Why sleep at night when you can lie awake wondering why your deployed hubby hasn't emailed you yet? I know I'm being ridiculous, but I don't sleep when I don't hear from him.
I just ordered the Christmas photos of the kids. A local photographer offered a free sitting and photos for those of us who have a deployed daddy during the holidays. I'm not sure when I got that head injury, but I managed to bring the kids to the photo shoot without any sort of Christmas attire whatsoever. Additionally, I allowed that day to be Katie's dress-up day (where she dresses herself head-to-toe). The resulting outfit? She had on more stripes than a herd of zebras. She had on every single color of a rainbow (we're talking ROY G BIV here people) plus some new made-up colors. Sam had on an orange shirt with a giant gorilla on it. Imagine my horror as all the little girls walked by in their fluffy dresses and make up, while the little boys strolled around in their miniature suits. Then, there's my kids. Like I said, I don't know when I got the head injury that does not allow me to figure out that a holiday photo shoot means they should get dressed for the occasion; I just know I have one. Luckily, my kids are cute (and the photog cropped the hell out of the pics so you couldn't see Katie's bottom half) and the pictures turned out to be fine.
I'll add that little snafu to my "Mother of the Year" write-up.
Oh, another cool thing happened to me today: Katie drank out of my water bottle sometime before her ballet lesson. Katie can backwash ANYONE under the table. When I took my swig, it tasted like hot dog water. A smidge of chewed-up matter confirmed my suspicions that Katie not only drank out of my bottle, she left some of her hot dog dinner to share. This ranks higher in grossness than the time I took what I thought would be a huge swig of cold sweet ice tea, but instead found a mouthful of warm whole milk swishing around my tongue. Katie had switched our styrofoam cups. That kid. I love her so.
I shall attempt to sleep again. Actually, just remembering that little bit of hot dog in my mouth makes me sort of ill. If I keep chanting "sleep is overrated" over and over again, I will grow to accept it, right?
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Random fist fights that warm my heart
Anyone who knows me, knows of my penchant to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. I've walked in on countless people having sex, witness a home invasion, saw a guy pooping in the woods. Some of my favorite memories are the random fistfights I've come across. Here we go:
1. "Bum Fight". While waiting at a stop light, I noticed some goings-on going on at the BP across the street. Well, if it wasn't a mythical bum fight! 2 homeless dudes just swinging on each other like the last bologne sandwich in the world was at stake. I happen to know these fellows are homeless as I've gotten gas at that BP and they've requested money while I stood by the pump. I was a little confused, though. They usually seem very friendly to each other. I've also seen them at the Walgreens next door sharing a cigarette. Whatever the case may be, these two were destroying each other. Thanks to the extended red light, I got to watch.
2. "Chicks Say the Darndest Things". I had to pee one night while out at the club. Being the DD for the night proved to be one of the best decisions ever made as I saw things that I used against people for years to come. I don't approve of club bathrooms and try to avoid them at all costs. Anyhow, that night was a different night. It's like a force pulled me into the shitter and into the middle of this fight. These two girls were yelling at each other pretty hardcore when I walked in. Each had her little backup posse yelling things like "bitch". And
"dirty whore". I made my way into a stall and was relieving myself when I heard the battle cry: "If you don't like what I'm saying then why don't you hit me?". That's all the other girl needed and they tussled...right into my damn stall. Lucky me. Unfortunately, I had to kick both of their asses so I could pull up my damn pants and leave. One girl tried to step in as I charged out the stall like a rhino "this doesn't concern you, bitch" she tells me as I step on her friend's face. "when your friend comes into my stall while I'm pissing, it becomes my business". Punched her in the boob to get out of the foray. Come to think of it, I didn't wash my hands.....
3. "Bad Romance". This fight makes me sad. I was in college and this guy called the wrong number (mine) sobbing. His boyfriend just broke up with him because he wasn't ready to come out of the closet. Hearing such raw emotion and pain in the guy's voice made me hit *69 and call the dude back (this was pre-cell phones and when Caller ID was for rich folks willing to pay extra). He was a broken little gay man, crying and blubbering. I told him he dialed the wrong number. I was not Chad. He started howling at this point and I heard the thuds of him hitting his head on a wall or desk. The guy beat himself up pretty bad while I was on the phone with him. I invited him out for a drink to be with someone who didn't give a shit that he was gay. He declined and we hung up. 3 hours later, he called back and asked if that drink offer was still good. That night, me and a battered man had drinks at the bar down the street. He was all busted up when I saw him. He asked if he looked "that bad" (he shoved his head through his mirror). I said "well, I didn't know gay men could kick so much ass". We were friends for years.
4. "Somewhere in the World, You Have a Twin". This fight involves Yours Truly. This is hands down, the weirdest fight I've ever been in because the chick thought she was fighting someone else. While at the Bloomington Mall, a girl came up to me and said "Marie is going to kick your ass". I did no know any Maria, nor did I know why she was going to kick my ass. I ignored this broad and kept shopping. It seemed like everywhere I went, this chick was there, letting me know I was going to get destroyed by this Marie. I left and chaulked it up to the chick being high or drunk. The following week, I was back at the mall, returnin my purchases from the last week. Holy shit, here comes "The Messenger". She came over with 2 friends and informed me that she told Marie she saw me. They all agreed I was going to "get it". They pestered me while I shopped. They followed me out of the mall and I turned to "The Messenger" and said "give Marie a message from me, okay?". And I popped that chick in the face. I still don't know who Marie is or her friends. Best I can tell is that they had me confused for someone else.
So many more to tell, ut the kid's are up and about. There's "The Jimmy" and the "Ex Factor". I've loved them all. Well, the one with me in the bathroom kinda sucked. Ah, memories!
1. "Bum Fight". While waiting at a stop light, I noticed some goings-on going on at the BP across the street. Well, if it wasn't a mythical bum fight! 2 homeless dudes just swinging on each other like the last bologne sandwich in the world was at stake. I happen to know these fellows are homeless as I've gotten gas at that BP and they've requested money while I stood by the pump. I was a little confused, though. They usually seem very friendly to each other. I've also seen them at the Walgreens next door sharing a cigarette. Whatever the case may be, these two were destroying each other. Thanks to the extended red light, I got to watch.
2. "Chicks Say the Darndest Things". I had to pee one night while out at the club. Being the DD for the night proved to be one of the best decisions ever made as I saw things that I used against people for years to come. I don't approve of club bathrooms and try to avoid them at all costs. Anyhow, that night was a different night. It's like a force pulled me into the shitter and into the middle of this fight. These two girls were yelling at each other pretty hardcore when I walked in. Each had her little backup posse yelling things like "bitch". And
"dirty whore". I made my way into a stall and was relieving myself when I heard the battle cry: "If you don't like what I'm saying then why don't you hit me?". That's all the other girl needed and they tussled...right into my damn stall. Lucky me. Unfortunately, I had to kick both of their asses so I could pull up my damn pants and leave. One girl tried to step in as I charged out the stall like a rhino "this doesn't concern you, bitch" she tells me as I step on her friend's face. "when your friend comes into my stall while I'm pissing, it becomes my business". Punched her in the boob to get out of the foray. Come to think of it, I didn't wash my hands.....
3. "Bad Romance". This fight makes me sad. I was in college and this guy called the wrong number (mine) sobbing. His boyfriend just broke up with him because he wasn't ready to come out of the closet. Hearing such raw emotion and pain in the guy's voice made me hit *69 and call the dude back (this was pre-cell phones and when Caller ID was for rich folks willing to pay extra). He was a broken little gay man, crying and blubbering. I told him he dialed the wrong number. I was not Chad. He started howling at this point and I heard the thuds of him hitting his head on a wall or desk. The guy beat himself up pretty bad while I was on the phone with him. I invited him out for a drink to be with someone who didn't give a shit that he was gay. He declined and we hung up. 3 hours later, he called back and asked if that drink offer was still good. That night, me and a battered man had drinks at the bar down the street. He was all busted up when I saw him. He asked if he looked "that bad" (he shoved his head through his mirror). I said "well, I didn't know gay men could kick so much ass". We were friends for years.
4. "Somewhere in the World, You Have a Twin". This fight involves Yours Truly. This is hands down, the weirdest fight I've ever been in because the chick thought she was fighting someone else. While at the Bloomington Mall, a girl came up to me and said "Marie is going to kick your ass". I did no know any Maria, nor did I know why she was going to kick my ass. I ignored this broad and kept shopping. It seemed like everywhere I went, this chick was there, letting me know I was going to get destroyed by this Marie. I left and chaulked it up to the chick being high or drunk. The following week, I was back at the mall, returnin my purchases from the last week. Holy shit, here comes "The Messenger". She came over with 2 friends and informed me that she told Marie she saw me. They all agreed I was going to "get it". They pestered me while I shopped. They followed me out of the mall and I turned to "The Messenger" and said "give Marie a message from me, okay?". And I popped that chick in the face. I still don't know who Marie is or her friends. Best I can tell is that they had me confused for someone else.
So many more to tell, ut the kid's are up and about. There's "The Jimmy" and the "Ex Factor". I've loved them all. Well, the one with me in the bathroom kinda sucked. Ah, memories!
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Meatball hoagie? At this hour?
Yup. And it was damn tasty.
Tonight, we are trying a new weapon in our battle against these jackass deer that keep trashing the lawn. Our new weapon of mass distruction: Sam's diapers! By strategically placing them around various plants, we hope to disgust the deer into going somewhere else. My mom came up with this fantastic use of used diapers. We'll see how it goes tonight. The only drawback is we have to ensure we wake up early to collect the diapers and not piss off the HOA.
I can't believe I just typed that last paragraph.
Hey, if you're looking for a unique gift for your military spouse/friend/family or your friend who likes to shoot, hunt, whatever, take a peek at Junior's bullet pens. Google it, read the story and maybe buy a couple. I just got mine. It's pretty neat. I would post a picture but I'm still feeling my way around here, so no judging. My original intent was to send it to Jeff for Christmas. Thank god, I didn't! That's considered "war trophy" material out where he is and they would have confiscated it.
Wow, that last paragraph was a little random. Well, technically, not-I'm looking at my pens right now. I just got done talking about weapons of mass destruction....maybe I ought to throw my bullet pen at the deer to get rid of it. Nah, waste of a pen.
I still can't get over how yummy that hoagie was. God bless Mom and her meatball making ways! I wish you could all have some.
Oh, by the way, if you're reading this, kindly do me a favor and follow it. :) I also welcome comments and your own stories if you'd like to share. I love a good story!
Tonight, we are trying a new weapon in our battle against these jackass deer that keep trashing the lawn. Our new weapon of mass distruction: Sam's diapers! By strategically placing them around various plants, we hope to disgust the deer into going somewhere else. My mom came up with this fantastic use of used diapers. We'll see how it goes tonight. The only drawback is we have to ensure we wake up early to collect the diapers and not piss off the HOA.
I can't believe I just typed that last paragraph.
Hey, if you're looking for a unique gift for your military spouse/friend/family or your friend who likes to shoot, hunt, whatever, take a peek at Junior's bullet pens. Google it, read the story and maybe buy a couple. I just got mine. It's pretty neat. I would post a picture but I'm still feeling my way around here, so no judging. My original intent was to send it to Jeff for Christmas. Thank god, I didn't! That's considered "war trophy" material out where he is and they would have confiscated it.
Wow, that last paragraph was a little random. Well, technically, not-I'm looking at my pens right now. I just got done talking about weapons of mass destruction....maybe I ought to throw my bullet pen at the deer to get rid of it. Nah, waste of a pen.
I still can't get over how yummy that hoagie was. God bless Mom and her meatball making ways! I wish you could all have some.
Oh, by the way, if you're reading this, kindly do me a favor and follow it. :) I also welcome comments and your own stories if you'd like to share. I love a good story!
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Quit encouraging the attention whore
I am uncomfortable in the gym. The moment I walk through the doors, I'm reminded that I've let myself go. I used to do this stuff for "fun", not because my ass is as big as a bus. These days, I walk in, get my workout on and leave. Recently, I thought it would be good for me to start taking classes like Zumba and indoor rowing. It was in my rowing class that I realized I will likely punch an old woman in the grill before I leave Texas.
Rowing is hard. Having some psychotic instructor yell at you while you're trying to remember your form, keep the "big number up" and not vomit all over the person next to you is hard work. It takes concentration and just as I get in my groove, Grunty McGruntie starts up from across the room. "YEEEEERGH (pant pant) YYEEEERRRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!" Gah, I get it, we all get it. It's hard. Shut up. She throws me off kilter for a while. Damn the great acoustics of the room. My ears were assaulted by McGruntie when Sweaty Old Man starts with "come on, girl, get it!" Great. He's encouraging her. Gruntie, sensing she has the attention she's always wanted in life, rewards Sweaty with a gut-wrenching bellow. Worst workout to date. Come on, no one else is grunting, we're all trying to survive. And to the old man, don't encourage the hysterics! Chick knows EXACTLY what she's doing. 60 year old broads with fake boobies and a full face of makeup aren't at the gym to workout. Thanks for feeding the attention whore.
The workout was a mere 40 minutes. But for the fact that I didn't want to pussy-out on my second day in class, I would have walked out. Maybe if I'm lucky, they'll stop coming to class. Afterwards, I did my own cool down like a good little girl. My dedication to going to the gym was rewarded with a fart to the face while on the treadmill. A guy on the elliptical in front of me tore it up, but since he couldn't hear them due to his iPod being loud enough I could sing along to it, the farts don't exist, right? The ladies on either side of him shot him death rays before they left. Lesson learned, kiddos, if you have to blow it up at the gym, just turn up your music and rock out. You won't feel an ounce of shame for clearing out half of the gym floor.
Rowing is hard. Having some psychotic instructor yell at you while you're trying to remember your form, keep the "big number up" and not vomit all over the person next to you is hard work. It takes concentration and just as I get in my groove, Grunty McGruntie starts up from across the room. "YEEEEERGH (pant pant) YYEEEERRRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!" Gah, I get it, we all get it. It's hard. Shut up. She throws me off kilter for a while. Damn the great acoustics of the room. My ears were assaulted by McGruntie when Sweaty Old Man starts with "come on, girl, get it!" Great. He's encouraging her. Gruntie, sensing she has the attention she's always wanted in life, rewards Sweaty with a gut-wrenching bellow. Worst workout to date. Come on, no one else is grunting, we're all trying to survive. And to the old man, don't encourage the hysterics! Chick knows EXACTLY what she's doing. 60 year old broads with fake boobies and a full face of makeup aren't at the gym to workout. Thanks for feeding the attention whore.
The workout was a mere 40 minutes. But for the fact that I didn't want to pussy-out on my second day in class, I would have walked out. Maybe if I'm lucky, they'll stop coming to class. Afterwards, I did my own cool down like a good little girl. My dedication to going to the gym was rewarded with a fart to the face while on the treadmill. A guy on the elliptical in front of me tore it up, but since he couldn't hear them due to his iPod being loud enough I could sing along to it, the farts don't exist, right? The ladies on either side of him shot him death rays before they left. Lesson learned, kiddos, if you have to blow it up at the gym, just turn up your music and rock out. You won't feel an ounce of shame for clearing out half of the gym floor.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Titles Are The Worst
Fat Chick Bloggin'. Name says it all. I'm a fat chick, I'm blogging. Boom.
Why am I here? I feel somewhat goofy writing huge notes on any social network. I mean, really? Does the guy I uses to play "Mafia Wars" with give a crap about the time my daughter told a woman she smelled like poop and should check her diaper? Prolly not. Some of my friends don't mind me clogging up their newsfeed, but they number few and far between. So, here I am. Blogging. Bloggity, blog blog.
My day was an average day. Woke up, worked out, hung out and then called it a night. I told my hubby about taking the Pilot in for some work. I HATE HATE HATE being a woman when it comes to walking into a mechanic's shop. I truly believe they pad my bill by about $50 because they think I'm a dummy. No, I don't know cars, but I know "thief". My key fob battery died. I just got it replaced 3 months ago. It is a bitch when the battery dies. The Pilot has a one-point entry system. I have to open it via the driver's side and then hit the inner button to open the rest of the doors. Anyhow, the guy puts in a new battery, no go. He informs me he needs to do a $100 "diagnostic test" to see if the electronic component in the car is busted or whatever. I tell him I have the Honda extended warranty and I think it's covered. He does some song-and-dance "well, it depends where you buy it". Fool, I'm gonna cut you short right now. I bought it at the Honda dealership. "well, they have the paperwork and without it, I don't know". Fool, once again, I'm gonna cut you short: you can do a VIN check and "find" the paperwork.
In the end, it was just some dusty contact points in the chip of the key fob. An old dude came over to inspect it, wiped it with his snotrag and dammit, if the car didn't lock and unlock via the key! Parting shot from the original ass mechanic: yeah, we're not going to charge you for that, um...consider it a nice freebie. Dick.
Anyhow, hope you enjoy! I'll dress the site up later. I got some deer scaring to do. Tonight's canned food: cranberry sauce (thanks, Keri!).
Why am I here? I feel somewhat goofy writing huge notes on any social network. I mean, really? Does the guy I uses to play "Mafia Wars" with give a crap about the time my daughter told a woman she smelled like poop and should check her diaper? Prolly not. Some of my friends don't mind me clogging up their newsfeed, but they number few and far between. So, here I am. Blogging. Bloggity, blog blog.
My day was an average day. Woke up, worked out, hung out and then called it a night. I told my hubby about taking the Pilot in for some work. I HATE HATE HATE being a woman when it comes to walking into a mechanic's shop. I truly believe they pad my bill by about $50 because they think I'm a dummy. No, I don't know cars, but I know "thief". My key fob battery died. I just got it replaced 3 months ago. It is a bitch when the battery dies. The Pilot has a one-point entry system. I have to open it via the driver's side and then hit the inner button to open the rest of the doors. Anyhow, the guy puts in a new battery, no go. He informs me he needs to do a $100 "diagnostic test" to see if the electronic component in the car is busted or whatever. I tell him I have the Honda extended warranty and I think it's covered. He does some song-and-dance "well, it depends where you buy it". Fool, I'm gonna cut you short right now. I bought it at the Honda dealership. "well, they have the paperwork and without it, I don't know". Fool, once again, I'm gonna cut you short: you can do a VIN check and "find" the paperwork.
In the end, it was just some dusty contact points in the chip of the key fob. An old dude came over to inspect it, wiped it with his snotrag and dammit, if the car didn't lock and unlock via the key! Parting shot from the original ass mechanic: yeah, we're not going to charge you for that, um...consider it a nice freebie. Dick.
Anyhow, hope you enjoy! I'll dress the site up later. I got some deer scaring to do. Tonight's canned food: cranberry sauce (thanks, Keri!).
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