August
31, 2004...2:00pm It's important to
know
that I just sent a package to Beijing and the address had the
words "Fuxi" and "Wangfang" in it.
August
31, 2004...11:45am My heart is
breaking.
I was walking down the hall and I remembered something from this
past weekend...something that I had forgotten about in the
aftermath of those two busy days, and something I had not paid
enough attention to as it was actually happening.
Too
busy to pay attention to the present, but now that it's in the
past I'm remembering it and I think I'm gonna cry.
Again.
(I'm weepy today. Sue me.)
Last
Saturday we went to a family birthday party. The Toddler was
shy at first, but then she warmed up and started running around
the party house full of really big kids and really big adults, saying
"hi" to everyone and stopping for hugs and for
playing. Must have been about 20 big people there.
She
was having fun, despite being the tiniest person there...aside
from her baby brother of course.
The
time came when we all gathered around the dining room table to
sing happy birthday to the birthday boy. The song was loud. I
was standing away from the table and I looked down and saw my
little daughter looking up at all the big people singing, the
back of her head so curly and shiny and bouncy and small. And so
alone with no one holding her hand.
Then
she turned her face so I could see it and she seemed a little
startled...probably by the noise and the bigness of those around
her.
I
walked up behind her, knelt down and said "I'm here,
angel" and she spun around and buried her face in my chest
and hugged me so tight.
As
the loud birthday song progressed, she snuck a peek back at the
big people a couple of times before she'd re-bury her sweet
little face back into her mother's bosom.
My
heart is breaking. My little girl...so happy and innocent and friendly
and open and loving and naive and so full of wonder....so small
and quiet in that big, noisy dining room that day.
August
31, 2004...9:00am I need
pills.
For so many
different reasons.
But
I don't want to get any pills because #1 that would mean going
to the doctor and getting on the scale and #2 it would mean
having to take pills.
1.
Anxiety and Depression
Ok, so maybe I should take some B vitamin. Everybody keeps
telling me that it will make me relax. But can I take a B supplement
along with my regular multi-vitamin? I think you just pee out
the excess B vit and it makes your urine orange. I think I took
B vit a few years back at the urging of a friend of mine who
said to me once "You need vitamin B...you're a spaz."
So I
remember buying my $18 bottle of B vitamins, peeing orange, and
not feeling any less spazzy.
2.
Weight Loss
Food is yummy. It's raining. This diet is not going well. I need
speed or something to cut my appetite.
3.
Fatigue
I'm tired all the goddamn time. I need something for this. NO,
sleep is not an option. Mkay?
4.
Hubby Might Have a New Job
I think Hubby might be getting a new position at work. A
manager's position. This is probably premature, and that company
has a really neat way of screwing people over, but if the head of
the store comes up to you and tells you to apply for a position,
there's a pretty good chance someone is thinking that you'd be
good for the job. Right?
It
would mean more money, but it would also mean more hours for
Hubby. More hours each evening so he'd be gone later each day,
and it would require him working some weekends.
I'm
happy for him. I hope he gets the job. He deserves it. He works
his ass off and does the manager job as it is. This would be a
reward for all his hard work. He would be vindicated for fuck's
sake. It would be so good for his head and good for the wallet
as well.
So
why am I sitting at my desk with tears streaming down my face
and an anxiety attack on the horizon? I'm about to start
sobbing. I think my heart is going to explode.
August
31, 2004...12:30am Kids suck. I said
so myself.
Witness how an IM session on Yahoo can degenerate from talk of
children to talk of genitals. Again, I am autumn512.
juggy:
is
this thing on? autumn512: hello chum! juggy: hi there! juggy: how
are you doing? autumn512: I'M
TIRED! hehe juggy: yah...
2 little ones and your boy.. i can imagine autumn512: yeah.
it's insane. really really insane. juggy: yes autumn512: i tell myself daily
that they grow up and don't want to be with me anymore. juggy: hehe, yeah, i think the
same thing w/my kids autumn512: and i like beer. that
helps. juggy: beer is good. juggy: beer makes me giddy autumn512: beer makes me not kill
anyone. autumn512: kids are nice when they
are sick right before you give them tylenol juggy: yes they are, lol autumn512: i'm looking forward to
That Baby getting his 4 month old shots. hehe. juggy: those are always fun autumn512:
gotta run out to the car. talk to
my son's friend. juggy:
ok autumn512:
youer stupid like ass
(<-- Jimmy the Masturbator) autumn512:
sorry. it's me again. hehe autumn512:
12 year olds. pfft. juggy:
ok. lol juggy:
i've been called worse. autumn512:
i'm trying to figure out how
stupid ass is.
juggy: lol autumn512: see...this is me. i should be asleep because I have
to get up at 5:30am, but i'm not because i need some adult me
time. kids suck. juggy: lol juggy:
nah, the rulebook should allow
parents for quiet time. autumn512: they do. kids suck. i think it's about time
we parents admit it. juggy:
mmm... yeah, I guess for awhile...
until they turn 30 autumn512:
oh. then they suck even more. my
dad bought my new brakes the other week. i'm 37. juggy:
lol juggy:
my mom bought me new clothes. i'm
38 autumn512:
dad's getting a hip operation, had
a blood clot removed from his eye, and his 37 year old youngest
child
asked for new brakes. juggy:
hehe autumn512:
hehe....my mom offered to buy me
new clothes. juggy:
we're sad, aren't we? autumn512:
i said "ya know...I used to
shop with you when I was 16, and it pretty much sucked." autumn512:
Sad? Bah! What else do they have
to do 'cept wait to get worse. autumn512:
that's what old age is...waiting
to get worse. autumn512:
naw...by the time your wiener
gives out, they'll have something for that. juggy:
my weiner ain't gonna give out. autumn512:
they all do. juggy:
fucking thing wakes up before i do
in the morning and has a cup of coffee and reads the paper
before I get up autumn512:
LOL autumn512:
holy shit, Hubby pokes me with his
in the living room while i'm having my cup of coffee. you guys
have a thing for your wieners. juggy:
mine is a thing of beauty juggy:
and an instrument of torture and
death autumn512:
i bet juggy:
a double-edged sword really autumn512:
penises are silly looking. juggy:
yeah juggy:
i'm waiting for mine to be staring
at me in the morning with that 1 good eye and say "mornin'
Pop!" autumn512:
they look vulnerable to me, like
"look at me! look at me!" but deep down inside they're
thinking "nobody is
gonna like me." autumn512:
vaginas, on the other hand, look
bored. autumn512:
they just lay there like
"what now? blood? penis? what?" *yawn* juggy:
lol juggy:
vaginas look like hairy clams juggy:
and the shaved ones just look like
clams autumn512:
hairy?! naw.
clams...hmmm...perhaps. autumn512:
genitals are a tad homely.
As
I said...kids suck.
August
30, 2004...10:30pm Jimmy
Jimmy the
Masturbator is sleeping over tonight. He came in the door around
8pm and asked to sleep over. I said, "What's going on,
Jimmy?"
He
said, "Well...my parents are going to the bar again."
Experience
tells me that this means that he'd be home alone with Big Sister
and Her Friends. He doesn't like it when that happens. I think
they pick on him.
So I
said to Jimmy, "Call your mother, let me talk to her to
make sure she knows where you are."
He
called, asked if she wanted to talk to me, and she didn't. I
said to Jimmy, "She didn't want to talk to me?"
"No,
she was trying to get my uncle on the other line. He just got
out of jail."
This
kid...he's a pain in the ass, but he's so cheerful. Always
smiling.
I'm
beginning to have squishy mommy feelings for him. Or, I'm
beginning to suspect that I'm at the receiving end of a scam.
Squishy?
Or cynical? Which way should I go?
I'll
go with squishy this evening.
Mommy
Chat
I went to a mommy chat for mothers with babies born in May 2004.
The
girl in the May 2004 baby forums who called me a "cradle
robber"? Remember I mentioned her? She came in and I said
"Hey! It's the girl who called me a cradle robber!
Hi!"
She
said, "Hi."
Later
on, someone called me "odd."
I
wonder why that would be. Do you think it could have something
to do with me offering to poop on the yard of another woman's
neighbor? She said she wanted to poop on his yard, but she
seemed hesitant. When I found out that she lived near me, I made
the offer...said I was a pooper for hire.
What's
wrong with that?
Then
I mentioned how That Baby had peed
in my mouth. Everyone was shocked and couldn't imagine who
such a thing could happen.
Novices.
What kind of mothers am I dealing with here? There is nothing
BUT poop and pee in a mother's life!
Or
am I missing out on the good stuff? Am I in hell?
August
30, 2004
The Weekend when
Nappy Time was Flushed Right Down the Shitter
Don't mess with nap time. If you mess with nap time, your
evening is shot to hell. Meaning
if your toddler doesn't get her usual nap time because of social
or otherwise disruptive engagements, then you might as well
throw in the towel because you're defeated and the task of
keeping crabby toddler awake until a decent bedtime will rule
the roost for the next 6 hours.
We
like to call those 6 hours Happy Slap Ass Fun Time.
Well,
I've
always known that this happens. What I didn't know until this weekend,
though, was that if you mess with nap time your toddler will
also become Satan in a dress.
That
girl will smack the shit out of you, hurl books at your head,
bite your toes, hit you in the face with sippy cups, vomit
spiders, and summon the damned from hell to serve her and her
wretched kingdom on earth.
And
she'll do all this with her shiny curls bouncing and that
sweet smelling just-had-a-bath air floating about her.
When
the beatings and the vomiting and the summoning is done, she'll
smile and say "hi" and give you a giant hug and
kiss.
That's
right before she shoves her fist down your throat and pokes you
in the eye.
Do not
mess with nappy time.
We
only took one picture
Knowing how much I enjoy taking pictures, the fact that I only
took one picture at the state fair yesterday should be enough
evidence that we had a shitty shitty time.
Ever
since That Baby was born, I suffer from anxiety attacks. I was
trying to explain what those are to The Eldest, but all I could
say was "feels like I'm having a heart attack, that the
world is closing in on me,
feels like I'm under a microscope, like I'm trapped and I
must flee for my life, feels like I'm going to
pass-out, die, implode, explode... and that's before I really
begin to panic."
"Oh.
Well don't die, ok?" The Eldest said.
The first
of my anxiety attacks yesterday was in the car on the way to the fair.
With some people, their anxiety attacks hit them unexpectedly,
like an anvil dropping from the sky to squash them. Who expects
that to happen, right? With other people, their anxiety attacks creep
up on them like a cloud of locust coming over the horizon, darkening the sky as it nears.
That's
me. That's
what mine are like...darkening locust.
So my Hubby was driving us to the fair. I'm a bad passenger...I'm a
dashboard clutcher and an imaginary brake peddler and an air-sucker. It
was a harrowing drive...from my perspective. Once we got near
the fair grounds and off of the freeway, my near-death
experience was over and traffic was at a stand still.
That's
when anxiety poked it's insecty head over the horizon.
I was still worked up from the ride to the fair grounds, and I
really wanted to get out of the car. I really REALLY wanted to
get out of this traffic jam.
Move.
Move. Go for the LOVE OF GOD GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! You are
not supposed to be taking U-turns at this intersection! Why are
you people taking U-turns?! Don't they see the sign?! They're
slowing down traffic with their U-turning! What the hell's the
matter with people?!
Why's
that guy in the car on the other side of the street looking at
me? Make him stop looking at me. He can see that I'm covered in
locust, he can see that they are eating my brain. He knows I'm
crazy. Make him look away!
The
babies are going to start crying. They'll cry and when they do
I'll turn to sand and blow away out through the window.
I wish The Eldest
would stop hanging string on the ceiling of the car. STOP THAT!
And stop talking. Everybody is talking. My heart is going to
blow up. Do you want me dead?!
Opening
the car door and jumping out and running down the center of this
very busy road made so much sense to me that I almost did it. I
needed to escape. I wanted to run and go hide behind those
bushes over there because that's a perfectly normal thing to do
for a perfectly normal person. Isn't it?
I
was panicking. I wanted to demand that Hubby leave this turn lane,
that we cross the solid white line and get into the traffic that
is actually moving because then we could drive all the way to
Canada and hide in a cave and live like bears.
I
really wanted to tell Hubby to move, to move his fucking ass, to
get me the hell out of here!
But
I couldn't make any noise. I just sat there and I started to
think about the time when I was pregnant and Hubby and I were
out running errands and my blood sugar began to drop. I started
thinking about how I was about to faint, about how I was about
to go into a diabetic coma. I started thinking about how I had
asked my Knight in Shining Armor, otherwise known as my husband,
to run into Einstein Brother's Bagel Factory to fetch me some
orange juice before I die because I really thought this time I
was going to die. I felt so safe knowing that Knight in Shining
Armor was off on a quest to find the cure that would rescue me
from my awful fate.
So
yesterday as the anxiety attack threatened to kill me, I began
thinking about that day with the low blood sugar and my Knight
in Shining Armor and about how it took Hubby over 10 minutes to
come back with the orange juice that would save my life because
he took the time to get himself something to eat.
I
pushed that memory away. I went back to the present and I
continued to just sit there in that fucking car in that godforsaken
traffic with every muscle in my
body flexed, gripping my husband's hand, and just like in the
movies one giant teardrop slid from the corner of my left
eye, slid the length of my face, and landed on my boob.
We
finally pulled into a parking lot and we immediately got into a
fight with a couple other drivers....same parking lot we parked
in last year, same type of fight, different drivers. What's up
with that? Cursed parking lot.
And
everybody was crabby. I was sweaty and crabby. We began our walk
to the fair and it was November outside. I figured the babies
will die of pneumonia and that they would die because I needed a corn dog and
The Eldest needed some deep fried cheese curds and that it's
important to spend one day a year looking at cows and sheep and
chickens.
We
get to the fair in the blustery Thanksgiving Day weather, and I
couldn't find anything to eat..at thefair. All I saw
were
tractors and mullets and balloons shaped like Spiderman.
The Eldest
kept saying "I want cheese curds. Where are the cheese
curds? How come they don't sell cheese curds anymore?" so
we went in search of cheese curds, and the whole
time steam was coming out of Hubby's ears.
Hubby
insisted on pushing the babies and he was trying
to maneuver a giant double-stroller through a sea of fat people
with no manners who think nothing of stopping suddenly in front
of you and the 50 ton child transporter you're pushing down
a hill, and they think nothing of stepping out in front of you,
crossing your path without yielding to you and your clumsy buggy
full of babies and all of their baby stuff.
So
The Eldest was bitching due to hunger and the apparent absence
of deep fried cheese, Hubby was pissy and making no effort to
appear cheery even though I would occasionally rub his back and
call him 'sweety' and 'hunny', telling him every ten minutes or so
"if you see something you'd like to eat, let me know and
I'll run up and fetch it for you...sweety."
Everybody
in my family was complaining, except for That Baby because he's
THE HAPPIEST BABY IN THE WORLD. There were too many
people and all of them were determined to get in our way, and
all of the sudden it was mid-August again and I began to sweat
beneath the sun.
Here
come the locust.
I
felt so rushed. Why are we rushing? Why why why? You cannot
possibly rush through a crowd that is hairy-shoulder to hairy-shoulder with farmers and their offspring. I could not figure
out why we were rushing! What's with the rushing?! Is there a
fire?
Then
I took a gander at my surroundings and realized that if I were
to get detached from my family unit, that I wouldn't know how to
get back to the car, I wouldn't know which way to go. I'd be
lost.
I
felt small and frightened and completely helpless.
I
found an open grassy spot and I sat down and started tending to
That Baby. Hubby didn't want to stop...he made that perfectly
clear. I told him that I needed to stop because I didn't feel
well, the anxiety and all that.
For
the rest of my life I will pretend that he just didn't hear me.
The
locust started swarming. I was drowning in locust at this point.
The Toddler
started bitching because it was nap time and
she wasn't napping, so I let her out of her stroller and she
immediately took off. Whooooooosh. She was gone. Run,
run, run little one. Escape, be free.
Hubby
announced that he "knew we shouldn't have stopped."
"I'm
not feeling well and That Baby needed to be changed and needed a
bottle," I explained, changing my reason for stopping from
one that concerned my needs to one that concerned the needs of
the children.
Hubby
was now threatening to kill people.
The Eldest was still
complaining even though we had found his cheesy fried things,
and I don't know exactly what he was complaining about because
there was a monster with a chainsaw in my head, but I think it
had something to do with "not having any fun" and
"wanting to go home".
It
was at this point when That Baby got
a frowny face. He never frowns for he's the HAPPIEST BABY IN THE
WORLD! Why's he frowning?!
"I'll
chase after The Toddler if you give That Baby his bottle,"
I told Hubby.
I walked away with The Toddler and
when I looked back at the rest of my family I saw a look on The Eldest's face that said "I hate my life."
I almost passed out.
I
had to grab a hold of the fence that surrounded the moose
fountain and the pond with duckies swimming in it. I had to do this
so I wouldn't crack my head open on the pavement when I fainted.
I was hoping that I'd slip down the fence slowly and
have a nice, graceful soft faint instead of a dead drop that
would draw too much attention to my insanity.
I
hoped that while I laid there unconscious, that people would
just think I was napping.
But
I didn't pass out. I was too busy keeping The Toddler from being abducted,
and later from tearing down the fence that was in place to keep
toddlers out.
The
Toddler was banging the fence and shouting "A day!. A day!
A day!" over and over and no that does not mean
"a day", it just sounds like "a day". What
it actually means is "Look, mother, there's a moose and
some ducks."
I
looked around and saw another mother and her two English
speaking toddlers looking at us. I thought to myself "this
woman thinks my daughter is retarded because she's tall for her
age, lady probably thinks she's 21/2 years old and
stupid, not to mention hyper and unlady-like."
I
gave that woman a "mind your own business" look
followed by a hearty "fuck you" look.
Finally
That Baby was done with his bottle and we let The Toddler look
at some cows and then we got the hell out of there.
What
a waste of money.
I
hate the fair. I hate people. I hate the smell of manure. I hate
fair food. I hate moose fountains. I hate ducks.
And
I need something for this anxiety problem I've got cookin'.
It
occurred to me that you non-pee-tasting people may be curious
about that as well.
It
didn't taste like anything. Had no flavor. Twasn't salty.
Twasn't sweet.
"Was
it warm?" The Eldest also asked me.
"I
dunno. Maybe a little." I answered.
So
I'm not much help with the pee in mouth thing....should you be
anticipating experiencing that at some point.
August
27, 2004...9:50pm Oh. Hello.
I spent
hundreds of dollars at the grocery store, Wal-Mart, and Sam's
Club today. And I still have money left over.
Until
I buy my kids some new clothes, shoes, and a hair cut for The
Eldest, that is.
Going
to the state fair this weekend. Gonna look at farm animals. Not
gonna eat things on a stick though because it's too fatty for me
and my diet and my gallstones.
Supposedly
the latest and wretchiest food on a stick this year is battered
and deep fried corn on the cob. They put butter on the corn
before they dip it in batter and fry it.
Who
are these people, and why do they insist on grossing the hell
out of me?
We're
also going to the our local farmer's market tomorrow morning. 1
buck for a giant red or yellow bell pepper. 1 measly buck. 2
bucks for a big box of yellow onions. 2 bucks for a bunch of
beautiful potatoes.
Guess
who's having shish ka bobs for dinner tomorrow?
Me.
We
also have a birthday party to go to and a house warming.
All
the merriment in store for me this weekend is giving me anxiety.
This will require vodka.
It's
sterile when it comes out. The pediatric
nurse told us that once when That Baby tinkled all over the
floor at the doctor's office.
That's
good because he just tinkled in my mouth.
Bye.
I
have to go now.
August
26, 2004
Peppermint Patty
You know, I
don't even like them. I'm not a real big chocolate-covered
toothpaste person.
But
I find myself snatching one out of Candy Jar Lady's candy jar a
couple times a week, and this morning I had one for breakfast.
Our cupboards
are bare, my wallet is empty, I have nothing to eat all day
today except peppermint patties and water. On one hand, that's good. Not having money or food
removes the temptation to overeat because you don't have the
ability to eat.
On
the other hand, this situation is bad because I'm feeling all
hagged out today. I couldn't haul my ass out of bed this
morning, so I was 15 minutes late into work. Because I couldn't
haul my ass out of bed this morning, I didn't shower. That means
I didn't wash my hair or shave my regions.
I
sicken myself.
Today's
lack of food is going to mate with this haggard feeling and
together they will create maximus bitchimus.
Steer
clear the smelly hairy hungry lady.
Taking
a half day tomorrow. It will be payday so I'm gonna go grocery
and Wal-Mart shopping.
I'm
taking half a vacation day to buy food. I'm a sad, sad
woman.
I
wonder how many years my family has left before mommy leaves for
work in the morning and never comes back, sending a postcard
from the tropics 5 months later with no return address.
August
25, 2004...10:00pm So ANYWAYS...
Bet yer wondering how my day was, aren't cha?
Well...I
got my period. 2nd time this month. I'm one lucky girl, let me
tell ya.
Spent
the morning on the shitter. I'm going to talk about that a
moment so if you don't want to read about it, bugger off. You
see, I have public toilet phobia, I believe I've mentioned that
before. It's not just the germs, it's the company. I don't like
company when I'm on the pot. Whenever someone comes into the
john, I stop what I'm doing. As excruciating as that is, I stop
what I'm doing and I bow my head and I cover my ears and wait
for the others to stop and go away.
I'm
in the bathroom for a long time.
Well
today the bathroom was particularly busy. Everyone's on the rag
or everyone has whatever this bug is that I've got. SO, there's
this lady (unfortunately I recognized her no nonsense shoes so I
know who she is) in the handicap stall next to my sacred
favorite stall, and she is blowing demons out of her ass
unabashedly. Even the plugging of my ears couldn't keep me from
that horror.
So
that's my bathroom story.
Here's
another story. This one's even more disgusting.
You know
those discussion forums I'm always yapping on about? Well I
actually joined one and posted. I could no longer resist the
temptation.
So I
post in this thread where a lady is asking for helpful hints on
how to save money. My helpful hint? Weiner water soup. I said
that if you add saltine crackers that it cuts down on the gag
reflex.
And
one lady...in my introduction post (you can just imagine, can't
you?)...called me a "cradle robber". She put a
smiley face after that.
Well...doesn't
seem that anyone wants to go to sleep this evening, so I'm off.
Toodles.
August
25, 2004...9:00pm Ok....
Well that sucked.
I
moved the page with the pics from the previous post to my old
site. You can access them here
and hopefully crash that site and not this one. Enjoy, if you
never got a chance to view them.
I'm
giving myself until the new year to get a real web site up and
running. Hang in there...it takes me forever and a day to do
anything.
Thanks.
August
25, 2004...1:15am Here's another
way to crash this site
So Hubby came home from work with CDs of pictures taken this
past weekend and last night. Damn him, I was just about to eat a
cracker and go to bed. Now I'm here. Awake and posting like an
idiot.
Did
you make it here? If you did, lucky you because I know how my
site crashes whenever I offer new pictures to view because
people just love the pictures. 23 pictures, I think, and I'm not
dividing them up and making it easier for you because it's after
1am and I need to go to bed.
So...I
loaded them right up onto this site. Good luck, you may want to
wait until it's 3am your time to try looking...if you made it
this far (I really need my own domain and host and stuff).
Have
fun, enjoy, and if you are able to view them after a million
tries, please tell me that my children are adorable because they
really are and they really almost killed me when I
was pregnant with them.
Oh...and
there are treats among those pictures...like Jimmy the Masturbator,
a painting I did when I was 16, the shillows,
and my Hubby's tummy
with my tits on them.
I
have a decent life. Even though I bitch about it daily.
August
24, 2004...10:00pm ThatHappy
Baby
I don't know why he's so happy. I just hope that he's sleepy
enough to stay asleep right now.
The
Toddler
I spoke to
the pediatric nurse today. I called about our daughter's
language skills, I wanted to know if we should bring her in for
an evaluation.
Oh
she talks, no doubt about that, only her intelligible words
consist of "hi, mama, daddy, quack quack, woof woof, and
bah bah". I'm not even sure if the last 3 qualify as words.
She's
18 months, almost 19, and she's supposed to have at least 20
words.
I
explained to the nurse (who was treating me as if I was a
hysterical first time mother which bugged the HELL OUT OF ME!)
that The Toddler understands what we say to her, follows simple
commands, and that we have to spell out some words like
"park" and "Popsicle" and
"wagon"... unless we want to go to the park in the
wagon with a Popsicle.
And
I explained that she talks all the time, non-stop. Thing is, she
speaks Ewok. Not English.
Guess
what the nurse told me: "Don't worry about it today."
Ok.
I'll
worry about it tomorrow.
The
Eldest
We have
boring food here - like milk, fruit, cheese, eggs, meat, cereal
without marshmallows, Popsicles, bread, boring tortilla chips and pretzels, ketchup
& other condiments, boxes of plain noodles, baby food, diet soda, juice, and beer . I think we
also have margarine and like 30 or 40 cans of stewed
tomatoes.
He doesn't get many treats.
That's part me and that's part him because he lost weight
recently and doesn't want to get chubby again. That's
good.
I
had $12.37 in my checking account until I get paid on Friday.
Tonight...when The Toddler went to sleep and That Baby was
resting and I had 2 minutes to myself finally, I ran to the
store and bought The Eldest a Snickers and a Butterfinger.
I
now have a little more than 9 bucks.
Why?
Because I coddle my children and they will grow to be fat, lazy,
and rude.
The
Hubby
I miss him. I wish he was here to rub my feet. He does good foot
rubbing. Sometimes that leads to the rubbing of other areas.
That's nice, too.
I
need my areas rubbed.
Me
I'm going to go upstairs now to see if That Baby is still
asleep. I suspect that he's not, but if he is I will spend many
moments standing at the kitchen sink in a conundrum - should I
make myself a small plate of tortillas and cheese with a side
dish of salsa and a glass of milk to wash that down while I sit
in bed and watch The Daily Show with Jon Stewart and then
go to sleep, or should I remember my flubber and go sit on the
porch with Mr. Cigarette and his best friend Mr. Beer, picking
hair tuffs off of the dog with the cool evening breeze washing
away all of my sweatiness before I retire to my big comfy bed
with a hungry tummy to watch Sealab 2021 or Family Guy
until I finally fall asleep with a hungry tummy?
I'll
let you know what happened tomorrow. I bet you can't wait!
My
boss is on vacation all week long. He never told me this. How
many people think that's odd, besides me?
August
24, 2004...something not unlike lunch, yet more akin to not
eating Everybody's a
winner!
The
real world is cruel. Kids are meaner than they ever have been
and kids are offing themselves and each other more than ever,
and they're going on meds for depression and assorted other
disorders more than ever. Kids are fat. Kids have no manners.
Yet
amazingly we coddle them more and more with each passing year.
We coddle them and we are making them weak. We're making our
kids sick. We are making them depressed and rude.
I'm
a big believer in every big thing being made up of many smaller
things. Our kids are kookier than kids have ever been because of
all the ways we coddle them, all the things we allow them to
have access to, all the work we don't make them do, all the
mistakes we don't make them take responsibility for, all the
excuses we make for them, ETC.
We
baby the hell out of our kids, we protect them too much, and we
do this in some really moronic ways. Such as -
Banning
the use of red correcting pens because receiving a graded paper
back from the teacher with red marks all over it could hurt a
kid's feelings or offend them in some other way. They want to start using nice colors like purple
and blue...because they are happy and soothing...so says a fruit
color psychologist.
Why
don't we finally just shelve the archaic idea of grades, and be
done with it. It's like soccer where no score is kept -
Everybody's a winner! Now there's a real life lesson.
Pfft.
Personally,
I think a kid should feel scared shitless and embarrassed beyond
belief when he gets handed back a paper he wrote that was sloppily
done.
I
hurt for my kid when that happens, but I know that it will help
him in the end and I see it helping him because boy let me tell
you he works his little fanny off next time to avoid the scary
redness all over his schoolwork.
It
teaches a lesson that goes beyond grammar and spelling, pussies.
What
the hell is happening to this country? Who's in charge? Who are
these feel-good types making all the rules? I'd like to know
because I'd like to say this to them:
"Hey...remember
that time in high school when your mommy refused to stand up for
you and you had to face the music alone? Remember all those red
corrections on that shit essay you wrote? Guess what...it made
you respectful, maybe smarter, more likely a harder worker. But by not
allowing your kids to have those same painful experiences, you
are turning them into fat, lazy, spoiled humans. Good job."
No
wonder we can't win a goddamn war anymore. Heaven forbid we
should offend anyone.
August
24, 2004
My meatballs Not so
good.
You
may recall that I made Monday night's and Tuesday night's
dinners on Sunday night. Today is Tuesday. Tuesday is meatball
supper night with french fries and orange slices.
Being
in a hurry this morning, and not having made any mental
preparation for what I would be taking to work for breakfast and
lunch, I grabbed 4 meatballs and stuffed them in a Tupperware
container. The meatballs were fresh out of the freezer and I had
plans to pop them in the microwave in the commons area at work
so that I could eat them, 2 for breakfast, 2 for lunch.
Well...I
had the breakfast portion of that plan and I've come to the
following conclusion:
We
will not be serving meatballs for dinner this evening.
And
if I ever invite you over for meatballs, decline the invitation.
Unless you want to die a slow and painful death, the way I was
dying for 21/2 hours this morning.
Nice
diet I'm working on here.
In
other news My father brought back my shitty car all fixed.
Now I can drive it again without dying.
Again
with the dying.
Death
hangs like shroud over the corpse that is my life.
Hardy
har har.
August
23, 2004...11:00pm About terrorism I think
everybody is asleep. I think. I can never be sure. Sleep
is such a precarious thing with little ones. I'll go up and
check for awake noises in 5 minutes. Actually, I'll probably go
up and check for awake noises and then hopefully try to make
some asleep noises of my own.
About
terrorism - my mind goes round and round thinking about this and
it takes a while before I form an actual thought. It's all very
exhausting.
Well,
I think I've formed a thought:
Why
do people do this shit they do? This blowing up of themselves
and others, this killing in the name of their God and their
causes...their cause - it is their God, right? And their hatred
of anything Western or American and all we stand for, yes? They
pretty much want to rule the roost the way they see fit, unencumbered
by progressive thought and modern advances except for cars,
electricity, television and the internet, yes? A world where
Islam in the law. Correct?
Pretty
much.
So...why?
I'll tell ya why - poverty. Poverty and desolation. When you
don't have anything, all you have is your religion. You cling to
that, it becomes your world and your purpose.
Happens
all the time. People cling to their religion when they are
desolate and angry and feeling abused. They have nothing
else.
How
do you cure that? Cure poverty, cure illiteracy, cure disease,
create infrastructure that you can't pick up and throw at your
enemy when your house or school turns to rubble.
Happens
all the time, this curing.
But
with this religion they've got going, I'm not exactly sure
curing what ails them is going to help.
Bottomline
- we're screwed.
Have
fun and make sure you remember to keep a gallon of water for
each family member, for each day, for probably more than 3 days
because there will be a nuclear device detonated on American
soil in our lifetime. I've been saying that since high school,
and no one ever believed me. I wonder if they believe me now.
Remember
this as well - tampons, toilet paper, batteries, diapers, baby
formula, soap, anything made by Hormel, over the counter
medicines, gasoline, cigarettes, and booze will be like gold.
Stock up.
Sweet
dreams.
And
if you're a terrorist - get some balls and remove those
ridiculous scarves covering your faces. Fight like a man, for
crying out loud.
August
23, 2004...9:30pm
Gotta type fast That Baby is
awake and crabby, even though he should be asleep and not crabby
because he only napped for maybe 15 minutes this
evening.
The
Toddler may not fall asleep because God hates me.
The
Toddler dropped a large snow globe music box on the kitchen
floor. Exploded. Thin, wispy shards of glass in water all over
the kitchen floor. Ruined two towels wiping it up, vacuumed, got
on hands and knees and picked while That Baby cried, The Toddler
cried, and that goddamn mother fucking electric toothbrush was
going WHIR WHIR WHIR GRIND WHIR WHIR WHIR GRIND out in
the living room non-stop it wouldn't stop the damn thing
wouldn't stop! "Go get the tooth brush, Angel," I
pleaded with The Toddler, "And turn it off for me
please," pick pick pick wipe vacuum coo to baby pick wipe
vacuum, "Please turn the tooth brush off, sweetie!"
That
was a bit too advanced for her. I ended up stomping the tooth
brush into submission about 10 minutes later.
The
Eldest made shillows. Those are slippers made out of pillows and
masking tape. He then taped light bulbs to the ends of the
shillows, light bulbs he colored on to make them look like
eyeballs.
He
did this so he wouldn't step on any wispy shards of snow globe
glass.
"Don't
hit anything with those light bulb eyeballs," I said,
"Because then they'll shatter into wispy shards of
glass."
"You
always ruin my fun!" he cried.
Got
pictures of the shillows. I'll share when the money troll comes
creeping out of my ass.
That
Baby is crying pretty good now. My 5 minutes of time to myself
is up for the day.
Have
a lovely evening. I know I will. I'm gonna go tiptoe through the
wispy shards of glass.
August
23, 2004...1:00pm I'm so fucking
LAZY! Forgot to
go for my walk. I was too busy recovering from the trauma that
was my children visiting me at work where The Toddler started to
scream/cry.
That
was embarrassing. Thanks, kid.
They are never cute and cuddly when you want
them to be, are they? Little shits.
Feather
bed Has
anyone ever bought anything from overstock.com? I'd like to know
because their prices on feather beds and feather bed covers are
unbelievably low and so is their shipping so I don't know if
overstock.com is dangerous or cruddy or what.
Anyhow,
I've been obsessing about a feather bed. I want one. I don't
want Hubby to get me one because although he is lovely and
delightful, I think he'd get me a piece of shit from Wal-Mart
because he doesn't know any better.
Honestly
- I'm getting sick of Wal-Mart. I'd like to shop elsewhere every
now and then. Like...nice stores that aren't messy like my
closets at home.
ANYHOW
- I don't know why I'm obsessing over a feather bed. I mean, we
can't afford it and Christmas is coming up and you know why I'm
obsessing over a feather bed?
Because
everybody always goes out and buys themselves the stupid shittin'
things that they want...totally guilt-free like either money
grows on trees or they plan on dying at the end of the week so
who gives a fuck. Right? So although I would never buy a feather
bed when the kids need clothes and hair cuts and food and school
supplies and stuff like that...I just want to covet a little
teeny bit.
Covet
covet covet.
See?
Now I'm all tingly.
While
I'm at it, here's a list of what MOMMY wants:
1.
New carpeting or the hardwood floors refinished.
2. New porch boards.
3. New sofa and chair and coffee tables and end tables for
family room.
4. New cushions for the wicker chairs.
5. New linens for my bed...you know, the kind that doesn't have
blood all over it.
6. Some new bushes and perennials for the yard.
7. A big fucking oak tree in the middle of the backyard that's
been there for 75 years already.
8. Tummy tuck.
9. My kitchen table back to it's proper usage as a kitchen table
as opposed to a holding spot for The Kid's and Hubby's shit.
10. New windows throughout the entire goddamn house.
11. A minivan or SUV that can comfortably fit my entire family.
12. A vacation in the woods on a lake.
I'll
never get any of that stuff. That's ok, though. It's nice to
think about sometimes, isn't it? And what's the point of getting
everything you want...you'd have nothing to dream about then,
would ya? Where's the fun in that.
What
does it mean when it feels like someone is poking you in the
heart with a pin? What if I had a heart attack. That'd be a
hoot.
Food Did I
tell you that I made tonight and tomorrow night's dinners
already? And I made them out of nothing. I looked at our sparse
panty and there was baby food, cereal, noodles, and
tomatoes.
Then
I looked in the freezer and saw vodka, Popsicles, things wrapped
in tinfoil, and ice cubes and I said "Voila! Let their be
supper!"
And
there was.
I'm
magic.
And
I'm on the
verge of tears. We make just shy of $50,000 a year. Where the
hell is all of my fucking money?!?!
I'm
never going to recover from this maternity leave thing. Not when
things keep falling down. I am so going to sell everything I own
and move to the woods and grow my own food, make my own clothes,
home school my children, and start my own religion. I
swear...this world, sometimes it's just more work than it's
worth.
Half
my time is spent in anxiety. Makes no damn sense.
EDIT
- I feel better now. I just had a peppermint patty.
August
23, 2004...not lunch yet I'm so fucking
HUNGRY! *eats a
stack of Post-it Notes*
August
23, 2004...pretend coffee break Why I'm glad that
my belief in God teeters somewhere between playing-along and
poking-fun So you
know about Najaf, Iraq, right? And the mosque and the cleric
kook? From a story on MSNBC.com:
“We
are here to kill and we have enough stamina,” said Hamed
Khudayir, 54, referring to himself and his 10-year-old son Ali.
Could
you ever imagine uttering those words in regards to yourself and
your child?
Could
you ever imagine filling your child with so much hate base on
your religion, to the point where you'd think it was ok for your
child to kill and be killed?
These
people are filled with hate and prejudice. And we're
the bad guys? Oh brother.
When
we were at the park the other day with the kiddies, there were
some little Somalian girls with their long Muslim dresses and
their heads covered in scarves and they were running around the
playground laughing and playing and I thought "They are
going to have such a better life here than in their own
country."
And
we're the bad guys. Ok, stupid.
August
23, 2004 Don't get mad
about the sandbox because that's just dumb 1. Took
the kiddies to the park. The Toddler is not shy. At all. She
befriended an elderly couple, hopping up on the bench to sit
between them. She also looked in the old lady's cup to see what
she was drinking.
2. The Eldest built a very detailed cave dwelling/bunker
type deal in the sandbox. This annoyed the husband because
The Toddler couldn't go in the sandbox to throw around sand for
4, maybe 5, minutes. I, on the other hand because I'm the
biological parent, think it's good that The Eldest is
using his imagination and building something neat like that.
He's putting that sandbox to more good use than The Toddler would be,
and she doesn't care anyhow. She was happy playing with a bucket
of water and a spoon for fuck's sake. Plus...I built that fucking sandbox.
Build something and you can be lord and commander of it.
3. The Toddler learned how to color with markers. So did Hubby.
4. I
took pictures of #2 and #3. I'll get them developed and share
them with you once the money fairy comes shooting out of my ass.
5.
The Toddler also learned how to make the grunt/snort sound of a
pig. So, what have we got so far in terms of vocabulary? We've
got "grunt/snort", "woof woof", "bah
bah", and
"quack quack". Now if she'd only learn how to speak
human, then I could turn my attention to picking out a
pre-school for her as opposed to a petting zoo.
6. I
learned that it's gonna be about another month before Hubby and
I dig ourselves out of this financial hole we're in. That's
nice.
7.
I've decided that I'm not going to let #6 bother me. That Baby
is just too damn happy. I don't want to take the fun out of the happy
baby thing we've got going by worrying about dollars.
8.
My daddy came to pick up my car to take it to get fixed. I'm 37.
Yeah.
9.
Sex. Romance. Non-existent. Pathetic. Indifference. The End.
10.
I don't want a diamond from the same store where I buy my
tampons and dog food.
11.
Sunday evening, I made Monday and Tuesday's suppers: meatballs
and hamburger hot dish.
12.
My nipples have returned to their un-pregnant size. This makes
looking in the mirror after my shower less icky.
13.
I have one pair of pants and one skirt to wear to work this
winter. I forgot that I had been pregnant for the last 2 winters
and that I wore maternity clothes and that I had cleaned out my
closet, getting rid of everything I hate...most of what I kept
was spring/summer weight clothing.
I'm
screwed. Gotta buy the children new clothes for this winter
before I buy myself some. That's the way it goes when you're a
parent. It's ok, though. I can maybe make myself a dress out of
the living room curtains. Just like Scarlet.
Shoes
out of ice cream buckets covered in felt with pipe cleaners for
laces.
Bathroom
rug sweater.
Pillow
case pants.
I'll
be so foxy.
August
21, 2004...12:30am Fun with instant messaging
See the
previous post first. tee hee:
raistlin_316:
Hi I'm not a nympho bitch
raistlin_316:wanna get it on?
avonhottie2003:what
avonhottie2003:ok
sure
raistlin_316: i'm autumn512's husband.
raistlin_316: you're pretty hot
raistlin_316: Well? raistlin_316: what would your husband think? raistlin_316: i mean, you said "ok sure"
She obviously was
taken aback when she found out that raistlin_316 was my hubby.
Hubby's right. I
should have waited to see what she would have done before
telling her that he's my husband.
Oh well. Fun's
over.
Give me advice on
sex and my husband, will ya? That'll teach you. Novice.
August
20, 2004...11:40pm I have NOT been
talking to that avon hottie girl, but... She keeps
instant messaging me about the conversation we had the other
night. Remember, we "met" in a parenting chat room,
here's the post if you forgot or didn't read it.
Anyhow,
the other night we were talking about porn and I mentioned how Hubby likes porn.
I mentioned it in jest. Like I was talking about me and
Angelina Jolie and Hubby's fantasies and I was NOT complaining
about Hubby liking porn. I just mentioned it and this
bitch took the ball and ran with it.
Hubby
- calm the hell down. All guys like porn, I'm not giving away
any secrets. You're normal. I don't have a problem with it
anymore, I mean you tell me I'm beautiful and that you love me a
gabillion times a day. I'm ok with it now, alright? GAH!
I
used to have a major problem with it, that's true, but I don't
give a flying fuck because nowadays I can't go to the store, or
to work, without some young handsome fella giving me the once
over twice. I'm no longer pregnant and feeling ugly, get it?
SO -
just now, out of the fucking blue this bitch IMed me about porn
and well see for yourself...she starts telling me to give Hubby
sex so he doesn't look at porn, like it's incumbent upon me to
well aw shit she pissed me off royally...I wasn't even talking
to her...I was ignoring her! I would have hit ignore on my yahoo
thingy but I deleted her from my list and oh well this
conversation took place over a matter of 2 minutes or so:
avonhottie2003:
so
give
him
what
he
needs
avonhottie2003:then
he
will
be
not
wanting
to
look
autumn512:aw shit. lady, i just
had a baby 3 months ago and he and i work opposite hours. i give
him what he needs, i just don't give him it each and every
fucking night. avonhottie2003:oh
ok
autumn512: and when i fucked him
every day, he still looked.
autumn512: fucker
off.
avonhottie2003: well
that
different
avonhottie2003: oh
ok
i got
it
he
is
a nimfo
avonhottie2003: i
didn't
mean
no
offence
autumn512: that's spelled nympho
with a "y" and a "ph" and no he's not. He's a normal hotblooded
man who tells me he loves me a dozen times a day.
autumn512: bleh.
avonhottie2003: please
don't
take
it
the
wrong
way
autumn512: whatever! I'm working
here. And your hubby if you have one looks too. They all do.
It's fun! avonhottie2003:
no
he
does
not
thank
you
autumn512: hehe. ok. avonhottie2003:
look
don't
worry
i won't
bother
you
no
more
autumn512: www.bigbreastlovers.com
autumn512: enjoy
avonhottie2003: whats
that
all
about
autumn512: ok dear.
Great. I'm all agitated
now.
EDIT: Here - check
her out. Don't get too excited, she doesn't like lesbian or
bi women. Does that mean if you're a straight man that you can
cyber fuck her all you want?
Dunno.
But if you
fucking IM her and give her this web site addy I'll be so mad I
just may talk poorly about you on my shitty web site. So there.
August
20, 2004...10:55pm
Baby Asleep I hope he stays
that way. He's still got that puckered up smiley type face he
gets when he's asleep after just having a bottle. But his arms
are up over his head, so that's a good sign. He's sleeping smack
dab in the middle of our bed. Hubby will appreciate that.
I'm
not moving the kid into his sleeping apparatus though. No
fucking way. I need to sit down. First time I've had to myself
since 5:30am, and I don't dare disturb the kid's slumber because
it's a mildly precarious slumber.
Mommy
Clean I think
the house is fairly clean so I can enjoy my weekend. It's
"surface clean", meaning only the dirt visible is
gone.
I
still have to plan out the fall cleaning, though. Each fall, and
then again in the spring, I move all the furniture and all the
kitchen appliances and scrub the hell out of the walls and the
corners and floors, and it's starting to really bother me
knowing that 4 months of dog hair and boogers and fuzzies and
dust has accumulated behind and under all large objects in the
house.
If I
were my mother, I'd do this weekly. Worse Case Scenario
Woman...she does spring/fall cleaning in every damn room of her
house each and every damn week.
If
you had a flash light, you could perform surgery in the darkest
of corners in her house and your patient wouldn't get an
infection. As a matter of fact, he'd probably come away cleaner
than when he went in. And smelling like lemon freshness.
Explanation:
Worse Case Scenario Woman hasn't held a job outside of the home
since she was 19. For some stupid reason, she doesn't think that
birthing 5 kids and then raising them into adulthood without
major diseases of the body or the mind while her husband worked
as a teacher and a coach from 6am until 9pm 6 days a week is enough work for one woman.
We
would eat pot roast with all the fixings on Wednesday.
Who eats pot roast on Wednesdays? Plus, she would have to reheat
that meal 2 or 3 times, depending on when all of her kids got
home from their after school activities.
She's
a frickin' saint, my mom.
When
I'm pregnant, she prays over her Saint prayer cards so that my
babies aren't deformed. She keeps tabs of her prayers on a pad
of paper.
Sometimes
she says her prayers at the kitchen table with a cup of
something to drink, a lit cigarette, and Law and Order
playing on the television.
I
love my mommy. She's so Catholic.
I
think when she dies, seeing as she wants to be cremated and
seeing as the Catholic church won't perform a Catholic
ceremony unless the ashes are entombed/buried...I think we
should sprinkle her ashes on the floor, vacuum them up, and bury
her that way. In her vacuum.
I
told my sister this once. She didn't think it was very funny.
I'm
going to go against my rule of not posting pictures of people
without their permission, and show you a pic of Worse Case
Scenario Woman and That Baby when he was a couple weeks old (?).
Can his eyes get any blacker? Demon child.
Anyhow,
if
you hunt my mother down and hurt her, you'll have the blood of many on
your hands because I will have to hunt down every ISP that has
accessed this site and hurt them so I'm sure to get the culprit.
And
of course then you'd be dead, too, so...best leave my mommy
alone, bitches.
I love this picture.
She's so pretty.
Don't
die of all your illnesses just yet, mother. I want That Baby to
remember you. Gotta get myself some prayer cards and pray over
that.
Shut
up. You're so white it hurts my eyes to look at you.
Bleh.
I deleted her from my list of "friends", but she can
still see me. Yucky. Now I must go shower. Again.
August
20, 2004...9:30pm Baby Awake That Baby
is awake and I think he's shitting. The Toddler...I think she's
asleep. Or Elmo ate her. Either way, she's down for the night knock
on wood.
It's
been a good week for toddler sleep. I just jinxed myself.
Stupid
shitting. I bet That Baby would be asleep now if it wasn't for
the poop.
*goes
to change stinky diapers and to see if swinging will lull him a
bit so mother can FUCKING SITDOWN!*
Ok.
Done. You know, even if you are positive that you touched no
poop, your hand still smells like poop. Even after you've
washed, your hand smells like poop.
I'm
wondering if I smell like poop all the time, like the scent
hovers about me the way perfume does for hours after you
misadventure into the perfume section of your favorite
department store.
And
what's with those people at the mall wanting to attack you with
hand lotion these days? Leave me the hell alone, Ms. Yucky
Russian Girl with the Hand Lotion and the White Lint All Over
Her Too Small Black Sweater.
Leave
me be.
Russians
have a lot of lint. Ever notice that? If it's not on their
shirts, it's on their pants. Sometimes they've got black lint on
their white socks.
What's
up with that?
Bosnian
girls...they have overrun my local grocery store, taken all the
cashier jobs...they are very beautiful in a chubby sort of way.
Chubby Chasers (guys who prefer girls with padding) should shop
at my grocery store - they'd be loading their shopping carts
with zucchini and pickles and egg plants and boxes of Kleenex
while nursing a chubby of their own.
Chubby
Bosnian girls with pretty faces.
Maybe
I'm Bosnian.
No.
These girls, they talk to each other in their own special
language. Sometimes I get paranoid and think they are talking
about me. They're just as bad as the Vietnamese girls who used
to do my nails.
I
wish I had a special language so I can talk smack about people
without them knowing.
I
think I'm going to have to cuddle with That Baby. He just
had a bottle an hour ago, so I've got at least an hour before I
can even think about putting him to bed because he'll need
another bottle.
Wow.
He's really crying. He doesn't do that much. I guess he really
wants to be cuddled.
No -
I think he's tired and the pooping interrupted his bedtime. WAIT
- he found his finger. Nope...lost it. The jury's still out on
whether or not I want him to be a thumb sucker. Can't get rid of
a thumb when their 3 the way you can get rid of a Nukkie
(pacifier).
I'm
hungry for pickles, now.
August
20, 2004
It's Friday.
Rejoice. Didn't
exactly lay on the sofa last night, but I did try to be more
mellow and relax better than I usually do.
In
other words, I emptied the dishwasher and that's it. And I think
I fell asleep during The Daily Show which is on from 10pm
to 10:30pm, so that's good.
Still
exhausted, though. Why the hell would that be? I think I got
enough hours of sleep in. *sigh* It's so unfair.
ANYHOW
- I've been awake for 3 hours and it's only 8am. I've got a
long ass day stretching ahead of me and a long ass evening
without The Eldest around to help me because he's gone with his
cousin until tomorrow morning.
That
means when he gets home I get to listen to him complain about
how bored he is. Whenever he goes and does something different
for a change, he has a hard time getting back into the doldrums
of his normal life and it is sooooooo annoying I can't
even tell ya.
At
times like that, I always feed him a line about how "You
should use your imagination. I used to have to make my own play
food for my play kitchen out of construction paper and I'd build
huge Barbie cities out of shoe boxes that I would decorate with
construction paper to make them into living rooms and bed rooms
and shopping centers. There's construction paper on my craft
table...get cutting, boy!"
But
I'm never finished....mother is never done preaching, "When
I was a kid we didn't have VCRs and Sony Play Stations and satellite
TV. As a matter of fact, when we'd get up and walk to the
television to turn it on, we'd have to wait for the
television to WARM UP before we could watch any of the 5
channels that existed."
It's
true.
And
we didn't' have a microwave either. We had to make popcorn on
the stove in a pan with Crisco.
I'm
old.
My
weekend plans. I don't
have any, and I don't want any.
I
want to do what Christopher Robin says is the bestest thing to
do: nothing.
I
think I'll just scrape together enough money to buy hamburger
buns, popsicles, ripe tomato, and some corn on the cob.
We
should also stockpile beer, snacks, and soda pop and stay home
all weekend, going nowhere and doing nothing, just hang out in
the yard and on the porch, use the last of our free movie
rentals at Blockbuster, and sleep and eat and drink and play and
keep the world far far away.
I
don't even want to answer the phone.
So I
think tonight I'll keep busy and help the hours fly by until the
kiddie's bedtime by cleaning the house so that it's all sparkly
and crumb-free and Saturday morning I can sit on my porch before
anyone wakes up and have my coffee and my cigarette and be nice
to the dog a little bit, knowing there is absolutely no work to
be done.
I...unlike
The Eldest...will embrace my boredom. I want to be grounded, I
want a time out.
I
like to get what I want.
Oh. I fit
into a pair of jeans I wasn't able to fit into 2 weeks ago. They
aren't my little little little jeans that I WILL be fitting into
by Halloween (I will, I will, I will, I will) but this is some
progress I suppose.
It's
just nice to know that all I'm doing to lose this flubber hasn't
been done in vain, isn't a waste of time and a waste of
starvation. I'd hate to starve for nothing.
August
19, 2004...afternoon
How I'm doing today.
I was up until
2:30am. I was late to work. I haven't eaten anything since
yesterday afternoon. Even though I was crying about being hungry
as I was racing around the house this morning trying to leave
for work, no one tossed a sandwich together for me to take to
work like a caring family type person would do for another
family type person. I have one dollar and 3 dimes. My car is
still broken. I have some sort of intestinal problem. My lungs
feel like I'm breathing through a tangle of silly string. It's
so cold in here that I'm actually shivering. I don't want to be
alone tonight. I'm deciding between spending my one dollar and 3
dimes on a can of Diet Coke or a small bag of potato chips.
Eenie
Meenie.
I
think I'll get the Coke because my stomach is so empty that I
think potato chips will only aggravate my intestinal problem.
Tonight
I'm laying on the sofa. No I'm not, I have shit to do of course.
Ug.
I feel horrible.
August
19, 2004...I'm such a loser!
12:52am
I'm "Auty"
mkay? I went into the Model Builders room in Yahoo chat's hobby
section.
Why?
I dunno. Because I'm an ass, I think.
This
is a screen shot. After I took this screen shot, I got 3 other
instant messages from guys looking to build models with me.
He
sent me a smiley face. Is that like 1st base?
August
18, 2004...later in the blustery evening I have a complaint
to file.
I was not exactly bored,
although I probably was because I haven't decided upon a hobby
to pursue yet, but I was looking for something. SOMETHING
to do.
I dunno what, someone
to commiserate with live, maybe, about how rotten it is being a
parent...so I went into a Yahoo Parenting Chat Room.
No
one told me that people don't talk about parenting in a Yahoo
Parenting Chat Room.
I
mean, does she_likes_it_anal really want to chat with me about
getting a child with ADD ready for school after 3 month's summer vacation?
No. She does not.
I
sooooo want to post the link to a another person's Yahoo profile
who I Yahoo instant messaged with tonight. I don't know if this
person liked it anal,
but she did have "hottie" in part of her Yahoo
name.
She has that 1970s beauty pageant queen
Glamour Shots hairdo, only she looks to be about 10 years my
junior. That is sad. Very scary.
SO...this woman
with "hottie" in her name instant
messaged me on Yahoo because I was asking a question about
"why are people having sex here instead of talking about
parenting issues" and making an ass out of myself because
it was fun. During my IM session with this chick, we talked about porn. We talked about how my Hubby has a fantasy about me
and Angelina Jolie and about how Hubby said that I'd only have
to "you know, lick her nipples and stuff."
Stupid
me, before the lesbian licking nipple thing, she prompted me to
be added to my Yahoo list of friends.
Seeing
as I have a couple vodkas under my belt and the kids are asleep,
I authorized her request.
I
then read this in her profile:
Occupation:
home pre school teacher
Combine
that with the 1970s beauty pageant queen Glamour Shots hair do,
I figure that she's probably very Christian.
Then
I read this in her profile:
Occupation:
Avon
Then
I knew. Kinda.
Hobbies: waterarobics,
goin to the beach
Sloppy
and Christian, possibly 60 years old.
Then
this in her profile:
Latest News: no
lesbians or bi wpmen need not to im me no pervs to ty
Super
sloppy, or from Alabama. I'm
a tad confused on part of this, like the "wpmen" and
the "ty". Did she mean "women" and
"try"?
Well..
anyways, I think she's a faker because I read that profile after
I was talking about nipple licking with Angelina Jolie. She
should have said "Demon woman! Be gone with you!"
But
she didn't.
Should
I play with her at another time? She's on my Yahoo list now.
Or
would that be mean? It'd be mean, and I'm not a mean person.
Even to strangers. Unles...unless I knew for sure he/she was
full of shit then I could play into hisher game and fuck him/her
over. That'd be fun, and not at all mean.
I
mean c'mon. She asked me where I worked, right off the bat!
Yeah.
(I
didn't tell her/him obviously)
Can
you tell I've been on the net for a while? I'm cynical. Yay for
me!
GOD
I wish Hubby would get home from work with those cigarettes
before That Baby wakes up and wants some snuggling and a bottle.
Although...after
being in a Yahoo chat room tonight, I'm not above a little baby
snuggle at midnight. It could help to cleanse this icky feeling I have
hanging about myself.
August
18, 2004...later that same blustery evening Dooce By the
way, you don't have to be a parent to read her.
She's the bestest.
Tonight
I didn't want to laugh reading about her daughter's
immunizations, but I couldn't help myself because her
description of everything, from the silent scream followed by
the real scream, to the "butcher paper" they have on the
examining tables, I just related so much to that. I think I laughed with a sympathetic
"been there" pout on my face. So that must count for
something.
Anyhow...Dooce
is right - parenthood makes no sense.
August
18, 2004...in the blustery evening It's a Windsday That's a
Pooh reference. I say that because "it's a rather blustery
day".
Was
a time when I
would reference grown up stuff like films or books or Seinfeld
or historical events.
Now
I say shit like "I don't think it is, it's not meant
to be." - Rabbit, Winnie the Pooh
And
"Remember when Jetta poo-pooed the idea of Emily Elizabeth
writing to her favorite pop singer? Yeah well, this is like
that." - Clifford the Big Red Dog reference.
I
need a hobby...a grown up hobby such as one that requires messy
stuff and sharp pointy cutting items and things that will kill
you if you drink them. A hobby that means only I, Jennifer - the
woman, not the mother - can do.
I
have an opinion to state My long
time readers may recall a day when I said that Andy Warhol was a
hack. A commercialized hack who used commercialization and mass
production to his ego's benefit and called it art...because he
was throwing pop culture and commercialization back at itself
and saying "Haha! I call myself an artist therefore you are
art! Because I'm weird!"
I
guess when I was 15/16 years old and went to a large prestigious
art gallery and saw this
with a rope around it to keep people's fingers off of it, and
all the plain white walls and lighting that highlighted it, I
thought "this is really stupid."
And
it was.
And
I was a person who wanted to be an artist. Went to school for
art. Speaking of hobbies, I need to do more creative shit. I
want to paint again. I'm good. Sincerely.
So
here's my opinion, until now unstated: poetry is boring. So is
Shakespeare.
Enjoy.
PS -
horoscopes are shit, as I've always thought. My evening has been
rather stress-free and actually kinda enjoyable. I spit on the
stars. *spit*
August
18, 2004...god dammit GOD DAMMIT! I hate
you horoscope. YOU SUCK!
You’re
likely to start the day feeling fairly positive and energetic,
and probably in the mood to have a little fun as well. But later
tonight, certain responsibilities might keep you from doing some
things that you’d really like to do and you could start to
feel a little irritable or stressed out before the day is
through.
Although...just
kinda sounds like a typical weekday for me.
August
18, 2004...Almost forgot Mmmmm...coffee When I
went down to the cafeteria to get myself some steaming
turd in a cup coffee, there was
this not unattractive guy who looked to be about 25 years old.
I'd never seen him before.
Guess
what? He was checking me out. I mean, he was like looking at me every
chance he got, I was constantly catching him looking at me and
when I did he'd look down or away or something.
This
was beginning to thrill me, but then I realized that every other
woman in that cafeteria was about 75 pounds overweight and maybe
10 years away from retirement.
I
guess I was the best thing going at the time.
August
18, 2004
God's not
on your side. Mkay? Was
reading some article entitled "Who would Jesus vote
for?" regarding the presidential election.
I
choked down that article. It wasn't easy.
You
see...Jesus wouldn't vote for either of those guys. He was
critical of man's earthly processes because the dude was all
about God's kingdom.
And
politics is all about pride and holy shit...it's one of the most
sinful professions, politics is, right up there with
prostitution.
Jesus
would go see Bush and Kerry and he would administer to them,
pray for them, tell them that they are forgiven if they truly
want to be for all of their sins, especially the boastful sins
of pride.
Oh...and
the sins of killing people or sending others to kill.
Jesus
would weep for them and ask them to change their ways.
He
wouldn't vote for either of them. He was here to save man so
that someday God's kingdom could reign on earth, not man's
kingdom.
So...people
are fucking idiots. And I have something controversial to say:
We're
all burning in hell. I think we should all come to grips with
the fact that the doorway to heaven is narrow. Says so in the
bibble. I honestly believe that we tell ourselves things to make
ourselves feel better, but if you read the bibble...well...heaven
is gonna be filled with children, aborted babies, and the
mentally retarded because you have to be
incredibly...un-humanly...innocent and or pious.
Sorry.
Welp!
Might as well whip out the booze and the naughty parts and enjoy
ourselves before we die after suffering some horrible disease
right before we burn for eternity.
Rock
on!
Actually
- I dunno what I'm talking about.
August
17, 2004...later that very same day A list of
things that have happened thus far this evening 1. That
Baby can and wants to grasp onto little baby toys now. He enjoys
this. His favorite
letter is "R". "R" is blue and smooth and
easy to grasp and has an interesting flavor that makes one grimace,
not in a totally unpleasant way.
2. The Toddler removed from That Baby's hands, each toy mother
gave him. Toddler would then shove the toys behind Baby's head,
causing him to waver between being amused and greatly annoyed.
3. The dog farted. Twice. Mother thinks the dog smiled.
4. Jimmy the Masturbator is sleeping over and wanted to know if
they could drip lighter fluid from a lighter so as to drench
"something" and "set it on fire".
5. Mother said "no" and "go home". Then
mother changed her mind with a threat on anyone's life should
they set something on fire.
6. Mother learned a new favorite word: diatribe.
7. Mother delivered a diatribe about "fire" and
"working hard to have this house" and "babies
live in this house" and "burnt
flesh" and "never being able to get a date when your
older".
8. Mother discovered that someone, possibly The Toddler,
has hidden most of That Baby's toys so well that mother cannot
find them. Mother spent a better part of the evening nurturing
her obsessive compulsive tendencies by searching and not finding
any of the missing toys.
9. Mother looked in The Toddler's diapers for the missing toys.
Mother even had this thought: "Did she swallow them?"
and momentarily thought this would be possible and actually
looked in The Toddler's mouth for the missing toys, believing
with every fiber of her being that this was a perfectly logical
place for toys to be hidden.
10. Mother decided, when she didn't find toys in The Toddler's
mouth, that mother should stop being a ridiculous woman.
August
17, 2004 Japanimation Ok, so
like last night I go upstairs to our bedroom around 12:30am and
That Baby was sleeping in our bed and Hubby was on the computer.
I pull the down comforter off of the bed and laid it on the
floor and then I laid myself on it.
Without
going into too much detail, I thought I'd let Hubby have some
sex, mkay? Wives do that sometimes.
Alright.
So once Hubby realizes that I'm not laying on the floor getting
ready to do scrunches, he gets up and as he's disrobing he's not
looking at me...he's watching cartoons on the television.
His
wife is lying seductively on the floor...a woman whose only
interest at that moment is him...and he can't take his
eyes of the TV.
Christ.
I
can't really blame him, though, because anime girls have better
bodies than us mere mortals. Also, I don't think he was in the
mood. I think he was doing me a favor just by taking his
underwear off so I could see his pecker.
I
don't think this would have bothered me that much if I hadn't
told him earlier that evening that I'm sad because I want things
to be the way they used to be, all romantic and stuff.
After
sex (which wasn't that bad, truth be told), I told him that I hated him while I
ate a bagel. Wives do that sometimes.
Then
I passed out and 4 hours later the alarm went off and I got up
to go to work.
And
now, 4 hours after that, I think my asshole is
having a puckering contest with my gallbladder.
Other
than that - my day is going splendidly. I found a dollar bill in
my shoe!
August
16, 2004...11:11pm Yeah,
so... I got
home from work tonight and Hubby said "I'm home
tonight" because he called work to say that the wife was
sick and couldn't take care of the kids, yadda.
Which
is true, because I am sick. Sick in the head. And I thanked him
for calling in to work. He finally got the message that I've
been sending, the one that says "Help! Help!"
I
don't know how much longer I can take getting up at 5:30am,
getting to work by 7am, working until 3:30pm, running errands
and getting home by 4:30pm to kiss the husband goodbye so he can
go to work until midnight...on a good night.
Mondays
he's gone to 3am sometimes.
Wah
wah, my husband is in the army and stationed overseas.
I
know. I know all about that so I have no reason to complain. I
think about that, and I care about our military families and
what they sacrifice with their spouses overseas in harm's way...
...and
then I think "I want sex."
And
I think "I'm too tired for sex."
And
then I think "My husband isn't stationed overseas in the
army in harm's way, he just works nights, and I'm still
too tired for sex even though I can have sex with a person and
not my finger each and every day if I wanted to so therefore I'm an idiot who
doesn't know how good she's got it."
I
know this.
And
I don't want to think that way.
Because
I'm selfish.
So
then I think all this so I don't think about wives and families with husbands
stationed overseas. I
think about this:
Hubby
and I need to look into our budget, see what's coming in and
going out, because I swear to God that the last time I checked
we should have about $1,000 a month left over after bills.
"Left
over" money for food and meds and clothes and tampons and
toothpaste and dog food and school stuff and fun stuff.
So I
was thinking the following things:
"Where
is all of our money going and how come I only have $40 in my
checking account?"
"Hubby
can reduce his hours and be home by 9:30pm 4 nights a
week."
"I
wish we had a savings so we could actually do this because that
would make me feel more comfy in case someone got sick."
"I
wish my car was fixed and that Hubby didn't buy a $300 sword and
that I knew for sure if I was officially a diabetic or
not."
"I
wish someone would break into the house so I could put that
fucking battle-ready full-tang $300 sword to good use."
"Hubby
could still work for the same company so if after a couple
months it didn't work out, he could go back to regular
hours."
"Hubby
could work extra hours one week a month."
See
folks - I'm deciding between money and my sanity. Which is more
important.
I
love my husband. I want him here in the evenings. I need the
help because I'm weak and 37 and my babies are little and I'm
tired after working all day.
YES
I blog at work, but on my breaks. I needed 4 people - FOUR
PEOPLE - to fill in for me on my maternity leave, and even with
that, a portion of my job went undone because only I can do it.
So I
do work, bitches.
Money
vs. Sanity.
And
I asked Hubby over the weekend the following question...he
called it a riddle as in "why are you riddling me?"
What
is more? A gallon of water or an ounce of whisky?
Pay
attention to the word "more". "More" doesn't
necessarily mean volume. It can mean potency, poison, etc.
What
is more? I ask you?
At
the time I was thinking about pregnancy. I was pregnant for 2
years, basically, and my body doesn't do pregnancy well. My body
does not like pregnancy.
And
my mind? It don't like it neither.
I'm
confusing you, and that's good because now you know where my
mind is at. It's in SHIT.
People
- I'm very unhappy. Dreading going home from work to be
with my children is not a good thing. I can give up smoking. I
can give up...ummm...well that's really the only thing I spend
money on that I don't need.
We
went to the Ren Faire this weekend and I looked at a $20 silver
ring (because I really wanted another big silver Celtic ring for
my thumb since I lost the one I had at Metallica last summer)
but I said "too 'spensive" and walked away.
I
rarely buy myself anything. I scrape eye shadow out of the
containers with my fingernail until there is nothing left before
I buy new eye shadow.
You
know you do it, too, but will you admit to it? Ever use that
same fingernail to scrape the last remnants of deodorant out of
it's container and rub it on your armpits?
Yes
you have. You've done the same.
Hubby
has 4...FOUR...containers of deodorant in the medicine cabinet,
none of them even partially empty. He's got 2 Ax roll-on things
and 2 Ax spray on things...hoping it will drive me crazy, like
the commercials.
I
have 2...TWO. One got partially scraped out by my fingernails
before I finally, and I might add guiltily, bought a can of
spray deodorant to finally end this scraping business once and
for all! YAY ME!
I
put mascara on my lashes even after the mascara tube is empty. I
pretend. It makes me feel lovely.
ANYHOW
- you people came up with some really cool names for my new web
site and I'm still trying to decide because now (thanks to you)
I'm like a kid in a candy store. DAMN YOU!
That
said, you must be able to come up with some cool ideas for how
Hubby and I can make ends meet and still have a fun money left
over with him working less.
Fun
Money = movie rentals and take out Chinese food. We are simple
people.
And
I shop at Wal-Mart and I never buy meat unless it's on sale. Or
hamburger....because we like hamburger.
And
here...this picture is necessary for everybody's sanity.
It's a picture of The Toddler when she was a baby.
How
can you look at that and not be happy?
August
16, 2004...one hour before I have to go home Toe Today I
had a meeting, a training session of sorts, where a man I work
with was teaching a room full of women (that includes me) how to
do something new.
I
have worked with this man, off and on, for several years.
How
is it, then, that am I just noticing he has a toe on his
right hand?
I
think it's replacing his thumb.
I
sat there for two hours, wanting so badly to interrupt the
meeting, "Excuse me, but could you please explain the
toe?"
I
kept telling myself "do not mention the toe" and
"it would be a big mistake to mention the toe" and
"stop looking at the toe".
And
I kept asking myself "how come he never told me about the
toe?" and "where's the thumb?"
Needless
to say, I haven't a clue as to what was being taught at that
meeting today.
August
16, 2004...lunchwalktoiletbreaketc a·cute
(-kyt)
adj.
Having a sharp
point or tip.
Of great
importance or consequence; crucial: an acute lack of
research funds.
Extremely
sharp or severe; intense: acute pain; acute relief.
I'm
lonely. Alone. I'm suffering from an acute case of aloneliness.
August
16, 2004
Toddlers They are
like pregnant women - they'll drive you mad. Sometimes they are
so full of life and love and happiness, spilling over with unadulterated
joy and excitement. Other times they are scary and unpredictable
and mean.
N-a-u-g-h-t-y.
The
Toddler was very huggy yesterday morning. She wanted to be held
and cuddled constantly. She was generous with her kisses and
interested in all that I was doing and wanted to share with me
all of her books and stuffed animals.
Very
playful and loving.
Then
at one point when she and I were in the kitchen, I was standing
in the corner by the phone and the notebooks and pencils, facing
the wall, adding something else to that day's shopping list.
The
Toddler ran up behind me and putting her hands on my hips she
hugged me.
I
thought, "How sweet, she's hugging me again."
Then
she bit my ass.
She
bit my BUTT.
I
whirled around which caused her let go and dance around
excitedly. I said, "What did you do?!"
With
her face angled down towards the floor, and her eyes lifted up
to meet mine, she put her finger on her lower lip and said with
the most saccharine tone, "Awwwwww..."
Then
she ran away.
Little
shit bit my fanny. Now I'm afraid to turn my back to her. She
might take a chunk outa me.
August
15, 2004
I am a
big fat cow. I am a
big fat cow, a big fat cow, a big fat cow.
I am a big fat cow, won't you look at me. OY!
You
sing that to the Mary had a Little Lamb tune.
I'm
very hard on myself in terms of everything my
appearance, yet I like to show people pictures of myself. Why
would that be? It's kinda weird, like weird in a needy weird
way.
Well,
I'm weird. What can I say.
Hope
you have DSL. Or high sheep. Speed. I'm not gonna correct that
typo because it's funny.
Hardy
har har.
ANYWAYS....I
got pics from our trip to the Renaissance Festival yesterday. I
also got pics of my new hair that I took the night that my new
hair happened...last Thursday? Dunno. I have short term memory
loss.
I
currently have a love/hate relationship with my hair. I love it
when I run my fingers through it and tussle it, I hate it when I
look at it. I guess I'm more of a toucher than an
I-get-turned-on-by-viewing kinda girl.
AHYHOW...I
put up pages of the pics, two separate pages, on my old web site
(My Bitchy Pregnancy) so that you'll crash that site while
trying to view the pics that I really tried to make smaller (I
really tried), instead of crashing this site. I hope.
The
first page is of my hair. I was wearing my Grumpy tee shirt,
which was fitting.
The
second page is of the renn faire. I was walking around the faire
all day yesterday saying shit like "Am I as fat as
her?" and "My boobs aren't big enough."
And
last year I took a lot of pics of people I saw at the faire,
"normal" people like me who dress up, not people who
work there. Last year I got pics of a guy who looked like Gimli
from Lord of the RIngs...he
was cool. And I got a pic of a chick who was dressed from head to
toe as a drow - that's a dark elf, DnD thing.
Lord
of the Rings was really in play last year, that was the theme
for folks dressing up...lotsa elves.
But
this year I think Pirates of the Caribbean
influenced a lot of people. LOTSA swashbuckling types with
rapiers and big pirate hats and long hair with pointy beards and
dandy pirate clothing.
I
got a pic of the best pirate couple I saw, as well as pics of
your assorted weirdoes and one pic of a semi-hottie warrior guy.
People
at the faire - they like to get their pictures taken. They don't
dress up like that in order to blend in with the crowd, and when
you single them out for a picture - it's the highest compliment.
They are very accommodating. So thanks to them...I'm sorry
I fed you the line about being a photo journalist. tee hee.
August
13, 2004...10:00pm It's
10:00pm Wanna
know what
time it is? It's 10:00pm.
Wanna
know what I hate?
I
hate that this is the earliest time in the evening over the last
3 days where I've been free of work or kids after having been up
since 5:30am. Last couple nights it's been around midnight
12:30am before I laid myself to rest.
I
hate that the two days previous to that, when the tots went down
nice and easy, that those were two days that seemed like
vacation days.
I
hate being this tired.
I
hate being this tired but having so much to do, like waiting for
blankets to get done washing and curtains to get done drying, so
I can't go lay down right now. Worse Case Scenario Woman is
coming over tomorrow to watch The Toddler and That Baby while
the rest of us go to the renaissance festival, so I've been
cleaning and washing things because my house smells like ass.
I
hate that my house smells like ass.
I
hate that my eyeballs feel like charcoal briquettes.
I
hate video game music.
I
hate my headache and I'm a whiner because I am not a person who
normally gets headaches so when I do it's as if my sky is
falling.
I
hate worrying about my daughter and whether or not she's
choking, strangling, drowning, eating poison, or setting herself
on fire.
I
hate not being able to go into her room to make sure she's not committing
suicide because if I do I'll ruin any small chance that she may
actually go to sleep before 12:30am.
I
hate that I don't want to dress up for the festival tomorrow,
but that I have to because if I don't I'll be viewed as a spoil
sport.
I
hate that no amount of crying or acting like the world was about
to crash in on me was enough for Hubby to say "Someone else
can do my job tonight, I'm staying home with you."
See
ya later. I'm gonna go hang some curtains and think of
how much I hate doing that.
I'll
put on my party face tomorrow and take pics so you can see just
how much fun I had at the faire.
August
13, 2004...lunch My
tomato tastes like a pickle And it's
vexing me.
Got
myself a plate of sliced tomatoes that were obviously
mingling with the pickles. My world is one major trauma after
another, isn't it?
My
scar Is my
c-section incision still supposed to be sore and swollen and
hard and lumpy after 3 months? I'm curious because it never was
the other two times, and for the last couple days it stings when
I cough or when something rubs up against it.
Nothing
very interesting ever rubs up against it. Just boring
stuff like zippers and seatbelts and baby buttocks. Occasionally
I'll get a dog snout or a garden hose, but mostly it's just my
clothes. And stuff.
*sigh*
Is
it normal to dread going home?
August
13, 2004...bathroom break Testing
out the new hairdo Had to go
to the can so I took a little stroll.
I've
been here for 31/2 hours, and not a single person has
said a thing about my hair. And you know, on a scale of 1 to 10
with 1 being the least amount of difference and 10 being a huge
difference, my new hairdo is registering a 7 on the radical
change scale.
Yet
not a single person has said a thing about it.
You
know what that means, don't you? It means my hair SUCKS.
I
may be able to share my new hairdon't with you as early as
Sunday evening because once Hubby figures out how much we need
to fork out for bills today, if we have enough money leftover we
might go to the renaissance festival tomorrow, and that means
pics.
Diet Had a
bagel with cream cheese at 12:30 am (that was supper), so I
haven't had anything to eat today except for good coffee from
the store down the street, 20oz bottle of Diet Coke, 2 pills, and a
stringy piece of my lip.
August
13, 2004
Was he thirsty? I scrub
the toilets in the house about once a week,
but to be perfectly honest I can't remember the last time I
scrubbed the main toilet upstairs. I think it's been more than a
week.
Last
night The Toddler decided (again) that she would rather not
sleep. I got her up and out of her crib around 10:30pm, and That
Baby and I sat on the sofa and stared at her.
That
got boring after while so That Baby and I called my husband and
left a voice mail that went something like this:
"THESE
BABIES NEVER SLEEP AND I'M NOT DOING THIS ANYMORE AND AT LEAST
YOU GET NAP TIME!"
Then
we went into the kitchen to wash bottles and nipples.
The
Toddler was playing with her guys (the stuffed Tigger, Pooh,
doggie, Elmo, etc) in the hallway.
Never,
EVER leave the bathroom door open.
Never.
I
think her stuffed doggie was thirsty because she was dunking him
in the toilet.
And I
think Tigger had to go poopy because whereas the
doggie was soaking wet from the head down to the middle of his
chest, Tigger was soaking wet from the tip of his tail to his
waist.
I
need to start wearing a camera around my neck because the look
on that girl's face was priceless when I came into the bathroom
and interrupted her. I wish I had captured that look on film.
"Die
dee da day?" she said to me, "Die dee da day,"
she repeated, this time with surety.
"Was
he thirsty?" was all I could say.
I
didn't wash the doggie or Tigger, I just kinda toweled them off
and threw them in the drier. This wouldn't be a problem if The
Toddler didn't insist that we kiss her guys all the time.
I
really don't want to kiss those two.
August
12, 2004...10:00pm My journey
towards the dark side is complete. My
hair. I got it cut.
*lop lop lop*
It's long on top, it's not short short, but
the longiness only goes
down to about an inch and a half below my earlobes and there is some
layering from that point up to about...the tops of my ears.
Still
have the bangs because Great Clips doesn't offer hairgrows yet.
Got
some Fat Hair pomade to make chunks. And stuff.
I
think they call this cut a bob? A new bob? A short bob? A shag?
A hag supreme? Mommy hair? I dunno.
I
look like an idiot.
So...I
get home tonight. The Eldest comes into the kitchen, "Oh!
You got your hair cut! It looks NICE! Hey Dad! Mom got a nice
hair cut!" The Eldest is like feeling all over my hair with
his hands, fluffing it up and brushing it back and he says,
"I think you should braid it."
What?
Anyhow....
Hubby
comes into the kitchen. He stops dead in his tracks,
"It's...different."
He
smiles. Actually what he offered me was a cockeyed smirk.
The
thing that still hangs with me 5 hours later, though, was the
'diverting of his eyes' thing when I was kinda hoping for the
'laying of his hands upon my hair' thing.
Hubby?
He can't be faulted. Truly. I hate my hair more than he does.
Hubby
is a long hair guy, meaning he likes women with long hair. Long,
fluffy, "I spent 3 hours in the bathroom" hair, or "I'm
genetically predisposed to having great hair" hair.
Porn
hair, as I enjoy referring to it.
So I'm
suddenly pissed. Not pissed...embarrassed. Of my hair.
I
start doing my get-home-from-work busy stuff and at one point I
enter the living room where Hubby is giving That Baby a bottle
before heading off to work and Hubby says, "Your hair looks
cute."
Too
late. Men...they never learn, do they? Once again, it's not his
fault. He didn't cut my hair. The cute Vietnamese girl with the
cool hair did.
A
little bit later Hubby says, "You don't take compliments
very well."
I'm
not a hair person, mkay? My hair is fine and thin and it's not
curly but it's not straight and I switch shampoos and products
all the time because if I use them long enough they don't do
their magic anymore.
I
get all gussied up to go out whenever I "GO OUT", like
without the kids, and my hair will look nice.
For
2 hours.
Then
is looks like shit again.
Doesn't
matter what cut I have, what products I use, I have shit hair.
Too
bad...The Toddler has inherited my shit hair. Hers is a prettier
color, but it's shit. Just like mom's. When she's older and
realizes that she has shit hair and that she got shit hair from
me, we'll spend many evenings alone together on the bathroom
floor, cuddling with our hair products and weeping.
I'm the Can't Do A Thing With My Hair
girl, and she will be too. She already is.
This
cut makes my face look fatter.
What
I said earlier - Here.
About how Hubby and I rarely if ever buy each other sweet
nothings "just because" anymore.
Well,
I stopped and got Hubby the new Metallica CD...the soundtrack to
their movie Some Kind of Monster.
I
wrapped it with a bow and stuck a lovey dovey card in there. I
wrote in the lovey dovey card "...because you aren't going
to the concert. xo Jennifer"
That's
my name. Now you all know.
See,
Metallica is playing here soon, and he's not
going. Nor am I. We have babies and jobs. And we saw Metallica
last summer, but they are playing with Godsmack this time and I
know he'd want to go. He tried to go, but they didn't have
tickets for the floor left so he didn't purchase them. He was
gonna go with a buddy of his...at my urging. "Go, go!"
I said.
Because
I'm a cool wife. And because I didn't care.
Anyhow,
I put the wrapped CD with the bow and the card on the seat of
the car so he'd find it when he left for work.
I
sat in the window of our house and watched him open it.
He
left for work.
He
called me on his cell phone to thank me.
I
think he didn't run back in the house quick to thank me because
he's afraid of my hair.
I'm
afraid of my hair.
Fear
the hair.
August
12, 2004... I have vitality? I never
knew.
TAURUS
(April 20-May 20). Efforts to look better are not made in vain.
You take pride in your public image and your personal
appearance. Enhanced self-esteem will benefit your health,
whereas a lack of self-confidence drains your vitality.
Today's
walk No deer.
No hawks. The big black beetle was back again, though, and I saw
a large-breasted woman jogging.
That's
gotta hurt.
My
Diet I'm
reporting my food, remember? Lunch was 1/2 baked potato with
banana peppers, Diet Coke, two 12oz cups of water.
And
a piece of gum that tasted like chewy toothpaste.
Well...gotta
go. On my walk I was thinking about how Hubby and I rarely if
ever give each other little tokens of love and romance like
cards and little gifts and stuff like that.
It
depressed the hell out of me.
I
guess babies make romance an afterthought. I guess that's why
people cheat on each other - #1 it gets them away from their
babies and the spouse that reminds them of their spousy/baby
ridden lives, and #2 it gives them excitement and romance again.
Remember
when you first met? Yeah. Me too. If you could package that
feeling and sell it, you'd have rolls of Benjamins popping out
of your ass each time you sneezed.
It's
the best drug.
And
don't misunderstand me...I love my husband, I just mourn the old
days a little bit now and worry that we'll never get that back.
Working opposite hours and being tired all the time and being
poor and being super stressed and not having a reliable
babysitter for evenings doesn't help. At all.
We're
doomed.
As I
said - I'm depressed now so it's best if I just shut up and do
my work and try not to think about how shitty my hair always
looks and about how my biggest fear these days is what if those
Levi's never fit me again and how shallow that makes me.
August
12, 2004...caffeine break
Ask me how I am
I'm fine.
Standard
answer.
I
try not to complain anymore. I try not to communicate anymore.
Doesn't seem to help. At all.
And
now it's almost time to find my sneakers so I can put a little
more mileage on my lard ass. Can someone please explain to me
why when I stand up I can actually see nice definition starting
to seep through to the outer layers of my stomach, some nice
shaping in my belly, but when I lay down on my side it looks
like someone dropped an empty potato sack?
Must
be post-pregger extra skin. I'm considering pinning it back with
olive forks.
And
I'm considering a short 'do. A nice cute short 'do.
And
a tattoo.
No.
Tats are boring. How about a nose piercing. A teeny nose
piercing.
How
about getting my head out of my ass and remembering that I'm not
19 anymore?
August
12, 2004
What I'm
wearing Black suede backless
shoes, black clam diggers, long sleeve black blouse with one too
few buttons buttoned (I want a raise), black jacket with hood,
black fleece jacket, red fleece blanket wrapped around legs and
feet.
It's
August. And I'm in my office.
Happy
birthday! That Baby is
3-months-old today, and he doesn't look a day over 21/2
months. Healthy living, I guess
The
coffee sucks What I
need is a thermos so that I can bring my own coffee to work. You
know that taste your get in your mouth after you've licked the
business end of a hammer and then sprayed furniture polish on
your teeth? Yeah, that's what I get for drinking this fucking
coffee.
Diet So far
today I've eaten 10oz Diet Coke, 8oz offensive coffee, one egg,
1/2 an English muffin, and 4 pills on purpose...toothpaste,
soap, an ash, and Secret aerosol deodorant/antiperspirant by
accident.
August
11, 2004...10:15pm Gosh Darn
It The
Toddler's crying in her crib. That Baby is wide awake. I must
have cursed God's name one too many times today.
See,
God and I have this deal - He allows me a certain amount of
taking His name in vain if I promise to not kill anyone.
I
think I have exceeded my daily quota.
Web
Site Names Very
interesting. Thank you for your ideas.
My
Diet I think
I'll start posting my daily intake of food. I'll start now with
dinner. Yes...I had dinner. Kinda.
4
large pretzel sticks and 1/4 cup of salsa and 8oz. of skim milk.
I'm
just babbling boring babble because I have nothing to post and I must go rock
That Baby and from the sounds being released by my little
banshee, I should probably get her out of her cage before she
implodes.
I'll
finish up for the evening by posting this crumby picture of me and the little feller who
smiles all the time. He really is a very charming guy.
I
don't know why he's so good natured. What's he got to be happy
about every frickin' minute of the day?
Without
further adieu, here's me and Mr. Bobble Head:
Like
my hair? Me neither.
While
I'm at it - my banshee -
August
11, 2004...I'm back from my walk It
started to sprinkle Wasn't as
cold as I remember it being from 7 hours ago. I'm actually
rather warm now, probably shouldn't have run that last set of
stairs as many times as I did because now I get to sit here for the remainder of the
day with damp hair, feeling stinko.
And
I didn't see a deer today, only a hawk soaring above looking for
his lunch.
I'm
never gonna lose this weight.
August
11, 2004...pfft My
husband is checking up on me Spoke to
him over the phone and he asked me something along the lines of
something he would never ask me...in normal English, he asked me
something out of character.
He
said "Have you gone for your walk yet?"
Well,
no. I hadn't. Wasn't really planning on it, either, seeing as
it's cold and windy and I didn't bring a warm enough jacket.
But
now I'm going to go for my walk because now I feel like he's
checking up on me because although he'd
never admit to it, seeing as he's too gentlemanly, he'll be very happy when I'm not fat and out
of shape. What man doesn't want his woman to look
Playboy-worthy?
I
cannot be lied to. I'm too cynical. Plus I know my husband too
well...I know what he likes and I look nothing like that.
Well...here
I go. I
hope I get sick.
August
11, 2004
I'm
right and you know it Guns and
Roses is the suckiest band. EVER.
August
10, 2004...11:30pm Can't
sleep.
Makes sense, seeing as how tired I am all the time.
That
Baby woke up and had a bottle and went back to sleep. *blink
blink* I think this is it...the going to bed at a kid's bedtime
that comes with being a kid. I'm gonna enjoy it seeing as I know
he'll change once he becomes The Toddler's age...who is sleeping
again tonight.
*bangs
on wood*
ANYHOW
- ideas
1.
Wouldn't it be weird if I held a chat, like created a chat on
Yahoo?
2. Domain names....so I'm wanting to go legit with this web and
momster.com momster.net are taken and I don't really want that
anyways.
I
want to have a blog called Momster on a website. Following me?
But I want the web site domain name to be something that
encompasses all of who I am, not just the mom thing. Because,
like, I do other things.
And
I'd want room to grow into other things like potentially a photo
journal of my life and my town and my hobbies....or hobbies I
hope to have like photography and archery and scrap booking and
painting.
So
my blog...this blog...would be a part of something bigger. So
the domain name can't be mommy stuff and I don't want my real
name as my domain name because I don't.
SO -
here's some ideas, and I'm gonna ask you for your ideas too, but
in order to do that I need to tell you a few core things about
me:
funny
is better than serious, I wanted to be a rock star, I refer to
myself as a girl because I feel like a girl, I'm scary and I
like to be scared, I like flowers, I like medieval or renaissance
stuff, I like weaponry especially knives and swords, I'm into
fantasy art and lit and movies along the lines of Lord of the
Rings and Dragonlance, I used to role play as in Dungeons and
Dragons, my favorite animal is the gorilla, and I believe in
dragons and in God, I am interested in astronomy and the
paranormal, and I'm cynical...or as I prefer, realistic, and I'm
equally conservative and liberal in my politics depending on the
issue, therefore I always vote for who I deem to be the lesser
of the two evils because all politicians suck, and I'm not
afraid of controversy. Oh...and I like sparkly things that make
sweet jingling noises and deep purple is my favorite color. And
"Autumn" is an old online handle of mine that I am
very attached to. And I'm not a prude. No kidding.
And
themes I'd like to go with could include autumn, purple with
sparkles, monsters, renaissance or medieval stuff, knives and
swords, dragons and dragon-like behavior, humor, religious like
themes done satirically, I like food and drink,
family/kids/marriage, 30somethingness, i dunno.
My
domain name ideas are as follows. From my research, they are
available:
GAH!
I need one word. One word webs are the bestest. Sum me up in one
word or a cool combination of a few words.
Fill
me with your ideas the way that Hubby fills me with sperm. Sperm
that can longer make people...in me. Yay!
Maybe
I give you a prize if I go with your idea...like a Amazon gift
certificate because those can be used at all kinds of different
stores online. Yippee!
August
10, 2004...9:30pm Gosh.
I'm popular.
Too popular
for geocities. Those pages with the pics, well with close to 200
page views a day I was hitting maximum data transfer so my site
was unavailable on and off all day.
That
is why I took the pics down, and that's why I'm looking to go
legit with this site. Any and all advice is helpful and
appreciated regarding hosts and tools. (Thanks bud!).
So bring it on, I want to check out all tried and true methods.
Let's
blog about the weather
It's in the low 50s right now. The high today was 59, I think.
Apparently we broke a record low.
Hello?
God? Mother Nature? The wizard behind the curtain
running the show? Stephen Spielberg? (by the way, The Eldest
wrote S.S. when he was like 7 and told him how he liked his
movies and my son got a letter and autographed picture in the
mail...cool, huh?)
It's
AUGUST!
Christ...
And
now The Eldest is mad at me because I turned on the furnace. I
had to explain the finer points of having a toddler who sleeps
with her shirt pushed up to her arm pits, her pants pushed up to
her crotch, and with blankets that slip off of her as she
sleeps.
The
pulling up of blankets to cover one's body is a learned skill.
Just
trying to heat the house a tiny bit, is all. My son is as
temperature sensitive as I am, only everything is too hot for
him. I'm the opposite. I'm always cold.
So
anyways. What the hell is going on with the weather. We've had a
shitty summer here. July was nice. June was like October. August
is turning into November.
Why
are both of my little one's sleeping? Does God love me now?
What's the deal? If there's a deal, then there's a catch. So
what's the catch?
OH!
My gallbladder is feeling funny like it's gonna start bitching
at me come 1am.
I
live a charmed life.
Actually...I
do. My husband picks up the house before I get home from work so
it's not all shitty looking.
Yay
for me!
Guess
what I did tonight?
I scrubbed the tub, washed all my daughter's linens, aired out
all her rugs and stuff in this nice cold windy weather we're
having, vacuumed, washed the kitchen cabinets with Murphy's Oil
Soap, gave both little one's baths, read books to The Toddler,
folded laundry, dusted, and had 4 beers.
I
can drink any man under the table when it comes to beer. It's
all the fat in my body, it absorbs the barleyahol and the
hopsahol.
If
you want to get laid, though...feed me wine. I seem to fuck when
I've had wine.
But
then I puke, so that's no fun.
Race.
This is a
blog, mkay? When I am talking about folks I meet, I am going to
describe (in my own sweet way) what they look like. That often
requires me to call out their ethnicity or race.
Doesn't
mean I'm some suburban honky who doesn't like people different
than me.
I'm
the exact opposite. I like the differences in people and I think
we should point them out often and not make it something you
don't talk about.
Like
"I don't see color". Bullshit. And that is an insult
to people who are a different color than you. You think they
want you to see them for something they are not? Don't you think
they want to be seen for who they are?
Anyhow...how
else am I supposed to paint a picture for you unless I describe
what they look like, huh? Is a fat Polynesian woman supposed to
be a pleasantly plump, black-haired woman with orangey-tan skin?
Fuck off. She was a fat Polynesian woman, and she was a bitch.
If she hadn't have been, then I would have described her as a
nice short Polynesian woman who was very accommodating and
polite.
If a
white woman describing what non-white people look like is
offensive to you, I suppose I
could do a photo blog and take pictures of everyone I meet like
this guy:
That's
my favorite parking attendant. I took his picture telling him
that I was a photo journalist and that it was for my personal
use. He was going to charge me 50 bucks. Then he got all
flustered because he didn't have his glasses.
Does
he remind you of anyone?
August
10, 2004...12:30pm On
my walk today...
...I saw the ass end of a deer as it ran away from me. I just
about crapped my pants.
I
generally don't expect to see large hoofed animals when I go for
my walks.
I
also saw a big fat black beetle, 3 box elder bugs stacked atop
of each other, an abandoned man's dress shoe, a red M&M, and an
Indian couple walking (dots not feathers) and when I smiled at
them in passing the woman of the pair glared at me.
That
wasn't very nice of her.
Curses
My hair is falling out. I've read before that this can happen
between your baby's 3rd and 6th month birthdays, but it's never
happened to me before.
It's
pissing me off.
Carrots
I just got filled up on a small plate of steamed carrots. My
stomach must be shrinking.
Now
if I could just get filled up on something small and delicious
like those teeny little quiches and still lose weight, then
that'd really be something.
August
10, 2004
Domain
I'm gonna purchase my own domain name and do this web the proper
way.
Let
me know who you use for web hosting, and what you use as a
blogging tool, etc. I create my own pages, I don't use templates
or anything like that.
My
email is right up there. Inform me. Danka.
Today's
Agenda
1. Dishwasher repairman is coming today...between 8am and 4pm.
2. OH MY GAWD! The television in The Eldest's room isn't
working. Oh the humanity!
3. Call my local Wal-Mart and file a Big Fat Complaint against
Big Fat Polynesian Woman in Photolab.
Why,
you ask?
Hubby
dropped off 3 rolls of film Sunday evening. He forgot to ask for
CDs. Fine. Whatever.
I
call that Wal-Mart at 2:45pm yesterday afternoon. I say to
Limited English Speaking Guy in the photolab "Hey
dude...can you make CDs to go along with those pictures?"
Dude
says "Yes of course. When you plan to pickumup?"
I
says, "In an hour? Could they be ready in an hour?"
Dude
say "Yes of course."
So I
swing by Wal-Mart on my way home from work to pick up these
photos and CDs...an hour after making that phone call. This was
no happy task, mind you, as I have about a 45 minute window from
the time I leave my work until I need to be home in order to run
errands. If I'm put off my tight schedule at all, Hubby ends up
being late for work.
So I
get to Wal-Mart and the pictures weren't ready.
Big
Fat Polynesian Woman looks at me and says, "They're not
ready" and "You wanted three CDs?"
I
says, "Yeah. I was told they'd be ready in an hour. It's
been an hour."
Big
Fat Polynesian Woman is looking at me like I'm the biggest pain
in the ass she's had to deal with all day, "Well I don't
know who you talked to because I'm just getting back from
lunch."
I'm
thinking "not my problem" and "how was the pig's
ass? did you shove your whole face in there to eat it out, or
did you use a shovel?"
What
I say to her is "Well, when will they be ready?"
Big
Fat Pig Ass Eatin' Polynesian Woman says to me, "Maybe 15
minutes."
She's
really looking at me now like she's got better things to do.
I
says to her, "Will they be ready in 15 minutes,
or...." or what. I'm looking for an honest estimation
of how long it's gonna take because I'm thinking that I was told they'd be
ready in an hour and they weren't ready so should I hang around
for 15 minutes when I really should be hauling my ass home?
Side
Note - #1 rule of customer service is don't tell me your job.
She starts telling me her job, explaining why it's a difficult
task. I don't care. All I want is the product or service
promised to me to be delivered to me in the way it was promised
to be delivered. You bitch. #2 rule of customer service is don't
look at me like I'm a pain in the ass. #3 rule of customer
service is don't promise me something you can't deliver on. If
the CDs can't be ready until the next day...FINE. Fiddly Fucking
Fine! Just tell me that, don't tell me "an hour" or
"15 minutes". Mkay? Because you are really
putting me out. Mkay?
Pig
Crabby Pig Ass Eatin' Sweaty Polynesian Woman says,
"Well...yeah, maybe 15..." she turns around and starts
walking away from me.
So I
leave Wal-Mart and I go home fuming.
Hubby
leaves. Hubby goes to this Wal-Mart. Hubby picks up the film and
the CDs from this woman who I now hate. This woman says
to Hubby the following two things:
1.
First she explains her job to him, then she says "So
normally we'd have to charge you yadda yadda yadda, but we'll
just charge you this instead" like she's doing him a big
damn favor. She should have given him the CDs for free.
2. Then she says "Your wife was rushing us."
Listen
bitch. Don't complain to my husband about my behavior. You are
the ones who promised me something, inconvenienced me during my
most stressful part of the day because you did not deliver on
your promise, and now you are telling on me to my husband?
I
was rushing you? I was rushing you? And you are
telling my husband this? For what purpose? Why didn't you just
say "You're wife's a bitch"?
Shit.
I
think I just popped a filling, my teeth were clenched so tightly.
I
hate you.
*hiss*
August
9, 2004...10:00pm Pictures
(deleted...hope you enjoyed them)
I'm not gonna
say shit about how both of the younger tots are sleeping because
that only means that one of them is gonna wake up.
Well
I said it. Jinx supreme.
Since
I said it, I might as well let you know that I've found the
secret formula to getting The Toddler to go to sleep without
much fussing - turn off the baby monitor.
Turn
off the
receiving end of the monitor. If I don't listen to her, she goes
to sleep. A watched pot never boils?
*crosses
fingers and toes*
ANYHOW
- got pics. I made two new pages for them so they don't suck up
space on this main page.
Page
One (deleted) is pics of the porch and yard I'm always yapping on about, and there
are some kiddies in some pics and me in one I believe. Pretty boring stuff unless you
are curious about the porch I'm always writing about, and some
of the pics were taken in...the beginning of July? Dunno, so the flowers were
just beginning to really come in so the pics don't show their
true beautiful bloomingness which has already started to crap
out on me. Time to pull 'em up and plant some fall mums, I
guess.
Page
Two (deleted) are kiddie pics, taken this weekend mostly. The Eldest is
noticeably absent for a couple reasons, one being that he covers
his face each time I try to photograph him which sucks.
I
may have more pics later in the week because I think there's a
roll still undeveloped which HOPEFULLY has a nice pic of me and
That Baby on it. Nice meaning you can't see my flubbery stomach
or ham-like arms.
I'm
sure That Baby will look cute. He always does. Damn
babies...they hog all the cuteness and leave us nothing.
August
9, 2004...lunch pfft
It's sprinkling so no walk for me today. Maybe I'll just run the
stairs a couple times, do a few laps around the building.
Anyhow,
I made 2 phones calls recently which put my decent mood back into the
shitter.
The
first was a phone call home to see if the 3 rolls of film Hubby
brought in last night are going to be ready today. They are, but
there's no CD with them, just the developed pictures.
I'm
in charge of buying and filling photo albums, so I'm sick of
developed pictures. I just want the CD and if there are pictures on there
I really like, then we'll get them developed. KnowwhatImean?
I'm
running out of room for shoes in my closet because of all the
damn photo albums stored in there that no one ever looks at.
The
second phone call I made was to my folks, just to check on them
and make sure they're still breathing.
During
our phone call, my dad reminded me of the following things:
1.
My car is still fuckered up and un-drivable because it needs new
brakes and I don't have the cash flow yet to handle that.
2. The Social Security Admin and the IRS still have my name
fuckered up which fuckers up my taxes.
3. School starts in 4 weeks which means my evenings will be even
more stress-laden and fuckered up do to The Eldest being one who,
despite being very bright and creative, still struggles with
schoolwork.
4. I still haven't called a repairman to come out and fix my
dishwasher...which is fuckered up.
You
know...I'm back to hating Mondays again, just like I was hating
Mondays at 6:30am this morning.
And
I'm still hungry after my scrawny piece of chicken. Be strong.
Go drink water. Mmmmm....water.
Keep
your eyes on the prize, which is a body to die for that will
make Hubby a very nervous man.
With
the food he offers me (like the cake he baked the other day),
I'm wondering if he doesn't want me to get thin and beautiful
again because then he'll be a very nervous man.
I'm
not saying that's what he's doing, like when he offered me fried
squash. I'm just saying that sometimes people
do shit like that, ya know, even if by accident.
Speaking
of sampling food I shouldn't be sampling - Fried Green Tomatoes I made
fried green tomatoes yesterday, and I had some slices.
Pretty
gross, like squash-tasting oil sponges, and I used olive oil so
it would be lighter but it wasn't lighter...it was like eating
heavy grease-soaked things and because they were green I
kept thinking of Shrek and when I thought of Shrek I thought of
slugs and of eating slugs.
If
you put parmesan cheese on Shrek slugs fried
green tomatoes, though, they are tolerable.
Although
not at all compatible with my diet. And neither was the bowl of
chocolate chip ice cream I had for a snack last night.
GOD
I SUCK!
I'm
running those stairs for sure, now.
Before
I forget...
I saw 3 flies fucking on my porch yesterday. It was a threesome
and it was really nauseating.
I
try to imagine how this came about, like had they met over a
piece of dog shit, discussed whether or not they'd all be
interested in getting it on, then buzzed on over to a quiet
section of the porch to screw like tomorrow will never come?
Which it probably didn't come for either of them since they were
houseflies, afterall, and they aren't long for this world.
With
a diet made up primarily of poop and rotting dead things, neither you
nor I would live much longer than 72 hours either.
Welp
- that pretty much satiated my hunger. I'm on the Gross
Myself Out Diet.
August
9, 2004...Diet Coke Break Not
going home.
Never really had the honest intention of going home.
Actually...I'm
feeling better than I was when I made the previous post, and I'm
wondering if barfing in the toilet of my favorite stall had
anything to do with it.
I
wonder how much Diet Coke I can drink before I start
hallucinating.
Speaking
of hallucinations - how come I'm not depressed anymore? How come
I've finally gotten to the point where I'm kinda sorta looking
forward to things again, like autumn and pumpkins and turning
leaves and corn mazes and Halloween.
Ohhhhh....this
will be the first year since 2001 that I'll be able to have a
cocktail during the holidays. You know, some wine with my
Thanksgiving dinner, champagne on New Years Eve.
I
was pregnant for two years, if you recall.
Mmmmm....go
play out in the snow and then put a log on the fire and have
some Baily's and coffee or Kahlua and cream or brandy on
Christmas Eve while our crab legs are steaming in the kitchen
just waiting for me to goggled them up.
Yay.
Just...yay.
And
I really really want that chicken I brought for my lunch, only
it's still morning and I just barfed.
If
this is my biggest dilemma on a Monday morning, then I think I'm
doing alright.
Oh...and
by the by, if you're lucky I may have some new pics to share
this evening. Lucking meaning that they'll be ready for me to
pick up today and lucking meaning that I'll actually have time
to get on the net tonight.
August
9, 2004
Going
home.
That's it. It's freezing in here again, I got a jacket on and a
blanket wrapped around my legs and feet.
I'm
nodding off again, falling asleep, and I cannot reach anyone at
home so now I'm afraid that people are asleep...zonked out...and
one or both of the babies are awake wondering where everybody
is.
I
hate Mondays.
August
7, 2004...11:15pm Plum
tuckered out
Damn. I'm tired. And alls we did today was this:
1.
Bought eggs, bacon, and dog biscuits.
2. Rented two movies, watched one - Babe.
3. Drank some vodka.
4. Played in the sandbox and picked up dog poodiddles.
5. Ordered pizza and ate it.
6. Sat on the porch.
7. Watched The Toddler take an entire box of dog biscuits and
spread them systematically about the living room.
8. Vacuumed 1/8 of the living room.
9. Looked at That Baby some.
10. Listened to a new CD by a band called Lacuna
Coil and watched their video on Headbangers Ball.
Let
me tell you something about Lacuna Coil - they are doing way
too much of their shopping at Hot
Topic. That's the store where suburban kids shop when they want to look
lost and forgotten and angry and urban. Me...when I was in
high school, I bought my clothes down in the warehouse district
at secondhand stores and at the Army Surplus Store. Holy shit,
you had to dig in boxes of moldy clothing for cool shit to wear...they didn't sell it at
the mall.
Kids
today are so not punk or alternative, buying their
anti-establishment attire at the mall. I poop on them.
ANYWAYS
- I figured out that Lacuna Coil were goofy beyond belief when I looked at their interior picture in the CD case.
Way
too much rubber. Way too much black. Way too many buckles. And way
too many "life is so fucking miserable" expressions on
their faces.
These
folks are trying way too hard to look melancholy, I'm
tellin' ya the truth.
And
guess what the name of their fan club is. Go on. Guess. GUESS!
Ok,
I'll tell ya - The Gothfathers.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
HA!
Get
over yourselves. And sister...you sound just like Madonna on one
of your songs. *gasp* Well it's true. You do. I guess you better
take your aging goth ass to the bathroom and slit your wrists
now and write "I hate my world" in blood across your
bathroom mirror.
Make
sure you got some candles burning before you do that, and make
sure you only cut deep enough to get attention and not actually
die. And make sure you position your body in the mostest horror
movie fashion so it has the most gothest effect.
Good
grief. Talk about a bunch of overly affected motards.
Got
some cool songs, though. If you don't listen too closely to the
lyrics, that is. Here...have a taste:
Oh
no
here it is again
I need to know
when I will fall in decay
Yeeaaah.
Ok then. Well...I gotta go see if Hubby needs help with That
Baby, America's #1 Remedy for Feeling Meloncoly™.
Oh..btw...I
like the band Slipknot. I just found out what they look like.
They look really stupid.
August
6, 2004...10:15pm - 11:30pm From
my brain to yours.
Mark Hacking: Loser. You're quite the prolific liar. Very ambitious
with your lying. And hey, did you have to kill your beautiful
wife and dump her body in the trash so that she's resting
with rotten banana peels and other stuff? That's an
interesting form of respect for your woman. And good luck with
your only line of defense about how you confessed while in a
mental ward - you're a LIAR. No one's gonna believe that you
lied about killing your wife because they'll think you're lying
about lying.
Scott
Peterson: Confess. I'm tired of your smug face. You did it, you
did it, you did it. Why? Money and pussy. I bet you wipe your
boogers on furniture and I bet that drove her crazy, and I bet
it drove you crazy that another human being knew how much
of a pig you are.
Michael
Moore: Thank you for shutting up. I haven't heard much about you
this week.
George
W: Learn to speak properly, for God's sake, you are the
President of the United States. Or get a new speech writer, or
don't improvise if you forget the words. We're looking
for new ways to harm Americans? Dude...you're embarrassing.
John
Kerry: Thank you for not touching John Edwards this week. My
sensibilities thank you. The brain behind my eyeballs thanks
you. My puckering asshole thanks you.
Madonna:
You're weird. I think money makes people weird because they
don't have anything normal to occupy their minds with so they
sit around thinking about what would be the coolest way to pray.
Brittany
Spears: Please graduate from high school, go to college, major
in physics, discover how to alter time and space, then fast
forward to the year 2024. I want to see how screwed up you
become and I might be dying of lung cancer by that time and
unable to enjoy it so hit the books, girlfriend! That was
mean of me. I hope you don't become screwed up. Although, I do
kinda hope one of your boobs pop.
Gweneth
Paltrow: You named your daughter Apple. For some reason that
doesn't bother me.
That
Baby: Thank you for waking up and for peeing through your
jammies. And thank you for not looking the least bit tired.
Toddler:
Stop fussing. Hi?
My
Vagina: Stop bleeding.
Bruce
Springsteen: Stop talking. I hate it when celebrities tell me
what they think. You aren't supposed to think. You're supposed
to sing or act or look pretty. You're rich...go count your cars.
Beer:
Thank you for making my boobs big.
Extremist
Islamic Terrorists slash Suicide Bombers Inc.: I got news for
ya - God doesn't want you to kill people. That is not going to
get you into heaven, it's going to get you into hell. And if God
wanted to get rid of certain people, he'd do it Himself...he's God.
But maybe He does want to get rid of certain people and
maybe He is using humans as His vessels of destruction, and
maybe those certain people and those vessels of destruction are you and He's fucking with
your heads because He's bored and gods like to do shit like
that, and He's trying to get rid of you by making you kill
yourselves and putting you and your people on the brink of
extinction because the rest of humanity is going to get sick of
your shit someday. Ever think of that? Huh huh huh?
Trees:
Grow faces and start talking because that would be so cool! But
don't start walking around because that would really freak me
out.
My
Waistline: Shrink. SHRINK! I command you to shriiinnnk.
My
Face: Stop aging.
My
Boobs: You're pretty.
My
Mother: Thank you for not including cellulite in our gene pool.
Cigarettes:
I hate you. I love you. I hate you. I love you. Please don't
kill me.
God:
Question for ya. You forgot to give That Baby a neck. At what
point did you realize your mistake, and was it at that time when
you decided to give him two chins? You know, kinda like
"Sorry kid, I forgot the neck so take two chins?" Is
that how it works?
Monkeys:
Stop being so damn cute because I want to steal one of you from
the zoo, dress you up in baby clothes, and take you for a buggy
ride pointing you out to people that I pass and say "Look
at my monkey! Isn't he adorable?!" Then I'd want to sit
down with you and watch a movie, only then you'd poop on the
floor and I'd have to clean it up and you might bite me and give
me Ebola. If that happened I'd be mad and I'd have to kill you and then
you'd be all floppy and not at all fun to be with. Don't go'a
breakin' my heart, monkeys!
Meat:
Why are you so tasty? And why are you even tastier with ketchup?
That
Baby: Thank you for falling asleep. It is 11:10pm, afterall.
Good job, baby, and if you wake up I'll give you a bottle and
snuggle with you and get you all sloppy with my kisses until you
smile and that dimple on your right cheek pops up...just like
your big brother's right cheek dimple pops up when I tell him
he's cute and he gets all embarrassed and mad at me.
The
Toddler: I hope Elmo didn't come to life and eat you.
The
Eldest: You have no idea how often I want to say something about
your mustache, but I don't because I know it embarrasses you.
You will never know or be able to appreciate the restraint your
mother has on her tongue, and this is the type of thing that
makes all mothers, who don't drown their children, go to heaven.
My
Husband: I'd have sex with you again tonight only my vagina is
bleeding and The Eldest is still awake and you're playing video
games. And did I tell you that on Wednesday evening when I was
driving through the parking lot at our local super market that I
masturbated? I forgot to tell you that? Well, now you know.
Now
I lay me down to sleep, a bag of penis at my feet. And if I die
before I wake, I pray the Lord that someone hides the bag of
penis before my mother finds it.
August
6, 2004...6:45pm I
forgot
Toddler's in
my lap and That Baby is napping and I'm thinking that I forgot
what I do with an almost 3-month-old...like how he shouldn't be
sleeping right now, should he? I should be keeping him awake so
he goes down for the night (spare for a feeding or 2) at 7 or 8
or 9 or 10.
Right?
And
how do you toilet train girls? The Toddler is gonna be
18-months-old tomorrow and the only sign of readiness she's
showing is how she goes to be alone when she craps her pants.
And if she's naked after her bath and piddles, she squats.
That's
it. I'm really gonna go into overdrive tomorrow starting to
teach her names like "pee" and how that comes out of
your "pee pee" and "poop" and how that comes
out of your "asshole". On second thought, maybe I
should use the word "butt".
And
I want to try the cushy tushy first because I don't want to do
the potty chair thing and then have to wean her off of that and
onto the "potty".
Or
should I call it "the toilet" and refer to
"peeing" and "pooping" as "going
potty"?
It's
been almost 11 years since I last toilet trained another human,
and back then The Eldest was in daycare all day so they had half
the work, they really did the teaching...I just followed what
they told me to do.
Maybe
this time around I should have skipped the diapers and used Infant
Potty Training.
No.
Those people are insane.
Oh
it's so natural!
Shut
the hell up. Freaks.
So...about
toilet training - HELLLLLLP!
Thank
you.
August
6, 2004
Stairs
Found two tall sets of outdoor stairs on my walk. They are the
perfect distance from one another. I walk walk walk then run the
first set of stairs a few times. Then I keep walking and by the
time I reach the next set of stairs I'm ready to run them again.
There's
also a nice steep hill to climb at the end of my walk.
That'll
do, pig. That'll do.
By
the way - SlimFast sucks.
August
6, 2004
The
coffee here SUCKS
Yet people drink it by the gallon. It's so bitter, everybody who
drinks this shit must be seriously addicted to coffee to where
even though they don't have any good coffee available they'll
buy and drink this crud the way a smoker will dig through the
ashtray looking for a butt long enough to light up and get a few
puffs out of (oh you know you've done that before).
I'm
seriously thinking about jumping in my car and running to a
coffee shop that serves delicious coffee, not prison brew.
But
alas, it's only an hour away from my lunch time walk so....I'll
blog on my break instead of making a java run.
SO -
I really have nothing to blog about. The only things on my mind
are things I'd rather not write about now. Like death. Don't
feel like writing about death this morning.
Feel
like thinking about it, though, because that's the only thing
that's been on my mind all day besides coffee. Death and coffee.
There's a combo.
Wait...my
diet has been on my mind. Here's what I'm doing for it - I'm
eating breakfast, anything I want for breakfast because I have
to have a hearty breakfast. If I don't, then I'm miserable and
I'll eat like a sow later on in the day to make up for it.
So
big breakfast, small lunch (Slim Fast or cottage cheese or
carrots or a banana), no dinner.
Then
a small snack in the evening like a Popsicle or spoonful of
peanut butter or something.
That's
about it. I can eat like that, lose weight, and not feel hungry
or deprived. The big breakfast is the key, though.
And
as far as exercise is concerned, it's impossible for me to
starting riding (a bike) in the evenings any time soon, so my
afternoon walks are a must. Then I am doing toning exercises
with and without weights in the evening.
I've
done all this before and it's worked, and rather quickly too.
2-3 months and I'll be looking how I want to look which is slim
but curvy. Toned not flappy. No stomach pouch, slimmer arms, bye
bye extra stuff I grew on my thighs while preggers with That
Baby. I'm already toned in most places, I have a lot of muscle.
It's mostly a matter of getting rid of that extra layer of
blubber covering my muscles.
I'll
do it. I have no doubts. Yay for me, yay for Hubby.
I
want one of these.
I saw one up at the store the other day, tied up to the trash
bin while it's master was in buying some stuff. I almost tucked
it under my arm and ran home with it. It was so fucking
adorable.
August
5, 2004...9:30pm WHY
does she have to throw all of her guys out of the crib?
Why why why. If she could cry herself to sleep without throwing
all of her special stuffed animals out of the crib, along with
her blankie, then I wouldn't worry so much.
But
she does this to torture me. How can I possibly allow Her Royal
Tiredness to cry and cry and cry when I know that Elmo and the
doggies and Clifford and Pooh and Tigger and Eyeore are lying on
the floor? And I can't go in there to put them back in the crib,
then leave, because that only makes matters worse.
Yup...you've
guessed it. I just put The Toddler to bed, That Baby is
sleeping, I could stay seated and relax for a spell but awwwww
shit. What the hell am I complaining about. This is motherhood,
yes? Yes.
My
husband and I had sex in the middle of night last night on the
floor in the family room, and I think I had a pimple on my ass
at the time.
Even
though we've been married for close to 3 years, I still don't
feel very happy about having a pimple on my ass while Hubby and
I were getting it on.
I do
have my dignity, you know.
And
afterwards I suggested that he go wash his finger. You don't
want to know. Trust me.
Well...I'm
just gonna drag my hungry ass upstairs and fetch The Toddler
before her head bursts.
I knew
we should have watched Pooh tonight instead of The Eldest's
suggestion - A Bugs Life. That movie is some scary shit if
you're only just shy of 18 months old.
And
even though we can't afford it, the kids couldn't afford me to
stand in front of the fridge tonight deciding what to make for
dinner (no I didn't make a dinner menu for the week god I SUCK)
so I ordered a pizza and The Eldest had 3 slices, The Toddler
had 1, and The Damn Dog had the rest.
Cocksucker.
And
after "dinner", The Toddler and The Eldest and I were
playing in the freshly mowed yard (thanks hunny) and The Toddler
stepped in dog shit.
I'm
not gonna bitch about Hubby not picking up the dog shit before
he mowed because he wasn't suppose to mow anyways. The Eldest
was.
I am
sooooooo glad that I wasn't here to witness
that heated exchange.
Although
from what The Eldest told me, something weird happened after he
got sent to his room for arguing about mowing the lawn with
Hubby...The Eldest said to me when I got home "I like
staying home with dad. He was really nice after our fight. I
can't wait until tomorrow so I can stay home with him
again."
He
was being sincere.
What.
What happened? I'm so confused.
Maybe
they had a bonding moment.
I
think I'll just leave it at that and let the supernatural course
of things happen OH HELL....The Only Girl I Ever Kissed still
hasn't gotten back to me with a second thumbs up to post a pic
of our get together last Saturday.
I'll
post it anyways. I'll take it down if she don't like.
But...what's not to like. She's beautiful.
I'm
the one on the right with my tongue sticking out because I'm
retarded. But get a load of those pearly white chompers!
*hugs
her Crest White Strips*
She
looks younger than me. Although I'm happy for her, it kinda
sucks for me.
And
behold my disproportionately large head. You should see it with
my body attached...I look like one of those freakish Bratz
dolls, only not as leggy.
Well
I can't wait out this storm any longer. Gotta go fetch my
daughter. I think I'll do what I did the other night when I got
her up after two hours of fussing and fighting - sit on the sofa
in silence and look at her, her on one end of the sofa and me on
the opposite end.
She'll
look back at me and she'll say "Hi?"
Then
my heart will melt and we'll watch Pooh. Again.
August
5, 2004...no lunch, went for a walk instead That's
one sexy "you know who"
For Harry
Potter fans, here's
He Who Should Not Be Named.
Yay.
Tub
of lard
I'm officially on a diet. And I'm not kidding this time. I'm
sincere now. I'm ready. Very, very ready. My head is there so
it'll work now. I know this from past experience.
Screw this shit, I'm fat.
August
5, 2004
Vodka
= good medicine
Don't know why, but I feel pretty good this morning. Tired, but
tired without the haggy. See previous post if you're confused.
SO -
here's some gratuitous pictures of 2 of my 3 chillun taken this
week. I'm waiting to hear from The Only Girl I Ever Kissed as to
whether or not I can post some photos that we took on our
reunion night last Saturday.
She
said at the time that I could post pics of her without her face
blurred out, but she had a couple glasses of wine beneath her
belt so I thought I'd check with her one last time while she was
sober.
And
now, without further adieu, my pretty babies:
Pictures
have been removed. You've seen them. If not, too bad. I'm saving
space.
August
4, 2004....11:30pm
Momster and her very
bad decision
I went to bigbreastlovers.com because I wanted to see what all
the hubbub is about, and I must say that I'm firmly grossed out.
Big flappy tits with jizmo all over them? Nice. Have fun with
all that.
I
have a difficult time enjoying internet porn and this is why -
whenever I see those girls, some of them look so young and I'm
thinking "what's your trauma?"
I
realize that some chicks probably just get off on posing for
pictures with a giant dick between their boobs either because
they are whores or because they think it's gonna make them
famous in a good way some day.
But
I've got this sneaking suspicion that a lot of these chicks were
sexually abused as kids, never had a nice family as kids, have
some mental or emotional problem that makes them feel loved if
they allow some guy to take pictures of them with their ankles
behind their heads and their tongues licking their own nipples.
And
I think of all the promises made to these women by the men or
"boyfriends" who
photograph and film them, and it makes me ill.
And
then I think of how a lot of these women might not even be
women, but girls who aren't of legal age and who might not be
American and were photographed overseas in some shithole
somewhere and the pornographers get away with it because it's
from overseas and the girls disappear in the world of
prostitution or the world of drugs leaving behind some shitty
piece of paper with their signature swearing that they are 18
years old or older...
Or
they take whatever money was given to them and slink back to
their shitty apartments with dollars for groceries to feed their
babies for another month...
And
have you ever noticed how the face that belongs to the penis in
the picture is rarely if ever photographed? Gee...I wonder
why. Something tells me that it has nothing to do with the
guy being ugly.
I
dunno. If you live in this world, then you must know that there
are many sad stories behind many of those pictures on the
internet. And knowing what you know, if you can still get off on that
shit...well...good luck to ya.
So ANYHOW....the Toddler started
squawking since my last post, but then she stopped. I'm just
going to assume that Elmo hadn't come to life and was
strangling her.
And
That Baby is resting comfortably now...3rd night in a row where he's
gone to sleep around 10/10:30pm and the two previous nights he
slept through save for one late night bottle after which he
went back to sleep. Yay. Cross your fingers for me because this
could be it! Glorious.
ANYHOOT
- I just wanted to blog one last time tonight because I have an
announcement to make. Here goes -
Vodka
and cranberry juice is delicious and satisfying.
Thank
you, and see you tomorrow when I'm blogging with one eye open.
Should be a fairly decent bitch session. Enjoy.
August
4, 2004....9:30pm Fun
with mother
Worse Case Scenario Woman came over today. As she was leaving,
she couldn't find her keys. She was standing in the kitchen
digging through her purse. The purse was on the floor and she
was bent over it facing the stairwell with her ass facing me and
The Eldest.
I
put up my foot and made a pushing motion in the direction of her
ass.
The
Eldest whispered loudly, "MOM! That's not very nice."
Worse
Case Scenario Woman continued to bend over and search through
her purse. As she did this she said, "Now don't push me
down the stairs, <my name>."
The
Eldest looked at me wide-eyed, unbelieving that grandma could
see what I did in the position she was in, all head down and
tucked behind her body (God that woman is limber for her age, a
fricking Chinese gymnast, she is).
WELL...I
had to explain later that grandma didn't see anything. She's a
mom, and she's a grandma. That makes her lethal in an espionage
sort of way.
She
said before she stood back upright, "I wasn't born
yesterday, ya know."
I
hope she's not mad.
tee
hee?
The
Toddler
Is in bed. And she's not making any of her usual sounds.
The
girl went to bed at about 10pm last night. I left her in there
yapping and talking and occasionally crying for almost 2 hours
before I let her out. This has become a routine that vexes me to
no end. Usually she won't have to get up and out of bed,
but she still caterwauls in there for an hour or so and it's
unnerving because I want my little girl to be happy. Not sad.
ANYHOW
- Last night Hubby appreciated her being awake, seeing as he was
just getting home from work at the time. He didn't have any
other plans, ya know, like sitting down and resting.
I
went to bed and I think Hubby let her run back and forth in the
kitchen until she collapsed.
ANYHOW
- I put her to bed tonight at about 8:45pm. Tossed her in her
crib with 1/2 a bottle of milk (I know, shut up about it)
and all of her guys - note: her guys = Pooh, Tigger,
puppy, another puppy, Eyore or however you spell that shittin'
name, Elmo, and Clifford - I also put her in there with her
blankie and another big down-filled blanket that she's grown to
love.
That's
actually a blanket that everybody in the house loves.
*adds
several soft down-filled throw blankets to her Christmas list*
And
she has a pillow in there also. And more blankets.
She
likes to make herself a nest. She's like me as I love tons of
soft blankets and pillows when I'm cuddling.
But
now I'm worried. I want to go check to make sure she hasn't hung
herself or smothered herself, although I know she's way too big
for that and there's nothing to hang herself on.
Think
she choked on a puppy? Think Elmo came to life and strangled
her?
Her
silence, although desired, is making me nervous!
Now...if
only That Baby would sleep. He's gonna be the bestest damn typer
in the world if he's paying attention to what I do with him in
my lap each night.
August
4, 2004....lunch Tomatoes
Didn't bring a lunch again today, not really hungry, but I'll
fall asleep if I don't eat something.
I
bought myself a plate of sliced tomatoes. $1.20. I put pepper on
them.
I'm
trying to work on getting a taste for tomatoes. Not
a casual "I like a slice of tomato on my hamburger"
type of taste for tomatoes. I'm talking about a "WOW! I
just LOVE tomatoes! Can't get enough of 'em! Gimme MORE!"
taste for tomatoes because from the looks of my garden I'm gonna
be drowning in tomatoes pretty soon here.
Are
fried green tomatoes any good? I could start eating them now if
someone can give me a thumbs up on that shit.
Tears
I've been choking them back all day today. It's really very
tiresome. I promised myself and others that I wouldn't complain
about stuff anymore, that I would just internalize it and deal
with it on my own, silent-like. Mostly I think I've kept my
promise except for a few slip-ups.
This
self-inflicted silent treatment has been very difficult for me
because I'm a talker.
I
like to s-h-a-r-e.
But
it's been getting me n-o-w-h-e-r-e, just been making me feel
worse so I just kinda turned...quiet.
SO I
think my words are are turning to water and seeping from my
eyes. That's the only thing I can think of to explain this really
annoying day I'm having.
GAH!
August
4, 2004
It's
fucking freezing in here AGAIN
If I could do anything right now, it would be to crawl under the
cuddly down comforter on my bed and get all snuggly and warm and fall
sleep forever and ever.
I'd
also like to not feel guilty that the brakes are out on my car so that I
had to take the good green car to work leaving Hubby with no car
today...not feeling guilty about that would help.
I
almost drove the shitty car to work, I was feeling so guilty. I
almost risked crashing with am almost brake-less car.
See...I
made arrangements for Worse Case Scenario Woman to come over to
the house today while I'm at work so that Hubby can take some
time to himself, and I had to go fuck that up.
Now
he's gonna be trapped at home with my mother.
I
suck.
Shoulda
just crashed the fucking car this morning. He would have gotten
some time off and collected a nice hunk of insurance.
August
3, 2004....9:00pm Bloggity
Business
About the comments - I'm sorry they fricker up like that.
Just assume that your comment has posted, or refresh the page
and then it should show up if you want to check. I know that
sucks. You don't have to say sorry, the problem is on my end.
And
about your comments - thanks for being so kind. It helps, ya
know. Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee....
Really
cool baby monitor
Open window. See, if That Baby is sleeping upstairs in our
bedroom, I just have to open a window up there and then open the
window in the basement by my computer and I can hear him if he
starts howling.
How
fucking innovative is that? Pretty damn innovative, I must say.
I
suspect it won't work well in the wintertime, though.
My
bologna has a first name...
And it's called diarrhea. Hot diggity dog diggity, the toilet is
my best friend today. We've grown very intimate.
And
about the toilet at work...my favorite stall - sprinkles. There
were sprinkles on the toilet seat today.
I
went back to my desk and got a flourescent orange posty note and
stuck it on the wall behind the toilet:
"Flush.
Wipe seat. Shave. Thank you, your kind host...the toilet."
No
shit.
And
I'm beginning to suspect that the Bathroom Cleaning Lady ex-con
is picking up the mop and swishing it across the toilet to clean
it.
Which
is really disrespectful of His Royal Porcelain-ness. Shame.
I
should go against everything I have come to believe in and lay a
giant turd on top of the toilet in order to force her to clean
His Majesty properly.
REVOLT!
Well...mayhaps
a booger would suffice. Or a swish of my bloody tampon. Or a
bloody tampon. Or a pile of bloody tampons.
Hubby
used to have to clean the toilets at this lake resort he once
worked at in New Hampshire. He and the girl he worked with
referred to those stainless steel tin boxes where us ladies are
to dispose of our tampons in as "juice boxes".
I'll
shut up now.
August
3, 2004....lunchtime with no lunch to speak of. And I
couldn't care less. Funny
how you have to work at work.
Isn't it? So little time to blog.
So.
Come here often?
Maybe
I'll get lucky and burst into flames. That'd be cool. And
that's all I'm going to say about that.
Did
you say something? I'm also
in ignore-mode right now. Not sure how long this is going to
last. Maybe a day, couple days, a week, infinity?
Sometimes
I feel the need to tune people out so I can figure out how I'm
going to deal with an issue, or even how I feel about an issue.
Because
sometimes it's cloudy, ya know? Even your feelings get cloudy.
Suffice
to say, things may be in motion to change everything. And not
everybody is going to be happy about it, but people have had
enough warning, enough of a chance, enough time. Not my fault
that that people think I'm fulla shit.
I'm
gonna shut up and ignore you now.
*awkward
silence*
I should say something funny.
Ok
so like what's the difference between a dog and a blonde?
A
dog knows to stop licking your balls when you smack it in the
back of the head.
My
apologies to any blondes out there, but we all know you're not a
real blonde anyways.
Don't
hurt me.
*kiss*
August
3, 2004
July
in the yard.
Forgot
these pictures existed. Didn't even know Hubby had brought them
in for developing.
August
2, 2004...evening Munny So I have
this huge stack of medical bills from the birth of That Baby. I
had my dad come over to go through them for me to figure out
what is what because I'm stupid.
What
we figured out, after many phone calls, is that despite this
huge stack of bills...which I'll call Pain in the Ass Paper...we
don't pay anything yet.
Oh,
you know...hasn't all gone through insurance and stuff.
Then
stop sending me all this Pain in the Ass Paper until you people
get it all figured out because you're confusing me!
Jesus.
Send me one final bill for fuck's sake, and make sure it's right
before the holiday season so you ruin that.
I
got to start squirreling away money to pay it when it finally
arrives...that is, if I can tell the final bill apart from all
the rest of the crap they send me. Yeah. Got to start
squirelling away once Hubby and I dig ourselves out of this
little maternity leave hole I've dug for us.
Thank
God I'm getting a bonus pay out next week. That'll help. That'll
help everything we put on the credit card this weekend.
Mommy
hates credit cards. I don't have one, only Hubby does. I look at
a credit card and all I see are shoes. Pretty pretty shoes.
ANYHOW
- once it's all said and done, sounds like we'll be paying a
grand total of $800 - $900. Not bad for bills that total over 10
grand.
When
The Eldest was born 12 years ago, I paid a grand total of $90.
That was for his circumcision, everything else was
covered.
And
my health care premiums have gone up $175 in the last 11/2
years.
We
should get sick more often...get our money's worth.
Well.
That was boring.
August
2, 2004...after noon god
dammit Looks
like Hubby's pet, Mr. Icky, is going to be around for awhile. I
just found out that tarantulas can live up to 20 years.
I
hate nature.
August
2, 2004...noon A
Good Monday We're being very productive today.
We've
emptied 1 liter of a 2 liter bottle of Diet Coke, we've saturated
5 tampons, smoked 3 cigarettes, killed 2 flies, swallowed 4
pills, ignored 2 people, thought about liquor twice,
dreaded going home tonight 4 times, decided that
"blithe" was a stupid word and that
"gladsome" was much more fun to say, sent
approximately 3 dozen emails, worried about money approximately
3 dozen times, looked down at my boobs 40 times, refreshed my
lipstick 2 times, thought about my baby 2 gabillion times, and
bled through one pair of underwear, one pair of shorts, and one
pair of pants which I am still sitting in.
I'd
say I'm having a pretty good day so far.
August
2, 2004...tampon break At
least I'm not pregnant. Got my
period again, 4 days early.
I'm
bleeding to death.
Metaphor
Galore, or I've Always Wanted To Be a Shitty Writer Not only
did Hubby run to get me tampons this weekend, he also picked me
up some new lady razors.
And
they're delightful. They slide so easily across my skin like
they were steerage and my legs were the deck of the Titanic.
"I
got you shavers with a swiveling head," Hubby beamed.
"They're
delightful," I gushed, "Usually I just buy myself the
cheapest razors I can find."
"You
can't always buy yourself the cheapest things," Hubby
responded, oblivious to how he just gave me permission to spend
money like my debit card was a tit and Target a suckling baby.
There's
one problem, though: these shavers are so sharp I cut
myself. In a strange way, that's ok because normally when I
shave with the cheap razors, I gouge out flesh like my ankles
were cantaloupes and the razors were melon-ballers, but
these new razors are so sharp that I got a nice clean cut...no
gouging.
Thing
is...the cut is in my bikini region. It feels as if my cooter were a
bloody and freshly-plucked chicken and my underwear
a very hungry piranha.
August
1, 2004...10:45pm The
Only Girl I Ever Kissed She and I
got together last night for the first time in about 7 years.
I
was A LOT of fun. We've agreed not to drift apart again. Yay!
I
love having a friend again! Especially one I have lots in common
with.
No
wonder I kissed her. Maybe I should have married her.
Naw.
Then neither of us would have cute husbands and cute kids.
Heterosexuality
is so cool that way.
Three
cheers for non-gay sex!
(EDIT
- read the second sentence in this post again...the one that
starts with "I was..." That was supposed to be
"It was..." It. Not I. How Freudian is this? I really
like myself.)
August
2004 Archives
August
31, 2004...11:45am
August
25, 2004...1:15am
-ky
t
) 
August
15, 2004
The
first page is of my hair. I was wearing my Grumpy tee shirt,
which was fitting.
