Mar. 20th, 2005 FLASHBACK!
My sister-in-law Heather and I watched "Threesome" last night after taking a few shots of 99 Blackberries Schnapps. Yeah, that was a masterpiece. Don't think we rented it or anything. It came to Heather's apartment months ago with some guys name and her address on it. Instead of being honest and returning it, she opened it up and, lo and behold, there was "Threesome"... and the original motion picture soundtrack along with it. Two weeks later, she got another package with the SAME guys name on it and opened it. Yet again. Guess what was inside? The SAME fucking CD & DVD. I asked her, "Jeez, you should have written return to sender on the first one and you didn't. Why didn't you do the right thing the second time?" She answered, "Man, I'm not going through all of that! Return to sender? What a pain in the ass! Besides, who knows what was in that box! It could have been something good." Well, too bad it wasn't. I wonder about the poor guy who ordered it. Twice. Maybe I don't want to know ...
Mu hubby's hair is out of control. It's thick and wild. When it has even a bit of length, it stands up straight like Johnny Suede, only in all different crazy directions. It has a mind of its own and its moods differ from day to day. We all laugh and make fun of it. He got it cut only two weeks ago and it's already wacky. He happened to lose his hat earlier this week and was forced to go to the corner store without one, knowing full well how awful his hair was acting. As he was standing in line, he heard someone laughing hysterically. He looked over and noticed a retarded guy pointing at his hair. The dude wouldn't quit! The whole time hubby waited in line the guy was doubled over with laughter. When hubby gave him the evil glare, the dude snorted and said, "It looks like you just woke up!" Everyone else in the store was snickering about his up-do too and he came home pissed saying, "I've got to shave my head, this is out of control! I've got retards making fun of me. To top it off, he had better hair than me! I would have punched him in the face if he wasn't retarded." So, I came home yesterday and the mop was gone. Thank God because I was having trouble not pointing and laughing at him myself.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Have in-laws, will travel.
Flashback! Aug. 16th, 2004
I will never put off packing until the last minute again. I don't think my husband will wait until an hour before we're supposed to leave to do laundry again either.
This weekend started out with a bang. Unfortunately, it was the motor of my washer blowing up, with Phil's clothing in it, soaked. Add in an unwanted trip to the Laundromat to dry his half clean clothes.
Then, we make our way over to my sister in law's house so that she can follow us to the campsite. Her boyfriend drags his ass while packing the car, as we sat in ours waiting. After about fifteen minutes of this, he turns and says to us, "OK, first we have to get gas and than we have to drive up to my work so I can leave a note telling them I won't be in tomorrow."
O, no he didn't! I flipped!
"What? You made me sit here all this time? Why didn't you tell me this 20 minutes ago? I wouldn't have wasted my time on you!" I threw the Jeep in reverse and said, "Screw them. They know the way!"
So, we get there. Everything is going just dandy, campfire cooking, all 13 of us laughing and having a good time. Some are drinking more than others, but that's to be expected. One by one, the little Indians start heading off to their tents. My husband retired very early, but I was having a rip roaring good time. I started a little trouble, daring people to mess with the others who are already asleep. Of course I don't do the dirty work myself ...
One thing leads to another and by 4 am, my soon to be brother in law annoys Aunt Lisa's alcoholic boyfriend by saying, "Go back to sleep, drunk," and we have a rumble in the jungle enough to awaken Momma D from her slumber. As I faded into the background, the fire was extinguished, and we were directed to head to bed.
As if family fights weren't enough ...
We wake up the next morning to an argument over how we were going to spend the day. We ended up renting a boat and floating it out into the Bay. Only we didn't know and weren't told that it was coming up on low tide. After crabbing, swimming, and doing dives off the boat, we know it's time to get back to the dock. However, the motor is sucking up the nastiest black tar looking muck you've ever seen from the bottom and refusing to propel us to where we need to be.
And that's when the skies opened up. Here we are cold, wet, fucked and stuck in muck. Papa D jumps out of the boat in his "new" (meaning a year old) sandals with Velcro and all, to push the boat. Being black and smelling like fresh sewage, apparently, isn't enough of an attribute for the bottom of the bay. It also has the characteristics of quicksand. Papa D was knee deep and going under before pulling himself out, without his beloved sandals.
This began the all male review that was the highlight of my hellish boating experience. Each and every boy/man on the boat was recruited to pull/push/drag the boat through the crab (and God only knows what else) infested bay. The funniest moments of outdoor torture included musical shoes and pin the boat on my husbands ABS. I shouted, "You look hot, baby!" for encouragement as he was pulling us and hiking through tar pit heaven with the anchor rope tied around his mid section.
We had to take the "long way" to our dock and were two hours late bringing the boat back. There was supposed to be a charge for a late check in. Our bitching/yelling/screaming/looking miserable halted any attempt to collect that fee.
From there, it rained the rest of the night and everyone's tent was flooded out to some degree. Momma D stayed most of the evening in her tent watching the Olympics on a giant color TV
(You know, cause that's what camping is *all* about). Eventually, it was all too much for her and she hit the highway home.
I don't know what the rest of the gang did on Saturday night, because I was POOPED! I went to bed with my baby guy Merick at 9pm.
Sunday was salvageable. At least it didn't rain. We hit the beach and played in waves bigger than I've ever seen at the Jersey shore. I'm just glad to be home, even if I am at work.
Lord, I'm getting tired just recounting this journey.
NIGHT, NIGHT!
I will never put off packing until the last minute again. I don't think my husband will wait until an hour before we're supposed to leave to do laundry again either.
This weekend started out with a bang. Unfortunately, it was the motor of my washer blowing up, with Phil's clothing in it, soaked. Add in an unwanted trip to the Laundromat to dry his half clean clothes.
Then, we make our way over to my sister in law's house so that she can follow us to the campsite. Her boyfriend drags his ass while packing the car, as we sat in ours waiting. After about fifteen minutes of this, he turns and says to us, "OK, first we have to get gas and than we have to drive up to my work so I can leave a note telling them I won't be in tomorrow."
O, no he didn't! I flipped!
"What? You made me sit here all this time? Why didn't you tell me this 20 minutes ago? I wouldn't have wasted my time on you!" I threw the Jeep in reverse and said, "Screw them. They know the way!"
So, we get there. Everything is going just dandy, campfire cooking, all 13 of us laughing and having a good time. Some are drinking more than others, but that's to be expected. One by one, the little Indians start heading off to their tents. My husband retired very early, but I was having a rip roaring good time. I started a little trouble, daring people to mess with the others who are already asleep. Of course I don't do the dirty work myself ...
One thing leads to another and by 4 am, my soon to be brother in law annoys Aunt Lisa's alcoholic boyfriend by saying, "Go back to sleep, drunk," and we have a rumble in the jungle enough to awaken Momma D from her slumber. As I faded into the background, the fire was extinguished, and we were directed to head to bed.
As if family fights weren't enough ...
We wake up the next morning to an argument over how we were going to spend the day. We ended up renting a boat and floating it out into the Bay. Only we didn't know and weren't told that it was coming up on low tide. After crabbing, swimming, and doing dives off the boat, we know it's time to get back to the dock. However, the motor is sucking up the nastiest black tar looking muck you've ever seen from the bottom and refusing to propel us to where we need to be.
And that's when the skies opened up. Here we are cold, wet, fucked and stuck in muck. Papa D jumps out of the boat in his "new" (meaning a year old) sandals with Velcro and all, to push the boat. Being black and smelling like fresh sewage, apparently, isn't enough of an attribute for the bottom of the bay. It also has the characteristics of quicksand. Papa D was knee deep and going under before pulling himself out, without his beloved sandals.
This began the all male review that was the highlight of my hellish boating experience. Each and every boy/man on the boat was recruited to pull/push/drag the boat through the crab (and God only knows what else) infested bay. The funniest moments of outdoor torture included musical shoes and pin the boat on my husbands ABS. I shouted, "You look hot, baby!" for encouragement as he was pulling us and hiking through tar pit heaven with the anchor rope tied around his mid section.
We had to take the "long way" to our dock and were two hours late bringing the boat back. There was supposed to be a charge for a late check in. Our bitching/yelling/screaming/looking miserable halted any attempt to collect that fee.
From there, it rained the rest of the night and everyone's tent was flooded out to some degree. Momma D stayed most of the evening in her tent watching the Olympics on a giant color TV
(You know, cause that's what camping is *all* about). Eventually, it was all too much for her and she hit the highway home.
I don't know what the rest of the gang did on Saturday night, because I was POOPED! I went to bed with my baby guy Merick at 9pm.
Sunday was salvageable. At least it didn't rain. We hit the beach and played in waves bigger than I've ever seen at the Jersey shore. I'm just glad to be home, even if I am at work.
Lord, I'm getting tired just recounting this journey.
NIGHT, NIGHT!
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Still crazy, after all these years.
March 2004 FLASHBACK!
Sometimes I wonder about my mental health. I tend to flip out and get a little over excited about kicking bitches asses at times. Let some skank-o tramp look at my man the wrong way, much less openly get all goggle eyed over him. I WILL cause a major fucking scene, regardless of the location or the implications.
We drop into one of my most favorite places in the world, Starbucks, for a late night coffee fix. Next thing you know, the broke ass 30 some odd year old caffeine bitch starts getting all smilely behind the counter at MY husband. About three giggles and an eyelash bat later, I was about ready to publicly humiliate this bitch in her place of business.
I mean, hello? Is the pimple on my face throwing off my whole omni presence? Do I appear to be the tag a long friend out with a few guys? Did the bitch not look to see if this Brad Pitt look a like was wearing a big fat gold wedding ring? I mean, I guess I can't blame her for trying, but she at least could have opened her middle aging eyes and looked for evidence of marriage.
I was about three steps back from the counter watching it all play out, just so I had enough evidence to con- FLIP. (instead of convict, get it? Aren't I so clever?) When Phil turned around and started to walk toward me with a clear look of concern for my well documented psychosis, I didn't take my eyes away from her. She looked up just in time for me to fix my eyes on hers like a heat seeking missile.
I very loudly said to Phil, while burning into her like an evil inferno, "Is she FUCKING with me?!" Phil starts to raise his hand in an uncomfortable wave, I can see out of the corner of my eye that he knows the volcano is about to erupt. The bitch looked away but I repeated for her and all of her co workers and customers benefit, "No, seriously Phil, is she FUCKING with me? Cause I will go behind that counter and tear her ass up!"
Everyone in that coffee shop knew that I was heated, and I continued to mouth off very fearlessly.
Eventually, she came over and APOLOGIZED for "...messing with you guys" and said that she "just felt like being obnoxious". She never looked at me again, but apologized to the guys! I didn't take my eyes off her while she worked for the last two minutes that I was in that place. I mean if looks could kill that bitch would have been incinerated.
See why I'm worried about myself? I'm a wee bit psycho. I would not have hesitated to throw my $3.02 tall iced vanilla latte in that bitches face and then demand my money back. I'm off the hinges. I was SOOOOOOOO pissed off at her blatant disrespect! My husband and our best friend Dan were slightly amused and not surprised in the least. After all, it's not the first time I've acted this way, and it most certainly won't be the last.
Do I need help?
Anger management classes?
Sometimes I wonder about my mental health. I tend to flip out and get a little over excited about kicking bitches asses at times. Let some skank-o tramp look at my man the wrong way, much less openly get all goggle eyed over him. I WILL cause a major fucking scene, regardless of the location or the implications.
We drop into one of my most favorite places in the world, Starbucks, for a late night coffee fix. Next thing you know, the broke ass 30 some odd year old caffeine bitch starts getting all smilely behind the counter at MY husband. About three giggles and an eyelash bat later, I was about ready to publicly humiliate this bitch in her place of business.
I mean, hello? Is the pimple on my face throwing off my whole omni presence? Do I appear to be the tag a long friend out with a few guys? Did the bitch not look to see if this Brad Pitt look a like was wearing a big fat gold wedding ring? I mean, I guess I can't blame her for trying, but she at least could have opened her middle aging eyes and looked for evidence of marriage.
I was about three steps back from the counter watching it all play out, just so I had enough evidence to con- FLIP. (instead of convict, get it? Aren't I so clever?) When Phil turned around and started to walk toward me with a clear look of concern for my well documented psychosis, I didn't take my eyes away from her. She looked up just in time for me to fix my eyes on hers like a heat seeking missile.
I very loudly said to Phil, while burning into her like an evil inferno, "Is she FUCKING with me?!" Phil starts to raise his hand in an uncomfortable wave, I can see out of the corner of my eye that he knows the volcano is about to erupt. The bitch looked away but I repeated for her and all of her co workers and customers benefit, "No, seriously Phil, is she FUCKING with me? Cause I will go behind that counter and tear her ass up!"
Everyone in that coffee shop knew that I was heated, and I continued to mouth off very fearlessly.
Eventually, she came over and APOLOGIZED for "...messing with you guys" and said that she "just felt like being obnoxious". She never looked at me again, but apologized to the guys! I didn't take my eyes off her while she worked for the last two minutes that I was in that place. I mean if looks could kill that bitch would have been incinerated.
See why I'm worried about myself? I'm a wee bit psycho. I would not have hesitated to throw my $3.02 tall iced vanilla latte in that bitches face and then demand my money back. I'm off the hinges. I was SOOOOOOOO pissed off at her blatant disrespect! My husband and our best friend Dan were slightly amused and not surprised in the least. After all, it's not the first time I've acted this way, and it most certainly won't be the last.
Do I need help?
Anger management classes?
Thursday, February 23, 2012
12 things I've gained from having a child.....
1. Perspective.
2. Patience.
3. 10 Extra pounds (which took me 11 years to lose).
4. A Pamela Anderson boob experience (that lasted for exactly 2 weeks).
5. A coffee addiction.
6. The knowledge that everything in life has the potential to be funny, including listening to my husband freak out via telephone (while I was safely at work) when our little one discovered that poop makes a great finger paint.
7. Recurring nightmares which involve me drowning in unending piles of laundry.
8. The fantasy that I am Wonder Woman. Along with the recurring realization that I am, in fact, NOT Wonder Woman.
9. The ability to say “No.”
10. The ability to love someone else more than I could ever love myself.
11. Forehead wrinkles.
12. Laugh lines.
Friday, February 10, 2012
WARNING: This image is very disturbing!
I am posting it to illustrate just how far humanity has fallen. We live in a disposable world, a place where anything "undesirable" or seen as an impediment to "the beautiful life" is easily tossed away like so much garbage. A child, a living, breathing blessing, should NEVER be seen as trash, much less tossed into a can on the side of the street with the type of scorn usually reserved for a used condom.
I don't know the back story to this picture. It was sent to me by a fan that was very upset by the image. However, she asked me to share it with you in order to get this message conveyed, loud and clear: This is UNACCEPTABLE. We reject the selfish, me-centered mentality that would drive a parent to dump their infant like yesterday's refuse. We reject a society that looks the other way. We reject a justice system that refuses to dole out the appropriate punishment to fit such a heinous crime. We will unite and fight, scream, protest, boycott, or do whatever else it takes to STOP THIS MADNESS!
I don't know the back story to this picture. It was sent to me by a fan that was very upset by the image. However, she asked me to share it with you in order to get this message conveyed, loud and clear: This is UNACCEPTABLE. We reject the selfish, me-centered mentality that would drive a parent to dump their infant like yesterday's refuse. We reject a society that looks the other way. We reject a justice system that refuses to dole out the appropriate punishment to fit such a heinous crime. We will unite and fight, scream, protest, boycott, or do whatever else it takes to STOP THIS MADNESS!
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Late Afternoon Musings
How can one ever be certain that they've made the right decision until gazing back in retrospect? Is there any way to circumvent a potentially tragic butterfly effect? I only want what best invests the many blessings of my happenstance without trusting too much in the fickle fortunes of chance.
Friday, February 3, 2012
You're a crazy bitch but.....
My boss: Home ownership is cheaper than divorce.
Me: I'll kill him before it comes to that.
My boss: Maybe he doesn't feel the same way. He could up and say, "I've had it with this crazy woman."
Me: Nope. He loves it.
My boss: That you're crazy? I highly doubt that.
Me: Have you ever heard that song Crazy Bitch? Enough said.
My boss: *Laughter*
Me: I'll kill him before it comes to that.
My boss: Maybe he doesn't feel the same way. He could up and say, "I've had it with this crazy woman."
Me: Nope. He loves it.
My boss: That you're crazy? I highly doubt that.
Me: Have you ever heard that song Crazy Bitch? Enough said.
My boss: *Laughter*
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