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.

Freaky Friday!

Well, I'm home on out of school suspension for lude acts in the school boiler room.
(Funny, Coach didn't think they were lude when it was just the two of us down there last week!)


For the most part, I'm enjoying a break from the boring routines of the public education system. (Plus, I don't have to sneak off to the bathroom for my afternoon cocktail.)

Today we had to take the beautifully deceptive screaming demon in for her Well Baby Check-Up. Turns out that I did NOT give birth to a "Spawn of Satan," I just have a little girl with a sore mouth. (maybe it's just a ploy to keep me from selling her on Ebay because the thought definately crossed my mind).

So today little Ellie got her first medicine. She gets 1 drop of Tylenol every four hours and 2 mL of goop in her cheeks 4 times a day for the next week. I figured she was going to be a real pill about taking medicine, but it turns out she's an instant drug addict. I put her drop of Tylenol on her tongue thinking it would come right out, but instead her eyes lit up, she smacked her lips and licked the tiny bit that was on her bottom lip. Okay, so maybe I'm jumping the gun on the whole pail-killer junkie. I'm sure it was just the grape flavoring that sparked her interest. (Then again, we're still waiting for the paternity results from the running back!)

Considering that my day started at 7:30 AM you'd think I'd have a whole lot of brilliant knowledge to share with you. Sadly, the day has just drug along like a pimple on a snail's butt.

There were a few key highlights like my incredible brain-fart at Wal-Mart. Here I am counting carefully as we shop to make sure we don't go over what I have in my purse because Daddy Dearest left his checkbook at home. I've got it figured to a tee. I rounded everything up and was right on track. WRONG!! Clearly I have lost the brain cells that have to pay taxes (they are probably sitting in some Federal Prison for tax evasion) and I obviously forgot that you have to pay for those three Father's Day cards you have in your hand (but they're just PAPER!!) So thank goodness for Daddy Dearest and the $5 that went on his VISA card!!

Heading home we are stopped next to a little school bus (or as they prefer to be called "length-challenged educational trasportation vehicle"). On the front end of this bus is a bar-like apparatus that looks as if it is designed to break your kneecaps upon impact. The bar is hinged to open straight out in front of the bus.
--I turn to Daddy Dearest and ask, "What is that? A plow you over at the knees bar?"
--He responds with a perfectly straight face, "Haven't you seen those before? They swing out like so *swings his arm* and apparently they are designed so that when a car hits it, the car is stopped or transported to another dimension!"
Come to find out it's actually a crossing guard to prevent kids from walking too close to the front end of the bus, but I still like the idea of transporting drivers to another dimension which Daddy Dearest says must be like hell since everyone there damn near plowed into a school bus.

Speaking of highlights, here's one for you:

Dear Miss Twenty-Something Pharmacist at Wal-Mart:
Just because I'm shopping in Wal-Mart does not mean I am some white-trash wellfare case of a Mommie. (Okay, so I'm white and I get some State assistance, but you're just jealous!) Anyway, I'm not stupid that's for sure. So clearly if I thought my child was ill I would take her to the doctor before I asked some Medical School drop-out what I needed to do (Thus the reason I said "The DOCTOR recommended an OTC treatment!") I have a presciption for the yeast in her mouth and if you would actually speak to me rather than using the cashier as a "go-between" you would know that! And while I'm at it, I've been lucky enough to have never had to deal with ickiness down below, but even I know (with my inferior intellegence) that my daughter does NOT have Athlete's Foot on her bottom! Now I know why I get my presciptions filled by a REAL pharmacist on the other side of town!! Please contact the cheap online degree program that educated you in common medicines and tell them you need a refresher course.

And to top the day of, I went in this afternoon and had a tire patched up. I learned that getting a patch costs 1/4th of what my tires cost. Seems like a lot to me, but hey who wants to spend $48 when $12 will do the trick! Anyway, not the point. The point was, I swung by to see if they could squeeze my tire in after I ran to the bank. Sure enough that wouldn't be a problem. They aired me up and I ran off to fetch some cash since I had previously gone over-budget at Wal-Mart (damn taxes anyway!). I get back, hoo haw, boring, jack it up... yippy there's a locking nut, good thing the socket was in the trunk... seriously, who's going to STEAL my tire? Anyway, everything goes fine, it was just a nail, he found it quick... bing bang we're out of there quicker than a quarterback leaving a boiler room! So why am I boring you with this story? Well because, I go to pay the man $12.88 with tax.

Mechanic: Would you like a reciept?
Me: No, don't worry about it. (I don't think there's a guarantee on patching a tire)
Mechanic: Well, if we're going to skip the paper work, how about we just skip Uncle Sam too. That'll be $12 even.

Now see, this is why I live in small towns. Granted, the man might someday end up sharing a cell with the part of my brain that was shopping in Wal-Mart today, but the guy won my business in the future.
Even though it was only 88 cents.
Even though he might not do the same thing next time.
Even though the government would probably give him a life sentence an $10,000 in fines for that 88 cents.
It's not about the 88 cents, or saving a buck three months from now.
It's about knowing the value of a customer and not nickling and diming everyone to death.
It's about just being generous sometimes.
It's about a round of drinks on the house and a Christmas bonus for your employees.
It's about a hand shake and an honest living.
It's about sitting down for dinner at the end of the day.
It's about family, neighbors, and community.
It's about holding your head up and loving your life.
It's about all the things that used to be right about this country before big business and climbing the corporate ladder became a priority.
It's about $12 to feed his family and 88 cents that will light up my daughter's eyes when it's in her piggy bank, but it's really about the values of people today.

That being said, I think it's about time for me to catch a quick nap. Seems the Coach isn't the only one with a few tricks up his sleeve. Turns out that he had no idea his star quarterback can't add two plus two! I reacon he'll be needing some of my "special" tutoring if he's going to be eligible to play in next week's big game. And since the Math teacher happens to be a good "friend" of mine, I don't see how anyone else will be able to do the job as well as I can. I have no doubt that I'll get a full pardon from the Principal come Monday morning.

Some parent's are driving around with
"My child is an Honor Student"
bumper stickers.
Other's are proud to announce,
"My kid might not be an Honor Student but he can kick your kid's ass."

As for my mother? She got herself a bumber sticker that says,
"My daughter might not be the Head Cheerleader, but she still screwed the whole team!"

Since when is being a slut considered a crime in this family?
(Or for that matter... drunk, junkie, head-case, loser, bum, asshole... the list goes on and on.)

Damn, I'm EXHAUSTED!!

Sorry I've been slacking so much on this blog lately.

It's just that satisfying the whole damn football team is very demanding when you have a newborn at home. On top of all that, there's a long list of paternity tests to run to find out which of those uniformed "hunks" is Ellie's daddy. I'm hoping it's that hunky linebacker with the deep blue eyes, but as long as it's not the same one that knocked up Chris, I'll be okay.

So, I'm only one girl and the blog kinda gets put on the back burner because I just can't do everyone... I mean EVERYTHING!

When I'm not auditioning to be the next Playboy Bunny, I'm trying to keep this apartment (and the people who live in it) somewhat sane (I use that term lightly). Unfortunately, since I was certain my latest photo-shoot was going to pay off, I kinda let things slack off around here. Now I have kitchen kooties running rampid in my house. There will be some definate extermination going on soon.

I was finally able to convince one of the football players that Ellie was his daughter, so last night he watched her & cleaned up some of the trash around this place. I figure if I convince a different one of his teammates every week, I'll have free housekeeping through the summer.

Anyway, Chris seems to be down in the dumps lately (still waiting on her VD test results after she heard about her post-game celebration in the boys locker room) so I thought I'd pay one of the underclassmen to write "Chris didn't do it" on the football field in diesel fuel. That oughta cheer her up.

Other than that, there's really nothing new around here.

OH! Yes there is! I've officially renounced my religious beliefs. What tragic event would make me do such a horrible thing? I watched Comedy Central the other night!!

WARNING! The following material may be offensive to those with strong religious beliefs and frankly I don't care because I'm warning you in advanced. If you keep reading past this point, you revoke all right to be pissed off about anything you read. If you do choose to complain, I will only point and laugh at you like I do my own family when they start ranting about something ridiculously stupid.

Those who know me well are aware that I have no problem with your invisible man in the sky. I have no problem if you go out every third Tuesday and worship UFO's. I don't care if you dance naked around an old oak tree during the full moon. I'm okay if you get you religious teachings from the wise words of Mother Goose. I'm perfectly content with my spiritual beliefs and so long as your beliefs let you sleep well at night, I'm perfectly content with yours as well (unless you bring your beliefs over to my house and let them shit on my front lawn. In which case I'm likely to kick you and your beliefs so hard the Pope will feel it).

That being said, Comedy Central has changed it all for me!

There I was sitting on my couch contemplating how Mary Poppins is the Anti-Christ when comedian Dane Cook starts talking about his encounter with an atheist. It was this little skit that totally took all of the enjoyment out of the theory of reincarnation. Just my luck, things would happen exactly as Dane describes. I'd come back as a beautiful tree in a peaceful forest. There I'd be happily enjoying my breezy treeness when some ugly, sweaty jackass would stroll up to me with a frigging axe. He'd chop me down, drag me off through the mud, take me to the mill where they'd cut me up to make paper. There is no frigging way I'm spending my next life as the HOLY BIBLE!! Just dig a whole and feed me to the worms please!!

And now, just to test the true loyalties of my visitors, I'm going to post a picture I took a while back. Yes, it is a real book. It is really in my house. And no, I am not in the least bit offended by the fact that this book is in my house (However, you might be!)

. . . .

. . . .

. . . .

. . . .

I warned you!

. . . .

. . . .

. . . .

. . . .

I completely understand at this point if you feel the need to never visit my site again. In fact, if the thought crossed your mind, I highly suggest that you follow those instincts because you are obviously way too uptight for me to handle. So GET OUT!!

And if you are the type that feels a desperate need to pray for my immortal (and obviously misguided) soul... please save it for someone who wants your saving. I personally believe that all the people I like will end up "down under" and frankly, I'd be miserable in a place where everyone was happy and make-me-want-to-puke cheerful!

As for the rest of you... did you notice that every third letter spells out "LIE"? Hmmm... very interesting! But like I said, you could take your "teachings" from Mother Goose's Nursery Rhymes for all I care. So long as we can agree to disagree... we can be friends.

That says a heck of a lot considering I'm not even "friends" with half of my relatives.

You must be special!

Gotta go now! I hear the boys are a little down in the dumps over their last game, so I'm sneaking out of study hall to have some fun in the janitor's closet. If you see him headed back there, do me a favor and tell him the toilet in the girl's bathroom is overflowing. That should buy me enough time. Thanks a bunch!

Welcome Home Grandma & Grandpa!!

Hope you had a great time up by the Great Lakes!! Let us know when you make it home. We love you bunches & tons!!

Baby Ellie, Mommie Kori & Daddy Dearest

For Chris!

Dear Officer,

If you are reading this, then my dear blogger friend Chris has been carted off to jail after her latest "break down." As you further your investigation of today's events, please comsider the following:

• Chris has recently been adopted into a highly disfunctional family. I firmly believe that this may have contributed in some way to her highly unstable manner, thus provoking her recent actions. Please take this into consideration. It is very hard to distinguish "right" from "wrong" once you get wrapped up in the chaos of this mess.
• Chris was recently tagged to write a post about the letter "H". Hell, homocide, hypocrite and hysteria all begin with "h". Forming logical thoughts entirely out of words that begin with "h" can definately make one "halucinate" and find it "hard" to think in a logic manner.
• While you may believe the teenage boy to be an "innocent" victim of these events, I can clearly see that Chris was the true victim. "The Boy" was clearly distraught that Chris implied he "go comando" and chose to exact his revenge by attempting to stage an unfortunate "housecleaning accident" that would bring about her unfortunate demise. I seriously believe that Chris's actions were in SELF DEFENSE. It was either him or her and she wasn't about to wait around for his next attempt.
• Also keep in mind that this teenage boy was tampering with some seriously dangerous chemicals. From my experience, teenagers are dangerous around things as simple as "root beer" and there is no telling what they might do under the influence of garage cleaner!
• It is also evident that Chris's state of mind was clearly "blurred" by the toxic chemical reaction that was melting her tile floors. The fumes made it difficult to see through running eyes and choking fumes. I suspect that Chris's blog was simply a innocent venting that turned tragic when she mistook her "grounded teenager" for a burglar. Simply a case of mistaken identity and coincidence I'm sure!

As you can see, today's acts were committed in complete innocence (or instability) and Chris should not be held accountable for her actions at the moment. Clearly, many factors were involved and this was not just a simple case of homocide. Please, be certain that you examine all of the facts before you make a final decision on the charges that are pending.

In the mean time, please forward the following message to Chris as I am uncertain of the jail's address (and I rarely write real letters).

Thank you for your assistance,

Ellie's Mommie

--------------------

Chris,

In regards to your recent request for hair-fashion advice, I feel obliged to offer my extent wisdom. If you are of pale complexion (something I would expect from a winter-bound Wisconsin) I do not recommend my Mother's suggestion of dying your hair black. While it does go smashing with bright orange, it has tragic affects on the state of your skin color. However, my best suggestion does require you to suffer these ill effects for a few months in order to achieve hair-color-perfection! Therefore, if you find your stay in the local "facilities" to be an extended one, you may consider this an option.

First, you must spend several months dying your hair various shades of blacks, dark burgandies, etc. For most even results, I suggest doing this every week or so in order to keep the roots from becoming overly exposed. After a few months of this regimen, you then must request that a hair stylist (unfortunately, this step cannot be done on your own) attempt to make you a blonde! After the stylist recovers from his/her cardiac arrest, they will first attempt to apply the maximum strength of peroxide to your head. If you have done the previous "black" procedure properly, this peroxide application will prove completely uneffect and fully astonish your stylist.

At this point you may then suggest that he/she use an herbal compound called "diamond glitz". (To forewarn you of the impact this had in my life, I will note here that these events took place NINE years ago & I can still remember the name of the product!)

After this product has had time to work, you will be greatly disappointed to look in the mirrow and see that your hair is still this dark greyish color. Do not be fooled. This product cakes on your hair like mud and incases it in a mummy-like chemical reaction. Once your stylist rinse this mud cast from your folicles, you will sit up in your chair and SCREAM!

Your hair (which was mud grey sixty seconds ago) will suddenly be every shade of ORANGE imaginable. The tips of each strand (which have endured months of the dark-dying process) will be a gorgeous burgandy. Meanwhile, the roots of your folicles will be platinum blonde! The remaining portions of the strand will vary in color from blonde to burgandy the closer you get to the ends (This includes a florescent orange color in the middle which should match your jumpsuit PERFECTLY!)

Your stylist will immediately faint (assuring no payment necessary) and no one on the block will be able to duplicate your exact hair color without explicit instructions from you. OH, THE CONTROL YOU WILL HAVE OVER THE FASHION INDUSTRY!

I hope that these suggestions will help you to be more satisfied with your hair fashion during your unfortunate incarceration.

While I hope for your quick release and that all charges are dropped, you might consider milking the situation for all it's worth. Seriously, is jail really that bad (if you can avoid become BIG BERTHA'S LOVE PUPPET)?

Think about this:

• 3 free meals
• laundry service
• no screaming children
• cable
• access to furthering your education at the expense of taxpayers
• house-keeping
• free medical care
• vacations to various locations while you appeal the verdict of your trial
• and if it truly does turn for the worst you have the consolation of knowing you can order Steak & Lobster for your final meal... plus, they clean the injection site really good so you don't die from that last minute infection!

Best wishes from Blogland,

Ellie's Mommie

Alphabet Game

This post was brought to you by the letter "K"

Karate kid kangaroo kicks K's knotting kidneys
Kitchen karma keeping know-nothing K klutzy
Kindhearted knight kisses kooky K

Killjoy kin kindles knockdown
King knucklehead keeps kingdom's keepsakes
Knowledgeable kid kindly keeps key knick-knacks
King's knife kills kind kid's karma
King's kickback knits kneedeep kinked knowledge
K's keen knowhow killed kindred kindness

Kamikaze Koran killers
Keen kleptomaniac kaiser kidnaps kittens

Keyboard keystroke kaput

K's Kooky Keepsakes (just for KICKS!)

• 1-kilogram Kumquat Keg
• 1 Koala Kennel
• 1 Knitted Kilt Kit
• 1 Kooky kaliedoscope kazoo
• Kosher Ketchup Kelp & Kiwi Keilbasa Kabobs
• 10-karat krypton
• 1 Kayak keel kickstand
• Kinesiology for Kindergarten
• 1-kiloliter kneecap kettle
• 2 Khaki karate kerchiefs
• Klutzy kitchenware kite
• Knightly kickboxing knickers
• 1 Kerosene keeping knapsack
• 1 Kitty-killing knocker
• 1 Keno kiosk
• 15 Kneaded kale kernels
• 4 Kangaroo knees
• 2 Kestrel knuckles
• Kickoff Knighthood

Just so you know... that was KRAZY!!!

The Alphabet Game

Wanna play? Check out the rules (and entries so far) here.

The letter "E"

Essay Explaining Evolution

Enter
Echoing erotic escapade ensues
Each extremely exciting embrace entices exhilarating effects
Ejaculation efforts embedded emerald embryo exactly
Extended elaborate expert examinations ensure exotic extraterrestrial exists
Everyone expresses extraordinary elation
Eventually environment eases establishing endearment
Excellent enthusiasm elevates enchantment
Easily evident expansion everywhere
Endless enlargement exhausts every experience
Everything evokes extreme emotions
Estrogen error escalates
Explosive eruptions evident every evening
Evidently eating everything edible endorses elephantitis
Excessive engorgement evokes empathetic exclamations everyday
Everlasting eras elapse
Estimated eviction eagerly expected
Everybody encourages early epidural elixir
Emergence expects excruciating elements
Enduring energy essentially employed expels Earthling
Expect exalting experience exceeding every elating enjoyable expectation
Exit

Brought to you by the letter "B"

This is 100% my mother's fault! She has challenged an alphabetical blog. She began with the letter "a" and I (being the show off I am!) have accepted the letter "b". Feel free to check out her rules and take the next letter.

-----~~*~~-----

Ballistic broad blasting bleating baabaas.
Borrows booze, buys bullets, but balances boredom.

Babbling baroness balms baby belly butter.
Birthright barely bearable but brilliantly beautiful blessing.

Blissful bitches begin belligerently beating badly behaved bastard brats.
Believe both belong behind bars but best befriend batty businesswomen.
Bothered but blending bubbly bourbon beverages brightens body.

Baby brain blogged B’s but believes beginning blogger be big bad butthead.

-----~~*~~-----

*BANG BANG BANG*

Who's Sybil?

Great, now I have to DEFEND myself! This is getting out of hand!

First I must say that I have no idea who this "Sybil" is or what my Mother thinks she's talking about! I DO NOT have multiple personalities!! (But I do believe several of the voices that inhabit my mind may need serious therapy!)

As far as golf carts go, I deny having anything to do with that situation! I'll tell you all exactly the same thing I told the officer when he asked me about it the following day. "Which golf cart?" I do not recall a golf cart that ended up stranded across town when two teenage girls wanted to visit a friend. Fortunately, due to insubstancial evidence (and some shoddy police work) no charges were ever pressed against me. I consider this whole situation to simply be a misunderstanding of the facts. Frankly, it's their word against mine and I'm sticking to my story! I have no idea why that local police officer got it into his mind that I may be trouble and continued to follow me around for the entire summer. I believe he must have been seriously over-worked and suffering from a great deal of stress.

I have no knowledge of where exactly the "Willie Nelson Farm Aide Handbook" came from. It was passed on to me from a third-party who may or may not have mentioned that the statute of limitations had expired on it. I do know that it is a very interesting book full of several interesting phone numbers. However, I imagine that much of the information is now very outdated. The years have played quite a toll on my young mind and I seem to have totally forgotten who gave the book to me in the first place.

Unlike my mother, who tends to blame her misadventures on her "supposed" alter-egos, I have no problem taking responsibility for my mistakes. In both of the above situations, I feel that I was an innocent victim of "guilt by association."

As far as marrying FS, I have a very logical explanation for that. I was under the strange misconception that a marriage was solely about loving someone. Unfortunately, I failed to realize that marriage also includes being able to tolerate the stupidity of a man, being able to overlook the financial incompitance of some people, and being able to keep from killing one's in-laws. It was not until I had signed the papers that I realized I was incapable of doing these other three things. Rather than spending the rest of my life in prison for burying my husband and his family in shallow graves, I opted to file for divorce.

Looking back is was really a blessing in disguise. I no longer have those misconceptions of perfection and having that first ex-husband under my belt has brought with it a very satisfying amount of relief.

I have since set my standards for "husband-material" a little bit higher. Next time around (which is not expected in the near future) I fully intend to marry for money. Daddy Dearest is well aware of the fact that while I love him very much, I am hoping that he is a wise financial investment. (There's good money in pizza these days!)

And in regards to our unborn daughter, I must say that if she has genetically inheritted any unsatifactory traits, they certainly have to come from her father or her maternal grandmother. Clearly, she could inherit nothing but a positive personality and fabulous sense of humor from ME! I am completely mentally stable and maintain that I have no clue why the men come around knocking on my door with that pretty white straight jacket. I believe they must either be lost or dipping into their surplus of mind-altering medications.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it!!

OH! She DID NOT!!

Okay, it is SOOOO on!!

Have you seen what my mother called me? A back-stabbing, game-cheating, whore!!

THIS MEANS WAR WOMAN!!

Prim and proper woman my ass!! I have the pictures to PROVE how uncivilized that woman can be!! Seriously, the whole internet community has been privy to her panty-fetish so who does she think she's kidding?

She swears that she has no recollection of hi-jacking a jelly bean truck, but I still have the proof.

Then she claims that she would never do anything as horrible as BBQing Barbie Dolls? What a load of shit! Have you seen what she does to sheep? And turkeys? And my co-worker?

I think her guilty conscience got the better of her when it came to the Troll though. I never once mentioned that foul play may have been involved in that incident. Investigators claimed he suffered from Naked-Barbie-Overdose (not BBQing).

Of course my Mother denies having anything to do with the alcohol I.V. as well. By her own confession, she not only drinks too much, but refuses to attend meetings.

Her claims to be a "classy and uptown woman" are all but laughable!

No doubt her amnesia was caused by a combination of too much Mike's Hard Lemonade and Pain Killers!

How's that for BACK-STABBING? You like that? Yeah!!

As far as Game-Cheating? Well, I cannot deny it. I've already confessed (and laughed hysterically over the matter)!

And Whore? Last I checked that wasn't a crime in this family!!

So take that you SHEEP-SHOOTING, GAME-CHEATING, DRUNKEN, PAGAN TRAMP!!

Cheaters NEVER Win (Unless we make you QUIT!)

Okay, so I'm a pretty honest and straight-forward person. I try not to lie about things. I don't steal. And generally, I don't cheat. I tend to hold myself to a relatively high moral standard which I attribute to my Mother. To the best of my knowledge, she is the same way. I've never known her to lie or steal, and generally she doesn't cheat.

In fact, when I was growing up there were really only two rules in our house.

1. Don't LIE to me.
2. Don't STEAL from me.

Looking back though, I realize that she never did say "Don't CHEAT!"

That is in fact the reason I used the words "generally, I don't cheat."

I don't cheat on my taxes. I don't cheat my friends. While I have cheated on lovers in my youth, I swear there was a jusitifiable reason for it and I think looking back that they would agree. GENERALLY, I catergorize cheating in the same category as lying because you'll probably have to lie to cover up the fact that you cheated.

If I'm playing a game with my friends, you can probably bet that I am the last person who would be accused of cheating. It's just bad form. Whether you're playing poker for real money or just a game of Candy Land, I would be more likely to say, "No, I think I made a mistake," than I would to cheat.

However, this GENERAL concensus is thrown completely out the window if my Mother and I are playing at the same time. I'm not quite sure why it is, but my Mother and I seem to have an obsession about cheating when we're together. It doesn't really make sense that you could take two GENERALLY honest people and create one BIG FAT CHEATING MACHINE, but that is exactly what happens.

I don't care if we are playing a game of TiddlyWinks! You can bet if my mother and I are at the same table, we've found a way to cheat!

Normally, this isn't really a big issue because my Mom and I are usually on opposite teams (doesn't matter, we'll still cheat!) and more often than not, the game simply involves the two of us. Since we both are well aware that the other person is a BACK-STABBING, CARD-HUSTLING, CHEATING WHORE from the very start, we don't get too worked up over a silly game.

Unfortunately, when other people become involved in our games and are unaware of our TOTAL LACK OF GAME ETHICS, they tend to eventually forfit in anger (we consider that a WIN for us!)

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Case in point: The never-ending game of Monopoly, while fun, can slowly drag out into a boring and uneventful game (especially if you're playing "last man standing"). My [insert string of profane descriptors] ex-husband made the unfortunate mistake of playing a game of Monopoly with me and my Mother one night. It was quickly apparent that he was out to win (imagine that) and was taking the game far too seriously.

Side Note: Taking ANYTHING too seriously in my Mother's house is strictly FORBIDDEN and must be immediately PUNISHED!

My Mother and I (finding his seriousness and arogance irritating) made a silent pact to teach him a lesson. From that point on, things started to turn ugly. There was all the "drama" of a good C-SPAN scandal - embezzelment, secret trades, forged documents, slight of hand and muffled giggles.

In the end, the game had to be called on account of rain/tears and the board was packed away in a fit of defeat-induced rage while my Mother and I tried to catch our breath between fits of hysterical, tear-jerking laughter. My ex-husband did not seem to find the humor in our unethical behavior (we however, considered the game quite a success!)

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It may be disturbing to you to think that we would find such pleasure in the humiliation of a "poor, unsuspecting man". You might say that he had every right to get mad. You might call us mean. You might scowl and frown at our poor sportsmanship. If that's the case, I suggest never playing a game with us.

When you find yourself in a game with cheaters (especially if everyone is cheating EXCEPT you) there are a few possible reactions:

1. You can (as he did) throw a two-year-old temper tantrum and pout.
2. You can politely excuse yourself from the game.
3. OR you can seek REVENGE!!

Option 1 makes you look like a BIG FAT CRY-BABY who can't take a joke.

Option 2 is an ethical and generally acceptable excuse to avoid the cut-throat business at hand (but you can bet we'll call you a SISSY for giving up!)

Option 3 is much harder to do (especially if you've been ganged up on) but in the long run, it is also much more satisfying.

It's a lot like driving on a highway. If you are stuck in a mess of cars that are all driving 5 miles over the speed limit you have 3 choices:

1. Slow down to 5 miles BELOW the speed limit to intentionally piss off all the drivers behind you.
2. Maintain the exact speed limit (probably still irritating the drivers behind you) and continue on knowing that YOU are following the rules.
3. OR... Increase your speed to keep up with the cars around you knowing that EVERYONE is breaking the rules too!

While it probably isn't wise to use this theory in every situation (if both your neighbors are convicted felons you might not want to follow suit), this is definately an acceptable solution if you find yourself suckered into playing any type of game with my Mother and I.

In the future, consider yourself WARNED! My Mother and I are very proud of our cheating strategies and when together, we lose all regard for your feel-bads. As far as we are concerned, IT'S JUST A GAME and if we get bored with it, we'll cheat just to stir things up. Feel free to play along anytime you want, but you better be prepared to KEEP UP WITH TRAFFIC or find the nearest OFF-RAMP. Otherwise you might find yourself choking on our EXHAUST as we plow over the top of you without remorse!

HAPPY GAMING!!

Message to My Mother's Neighbor

Dear Neighbor,

I have to tell you that your sheep have been very baa-a-a-ad!

Once again they have broke through the fence and are eating my ha-a-a-y baa-a-a-ails!

This is begi-i-i-nning to irritate me!

It's very important that your sheep start beha-a-a-ving be-e-e-etter!

I used my baa-a-a-at to herd your sheep into my baa-a-a-arn!

I am in the processes of bui-i-i-ilding a sign advertising lambchops for sale!

If I haven't heard baa-a-a-ack from you by the time I finish, I will start bee-e-e-eating in little sheep bra-a-a-ains one by one!

I've always tried to be-e-e a good neighbor, but I'm getting fed up!

I'm no longer going to be-e-e-eg you to keep your sheep at home!

From now on I will simply bre-e-e-eak out the shotgun and open fire!

Get your bi-i-i-ig butt over here and get your sheep before I make them blee-ee-ee-eed!

Sincerely,

The Bi-i-i-itch Next Door

All Points Bulletin

Missing: One Crazy Cousin!!

Last seen on Tuesday right before an episode of HOUSE!

Family & friends are greatly concerned that she may have fallen out into the "real" world. Blogland will not be the same until she is safely returned.

Authorities are investigating many possible scenerios.

Family fears that HOUSE withdrawl may have gotten the better of her 5 seconds before the episode aired. They are greatly concerned that she might have thrown herself at the mercy of the TROLLS!!

A search of all area blogs has returned no leads.

If you or someone you know has any information regarding the whereabouts of this missing blogger, please report it to the Blogland Police Department. It is vital that we find this Crazy Cousin before she becomes too wrapped up in the "real" world to take the time to blog for us!!

It Just Won't STOP!!!

I have come to the conclusions that my Crazy Cousin is the devil incarnate!

Why? Have you read her blogs? Have you noticed that she posts a daily "song that will stick in your head and drive you batty beyond any hope of therapy"? Do you realize that I know the words to all of these songs so they do nothing but roll around repeatedly in my head driving me crazier than I already am? Do you realize that if by chance I've forgotten some of the words to these songs, my cousin is evil enough to have written them out to remind me? Do you realize that I have had the theme song from the Fresh Prince stuck in my head since SUNDAY? Do you realize that now, clammering around as the background music to the Fresh Prince, I have Scooby Doo playing as well?

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

...Now... this is a story all about how my Scooby-Dooby-Doo turned upside down,

and I'd like to take a minute, oh where are you?

I'll tell you how we got some work to do now

In... Scooby-Dooby-Doo born and raised

on the playground is where are you?,

chillin' out, maxin', relaxin', we need some help from you now.

C'mon Scooby-Doo outside the school

When a couple of guys said "I see you"

started making slivers in my neighborhood...

You get the drift right?


Yes, it's sad, but so true. My cousin is SATAN!!!!


However, since I've earned almost $11 in ad clicks today, and I know she contributes to that... I'll forgive her!

Cheap Entertainment

Okay, so it's obvious by now that I am easily entertained by the simplest things.

Quick Fact: Yesterday I got my mother & my cousin to sign up for AdSense ads on their blogspot sites so that when I'm bored I can click their ads and have the satisfaction that I'm making money for the people I love. It's not much, but the ads don't take up much space so we figure we'll give it a shot. (If you're interested, there's a link under my "Google Tools" section that will let you sign up and waste away your life too!)

Anyway, today I went to their sites and checked out their ads. And what I found has amused me to no end. AdSense is designed to give you advertisements that are targeted to the content of your site (you'll notice that mine are usually pregnancy related). However, as my family's sites have not been up for very long, Adsense has not yet "learned" very much about their sites.

Therein lies the humor.

My mother's site had an advertisement today titled "God - Total Union with God" I about died. Anyone who knows my mother very well knows that she is as close to "Anti-Christian" as it comes. It's not that she has a problem with God, just that she has a problem with the way most people present their God and she just doesn't want you telling her that she's wrong because your invisible man in the sky says so.

As for my cousin's site. It was proudly sporting a "Dead Animal Removal" ad. This is only funny to me because I am well aware of her problems with rodent control and how much she truly despises mice and other rodents.

Yes, I realize that some may not see the humor in this sort of stuff, but as I said before, "I am easily entertained!"