand over your debit card again. For instance. If you are paying for a meal. You put your card in the envelope and the waiter/waitress walks away with it. Think of this. Camera phones. All they have to do is snap a quick picture and just like that, you could be screwed. The possibility of them being nabbed for their crime? Slime to None. It's a easy crime to commit. Either pay in cash, with a check or use a credit card because they monitor those cards much, much more. Discover is the best for feud protection.
  • Try to use cash only. Remember back in the day, when ATM/Debit cards were newer? We all thought it was "safer" to use then cash. In some ways it is. Because how easy would it be to lose your wallet or purse and your cash doesn't have security on it. However, Freud is just as easy to lose money from.
  • Shred everything. Everything. Credit card offers, statements, anything that is thrown away needs to be shredded. It is crazy to think that this will become my life but it is what it is.
  • Use your card on the Internet only when you are 110% sure it is safe and secure. Ebay is very secure. But I am hesitant to even buy online from them anymore either.
  • Never give your card number out over the phone. Never. Even if it is a bill collector. You cannot give that information out any longer. Tell them that you will send them a check or money order. Explain why you refuse to give out your card number. If they don't understand, fuck em. It is not their money that is at potential danger.
  • Review your bank and credit card statements constantly. Your bank will not figure this out for you. You are in control of your own money. Immediately call your bank if anything sends up a red flag to you. That is what they are there for. I am so lucky we caught this when we did. They started out small. And the amount taken out got bigger as they got more greedy.
  • Monitor your credit score as well. Identity theft would be easier to find early by checking your score monthly.

Now go. Go check your bank statements and get busy on shredding.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Tonight...Let's talk about Superbowl Party Anxiety....shall we?

We are hosting the Superbowl Party here, at my abode. The same house that I am completely anal in. The one that I work on cleaning everyday of my sick sadistic life. I'm shitting knives right now. Do you know what that is like? Shitting knives is very painful indeed.

Here's the low down. It's the mass amounts of complete brats children that will be running rampant. I'm talking a mass quantity of other people's children.

There are days that I don't even like my own child in the house because she is filthy. Seriously, I am that anal. No lies.

Last party here, with screaming children in attendance, a non-listening misfit spilled Koolaide on my beige almost white carpet after I repeatedly told her to keep her drink in the kitchen, on the hardwood floors.

Most of the kids that are coming listen NIL. I'm not saying my daughter is a saint. However, she respects other peoples property with the highest regard. She listens because she is soft hearted and fears being yelled at by other adults. I'm not going to go into how she doesn't give a rat's hairy ass what I yell at her. Nope. Not going down that road tonight. I'm already having a stroke because of the pending party. No need to have heart palpitations as well.

I am not shitting you because you are my favorite turd about these children NOT listening. They Do.Not. They are loud, obnoxious, rude, disrespectful and don't have boundaries. They are not welcomed to most homes because of their destructive behavior. And the parents are 100% clueless about this. They are lazy parents. They ignore their behaviors instead of dealing with them. And I am not that kinda parent. And I want to drop-kick their bratty asses.

Scratch that. I don't want to spank them as I fear I wouldn't have the control to stop once I started. They are really that bad.

I have to try and lock my daughters door to her room in fear that they will conquer it once again. Yep. They've done it before. Her door doesn't have a lock on it. I'm not sure how to get around that bygone.

I want to hide anything that could be broken and is sentimental or worth something. This would be every.single.thing.we.own. That is a fail.

I'm praying for nice sunny weather so they can be locked entertained outdoors. At least I don't have to worry about writing on the wall or Koolaide stains on the carpet.

I cannot talk to the parents, because they don't listen. Believe me, we have tried. Tried.Failed.Tried Again.Failed.

I have recruited others and told them that if they see anything in their harms way, to scold them or find me and I will scold them. They are officially activated for duty.

I'm going to bribe the older children to babysit them, which means I will have to sell a kidney to pay them considering the job will be challenging and hard. Harder then they will ever work. But it is a small price to pay.

I'm gonna hire the freaking FBI and have them stand in. Maybe they could lessen the blow to my house. Doubtful.

The anxiety attack will continue until we get through the party and I can visually that my house is still standing. Wish me luck. I'm gonna need it.

Monday, January 26, 2009

I feel pretty...Oh so pretty....

Last night, we came home very late. We had a full day of visiting family and homework, for once, took the back burner. It felt good to be honest with you. Homework is a thorn in my muffin top. Blah.

So. After leaving to go home about 2 hours later then planned and with more then a hour drive to go, I read my daughter's book to her about Annie Oakley, with a flashlight no less. We arrived home at about 11:30pm. Not good considering we had the daunting homework to finish. I convince my daughter that we will blast through it in the morning and it was better that she go to bed so she isn't cranky and sassy in the morning. Honestly, I cannot handle the cranky-whiny butt attitude in the a.m. any longer without growing gray.

This morning, instead of waking a few moments earlier, we accidentally overslept. My morning homework plan failed miserably. I tossed and turned all night and went to bed well past my bedtime. I was bushed and couldn't pull my pants down to pee let alone do homework. We ate some breakfast and I decided to let my daughter go into school later.

After doing the homework, I quickly showered and dressed. At this point, my eyes began to puff, my nose was stuffed and I broke into hives all from allergies. I quickly swallowed some benedryl, fixed my hair or just ran a brush through it and pushed my girl out the door. Upon arriving to the school I noticed that I put on the wrong color socks and SHOES. Yes. I had on two different pair of tennis shoes.

High Fives all around!

I barely got home with my eyes open. Did I mention that it was snowy and my puffed eyes were having a difficult time focusing because of all the white? And I was so tired. And did I mention that the day before, I had threw my back out something fierce?

And so, I had the wrong colored socks on and two different pairs of tennis shoes, I was doped on benedryl, my eyes looked like I just smoked crack, I had hives and my back was having spasms. Whoopity-Doo....this was going to be a great day.

Can I get a round of applause????

I managed to make it home, noticed my car had a flat, slipped on the ice for the 400th time this winter and screamed in agony. Foul words were rampantly escaping my trashy mouth.

Do you wish you were me yet?

I limped into the house, looking like I either needed a cane or a wheelchair. Nonetheless, I looked like an old blue-hair.

I went straight to bed. But for the life of me, couldn't sleep.

My husband wanted to know if I wanted to run to the DMV to get the plates for the new year with him. Stupidly, I agreed. I never took my shoes off once I got into bed. I know, it is wrong but I was freaking tired and close to tears.

So. I leave with my husband, and realize that I am still wearing my different paired shoes. I shrug and say out loud: "Who freaking gives a rat's ass?" My husband looks at me like I am sprouting horns.

Before we enter the DMV, I take a quick peek in the mirror. Imagine my surprise to see my hair sticking straight up, my mascara down to my chin(s) and I'm missing an earring. I once again yell: "Screw it." My husband understands my words this time as he is looking at me in horror. I limped into the DMV, looking like the hunchback of Notre Dame and Medusa.

I was pretty.

Note. I even braved the grocery store and soon realized that I was not the only one having a bad day. I saw a mom get puked on, in which she simply wiped the chunks off and went on her merry way. I saw a grandma with her skirt tucked into her dress and a whore with a skirt on that could only be described as a tube top used as a skirt.

Here's some funny commercials sent to me via email. It made me smile so it should do wonders for you. :0)

A little rant and a lot of rave.

Dear Bloggers....

I only entered the blog world about a year ago. In my time on blogworld, I have seen it all. Okay. Not it all but I have seen a lot.

I have seen the mean, nasty assholes who find websites and trash them or send them condescending emails desperately trying to convince the receiver that they are worthless and that the mean nasty sender is the "Awwww Powerful."

I have seen dipsticks giving their "humbled" opinions Trying to fix the world one blogger at a time. If you put up a picture that is "distasteful" in their "humbled opinion" they advise you that you are being disrespectful, rude, or some other stupid shit. In my "experience" as a human, opinions are like assholes, everyone has one. And truly, what your description of distasteful or disrespectful is could be way off cue and completely different from the next persons. So. Shut up.

I have seen bloggers who are super dooper popular and in my "humbled" opinion, they are cheesy and fake. So. I don't revisit that particular website. I move on to one more my taste. Something that is more for my liking. I don't discuss in detail in a full-blown email or comment of why I don't like them. That is humiliating. Not only to the blogger, but to yourself. You sorta look like a desperate loner with nothing else to do. A Blogger Bully. Cowards.

I'm not quite sure how to put this. Let's see if I can do it tactfully.

Nobody likes a whiny-assed, disturbed, low lifed fuck who finds pleasure in hiding behind the their computer trash talking someone else.

Delicate is not my forte.

However, I don't hunt you down, write some malicious remarks or mouth some inaccurate accusations. I'm sorry. Unless you are God himself, you don't have the right to judge. So. Shut up.

I was once making my way up the bloggy ladder. Meeting a ton of friends, getting a lot of comments and even more awesome emails. I was on my way.

I got bored and overwhelmed way to quickly. Sure. I see these blogs that are the Prom Queens of the blogworld. They have admirers. I am usually one of them. And I admit, sometimes I get a little sickly because I feel like the pocket protector nerd secretly stalking the beauty queen, but let's face it, I get overwhelmed easily. And I would be very intimidated to have so many lurkers.

So. My small amount of friends is just fine with me. Sure. I would like to be a bit more popular and maybe find a happy medium however, I don't keep myself up at night worried about it. If I was meant to be popular, then I would be. I cannot force myself upon people because I am more out going then some of the blogs. The pretty, sweet and nice blogs are like virgins compared to me. So. If they wish to take a visit to the wild side, I would welcome them. Nonetheless, I cannot forcefully make them loose their virginity.

Most of the time, I laugh at rude remarks and snotty emails. They make me feel empowered. And the general rule in life is that you usually have triple the friends then you do enemies. So. Enemies just verify that I have bloggy friends.

But seriously, when you play the "I'm a terrible mom" card to me, I am gonna fight back. Maybe because that is like sucker punching a man in his gonads. You are hitting below the belt.

You bet my daughter is mouthy, sassy and smart assed. But she is mine, and I happen to like her, so kiss my ass you sack of vomit.

She may be pre-hormonal and I am definitely menopausal which excuse like water and oil. We argue like the dickens. But. I love her pre-hormonal ass.

What is really mind boggling to me is that I rarely discuss my relationship with my baby girl. Not because I don't wanna be a mom blogger. But because my job is being a mom. I rarely get to discuss sex because I am usually in "Mom Mode" and this blog gives me a brief moment to be something other then a mom. It's like a lunch break. However, I am 100% dedicated to my motherly role. And I may not be the ideal mother for you but that, my enemy, is why I am not your mother. I am my daughters mother. And she happens to love and adore me. I know this because she tells me it a few hundred times a day. And I likewise to her. And she is my true love in life.

I am not a spectacular mom and never said anything different. But I am certainly not a mis-fit mother either as you so spitefully called me. And the worst thing is that I have this need to explain my parental role to you....a coward. A harasser. A filthy ass. However, I did have to explain myself and I hope it helps you to understand that if you were to have said the same thing to my face, I would have spit venom in your eye. Yet again, like I am sure you have done to others, you hide behind your computer screen probably masturbating because you are a complete idiot and have nothing or anyone else to do. My suggestion to you, is stick you penis up your ass and screw yourself (if your a man). If your a female, buy a dildo. Seriously, you need to have an orgasm.

I have so much more to say, but I won't. You and your ghastly friends who are causing pain in other blogs as well need to find another hobby before you get chewed up and spit out.

And you are a gigantic loser. And my daughter is a happy, healthy loved child. She is loved by many because of her outgoing personality and lovable nature. I feed her with confidence everyday. I cry with her when she gets her sensitive little heart broken and I hug her when she is confused and hurt by peons like yourself. Trust me. If you are looking for a heartless abusive mom, you have landed in the wrong place. Bastard.

Go get yourself some help. Kay??????

You are not so loved by:
The Pissed off Firecracker.


You probably won't understand a lot of this if you did not write the email and for that, I apologize. :0)

Friday, January 23, 2009

I hope this doesn't give you nightmares.

Because my words have escaped me these last few days and my brains only function right now is to bring me grief and worry, I thought I would give you tid bits of me.

1. I'm not a jealous person at all. My husband can enter a strip club and he need not worry about his wife getting all green-eyed monster on him. Usually, I enter the strip club with him and have sat in sniffers row.

*note. Before the judgements are ruled and rumors fly....I am the furthest thing from a lesbian. I could vomit in your lap just thinking of that. Because I am damn sure of my sexuality it doesn't bother me to give a naked chick a few bucks. She's probably just trying to feed her babies. And if I had a body to make some money instead of making some puke, I would have sex with a pole too.

2. Once upon a time, a bunch of my best girls and all of our tag along husbands entered a strip club. The ladies paid me because my boobs are homegrown. And they liked them a lot. I scored $40 without ever showing off my Buddhas. Sweeettt.

3. This has backfired too. The same night, a working girl who was clearly into S&M attacked me and showed me who was in charge. She spanked my butt so hard that I had hand prints the next day. The entire bar was screaming and laughing at my agony. She paid me $10 of the $40 dollars. I think she felt bad.

4. I was the maid of honor in my girl friends wedding. For her bachelorette party, we did a scavenger hunt. She was hesitant to do some of the challenges so I took over. One of the goals was to swindle $50 off of men only. I made her over $150 that night. I was empowered and decided to go for broke after the $50 came from one man. Men are so stupid. And I didn't have to take off my shirt once. BooRah! nevermind the fact that the men would have paid more to keep my clothes on

5. My sister and mom are constantly on the Weight Watchers diet. My sis lost over 100lbs. She is sexy and svelte now. This pisses her older sister off. So. When I bring dishes for holidays, I promise them that I made it with all low fat ingredients. I really do not. Mwahahahaha.

6. Drama, Trauma and crap is attracted to me. I'm like glue. This is why friends call me "Black Cloud Krissy". It's not original, but it is sadly very true.

7. I inherited my gift of laughter from my parents. And they taught me to have fun. I remember growing up we had the most amazing pool parties. My parents had/have a ton of friends and pretty much are loved by all that meet them. I did not inherit that. I have enemies. However, the enemies make me laugh and I love it when people hate me. Their loss.

8. Did you know that South Dakota has Cobra's? I kid you not. I have seen these snakes along with Boa Constrictors and Anaconda's. They reside in my back yard. My husband calls them Gardner Snakes however, he hasn't seen the beasts that taunt me.

9. I am a bonafide KLUTZ. Ask my long time friends, their parents, their siblings, my parents, my sister, my neighbors, anyone. I am the family klutz. Yet. I have never broken a bone. Knock on some damn wood already.

10. The person you have known to lovehate on this blog is exactly the person you would meet in person. I don't pretend to be something I am not. I am a loon. I am crazy. I am all of the above. I do fear that if I met my blog friends in person that you would be highly disappointed though. It's an insecurity I carry.

Happy Weekend Friends.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Thank God for happy pills.

I'm doing good. While I was sleeping, I had a visit from the "Pull it together loser" Fairy and I am doing better today. I'm still very worried, but a couple of happy pills, a half bottle of wine and a tear fest pulled me out of the shitter.

My daughter's issues seem better since her awesome mom came to school to enjoy a little lunch. All the kids wanna sit by me because I am the cool mom and I always bring cookies for the monsters so she felt pretty special. The bullies had the look of fear in their eyes and I'm pretty sure are well aware that they don't wanna mess with this mommaCat. Meeeoooowww.

I'm trying to be positive. I'm going to go watch Mall Cop because it looks hilarious and then I am gonna go drink with a friend. I'm very aware that I sound like a lush.

Although things are still pretty hard for me I am managing. My sweet goober of a husband told me that if I smile more, he will take me to Texas to see my bestest friend. So. I need to make myself happy so I can go hang with my number one fan, go to Six Flags and ride roller coasters until I puke.

Now. I am going to go do some laundry, help with homework, clean my daughters beastly room and then run like hell to get out of this house.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

And just like that....

Life starts to make me shake my head in disgust again.

My beautiful friend, whom I love and adore, had some terrible news to tell me today. Her middle son, who is a young teenager, has a golfball sized tumor on his brain.

For now, there is no word on if it is cancerous. He had a major seizure last week which triggered the tests to determine the tumor. If he has another seizure, they are concerned his precious heart will not take it well. Friday is a trip to the specialist and from what we understand, a biopsy will be done to determine rather or not it is....the ugliest word I know, cancer.

I don't even know what else to say right now. I don't have an answer and all I could say to her sweet voice as it was cracking with pain, is "I'm praying." I'm planning on spending some time with her this weekend. Just supporting her.

I could vomit by just thinking of her pain. Her fears. Her heartache. I hate thinking about it. I'm scared it will be me in that position some day. I know, I cannot think that way but I do. I cannot stop. And I don't want her hurting this way either. I want her to be okay. I want her son to be okay.

And if that isn't enough, her son is scared. He has fears. He doesn't understand. He shouldn't have to understand. Why? Why? This boy is a sweet, big hearted soul. Why?????

My heart. It hurts. I cannot stop thinking about him. About his fears. His mother doesn't want him to sleep alone afraid that he will have another seizure. It's pathetic. It's disgusting. It's wrong. I cannot get the words out that I want to. Ugh.

And then my daughter is getting bullied. Like in her face bullied. And I tried to help the situation and probably made it worse. I don't want to get into it because I can barely see through my tears however, it just sucks that I cannot do anything right tonight. Trust me. I am doing nothing right. Piss.Piss.Piss.

I know that my life isn't terrible. I have a modest home, money in the bank some, a healthy family and great friends. I know this. But I still feel beat up lately. Honestly, it hasn't been all peaches and cream for us in the last few years. And I feel guilty because I get pissed that we cannot have good luck for more then a freaking week.

I'm sorry. I'm just pissed. I am all out pissed off. And my words are stupid and probably don't make much sense but I am going to hit publish and then go cry for awhile anyway.

I write this post to once again, come here for prayers. Not for me. I will be okay once I get my shit pulled together. But please, pray for my friend and her son. They are hurting. Actually, pray for the whole family because she has other kids that are scared too. And you could say a pray for my daughter for having a dumbass mom like myself. *wink*

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

It's on like Donkey Kong.

My butt nugget of a husband is messing with fire.

Because I now have a super-uber classy expensive camera, he feels that he can put his plump fingers all over it. And as if that isn't enough to shave off his eyebrows while he is sleeping, he takes terrible, horrible, disgusting, "my chins are going to need their own zip code soon" pictures.

I suppose some of you want to see these pictures so you could all just hee-haw laugh your butts off.

I don't disappoint.

Exhibit A of why my husband is going to be extracting his "man danglers" out of his throat.

Oh save your comments. I was sick with some horrific disease that makes you smile upside down. I'm lucky to be alive. I was sleeping downstairs because I was having hot flashes like a mother sucker. I cannot believe I frown in my sleep. Apparently, gravity has effected more then my milk jugs.

Exhibit B: Okay. I really don't have an exhibit B because I delete all pictures of me looking like something you should flush down the shitter. But believe me. He has taken pictures of me that had made my jaw drop at the pure ugliness.

It's on like Donkey Kong. I don't know how or when because he is not as hard to embarrass as me but mark my words, he is going down like a slut on prom night.

I need some serious shock therapy. Putting this discriminating picture of me on my blog is proof.

Here's a virtual "High Five" if you have ever sought revenge after your peasant of a husband as well.


Breathe, Release, Rejoice.

First. Breathe. Easy enough, eh? Actually, take in some big healthy breathes over and over and get some oxygen to that big brain of yours. This is the first step in healing your stress.

Second. Release your stress or anger. Get rid of it. Find a suitable place for it to go. I'll let you lead by my example.


My dear friend is in a tough spot currently. Single mom. Ignorant shit for brains ex-husband and father of her children. Financial struggles that are relentless. She says over and over: "Why can't I get a break?"

Because of the financial difficulties, she is in a slump. And when she is down in the dumps is about the time the bill collectors start calling. Of course, they have impeccable timing. And like so many others in the same situation, she is bullied by these collectors.

The other day she got a call from a debt collection company about a hospital bill for around $500. She desperately tries to explain that she has nothing left over after her household bills, her car and groceries to feed her children.

This particular punk proceeds to "advise" her to default on her car payment for the month to pay him, a unexpected medical bill. "Sir Shithole" informs her that she spends too much money on groceries and her kids do not need to eat that much. He goes down the list of things she should remove from her expenses so he can get paid in full to get commission.

*Insert a pissed off friend that has been helping her friend get out of debt by introducing her to the Dave Ramsey Plan. It is a successful plan because we did it ourselves and are now, debt free.* that was the longest damn 2 sentences EVER

I'm gonna tell you what, there is nothing that pisses me off more then bullies. I know her pain. I have been there. These bastards will torment and torture you until you finally give them a credit card number to put the medical bill on or they will harass you countless times by calling and calling you. AND...AND...THIS PUTZ CALLS HER AT WORK 3-5X'S A DAY. BASTARD.

I'm gonna rip his nut sack off. I'm ready to pounce. NoONe. I mean NoOne bullies my friends or family. Grrrrr.

Let's just say for the sake of a really long ass post, that I spit rat poison in this dudes eye. I know my laws. I did research after research after my hysterectomy because I was the one being bullied at the time. And luckily, I had a good friend who jumped in when I was a big wad of chewing gum and took care of my dirty work. I learned from the best of the best. She was a rock star. And I learned so very much. And I know my laws and rights. And this bastard stumbled into War Territory. The End. Until the next one calls and I get a bite of his ass too.

And I suppose if that doesn't work for you, just kick sand in someone's eye.

And finally, Third you rejoice.

There is nothing more exhilarating then to know you took control of your stress. You did it. You live and learn. And I'm gonna tell you sweet friends, rejoicing is NOT overrated.

My very delusional point here is take it from a chick who had/has numerous panic attacks, anxiety and fear. You live and learn but you cannot learn unless you fail. I have failed. a lot And today, my friend picked her head up, realized she was living in fear, dusted off her bottom and is learning to take action and control.

I am soooo proud of her. It's like succeeding in potty training a toddler. BooRah Baby!

*Note. If you have financial burdens that are causing you great pain, I am highly recommending the Dave Ramsey Plan. It isn't fun. It is something that you have to work hard at. But trust in me, the first time you pay off a bill that has been gnawing at you for awhile, you will feel triumphant and renewed. I only suggest this because I know the financial burdens to well. Not long ago my friends, I was eating my fingernails for dinner. I was a wreck, worrying about money day in and day out. My husband introduced me to the plan, I kicked and screamed however I gave in and did it. And today, I am so relieved I did. Please. Go to Dave Ramsey and learn more. And if you have personal questions, although I am no expert, I do have a very good knowledge about the program and can try to answer your questions. Email me. I'm here to serve you.

If you don't have financial foes because you succeeded in the Dave Ramsey's Total Money Makeover, then a virtual "High Five" to you.

Saturday, January 17, 2009


Flatulence. Or for bone heads like myself that don't like big words. Fart. Gas. Sneakers. Sliders. Whatever works for you.

You see. This is a natural occurrence. You have to fart. It will come out some way or another. If you don't fart, you burp. If you don't burp, you fart. If you don't do either, your pores will leak out a stench so putrid you will want to die. I heard about that anyway. I'm not a doctor though. But I believe this.

So. The gas that leaks out of my buttocks has caused great grief for me. For instance. I sneeze, I fart. I pray that a plane has just passed over and I can blame it on that. Or a dog is sitting near. Or my husband, cause he gets blamed and he knows better to squeal on me.

However, my prayers go unanswered. No plane. No dog. No hubby. Just me, sneezing and a loud, obnoxious sound escaping through my crack. I don't think that you can physically sneeze and clench your butt cheeks together. It is like sneezing and blinking. It cannot be done.

However, the worst to date was when I was drinking. I was bombed off of tomato beers and crappy cigarettes. It was before my daughter was born, and I had drank for 3 nights straight. Which can only lead to beer farts, which are the most vile smelling toxic gas you could ever inhale. And when you factor in tomato beers, it's downright revolting.

So. I was standing in a mixed crowd of best friends, good friends, acquaintances and strangers. It was packed and the music was loud. I was holding in a ass bomb. My stomach was beginning to go into convulsions. So. In a intoxicated state, I decided to let it fly, knowing full well it was going to be loud.

And just as I relaxed my butt cheeks, the music went dead and for some reason, the crowd was quiet. And they all heard it.

Oh dear Lord. I realized I had to come up with a damn good excuse or blatant lie. I sort of looked up into the eyes of my friends. I was totally busted. My best friend/soul sister was standing in front of me. She loves farts, poop, puke, belly button lint. Whatever. She is a gross lady. She farted on blind date with a guy who was extremely HOT. She took a shit at his apartment (and informed him that she was going to take a dump) before they left for the movie. Her now husband, got the covered wagon on their first *ahem* "make-out" session. She is the opposite of girly, even though her hair and body are perfection. She is a tom boy inside a beautiful girl's body.

Anyway, I digress.

So. As I looked into her eyes, she was already belly rolling. She couldn't contain herself. She was welling up with tears. Laughing her fool ass off. And then in the mix of her giggle fits she yells: "You totally just farted." I look for support from my other friends. They were in no better state then her. Even the "Miss Priss" friend who I swear, has never pooped a day in her life, was rolling on the ground. She is such a faker.

I look to acquittance's, praying for someone to shoot me in the head and end my misery. They were hamming it up too.

Strangers? Hell no. The girls were mortified and the guys were laughing. I was destined to die.

And then. It happened. Like "slo-mo" happened. Everyone smelled the ass gas. And their faces went from laughing to a severe look of vomiting. It was toxic. The strangers quickly left. The acquaintances disappeared too and the friends all fanned their noses or covered their faces with their sleeves. Gagging. Yelling. Spewing.

And that, my friends, is the night I saw my life flash before my eyes.

Punch lines to Avoid a Punch.

CNN reported 10 things to say to avoid a fight. I laughed my ass off. Some people are so damn naive or have not been in a relationship for a good amount of time. Or maybe I'm just hard to please. The later is plausible.

1. "Thank you for your opinion, I will think about it."

Holy hell. I could see my husband telling me that we cannot afford a lavish vacation to Venice, Italy. And I could totally see me saying:
"Thank you for your opinion, I will think about it" as I am packing my bags and leaving on a jet plane. Fail.

2. "Is this a good time?"

Instinctively when someone says this to me my brain goes into super-drive making up excuses as to why it isn't a good time. I'm no brain however, I do know that after these 5 words comes bad news of some sort. So. It is never a good time. Thank you very much.

3. "Would you like my thoughts?"

The answer will be "NO", I don't want your thoughts. Thoughts and opinions are like assholes, everyone has them.

4. "Why don't we get the facts?"

Facts? Facts? FACTS? I'm not a planner nor do I need facts to make improv decisions. Finding facts are a big waste of my time. I go by gut instinct, which is why I have bad luck more then good luck. I could see my husband asking me if he can go ice fishing though and me responding back:
"Umm....why don't we get some facts about ice fishing before you go, Mkay?"
I could see my husband kicking my ass to the curb too.

5. "I need your help, can you please....?"

I'm used to this one. I'm convinced my family couldn't survive a single second without the help from me. I see wiping my husbands ass in the near future. They are immune to doing anything for themselves. They are hemorrhoids on my ass. But Gosh do I love those festered up boils.

6. "What did you mean by that?"

I'm sure CNN meant this to be said in a subtle, non-confrontational way. However, if I say that to my husband, each word is exaggerated out. "Whatttt diddd youuuu meeannn byyyy THATTT?" And then my husband intuitively runs out of the house yelling: "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. I'm" Well. SortaKinda I suppose. But he does know that there is a storm coming when I say those words.

7. "I don't like that, so why don't we do this instead."

This would be a disaster in this house. What a joke. Instead we say things like "No. That is not the final answer." and "Why don't I get a say in this." and "Damn it. This is what we are doing so shut the hell up already."

We are a dysfunctional family obviously.

8. "I'm sorry your upset."

In my abode, this is usually followed by a big ole "BUT" or "However". We don't stop at "I'm sorry your upset." and the sentence is usually "I'm sorry your upset but get over it."

We fight for the last word around here.

9. "Let's wait on this until we have more information."

Me: "Dear, did you leave the milk out all night?"

Hubby: "let's wait on this until we have more information."

Drive to ER to remove the shoe from his ass.

10. "Let me get back to you"

Me: "Can you take the garbage out?"

Hubby. "let me get back to you."

Start making the arrangements for his funeral.

I'm aware that these could work in a normal classy family. We are not that family. In this household, we have a menopausal mom, a pre-hormonal daughter and a PMS'ing husband. We also have to demonic dogs. I'm OCD, my daughter is OCD times four and my husband is a procrastinator. I like things clean, my husband is messy and my daughter is a filthy pig. And my demonic dogs shed.

Yet. We are a strong, supportive, well-balanced family. I know. Odd? We are blessed. We have Faith. We have love. We are a family that is a bit dysfunctional and a whole lot of weirdness yet we laugh constantly. We are a family. And maybe tomorrow I will give you some of my wicked, sadistic, mean vindictive ideals to become one with me. Or not. Too many of me can just be difficult. Right?

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Somebody turn up the damn heat.....

It is a balmy negative 18 degrees outside. Wowser. Yes. I said NEGATIVE. It isn't even at Zero. Zero being the lowest number. IT IS BELOW ZERO. Holy shitballs. And when I said "balmy" I was being overly sarcastic. In case you needed to know that.

Today. I hit a squirrel that I thought was road slush. It didn't move. My windows were ice-packed on the INSIDE of my car. I realized it was a poor squirrel when I saw it's beady little eyes staring at me in panic. I'm pretty sure it didn't move because it couldn't. It's butt was frozen to the street. RIP frozenbutt squirrel. I'm sorry.

Today. I saw a child trying to climb back into his mothers womb. The poor child wanted the warmth from the uterus again. So sad and so disturbing.

Today. The leather seats in my car were like ice blocks. Thank you GOD for heated leather seats. I would have frost bite in my Netherlands by now. Ouch.

Today. My daughters eye lids were almost closed shut. She literally walked from the school's door to my car and she could barely see. Poor baby. And the poor thing had a rotten day at school because the girls are getting a little hormonal and my sensitive child gets her delicate feelings hurt to easily. My heart is weeping. Does any mother of a pre-teenager girl relate to this or can you relate to this and if so....please give me some of your wisdom. I want to smack the girl who hurt my baby in the head right now. Sorry. Help.

Today. My dogs lost all their hair on the bottom of their feet from the freezing cold snow.

Today. My baby girl declined the mall. She thought it was to cold. This is a first. EVER. I would have risked the damn weather to cheer up my sweetie. Stupid.Stupid.Stupid weather.

Jack Frost is nipping at more then my nose.

I may have to put caution signs on my boobs so my extremely hard sore nipples won't hurt somebody.

Santa took us off of his list. It's too cold for the fat bastard to ever come here again.

Eskimos wouldn't live here.

The North Pole would be a tropical paradise.

I am mad that Grisham is leaving CSI. I am aware that this is off the subject however, I saw the preview and I am crying. And I needed to say it. I love you Grisham.

My body aches everywhere. I wasn't aware that cold weather effects my Fibromyalgia like this. Every aching bone in my body. It has been a very, very rough day for me. And then my baby is sad. It's a sucky day.
(I know that I keep bringing up my baby however, Fibromyalgia effects my mood as much as my aching bones and I feel so.sorry for her today. I know. It's life. I know. It's part of growing up. But I am her mom. Am I not supposed to protect her? And again. I am a emotional web of shit right now. And Grisham is leaving CSI. And it's really depressing outside. And I can go on and on. I need therapy or a good bottle of wine. And I refuse to go out in the Arctic to get a good bottle of wine. And can I whine any more? Geesh.)

Alright. The last paragraph is proof that I need to take a few TylenolPM to help with my pain and knock me on my ass.

Advice? Please? Think of it as a new ideal for tomorrows post on your blog. Or mine. I don't care. Guest blog for me while my Fibromyalgia settles a bit. My fingers hurt. I kid you not. Help me? Please. Anybody? Hello? Are you there?

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

And now.....Fast, Easy and sometimes cheap wisdom from me.

I have become a champion of finding the easiest, fastest and sometimes cheapest cleaning solutions. After all my years all 34.5 years of cleaning, I have searched the web, watched my favorite shows, read magazine articles and just pulled some shit out of my ass for a lazy busy mom like myself. Behold my madness.

First of favorite show is "How Clean is Your House?" on BBC. With sassy hosts like Kim and Aggie, how couldn't you love this show. And I love it when they rip into filthy people and make them feel like lazy losers. My favorite part of the show.

Love those clean freaks. I want to do a segment on our local stations and I want to be the host. I could give Kim and Aggie a run for their mops.

Anyway. Here we go.

Leather furniture. Did you know that your leather furniture is alive? Seriously. It needs to breath and it needs food. So. To make that sofa happy and well, mix some vinegar (will tackle the grease and dead cells your skin leaves behind) and olive oil. Not a lot. Rub down the furniture and then buff the hell out of it with a dry cloth or paper towel. Taa-Daa. You just fed and cleaned your leather. The olive oil shines and feeds the leather. Make sure you test it in a un-seen spot first. For a quick wipe, use a facial cloth on it. Another method? Sure. Use a regular bar of soap. Rub some soup on a wet rag, wash the couch and wipe off the residue. Brilliant.

Speaking of facial clothes (anything you use to clean your face), use those babies to wipe down your keyboard, piano keys, phones, or remote controls. If it is good enough to wash your beautiful face, it will not harm these things. It's shear genius I tell you.

Salt. Just regular old salt that you cook with. It is a mild abrasive yet it isn't strong enough to scratch surfaces. So. For that nasty ring around the tub. Put some salt on a nylon bristle brush and scrub away. You don't have to worry about nasty fumes that make you high (unless that is the highlight of your day, then you can get high on your cleaning fumes all you want.) and you don't have to worry about mixing cleaning products that cause you and your family to evacuate the house. Also. Use a bar of soap to scrub the area. Wrap a washcloth around the soap for a better grip, and wipe away. Do this why you are taking a shower and belting out off key "Eye of the Tiger".

Note: Shaving cream is a condensed soap. It is also great to clean with and usually smells nice.

Hardwood floors can be a pain in the buttock. They always streak, right? Not anymore. Use vinegar and a dry mop. And because I hurl at the smell of vinegar, I use apple cedar vinegar or just regular vinegar with lemon juice. It still smells a bit, but it doesn't last for long. And your floors are streak free. If your family walks all over the floor after you slaved on your hands and knees, stick the dry mop up their asses.

Nasty crusted microwaves. Easy as pie. Put a glass of warm water with lemon juice in it for a few minutes. Let it boil. Remove the cup and immediately wipe down. The gunk should be soft enough to just wipe it clean and the lemon juice made it smell clean. Then advise family that if they don't start covering up their food or wiping it down after an accident you will start their prized possessions on fire.

Mirrors suck. I hate wiping them and windows down. Streak, streak, streak. I admit, I use Windex. But there are some eco-friendly people who would rather not use that. So. Use water, vinegar and newspaper. Done.

Hint: Put a drop of your favorite fragrance on light bulbs (just a dab) and when you turn on the light, you will soon be soothed by the pretty smells.

Laundry detergent, rather powder or liquid, is a great alternative to harsh cleaning products. Use it to clean the poop smears from the toilet bowl or to actually clean the washer and dryer. And if your dogs pee on the carpet, use warm water with a few drops of laundry detergent and scrub down the carpet. It will deodorize plus clean. And then rub the husbands...I mean dogs noses in it.

Use plastic shoe holders to organize bathroom accessories. You can put makeup, lotions, soaps, sex toys, whatever you want in there. Hey. I don't judge your life. Sex toys could double as back massages. At least that is what you can tell the kids or in-laws.

Are you closets a disaster? Do you worry about a concussion every time you open the door?

Well...So do I. So ask someone else for that advice. My closets could harbor Jimmy Hoffa's body. I wouldn't know if it did.

Hint: Use a wet sock over a broom handle to remove spider webs or dust bunnies hanging off of the ceiling.

Okay-Dokie. Happy Cleaning friends. And remember, you got this information from Krissy, super cleaning machine.

(and for your viewing pleasure, another hog-o-riffic picture of me.)

The End.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Why am I so irrisistable to women?

Now. Before I get an angry lesbian blasting my blog for being discriminating, I do not care if you are gay or not. It doesn't bother me one bit. It's your crotch. I have friends that are gay and just because I am not doesn't mean that I judge you. Again. It's your woo-hoo. I don't care what you do with it as you don't care what I do with mine. And calling you a lesbian does not mean that I am discriminating against you or labeling you. So. Don't jump on soap boxes here. I also don't like men that have blond hair. I like the dark haired mystery men. I prefer Chase Crawford over Brad Pitt. So. This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me because it is my bloggity-blog-blog dawg. Snoop out. Okay. I'll stop acting like a low paid rapper now. Sorry for that. On with my post, shall we?????

Hokey Dokey. Let's talk.

I like it when men find me attractive. Mainly because I can rub it in my husbands face when he pisses me off. It's ammunition. But also because I feel sexy and feel like I still have the stuff. Well. I do have the stuff but it is entirely the wrong kinda stuff I would like to have. Did that make sense? Probably not. I had wine tonight.

And although I don't like to toot my own horn yeah right. "toot.toot." I do have some attractive men or men with more then 1 tooth who make google eyes at me sometimes it is because they have a lazy eye.

But far to many times it is gay women who are mesmerised by my beauty. Or maybe they just think I am really kinky cuz I am. Regardless. I get hit on by the same sex often. And sometimes it has caused trauma.

I know you are in suspense right now so I will tell the story.

There is a nasty whore chick in my town that has stuck her vulgar tongue in my ear (which I later washed out with bleach) and whispered how much she wanted to "do" me. I puked just writing that. Gag.

I told her get the fuck away from me before I strangle you with your crab infested tongue politely to "get the fuck away from me before I strangle you with your crab infested tongue." (please don't report me for cussing.) and went home to bleach my ear.

Did I mention that she was intoxicated because she is a foul mouthed drunk?

Sometime at a later date, the bag of vomit was at the bar again when my husband and I were there hanging with friends. I tried to hide from her. I did. I pleaded with my posse to leave and go somewhere where her crabs couldn't jump and catch us. They ignored my pleas. Apparently, they don't care about herpes infested crabs jumping on them, but I do!

Later in the night, she spied me. And she came running at mock speed to wrap her herped arms around me. And as she was coming at me, she hit me in the nose and I was bleeding all over my new shirt. Needless to say, I was furious.

Long story short. My husband and friend did my dirty work and pushed her drunk, VD'ed ass out the door. I fixed my nose and drank a shit load more. And the hooker went home.

But honestly. I get hit on more by girls then guys. I admit. When I am out with my girls we tend to look a little lesbianish. We kiss and hug and get all girly with squeals and tears and act like a bunch of mushy.....well....girls. And I don't care what people think because they are my girls. Like sisters. And I love them in a non-lover way. And I admit. I sometimes feel flattered because women want me (nah,nah,nah. Girls find me hot. Envy me yet?). I really do. But I would feel a whole lot better if the opposite sex wanted to rub my boobs too.

Anyone else have this problem? Hahaha. Like somebody is going to say "yes". Damn it.

I have now had 3 glasses of wine oh yeah baby.....3 whole glasses and I am plastered ass drunk and the liquid courage to post this post (I am a poet and didn't know it.). I fear the soap box jumpers as I can just hear how I judged gay people but seriously, I didn't. I didn't. I really, really don't care what you preference is. Mine is Freddie Prince Jr. I know he is a washed up wannabe actor but I think he is hot. I think blonde's are not (there's that poet thing again. damn I'm good.). I did however judge the drunk hooker. She is not a good person though so it is alright to judge her. Okay. I'm done. Toodles.


I understand the Youtube videos now but I still have a generic piss of crap blog and would love some bling to it. Please.Please.Please. Pity me. Help me. Please?!

Holy Hell.....

Last night was the first night I shit myself since last week I was a child.

Picture it. I was all snuggled in bed for the night. It was a good day filled with happy memories of family and friends. I was content and I was ready for a good night's rest. My husband lay next to me with contentment and gas. We just got home from hanging out with some sweet friends and we were pretty exhausted as our old asses shouldn't be out too late.

Earlier in the night me and my husband had date night. We went to a PG movie alone and it was fantastic. It was our second selection though because I was geared up to go see "The Unborn" which is supposed to be a pretty freaky show. I had it in my mind that I could handle seeing a show that pumps up my blood. Thank Goodness we didn't go.

As I was almost into my slumber....I hear something faint in the background. At first I shrugged it off as nothing or my imagination and closed my eyes again. Ten minutes later I awoke to a very disturbing sound.

I am not kidding when I say that it sounded like the devil himself. And then it resembled a ghost trying to talk from beyond the grave. You know what I am talking about. The words are drawn out, it echos a bit, it scares the living daylight out of me. Think of a ghost movie you know and listen to the ghost trying to speak. I would find it on youtube but I don't know how to add a video onto my blog. Plus, I am too spooked out to do it. But it really comes down to I don't know how to add a video to my blog. Blog failure.

Anyway, I smacked my husband and asked him if he heard it. He lazily said yes....he heard it too. And then went back to sleep. What the hell?

I'm on freak out time now. I swore there was a ghost or the devil in my abode. I started praying. I started chanting "The devil is not welcome here, you are not welcome here." I was seriously wigging.

I smacked my husband again.

"Listen Gosh Damn it. I heard it again. What the hell is it? Pray. Pray you idiot. Pray."

He rolls over and said:

"It's your screen saver on your laptop. You didn't shut it off. Can you please stop smacking me now?"

I considered his explanation and realized that it was in fact my screen saver. Then I realized my computer was possessed. Shit balls.

I smacked my husband again.

"Would you go shut the freaking thing off so I can get some sleep then?"

With a couple of cuss words, a lot of farting and probably thoughts of committing me to a psycho ward, he shut the possessed computer off.

In short. My computer is possessed. A priest will be here shortly. The End.

P.S. You must scroll down to and click on the link to a funny as shit youtube video. You will feel better about your own spawn after seeing it. And again. I cannot add videos to my blog. In case you have not noticed. I need help. And for God sakes, can somebody please instruct me on how to make my blog all pretty and nice. Seriously, I am sick to hell of my blog being generic. This is a plead for help people. Help me make my blog pretty. Pretty pretty please. Please.Please.Please. Help me.

The End.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Why? What? Why?

What the hell did I do to ruin my child. No. Why the hell did I torment my child when she was younger? I'm such a screw up. Seriously.

There is no way to say this without you thinking I am a crack head. But I have so much guilt and quite honestly, I could spit the fillings right out of my teeth right now.

When my daughter was about 4yrs old, she was being Satan's spawn a terror . I'm talking mouthy, whiny, crabby...just complete hell. And it was bedtime. And I was working full time and my husband was gone for the evening.

And no matter how many excuses I give you, you will still consider me a pile of shit.

I was dead on my feet tired. So. After pleading with my daughter to go to bed, I finally blew a gasket. And because she was afraid of alligators, I told her that I was going to go buy an alligator and put it in her room if she didn't go to sleep.

Five whole minutes later, the snot was snoring away. And I had an epiphany. Every.single.time that she struggled with me for slumber, I threw the "alligator" card at her.

And before you throw stones. Let me tell you this. Karma pissed in my cereal. Because at 11yrs old, the child is scared by her own reflection in the mirror.

Did you know that other children her age are already babysitting? Now I will admit. I am not that kind of mom. I could NOT allow my 5th grader to babysit. Yes. I maybe sheltering her. But I'm surprised that she can wipe her own ass. She is not a mature 11yr old by any means.

However, I do think that the child should be able to stay at home, with a friend, while I run errands in the same small town we live in or meet some friends for a beer.

Tonight her friend is spending the night and they begged for me and hubs to leave for awhile. Suspicious? Yes. I was. But we figured we had to let go sometime or another. So. We went to have a cocktail or 5 . I laid down the law. No calling boys. No making a mess. No cooking. And I dished out consequences too. Me and hubs left the house feeling very uneasy as we anticipated the phone calls.

It wasn't 10minutes later, my cell phone rings. It's her telling me that she heard a funny noise. Uh-Huh. Okay. I calmed her nerves, told her to buck up and sipped my cold beverage some more.

The next phone call was more dramatic.

"Mom. We are scared. We are standing on the counter because we are afraid there is somebody in the house."

Please remember that we have 2 big dogs that are extremely over-protective that live indoors. This wasn't any help. I again told her to settle down, to get off the damn counter and to play the Wii.

And then I get the mother of all phone calls. {insert a hysterical girl here.}

"Mom. Come home quick. I cut myself bad and I am bleeding all over the place. We were scared so I was carrying a knife and it cut me. Come home NOW!"

I scurried home feeling like shit and was home under a minute. I busted through the door at mock speed just in time to see a freaking cut the size of a pubic hair and small amounts of blood. Seriously, I have had more blood when I popped a zit. Curse this child.

Needless to say. I left my hubs with the friends as he was ready to ground the daughter until she was 15yrs old and I put on my PJ's, made the girls go to bed early and cracked open a brewski.

Tomorrow we are going to recount the events leading up to her brain fart. Seriously. A knife???? She soooo knew better then this. And may I add that she will NOT have her cell phone back until I see that she matures.

Do you think the alligator trick will work again? Nah. Best to leave that ship sunk.

I do understand why some animals eat their young though. It's a good thing she's cute.


Friday, January 9, 2009

The soul reason I am heading to thearapy.


Yes. She is a cutie. Yes. She has sparkling blue eyes. Yes. She can instantly put a smile on my face. Yes. She has ruby red lips. Yes. She fascinates me. Yes. She is the reason I live and breath. Yes. She is my daughter.

Yes. She makes me want to scream. Yes. She torments me with her anal-ness. Yes. She makes me want to drink excessively. Yes. She makes me cover my head under the blanket and pretend I am on a beach in Florida.


However, this is so much cheaper then therapy. I found my "zen" at Picnik. Thank you Picnik. You make me feel better by being a vindictive bitch of a mom. And for one single minute....the world is exactly where it should be until the bratster arrives home with a friend at 3:30pm and I retreat to my blanket again.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

The poor dogs got blamed again.

Now, if you have a low tolerance for talking bodily functions or your gag reflex is already high due to pregnancy or just because you are odd, then this isn't the post for you. Come back tomorrow but for now, find a blog that is all roses and pretty.

Cause this isn't the place for you right now. That is your one and only warning. I promised that I would start making you all throw up in your mouths again and I fully intend to do that.

My dogs are always blamed for foul smells. Mainly because their breath does smell of rotting garbage 90% of the time. I brush their teeth, I give them doggy breath mints, I give them tums sometimes because Scooby has a tummy issue anyway and the tums double as a fruity scent. But for some God Awful reason, their breath continues to make me turn green.

So. My daughter was running a muck around the house, her friend was here doing homework (yes. I am a mother of many young, mouthy pre-hormonal girls. It bites!), my husband was laying on the couch sick, I was incoherent on the opposite side of the couch because it was time for bed, Vamp, the eldest dog, was inspecting the floor for any signs of scrap food (because she is a hog.) and Scooby, the youngest dog was needing some attention. The dogs are not permitted on our furniture however, Scooby will try to inconspicuously try and crawl onto your lap. She is a Lab and Vamp is a German Shepard/Lab and yes...they both believe they are lap dogs.

Scooby tried to sneak her way onto my lap. And then I smelled it. It was similar to a dead fish, a ashtray, a little bit of rotting meat and a whiff of spoiled milk. It was vulgar.

I instantly pushed her off my lap and turned green. I said something like:

"Good Lord, her breath is foul. Oh My. I think she is sick."

I was very worried that her insides started to die and that was the reason for that horrendous smell. My daughter stopped in her tracks and went into panic mode. "Oh no mom. Is she dying? She cannot die. I love her. Take her to the Vet NOW. You have to MOM. NOW!"

Her friend had a glazed look over her eyes as she was probably worried that Sheylee was going to spaz out and have a seizure or something terrible.

I was still swallowing vomit.

And then I saw it. My husband. Silently curled up under his blanket, trying to not laugh out loud. And I remembered. I remembered being ripped out of my dreams last night and into a stinky reality as his ass was singing a sickening tune. The air biscuits were lethal. And I am not being dramatic.....his ass stink woke me up from a dead sleep.

It's sorta slow motion for me now, but I remember coming to the realization that it wasn't the poor dog who almost suffered a trip to the vet, a colon cleanse and another teeth brushing round. And then I noticed even the dogs themselves were gagging and running to save their lives.

"You S.O.B.! Did you do that? You gross, putrid, PIG. You were going to let poor Scooby take the fall for you? You are a JERK."

He continued to laugh, I stuck a can of Febreeze up his hole, Sheylee finally settled down enough for me to tell her that her Dad was the one who was rotting inside his body, her friend continued on with her shirt over her nose the dogs were hiding somewhere (no doubt sniffing their own ass just to smell something better.) and I died. CPR was performed, George Cloony miraculously showed up to perform mouth to mouth, and Noah Wylie gave me a breast exam.

What? After that incident I needed to put something good in here.

Now excuse me while I go kick my husband in the head. Have a good day.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

And I'm back....sorta....kinda...okay I'm trying.

So as you can tell...the past few months haven't exactly been exceptional for me. They haven't even been alright with me. They have been more like....ummm...shit on a shingle somebody running me over with a tractor. There....that sums it up well.

And I was in a rut.

And because when I am in a foul mood or a rut, I have the tendency to bring others down with me. Not on purpose all the time. It's like a foul smell that lingers on me though and usually, people just pick up on it and get sorta sad too. And I don't like sad, sappy, woe-is-me personalities. Sure, once in awhile everyone does it, but the type that bitch and moan but choose to do nothing about it pisses me off.

Where was I going with this???? Oh yeah....ahem.

So I have stopped commenting on every ones blogs. I keep it real here so I gotta say this. Sometimes I would be jealous. Not over materialistic items or any shit like that, but jealous that they were happy and I was a big pile of poo.

I just peed my pants a little. Sorry. I have to make sure you are paying attention because this is going to be a long ass post.

Trust me when I say that I also see that I have it pretty damn good too. I am a positive person somtimes but these last few months have beat me down something good. I just wanted to hide in my hole and wallow in my own pee.....I mean pity. There's no excuse for my actions, but I am going to slowly wean myself back into life. I'm giving it a go people.

To show that even though I lacked in commenting on blogs I still visited....and you cannot prove otherwise......

So, a little linky love from me. Just as long as I don't get picked on because I forgot someone. My brain is still a little mushy and although I swear I am going to crawl out from under the rock I have been living under it won't happen over night. But I am going to be a happy, smart-assed, wise cracking, whore, sex talking, butt meant kissing, girl you all love (or hate) so well. And I promise you this....I will make you vomit in your mouths over and over again.....just like old times.

Also, I am a underachiever, so I always have that excuse going for me too.

Let's begin.....

side note. I realize that you probably all know the information I am writing about my blog friends but you just need to pretend that you didn't know. Shake your head, say "OOoohhh" or "AAaaahhhh" and freaking humor me for a minute. There will be a pop quiz too.

Kel. By Golly I love this girl. She ran a marathon this past summer (that does make me want to smack her a little too.) and she wanted to get smashing drunk on New Years Eve (facebook told me that.) She is such a doll face and did you know that she, being the sweetie she is, sent me a beautiful bracelet that I wear that makes me remember my Father in Law and that I have friends all over the U.S of A. Lovvvveeee......Heeerrrrr!

side note again. I forgot how to hyperlink. Wait. I think I remember. We can resume.

Kat. Guess what? She is prego with her 4th child. Oh.My.Gawd. And we already know that her and her hubby "make & bake" some delicious boys. They are cute. I wish I lived closer. I do. Because I love newbies. I would spoil that baby rotten however, I do not like the terrible two's so well so I give the kiddo's back when they enter this stage. My daughter ruined me of toddlers. She was Satan's spawn. H.O.R.R.I.B.L.E.

side note again again. My daughter is going to get her neck rung if she doesn't stop interrupting me. Just saying.

April. Oh yeah. She is baking a baby too. Her first. And I suppose Big D had something to do with it as well but I don't believe I need to tell you about sex ed....Do I? Anyway, she has been wishing and hoping and praying for this little "Cashew" for sometime now and I couldn't be happier for her. Yeah. And. If I lived close to her too, I would freaking smother that "Cashew" with lots of kisses.

Tara. She is just too sweet. And. She is up for a award so go....go now. Vote for her. She is a great friend, a supporter, a damn cool gal. Seriously. Go now. Go vote. She deserves to win. Go. Tara. Why the heck are you still here? Oh. Wait. Finish my post, then go vote. So. Go. Vote. Got it?

Cyndy. She always puts things into perspective. She is deep. She is insightful. She is Dysfunctional too. I love the way she views life. I love her posts. They are beautiful. And she has always been a good friend. Yes. She purposely rubs it in my face that she lives in sunny Florida while I live in South "Frozen" Dakota but I'll let her get by with it. I bet if I told her I wanted to come live with her she would let me. Hmmmm....there's a thought. I'm betting Tara would too. Hmmmm.

Holy Hell I'm getting tired. ZZZzzzzzz.

Oh my Huckdoll. She doesn't live in the "hood" anymore but she is still well and good. She has a new found love of life. She is back to work at a job she loves (who the hell has a job they love?), has her two beautiful look-a-likes and good friends. She is moving on up in the world people and I love watching her move. She deserves a "Woo-Hoo."

We all know and love a Bun, right? She took a couple weeks off from blogging to spend some time with her family (as if?!?!) but she is baaaackkk. She is a very amazing lady. She works, she has two adorable children, a cool husband, a couple of dogs, a house and a blog. Good Gawd I just got winded from writing that. How the hell does she do it. What's the freaking secret here?

Jennifer. What a sweetie. Thankfully her little boy is out of the hospital all happy and well and things seem to be a-okay now. She is funny, cute as hell, a terrific mother and has an amazing faith. Inspiring faith is more like it.

I cannot feel my fingers. They are numb. I think I see a light. "God, is that you? God???" Wait. "Damn it husband, why are you shining a flashlight in my eyes again?"

Kori. If you don't do anything other then going and visiting her sight and leaving her some love I would be happy. She needs prayers, support and laughter. She is a wonderful, wonderful mom, devoted wife to a sick husband who equally needs your prayers and even though life has thrown her some wrenches, she is a true believer in God. She recently had to go through some tests that may not be news she wanted nor needed to hear. My heart is bleeding right now. Not because I fear for her, but because she just doesn't need this right now. I am begging, on my knees begging, for her to get some good news. Oh Kori dear, I just love you and you are such a leader to me. I could only hope that I could be as strong as you. Words could never express how deeply you have touched me.

Please get down on bended knees and pray with me.

Patios. I believe Patios entered my life about the time I lost my father-in-law. And she has been a welcomed guest ever since. She thinks I'm funny and I think she is spectacular. I don't think I told her this yet. you hear me? I think you are awesome girlfriend.

Sandy. What a dolly. I do believe that I always think of the "Haunted House" when I think of her. I laugh because I see me just as freaked out. I shiver because I swear, I heard a funny noise. I can't help it. I know she is much more then this, like lovable, priceless and fabulous, but I always laugh about this post. Funny.

OhMommy. You must leave in a cave if you don't know Ohmommy. Her writing is pure brilliance. When she writes about her kids, you feel as if you actually know them. She can suck you in with a few classy words. Her children are precious and her Lola is a firecracker like me. But cuter. And....yeah...cuter.

Okay. I know I am not done but when I start typing like this: "jru///jpe str upo?" I either:

A) Am losing consciousness from blog/linky/post overload or

B) Drinking three glasses of wine with my "Happy Pills Cocktail" has made me a little tipsy.

I must leave it at this. Don't fret. I'm going to make a effort. I swear. I will be around the bloggy town. Okay. I'm just plain drunk. Shit. Hangover tomorrow. Ugh.

Nighty-Night friends. Mwah.

I'm Freeeee-Free Balling.

Riddle me this. How can I; sophisticated, classy, uber-super, glorious me, be the wife of a man that wears shorts, knee-high socks and slippers out into the blistering cold? A man that scratches his balls in public because he is free-balling it (the only reason for the title of this post). A man that doesn't know that white socks do not mesh with black shoes.

And furthermore, how can I be the mother to a girl that farts in her hand to sniff it? Or who has such toxic gas in her bowels that she could be the soul reason for the hole in our ozone.

Something just isn't right here.

Honestly, I ooze "Posh" from my pores. If you bite me, I would taste of candy. I can wear a potato sack and still make it look good. I could be a bit more discreet about my terrificness but I would only be denying the obvious. So. I'm gonna just shoot the shit straight. I am a rock star.

Try not to be jealous. Jealousy can cause wrinkles. I'm only trying to help you.

Now. Try to refrain yourself from asking any of my beauty secrets. I will not share. There can only be one of me.

Is it just me or do you see the striking resemblance between me and Angelina Jolie?

Saturday, January 3, 2009

A Punch in The Gut.

Have you ever been like me? The type of person that wants to sucker punch those people that have all the good luck? Wouldn't you just love to rip their lips off when they speak of all the good luck they have? Or is it just me as always????

I know some shit heads people that just love to rub their good luck into my bad lucked face. The braggers. The people who never have a worry, never have a care. They don't know what true stress is and their biggest gripe is they don't get to shop as often as they would like. fuck, fuck, fuckers!

Usually I just roll my eyes and ignore those ignorant piss ants. But today I cannot ignore them. I want to rub their face in some shit or something. I don't wish bad luck on them uh huh but I wouldn't mind seeing them get a gigantic cyst on their ass. Or maybe a huge hemorrhoid that makes them pray to the Preparation H Gods. I don't wish death, illness or disease on them.....but a zit the size of a marshmallow on their nose would do me fine. Is this really too much to ask????

But instead, they have flawless skin and no apparent hemorrhoids. And if they did have a massive skin defect, they have the bank account to have it surgically removed. And then too top it all off, they are twig like creatures but still have "Lose 10lbs" on their resolution list. This makes me want to shove my fist down their face hole. The only place they could possibly lose 10lbs is in their huge ego. It's my theory that they only say this so fat people can say things like "Oh please, I wish I looked like you." or "Whatever, you are so thin and cute and perfect." You know the type....Pity Pushers. They suck ass.

I could be a bit angry right now. Seriously, I could a bit vengeful and pissed off at the world. I could be taking my shitty attitude out on them. I realize that I should be seeking therapy.

But for today, I'm restraining myself from shoving a stick up their tight ass.

Friday, January 2, 2009

Not off to a good start.....

It's officially the second day into 2009 and already, yes already, our year stinks. It smells like shit actually. It isn't what I anticipated.

That could have been my biggest mistake. I anticipated a great year. I was hoping that my best day in 2008 would be my worst day in 2009. I am so naive.

My resolutions were short and most likely would be nothing more then a thought but damn if I didn't wish I could dive into those resolutions now instead of stressing out and worrying.

I felt it in my bones. I felt a strange feeling that something would drag us down again. We are the typical family that anything good comes with a price. Darn it....there is nothing in this world for free. Everything is a price. It's silly. It's discouraging. It's pissing me off.

I don't want to get into my drama. I don't feel like talking about it. I would rather wallow in my pity for a few days and then snapping out of it as I always do. We have each other, family, friends, health, a house, vehicles and we are able to pay our bills. And most importantly, we have God in this house. We are always supposed to "Give our worries to him" and I am trying so hard to do that.

Anywho. I think what is more discomforting is the fact that since we moved to South Dakota, 6 years ago, we have had some rotten luck. It is always one thing after another. We get beat up quite often. Because I am optimistic, I always know it could be worse. I have seen worse. And I am still thanking God for the blessings I have. So. The glass is half full....right?

I have nothing witty to say. I have nothing sarcastic to add. I don't have any energy and very little humor. I'm plastering a cheesy smile on my face for my daughter, husband, niece and nephew who are staying with us for a few days. I'm pretending that I am relaxed and calm. In reality, I want to scream and possibly harm a few people. Seriously, I could bang a few heads together right now. I would feel sooooo much better. Hmmm.....

If you have a few extra seconds just pray for peace for us. That's it. The holidays sucked without Dave (My father-in-law) and we have cried many tears because we could totally use his expertise advice. Happy New Year (blah, blah, blah.)