Hello and welcome to the MENTAL HEALTH HOTLINE.


If you are obsessive compulsive, press 1 repeatedly.

If you are co-dependant, ask someone to press 2 for you.

If you have multiple personalities, press 3,4,5 and 6.

If you are paranoid, we know what you are and what you want. Stay on the line and we'll trace your call.

If you are delusional, press 7 and your call will be transfered to the mother ship.

If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and the small voice will tell you which number to press.

If you are depressive, it doesn't matter which number you press. No one will answer you.

If you are dislexic, press 69696969.

If you have a nervous disorder, please fidget with the # key until the beep. After the beep, please wait for the beep.

If you have short term memory loss, please try your call again later.

And if you have low self esteem, please hang up. All of our operators are too busy for your shit!

Saturday, June 30, 2007

Horny Bastards are Frothing At the Bit

Okay, I'd love nothing more than to satisfy the insatiable needs of blogland (I'm a tramp like that!) but honestly, my "ASS," as my Mother so kindly puts it, is currently owned by a rather demanding individual (not Daddy Dearest, poor guy can't remember the last time he got some "ass"...was that too much? oh well, you asked for it).

Anyway, since my darling daughter insists that she needs to be the center of attention for most of the day... what is a mother to do? I thought about putting her in the baby sling and hanging her off the side of the desk, but unless I super-glued the pacifier in her mouth, I'm afraid she'd still object.

On the up side, she decided to develop a sleeping schedule. For three days in a row she was going to bed a little before midnight & sleeping straight through (minus a couple of feedings) until 9:30 am. The down side? We let her sleep all of one day because we were rearranging the bedroom and now that wonderful sleep schedule went out with the dirty diapers. Back to SQUARE ONE... which is just to the left of HELL!

Good thing is that Ell now has her own personal corner in the bedroom. Bad thing is that she refuses to spend any time in the bedroom unless she is asleep on MOMMIE'S BED!!

... on a lighter note, I'd like to publish this letter ...

Dear Mr. Postman who was sleeping in his vehicle at 3 PM in the park,

I now know why my mail is always late!!

Thank you!

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
I was tempted to blare on the horn as we passed him, but then I decided he was only delivering bills so who the hell cared.
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

So our lives have been filled with tons of intellectual conversations.

Case in point:

*on trip to Nebraska*
Daddy Dearest: That tower looks like it has ping pong paddles on it!
Daddy Dearest: Oh Wait! They're bottle caps!
Daddy Dearest: Nope! They're modern indian drums!
Daddy Dearest: They just automatically go off on schedule
Daddy Dearest (in American Indian voice): Teepee burn down, Squaw run off, Horses die, Casino go under, We eat hogs, I sell my hair, Make good Tampons!! (by now voice is East Indian)
Me: *laughing hysterically, throws notebook on car floor*
Daddy Dearest: Release everything! Can't hold onto this! Must focus on breathing!
Daddy Dearest: Rub belly pat head, rub belly pat head, rub belly pat head! SHIT! Rub belly rub belly rub belly!!

As you can see, our car was clearly leaking some form of toxic gas into the vehicle which created this strange state of non-sense delerium. Not convinced! Try this conversation on for size:

Daddy Dearest: *something about Cantaloupe*
Me: We can too elope!
Daddy Dearest: No we can't!
Me: *Discussion about telling people we're already married*
Daddy Dearest: *Comments that we could stage a wedding complete with rented tux and dress*
Daddy Dearest: We'll even rent the bouquets!!
Daddy Dearest: OOOHHH!! I want a bOOOOOkie!
Me: *laughing hysterically* You're DELERIOUS!! *more laughter* bOOOOOkie!!
Daddy Dearest: bOOOOOkie? I don't know no Bookie! I don't read BOOKS!!
Me: *laughing & trying to speak*
Daddy Dearest: Mrs. B!!! (refers to a previous conversation not worth mentioning)
Me: *more laughter & tries to comment* B-b-bo...
Daddy Dearest: (interupting) BOO! Boob! Boobobee!!
Daddy Dearest: "Hi! I am BOOBOBEE!!"
Daddy Dearest: Let's name our son BOO-BO-BEE!!

Now, as much as I would truely love to blame these non-sense conversations on toxic gases, recreational drug use, or 80's flashbacks, I am reluctant to admit that this is just a fact of our lives. Even now, the insane subject matter continues to haunt me.

If you have watched the new animated series "Lil' Bush" this will be a lot more hilarious too you, but in case you haven't I'll give you a little background. The series has Bush Sr. as president and all of today's politicians are just kids. The character Lil' Cheney goes around constantly saying "Raar, raar, raar, ((random statement)), raar, raar!" That being said, this insanity has trickled into our brains and has become the new "silence breaker" in our home. When there is nothing to say (or we're too braindead to form logical conversations) we simply spew off these random statements...

Raar, raar, raar, POTATO CHIP raar, raar
Raar, raar, raar, MOO COW raar, raar
Raar, raar, raar, WHIPS & CHAINS raar, raar
Raar, raar, raar, CRYING BABY raar, raar
Raar, raar, raar, SCARY CLOWN raar, raar
Raar, raar, raar, CANDY BAR raar, raar
Raar, raar, raar, STRIP POKER raar, raar
Raar, raar, raar, UGLY NEIGHBOR raar, raar
Raar, raar, raar, JUNE BUG raar, raar
Raar, raar, raar, CABAGE PATCH KID raar, raar
Raar, raar, raar, ANAL SEX (Was that too much? Sorry!)

You get the drift! It's been mind boggling around here!

And on a final note... let me leave you with some lyrics (sung to some symphony that I knew until I tried to think of it!)

If you are in the other room, then you will hear me,
If you are in the other room, then you will hear me,
I'll scream out loud
I'll scream out loud
I'll scream out VERRRRYYY LOUD!
Where is my blankie?
Or my binkie?
Or my baba?
Where is my blankie?
Or my binkie?
Or my baba?
Where is my BABA?
Where is my BABA?
Where is my BA-BA-BAAA?
Oh no my tummy
It hurts when I throw up...

So, yeah... You can thank Daddy Dearest for not only giving up the computer, but babysitting for the last couple of hours so that I had time to entertain your selfish asses!! And just in case the thought crossed your mind to critisize... his poker check came today and all I can say is "SHUT THE FUCK UP! HE MAKES MORE ON THIS COMPUTER THAN I MAKE IN TWO MONTHS OF WORK SO HE CAN HAVE IT ALL HE WANTS!!" Besides, if you checked your site meters you know I've been here, I just haven't been in the state of mind to think of something creative!

So now I've taken time to satisfy your blogland needs (leave the money on the dresser!) if you don't mind I'm going to go satisfy myself (selfish bastards didn't even offer me a kiss!) But honetly, I have a patriotic manicure that has been in the making (one layer at a time) for the past five hours (just enough time for one coat to dry between Ell's screaming fits). So if you don't mind, I'm going to go paint the stars on my right hand and consider painting my toe nails with pretty spring flowers.

So put your damn clothes back on and lock the door on the way out!!

...................................................................................
FOR SALE: Bottled baby puke and dirty diapers. No questions asked. All sales final. Product may vary.

2 comments:

Ramblings from an Old Woman that lived in a shoe. said...

I do not have to leave the money on the dresser because I bought the computer for you when you were married to it..knowing that sooner or later you would wise up and let Daddy Dearest in...so he could make us all RICH

I love it when a plan comes together..

Chris said...

money??? money??!! hey! no one told me I had to bring money. will you take a check? heh

BTW, Lil' Bush is funny as hell, but not quite as funny as you. Big kisses for Ellie and hugs for you both.