These banners are popping up everywhere. Spotted here. Here. And here. Can’t forget about this one. Or this one. It was parked over yonder. And must not forget here, here, or here. Oh, and this one, this one, and this one. Ooops, one more.

There, that covers the participants in my blogroll. Now hurry, get on over and buy a little piece of me. Should be pretty cheap at the moment, but we’ll see if that paragraph of plugs did some damage to my price.

Not really sure how it counts links, but I plan on finding out.

I have decided to let the boys join that Yu-Gi-Oh club that meets every week. All three made the honor roll again, and I guess there are a lot worse things that they could be into.

Baseball starts in a few weeks too. MB1 didn’t want to play, but the other two did. Even kicked scouts to the curb to do it. thank gawd. I know that’s awful of me to say, but that was a PITA. Not enjoyable for the whole family either. At least we can all watch their games and practices.

Now I’m off to start round #34,924 of housecleaning. With the windows open and the music up loud.

Took a break today.

From the war. From style sheets. From laundry, cooking, and dusting. From tv and computer. From stress and thinking and fear.

I played monopoly and baked cinnamon rolls and had a bbq with friends. I went barefoot. I laughed.

Think I’ll continue to break with routines and turn in early tonight. I’m so very tired. Yes, I’ll sleep now, tomorrow is already knocking at the door.

We are fucked.

MD and I were finishing the clean-up after dinner tonight, and MB3 walked past us on his way to MB1’s room. Heard him humming. Pretty soon we heard all three boys humming. Then all at once, they started to sing. Loud and clear and proud and strong. My kids will never be handed a recording contract, but tonight their song was sweet enough to stop their father and I in our tracks.

They might not know all the words Mr. Greenwood, but they sure as hell know the important ones.

I have nothing to say.

So I’ll shut up.

The word cloud starts to fuck with your mind after awhile.

Let me warn you that I do not ‘watch’ what we eat or how I cook it. We’re healthy, we’re happy, and life is too short to worry about shit like that unless there is a specific need.

*Peel and cut the taters into med sized pieces
*Throw into pot with 1-2 sticks of butter (hehe – artery alert)
*Cook on LOW/MED LOW till taters get tender – this takes awhile
*Once you can mash them (in the pan) – they’re ready – usually about an hour
*Season with whatever you please – I use garlic and onion powder, s & p, thyme

About 15-20 minutes before you want to eat, kick the heat up. This will change the butter from a tenderizing agent to a frying agent. Just brown to your liking.

No need to butter these suckers afterwards.

I have a delish dinner cooking. House is clean. No games or scouts or plays lined up for the evening. I have tequila and oj eagerly awaiting their union. I have turned will turn the tv off. I waxed.

No, I don’t work tonight.

Yes, I am getting me some.

The boys talked me into taking them to the local Yu-Gi-Oh tournament. Thrilling. We went. They dueled. I wandered. Was held at Hastings. MG was carrying around a Blue’s Clues book she found, so I headed up to the register to buy it for her.

Line was long. Radio was on. They began the 90 second war update. Heard that another soldier had died from that grenade attack. The tears came. They always come – no matter what the report. Not many tears, but enough.

Enough to humble me. To remind me of how lucky I am to live in this nation of ours. To fill me with compassion for those that don’t. Enough tears to remember those that spend every waking moment glued to the tube in hopes of catching a mere glimpse of their loved ones. Enough to honor those that have lost their lives – and those that will. Enough tears to release the overflow of pride I feel to be an American.

Register gal softly asked if I was ok. Asked if I had a loved one fighting in this war. I said yes – our troops. Look on her face told me that she didn’t get it. That she will probably never get it.

I think that’s sad. I feel sorry for her. I wish everyone could feel what I feel right now. All of it. The good and the bad. The pride and the pain.

I realized today standing in line that I do not have to be ashamed to admit that I watch the news 24 hours a day. Or that I sprout tears of joy and sorrow almost every hour on the hour lately. This is how I deal with it. It’s not wrong – it just is. I want to be there with the troops in spirit. Watching them. Honoring them. Crying for them – with them even. Getting pissed off for them. Cheering for them. Hoping and praying for them.

They’ll never know the constant electronic vigil I keep for their sake. But that’s ok. Cause I know the constant risks they take for mine. And that’s all that matters. I will watch the news and let the tears flow until every single one of them are home.

As always, my thoughts are with the troops and their families.

I’m trying to go about my day to day life like I always do, but it’s not going very well. Tried to run to WalMart earlier to pick up a few things, and found myself gravitating to the tvs. Not sure if that makes me a concerned citizen who wants to remain current with the war, or one of those ambulance chaser types. Not sure if there’s a difference. Not sure why I wonder about it.

Home now. Trying very hard to keep the tv off. Played outside a bit. Finger painted with the wee ones. Did a bit of cleaning. Fiddled around with style sheets. Tried to do something.

So, fuck it. I’m off to soak up the rays from the boob tube. After I change my clothes. I put on a pair of your-ass-looks-hungry-so-let’s-stuff-ourselves-up-the-crack underwear. Not in the mood for ass pickin’ today.

So many thoughts in my mind, but I am unable to translate them into words.

My heart is with our troops and their families.

Registering the boys for baseball today. Should be an expensive day.

House is already cleaned. Woke up to the sweet smell of Pine-Sol this morning. MD got up and got busy. Love that man.

I really should be learning how to move this blog. [hint of things to come] I DLed MT and tried sifting through it, but I just don’t have the brain cells to devote to it right now. My dear friend Nancy said she would take care of it for me, but I know she’s busy.

Going to try to think of something fun to do today. I need a break.

Let’s discuss the expression I pissed my pants.

We all realize that when a person makes this statement, most of the time, there was no loss of urine. However, there are situations in life that come up that actually do cause one to wet themselves.

Like when you are getting dinner ready, and as you open the oven door, you hear a siren. The siren. Everything stops in that moment. The pan is slowly placed back on the counter as you try to re-start your heart. There is no brain activity for a few moments. There isn’t a thought in your mind except that siren. That sound. That warning. Until the gut-punching realization creeps in that your kids are outside. And you begin to move even though you are quite sure your legs won’t support you. You manage to terrify the living shit out of your children, who have stopped their football game and are staring at the sky, by screaming something that only the dog next door could hear and they are now sprinting into the house as if the very sky might fall onto their precious heads. The siren stops, but the silence is replaced with the tone of the EBS’s buzz. The emergency buzz…

And you hear the voice tell you that this was just a test. That the siren was just a test. That your heart attack was just a test. That the tears and the panic and the fear were all just tests. That they apologize, for they were supposed to buzz before they siren’ed. Supposed to inform before they passed out strokes.

Fucking hick ass town. Fucking stupid ass BillyBobCleatus who can’t get the drill right. Fucking paranoid fears of mine just waiting to destroy me.

Yes, I actually wet myself a wee bit today.

CNN has become desktop wallpaper for my life.

Always there. Always on.

Was sent this by a good friend of mine – proud military wife going it alone these days while her soldier is gone.

I don’t really give two hoots if it’s bullshit, so please – no links to snopes. If it wasn’t sent – it should be.

From: “Geoffrey L. Hall”
To:
Subject: Open letter to Dixie Chicks
Date: Wed, 19 Mar 2003 12:32:51 -0600
Comment
An open letter to the Dixie Chicks: Earlier this week, while performing in London, you stated that you were ashamed that our President is from your home state. I wonder if you realized how many Americans would be listening. This American was listening. This Texan is ashamed that you come from my state. I serve my country as an officer in the United States Navy. Specifically, I fly F-14 Tomcats off carriers around the world, executing the missions that preserve the very freedom you claim to exercise. I have proudly fought for my country in the skies over Kosovo, Iraq and Afghanistan without regret. Though I may disagree wholeheartedly with your comments, I will defend to the death your right to say them, in America. But for you to travel to a foreign land and publicly criticize our Commander in Chief is cowardice behavior. Would you have so willingly made those comments while performing for a patriotic, flag-waving crowd of Texans in Lubbock. I would imagine not. How dare you pocket profits off songs about soldiers, their deaths and patriotism while criticizing their Commander in Chief abroad, even while they prepare to give their lives to ensure your own freedom of speech. Please ask yourself, what have you done to deserve that sacrifice? Do not try to justify your comments by claiming that you made them only because you care about innocent lives. Never once in our history have we committed troops to war for the purpose of taking innocent lives. We do it to protect innocent lives, even yours. If the world leaders of the late 1930’s had the vision and courage of our present Commander in Chief, perhaps the evil men who caused the death of millions in WWII would have never had the opportunity to harm a soul. The potential loss of millions of lives in the future at the hands of today’s evil men necessitate action. In a separate correspondence, I am returning to you each and every Dixie Chicks CD and cassette that I have ever purchased. Never again will I allow my funds to support your behavior. All you have done is to add your name to a growing list of American “Celebrities” who have failed to realize that they have obtained their successes on the backs of the American blue-collar workers such as our servicemen and women. To Natalie Maines: This Texan & this American will continue to risk his life to guarantee your freedoms. What will you do to deserve it?

Still raining. It’s been raining for 3 days now. I don’t mind. I adore the rain.

Grass is starting to really green up now. Flowers are peeking through. I can see from my desk that our tree in back has buds. Spring is just about here and the feeling of new awakening that it brings with it feels so out of place right now. I have no doubt that there will be a new awakening after the war, but for now – there are no feelings of joy and life and happiness.

We’re talking to the kids tonight. We’ve put it off because it’s hard as parents to reassure them that we will protect them, when in reality – there isn’t shit we can do if this war drops into our back yard. We will be honest. Then we will hold them. Not much else we can do.

I’ve got a few gallons of water. Some batteries for the radio. Matches. Can opener. But that’s it. The voice inside me that begs for a fully stocked pantry and more supplies is squashed by the American in me that keeps saying over and over that there is no need. No cause for concern about this battle spilling over onto our soil.

I’m wondering every day – every moment of the day – if that part of me is right. Hoping that it isn’t too arrogant. Too calm. Too apathetic. It worries me that Saddam has nothing left to lose. Makes for a dangerous man. He’s dangerous enough as it is. I hope he dies soon.

I’m going to go watch the rain now.

Lots of changes going on. Making my head spin. I love it though. I hate to be idle. I need to be stressed and busy and hurried. Most of the time, it’s me who stresses me out. Me who puts me on a deadline. Me who won’t tolerate me fiddle fucking around.

And that’s how me likes it.

Ok, someone fucking explain this to me, ’cause maybe I just don’t get it.

Allow me to quote some ass witted genius:

You claim this war isn’t about oil. It’s about incidents that MAY happen if we do nothing. Incidents like the WTC. Well…that just shows our President’s ignorance. If that was the case, we would be attacking Saudi Arabia, because that’s the country those men were from.

Ok. Someone show me how that makes a fucking lick of sense? This person actually believes that load of shit. Who’s the dumbass here? There are so many things wrong with this statement, but I don’t have all day. I’m really just focused on the one main bit of fucked up logic addressed here.

Am I wrong in thinking that just because a person originates from a particular country, doesn’t make that country accountable for that person’s terroristic behavior? Making that argument null and void and totally fucking ignorant?

Can they not think shit through and understand that a person is responsible for his/her own actions? That maybe, just maybe, a person’s birth place might just be the place they were….oh….BORN???? And not make a fucking bit of difference as to who they grow up to be later on in life? Or what they grow up to be, in this case?? That maybe people make the decision to join an extremist group all by their lonesome because they are just twisted fucks?

There are some anti-war statements that I can respect. There are some that make me think. There are some that motivate me to educate myself. And then there are ones like this.

That just make me wanna choke the piss out of someone.

I’m not a huge fan of country music, but I’ll tell ya, with the exception of a few loud mouth idiots, most are some patriotic SOBs.

I respect that. Which is why I am going to plug this song I found out about today. Damn thing won’t upload, so you’ll have to go grab it here. It’s ok, it’s free. Mr. Clint Black said so himself. Free – just like the United States.

“I RAQ AND I ROLL”

Words and Music by Clint Black and Hayden Nicholas

YOU CAN WAVE YOUR SIGNS IN PROTEST
AGAINST AMERICA TAKING STANDS
THE STANDS AMERICA’S TAKEN
ARE THE REASON THAT YOU CAN

IF EVERYONE WOULD GO FOR PEACE
THERE’D BE NO NEED FOR WAR
BUT WE CAN’T IGNORE THE DEVIL
HE’LL KEEP COMING BACK FOR MORE

SOME SEE THIS IN BLACK AND WHITE
OTHERS ONLY GRAY
WE’RE NOT BEGGING FOR A FIGHT
NO MATTER WHAT THEY SAY

WE HAVE THE RESOLUTION
THAT SHOULD PUT’EM ALL TO SHAME
BUT IT’S A DIFFERENT KIND OF DEADLINE
WHEN I’M CALLED IN THE GAME

CHORUS
I RAQ, I RACK’EM UP AND I ROLL
I’M BACK AND I’M A HIGH TECH GI JOE
I PRAY FOR PEACE, PREPARE FOR WAR
AND I NEVER WILL FORGET
THERE’S NO PRICE TOO HIGH FOR FREEDOM
SO BE CAREFUL WHERE YOU TREAD

THIS TERROR ISN’T MAN TO MAN
THEY CAN BE NO MORE THAN COWARDS
IF THEY WON’T SHOW US THEIR WEAPONS
WE MIGHT HAVE TO SHOW THEM OURS

IT MIGHT BE A SMART BOMB
THEY FIND STUPID PEOPLE TOO
AND IF YOU STAND WITH THE LIKES OF SADDAM
ONE JUST MIIGHT FIND YOU

CHORUS II
I ROCK, I RACK’EM UP AND I ROLL
I’M BACK AND I’M A HIGH TECH GI JOE
I’VE GOT INFRARED, I’VE GOT GPS AND I’VE GOT THAT GOOD OLD FASHIONED LEAD
THERE’S NO PRICE TOO HIGH FOR FREEDOM
SO BE CAREFUL WHERE YOU TREAD

BRIDGE
NOW YOU CAN COME ALONG
OR YOU CAN STAY BEHIND
OR YOU CAN GET OUT OF THE WAY
BUT OUR TROOPS TAKE OUT THE GARBAGE
FOR THE GOOD OLD U.S.A.

I ROCK, I RACK’EM UP AND I ROLL
IN THE USA
I ROCK, I RACK’EM UP AND I ROLL
I’M TALKIN’ ABOUT THE USA

Ican’tlosemyjobIcan’tlosemyjobIcan’tlosemyjob.

Must sit on my hands and not tear these idiots to pieces. I’m not allowed to have an opinion at work. Must let these assholes bash our country all to hell without saying a word.

I’ve never been one to keep my mouth shut.

Maybe it’s time I got a real job.

Screw ever going to that park again. Shame since it’s only a block away and is so gorgeous and so big and so fun for the kids. I refuse to set foot there again until I have permission to openly beat stupid parents and OPKs.

Like the pack of 15yo’s that rambled around, fucking with every little kid they could find. Not openly and blatantly fucking with them. More that hey let’s go spin the merry-go-round at 70mph and fling all the shrieking kids off of it. Or the huddle at the top of castle, making 90% of the park’s fun stuff off limits to everyone else. Or riding their bikes through the sand pit, destroying artwork of the wee ones playing there.

Like the mom who sat two hundred yards away from the playground while her child – no older than 1yo – roamed the castle. The castle that has steep steps and lots of areas made for older kids only. Areas that would be dangerous to little ones who might not realize that the bottom suddenly drops off and you are supposed to slide down the pole 10 feet to the ground. Aside from the pride I felt watching my kids take this little one under their wing, it infuriates me that there was a need for someone to do this. To make sure he didn’t fall head first into nothing-ness when he tripped over the rubber ’speed bumps’ on the flooring. To make sure he had someone to catch him when he squealed down the spiral slide. To make sure he didn’t eat more sand than he played with.

This is why I don’t go places alone. This is why I need MD with me. To level me. To mediate between me and the human race. To prevent me from single-handedly wiping out every stupid ass buffoon I encounter. He would be proud of me today, though. I didn’t mouth off to anyone.

Can’t really count the wee comment I made to those boys about popping their fucking heads off if they didn’t leave the little ones alone, right?

Right?

Today is my husband’s birthday. I’ve been trying to clean the house and put together a special birthday dinner, but my heart just isn’t in it. Can’t get my head out of the clouds. My eyes off CNN. I can hear the drums of war beating in my chest.

I’m for the war, but I am still terrified. I’m a mom. I want to clutch my kids and hide them in a cave. I plastered on a smile for their sake this morning. Smiled even though it was still early, and the nightmare hadn’t quite faded from my memory yet. The nightmare that has evolved from the fear I have that this war will not be quick. That it will not be painless. That it will not happen in a far away country, leaving my family secure in their beds at night.

I feel for those that are worrying about their loved ones in the service. Those days are over for us, but I remember what it feels like. My thanks and love to the soldiers and their families.

Gotta snap out of this daze now. Kids are home. I’m going to take them to the park and try not to hear every tick of the clock for the next 3 and a half hours.

What a lazy, wonderful weekend. This just might have been the longest weekend of my life. Sure felt that way.

Party for MD and MB4 yesterday. Their birthdays aren’t until this coming week, but the weather was too nice to pass up. We had the grill going all weekend long. We flew kites. We played football and baseball. We laughed. We went through 9 bottles of bubbles. We sat outside and looked at the stars. We drug out the summer clothes and wore shorts. It was 80 degrees and I just can’t think of a more perfect time than we had this weekend.

I feel rested and recharged. Other than the pneumonia sneaking in. Can feel that shit settling in my lungs. Will worry about that tomorrow though. Tonight there is nothing but the moonlight and the breeze in my thoughts. I so needed this – think everyone did.

Glad that most seemed to benefit from this truly gorgeous weather. Seems that this weekend was actually the calm before the storm after watching the news tonight. That’s ok. I’m ready. Rested, clear-headed, and ready.

Well, I’ll be ready tomorrow. Right now I’m headed back outside.

I’ve got stars to count.

No congradulations anywhere on the cake. But I will never be able to order another cake from there again.

Lady at the counter was not the same woman on the phone. I looked at it, and laughed. Then commented that they left off the d I specifically asked for.

She didn’t laugh. She didn’t know what the fuck I was talking about.

I said I been asked whether or not I wanted congrats spelled with a t or d, and I had answered d.

She still didn’t laugh. She became very soft-spoken and her words came out almost slow-motion-ish. T h i s i s a b i r t h d a y c a k e.

I tried to explain. I failed miserably through my fits of giggles. Ended up just walking off with cake in hand. Left her standing there obviously confused as hell.

Oh well, whole thing was good for a few laughs. I didn’t eat that cake though. Still not entirely sure who the hell made it.

Thanks to Da Goddess, I took a peek at my site tracker stats. I wish I hadn’t. Starting to realize that when you have a mouth like a trucker, you shouldn’t talk about your children as well. Especially if most of your children are boys.

(Section deleted because Acidman so kindly pointed out that I am inviting more perverts to my blog, and I am too lazy to nab a screen shot right now)

Nasty bastards. Hope your eyes catch on fire and your dicks rot off.

[Phone call just moments ago]

I need to order a birthday cake for tomorrow please.

Um, sorry. No one from the bakery is here to take down your order. Can you call back in the morning?

Sure. Will they be able to have it ready by one?

Oh no. All orders require a day’s notice.

Okayyyyyyy, then it would really be nice if I could place my order today. How would I go about doing that?

Well, I guess I could jot your order down.

Thank you. Will the bakery crew be in today at all to even see it?

Oh. Yeah. I am the bakery crew. [insert stupid ass giggle]

But I thought you said … never mind.

[Skip ahead a few moments]

Yes. I’d like it to say Happy Birthday MD & MB4.

K. Got it. And how would you like congratulations spelled?

………uhhhhhh ……… excuse me?

With a t or a d ? Some people are so particular about it.

……………….. [insert mind melt down here] ………..

Ma’am?

Sorry, just trying to decide. That’s a tough one. Go ahead and give me the d.

Ok, great………got it ……. We’ll see you at one o’clock tomorrow!

I absolutely cannot fucking wait to see what this cake looks like.

Breath Right strips suck ass. Should’ve just used the duct tape. Would’ve been cheaper. Or maybe he is just unstoppable. It has to end if I am to retain my sanity. It has to end if I am to allow him to live.

What the fuck happened to 6 Feet Under this year? I am so damn confused. Only thing I’m sure of – Nate had better wake up soon from that fucking nightmare marriage shit. What a waste of a fine ass man. I am so disgusted that they married those two. bleh and yuck

Pay Tony the money, for gawd sakes. That show is shit without him. Don’t fool yourselves into thinking anyone will watch it if he goes. HBO is just pissing me off royally lately. I’d settle for a new episode of Arliss. C’mon!!!!!! These shows are the only reason I have HBO, and I’m starting to think of better uses for my fucking moola. I can watch SVU, CSI, ER, NYPD Blue – for free. Stop fucking around and give me what I want.

Someone once told me that lady bugs were lucky. I let them infest my house now because of that. I don’t mind. It’s not that bad. They’re cute and my kids love to watch them and place them on the plants. And with the weather warming up, they can chuck them outside now. However, I draw the line at what I will tolerate.

When I take a swig of my DrPepper and notice that the ice in my mouth grew legs and is tickling my tongue causing me to panic and almost swallow the little soda pop swimmer but instead I go brain dead and just open my mouth allowing the contents to spill down the front of my shirt in order to expedite the removal of the polka-dotted intruder thereby causing the spouse to almost piss himself with laughter at my hysteria – well, I tend to get a little pissed.

I will just crunch the little bastard next time.

What the hell did MD buy me a web cam for? I will never be able to figure this shit out. It’s installed. It works. And I tried it out on Windows Messenger so his sister could see the kids.

Yeah yeah. How nice.

Now, does this bitch work if the other person doesn’t have one as well?

How do I make some crappy ass movies of the kids and stick ‘em up on a site for my sister to see? Even a small clip is h-u-g-e, and would take forever to email to someone. No, I can’t zip it up and send it, most of my family and friends are even more tech challenged than I am.

Think I’m just pissy because I can’t find my USB cable to download my pictures with. I’ll be here the rest of my life using this fucking serial port.

I just want an easy quick simple way to send images of my growing children to my sister in Michigan. Is that so gawd damn hard? Obviously it is. For me anyway.

Think I’ll just buy some damn film for my Advantix.

It’s late, I’m tired, and I’m about to get depressing. Oh well.

I had a miscarriage in 1997. I know, boo-friggin-hoo. Happens to lots of women, unfortunately. But it was a big deal to me, just as I’m sure it is to every woman that has suffered a loss. I was pregnant with a perfect little baby girl and her heart just stopped beating one day. For no reason at all.

That miscarriage destroyed me. I let the anger consume me until there was nothing left – including my marriage. I’m very thankful that MD was still standing there when I finally re-opened the door that I had shut him out with.

She would have been 5yo this month. It bothers me that she will never have an actual birthday. A day that I can silently celebrate for her. I don’t talk about her much – the boys are so sensitive, and they think about her enough on their own. I wonder sometimes if that’s healthy. I wonder if it’s normal. I wonder if it ever stops. I hope not. I don’t want her forgotten. To me, she will always remain a part of this family.

As it turns out, we are blessed to have a big, beautiful, seven member family – but our dining room table seats eight. There will always be an empty chair.

I think that’s as it should be.

The sun is out. The windows are open. The breeze is drifting in at a heavenly 65?. I hear birds singing. I hear the relaxing flapflap of Rosie’s sheets that are drying on the line today.

Thought I saw a butterfly and my heart jumped at the sure sign of spring. At the promise that nasty winter was behind us and we were saved from ice storms, snow, coats, hats, gloves, scraping, shovelling, freezing, sniffling, gas bills, dry skin, cabin fever, and warming up the car.

But it was just a stupid leaf.

Gotta get this out and then I’ll drop it for tonight.

I can’t get this out of my head. Or my gut. Or my heart.

I’ve made it no secret that I support whatever action it takes to remove Saddam from power. For many reasons. One of which is really eating away at me tonight. Whatever your reasons for either supporting or protesting a war, doesn’t it make you sick to your stomach to fully ingest the following thought:

The situation in Iraq is so bad, that they want us to bomb their country in hopes that liberation will follow? That shit is so horrific, they are willing to risk their lives for freedom?

Aren’t we all? Shouldn’t we all? Am I just fucking ignorant for saying that I would be willing to die for their freedom as well? And no, not just for the people of Iraq. I would be willing to fight for the freedom of any country. Freedom is everyone’s right.

I was reading tonight about how the Iraqi people tried to overthrow Saddam after the Gulf war. They thought we’d have their back if they did. But we didn’t. We left. Left him there to execute those poor bastards that tried to right the fucking wrong in that country on their own. That makes my insides twist.

Maybe I just think too much.

Yet another reason for my foul mood.

Let me catch these mother fuckers.

Afterthought: Found this at Michele’s BTW.

Going stir crazy sitting in this house. Was supposed to be warm today. It’s not. Might be later, but I want to go outside now. Right now. Before my mind snaps the last cog it’s been running off of lately. I’m sick of listening to Calliou. I fucking hate Blue and her stupid ass clues. I don’t wanna color anymore. I’m sick of cleaning for a spring that’s taking its sweet ass time getting here. I want to feel the sun and smell the breeze and hear the squeak of the swings. I want to go find pods and four-leaf-clovers with my kids. I want to grab our jackets at the first sound of a light spring rain and let our senses soak it all in. I want to open the windows and hum like Snow Fucking White as the cool air carries in the voices of the kids playing outside. It’s so close I can taste it.

My mood will improve then. I know it will.

There should be a law against flapping your fucking lips about shit you have no experience with or knowledge of. Period. This law should allow for those with experience and/or knowledge to bitchslap those that don’t. Of these people, the ones that don’t have children yet anger me the most.

My children will never have a binky. Too hard to break them of the habit.

Good fucking luck sweetheart. You better hope there’s a SuperWalMart in town so you can send your hubby there at 2am to grab you one when that little darlin’ won’t shut the hell up. You won’t give a shit about habits when you haven’t slept in three days.

My children will never suck their thumb. Causes buck teeth.

Again, good fucking luck. Ever tried to stop a child from sucking their thumb? Better chop those suckers off then, I guess. Buck teeth? You believe what you want. Personally, I tend to think what’s gonna happen will happen no matter what the hell your kid does.

My kids will never sleep in my bed.

Excuse me while I piss myself from laughing. Listen very carefully. Try not to cry when I tell you this. I don’t give a shit who you are or how well you sleep-train your kiddos. You may have that infant trapped in the crib, but just wait till that wee one graduates to a toddler bed. It’ll be move-over-bacon-now-there’s-something-bed-hoggier-than-your-husband taking over. You can’t escape it. From around age 2 to 6, those kids will ping-pong in and out of your bed all night long. Might as well start practicing now – you need to learn how to sleep in one position. And how to sleep through an elbow jab to the head or a knee to the kidneys.

I will never spank my children.

For the sake of every man, woman, and child on this planet – I hope to gawd you are blessed with a child that never needs it. ‘Cause if you aren’t, and you still won’t spank – it’ll be everyone else that suffers for it later on.

I know I’m missing some of those famous last words. Care to add?

I have two more hours of work.

I just ran out of Rolos.

This could get ugly.

Read about this over at Michele’s.

Go. Read. Learn. And if you’re human – take a tissue.

Here’s just a taste of what you’ll find there:
(more…)

This is for Nancy and Meg.

Puter is now purring. Thanks Nancy.

My parents computer is now humming. My friend now has a rebuilt computer. Thank you me. What a busy fucking weekend. Now I can rest. Finally. Nothing else left to fiddle with. Well, not till tomorrow anyway.

Had another reminder again this weekend how very lucky/blessed I am to have 5 gorgeous, healthy children. One of my very best friends is on her 10th year of infertility issues. My heart breaks for her. Hope she considers my offer of carrying a child for her. I’d do it without thinking twice.

My knee is killing me. I’m too young to feel this fucking old. Isn’t that a song? Not one I would listen to, if I remember correctly. Give me rock or give me death. ‘Cause without rock, my ass might as well be dead anyway.

Why do little cheezits taste like shit? Do they save all the cheesy goodness for the big cheezits? That’s not very nice. And why are Rolos in the bag wrapped up individually? Like little fucking speedbumps. Hard to inhale them when I have to take time out to unwrap them first. Inconsiderate pricks.

K. Break’s over. Time to get back to work. After I get up and grab my peeps.

I am now very annoyed at the false sense of security that my new burner brought to the table with its sorry ass.

Bought a new hard drive for C. Bigger drive. More More More. Me happy. Have computer I’ve always wanted. Almost. Not until I install.

What a disaster. I don’t know shit about DOS. Format? Huh? FDisk? Huh? Fuck me. I got through it alright, but only after bugging the piss out of poor Nancy. She’s probably ready to set my ass on fire and smash my computer into teeny pieces.

But, it’s done. I now have all the space I’ll ever need. 100GB total between the two drives. And they’re empty. Fucking empty. I have Internet and email. That’s it. Was just going to pop in those discs that I burned my goodies to and get myself right back to normal. Uhh, nothing is that easy in Ang’s life. Nothing at all.

Mother Fucker. Stupid piece of shit. Hunk O Junk. My favorites won’t ‘take’. My email addy book won’t load. RoboForm data fucked out on me. Money data bit the big one. I honestly want to kill right now.

Only files/programs that work are the fluff files. The shit that I just drug along for the fuck of it. The shit that I can snag from Kazaa pick up anywhere.

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

Feel like I’m drowning. There must have been over 70 passwords on Robo. Some are easy enough to remember, but others? sigh. And think about your favorites for a sec. It took me twenty minutes to ‘find’ my way to work tonight because my lazy ass is used to warping there via the favorites link. I didn’t even know the url.

My gawd, I could cry. I had all this shit on disks until last week. Disks never failed me. Might have taken 40 of them, but at least they got the job done.

I’m going to smash this effin burner.

Feeling like shit right now. I knew I was on borrowed time when the kids starting dropping like flies this week. Fever. Cough. Upset Stomach. Headache.

I need a pause button for life at times like this. Errands to run. MB1’s drama practice after school. MB2’s play tonight. MB3’s scout meeting after that.

bleh

I’ve changed my mind about cloning. That shit sounds like a fine idea right about now.

“I don’t know if all parents support cutting school for it, but my parents agree with what we’re doing,” said Sabrina Howell, 17, a junior at New York’s Stuyvesant High School who skipped physics to march downtown. “I think they’re very supportive because they participated in the Vietnam War protests.”

Isn’t that sweet? Wonder if they taught her how to spit?

America was founded on the need for diversity. But right now, I think that diversity is starting to reach around and bite us on the ass.

I have this sick feeling in my gut that this great nation is going to destroy itself before anyone else gets a chance to do it.

Doesn’t my purdy girl make ya smile?
(more…)

I have no brothers. I’m not familiar with the workings of a 12yo boy’s mind.

So could someone explain this to me?
(more…)

Married By America

I just don’t know what to say….

Ok, that’s a lie. I got plenty to say.

What a bunch of desperate pukes. Almost feel sorry for the ones that are there for sincere reasons. But why in the hell would you trust our nation of smart-asses to pick you a spouse? Good gawd. Get a fucking life.

As for those fuckers that just want to strut their shit in hopes that they will be ‘discovered’, you make me sick. No, it’s not jealousy. I like my hermit life, thank you very much. You truly are disgusting in my eyes.

MD doesn’t believe that there are any people like that on the show. One of these days I’m gonna pop that bubble of make-believe he lives in.

Counted my kids’ phone calls this weekend.

12yo – 22
10yo – 9
7yo – 4

Yes, you read that right. That shittin’ phone is about to be ripped out of the wall.

Main Complaints:

I don’t mind it when you call, friend-of-my-child. What I do mind, is when you call back 4 times within the hour – for no fucking reason but to irritate the piss out of me. You called. You spoke. Enough. Stop calling back over and over. I don’t like the phone. I don’t like answering the phone. I don’t like getting up to answer the phone.

I do mind when you call, bitches-that-broke-my-child’s-heart. Yes, he’s a great guy. Yes, you should be fucking sorry. But no, he doesn’t want to go with you again. I know this. He’s told me. And to be honest, I’m thankful as hell that my boy doesn’t take that kind of shit from anyone. So kindly piss off and stop calling here.

As for you, wee-friend-of-my-wee-7yo-child. Where the hell are your parents? Who the fuck lets their 7yo use the phone? Not this mama. I let him talk because you called. But forgive my rudeness for snatching the phone away and calling the conversation quits when the two of you had a contest about who could belch the loudest into my telephone.

MD wants to give them their own phone line. Thank gawd I wear the pants around here.

Bite my ass. Trying to do a few things tonight, and none of them are working.

Tyring Trying to get drunk, but it doesn’t seem to be working very well.

Trying to seduce my husband, but he decided Beverly Hills Cop still holds a certain place in his heart after what? 20 fucking years? Guess I’ll give it another shot after it’s over. That is, unless Lethal Weapon IX is on afterwards.

And I’m trying to figure out this blog. Probably not a good idea right now. Notice the herky-jerky shit is gone now when you hover over a link? I went and got rid of the opaque-ness (whatever you call it, not going to pause to look it up), and now it’s fine. BUT, it’s fine with the opaque-ness (gawd – I should really look it up) on the other blog I tried the design on. It’s driving me insane trying to figure it out. So, for now, I’m leaving it like this. That lag was bugging me more than anything.

Time for a refill and a straw. I refuse to watch BHCop sober.

Just sent in my donation.

Thanks for setting this up Michele.

I was just given tonight off for being so helpful.

Think I’ll get shit-faced.