American Idol and Andy's Philosophy

Two things today. They aren't connected. He doesn't have a philosophy on American Idol, other than thinking Adam really didn't make it into the bottom three last week and that stunt was just pulled for ratings. Pffft, he did so. I saw him. In the bottom three. With my own eyes! And that leaves Danny as the only one who hasn't been in the bottom three, at least until tonight.

American Idol recap -

I liked the duet thingy they did last night. But does that mean that AI just can't find any musical rock celebrities to perform that they have to make the contestants do duets? In any event, I was passed out on the couch when I heard Adam screaming his song and woke up. I caught the tail end of it. I'm sure it was amazing and the world ooh'd and ahh'd over his performance, but I'm still not going to go back and watch it. I get it. He's good. He's fantastic. He's a natural.

Allison. Poor Allison. I thought she was really going to rock the house last night. Joplin is definitely the artist choice for her, but the song choice wasn't hot. I still love her and I think she has come so very far in her time on AI. Raw talent. And I love that her new hair seems to have given her more confidence.

Kris. I love that face distortion he makes when he sings, his jaw moved completely over to the right side of his face. I'm so glad he got it back. I think Danny or someone really made fun of him for doing that, but it's his trademark, just like Adam wears more makeup than all the women in my family combined... it's him. It's what he does. I don't think he did so hot last night and he'll probably be the one going home tonight. But I adore that sexy, sweet face of his, that great voice of his and I know he'll do great things with his career.

Danny. I heart him. He's got that gruff sexy voice that gives me chills when he sings. That last note wasn't a great one, but I think the duet with him and Kris will keep him in the game. Guess we'll find out if going outside the box helped him or put him out of the game tonight.

As a side note... last week when Danny and Allison had their little food fight... am I the only one who thought they were really friendly? Maybe I just have a sick and twisted mind, but Danny has got to be super lonely, still mourning the death of his wife, and Allison, a hot girl with a mad voice, and the ONLY female in that house??? I realize she's only 17 and he's a grown man, but c'mon, there was something more than just a food fight going on there.

Now for Andy's Philosophy... I'm getting a bit serious here. Watch out.

I mentioned Andy's idea that most people are bad investments here, and therefore he cannot be friends with them. That was a bit harsh so I thought I'd ellaborate on this philosophy of his.

Andy thinks of people/potential friends as investments, in a very analytical type of way. He thinks that if a potential friend sucks more life out of you than they give you, they are bad investments. He believes that if people bring drama to your life, they aren't worthy of your friendship. It's very cut and dry here. If he meet someone who seems nice on the outside, but their life is in turmoil and all they do is "need", he will not waste his precious time on them. Don't get me wrong, he won't be disrespectful or tell that person what a loser they are (unless they ask for his advice and then certainly he will be very blunt); he just won't allow that person in his circle. Think about it. You invest time, money and emotional ties with friends. If they don't reciprocate in a positive manner, and your initial investment is used up with nothing to show for it, how can they be deemed a good investment?

My philosophy on friends is way different. I have friends from all walks of life. I'm not a people person really, but I find life interesting, and everyone has their ups and downs. I wasn't going to judge these people because their lives were different than mine, and they didn't judge me. I was the "mama" figure to most of them and when something horrible would happen they would flock to my door. I thought I needed them as much as they needed me. Then Andy came along and showed me exactly how some of these people were sucking the life out of me and I was allowing them to hold me back. I was constantly surrounded by gossip and who is doing what and with whom, so much so that I was forgetting all about the greatness my own life could hold.

Andy's philosophy started to make sense to me, but I wasn't ready to fully commit to that idea.

One particular friend of mine hit rock bottom and needed a place to stay. To sum it up, she was a very close friend, I offered our home without speaking to Andy first, he just warned me that this decision would bite me in the ass. It did. Hard. She once was very productive and had all her ducks in a row. I just thought she just needed someone to believe in her... no job, no car, no place to stay, completely boy crazy, and very few friends who would put up with her. I, being the rescuer and humanitarian, thought I could fix her. At first, it was working out fine. I was training her to do transcription, she was helping me with the kids during the day, sending out resumes and going on job interviews. Then she broke the rules. She went to darts one night, in my car, and by the time Andy got up for work the next morning, my car wasn't home. This turned into a huge fiasco. Andy called a friend (at 5:30 am) who called another friend who tracked her down. By 6:30 we found out she apparently drank too much and in her hormonal, drunken, needy, state of mind she went over to a dude's house and stayed the night. I tripped out on her. Not only was my man, the one who is paying the bills in the house that she is currently living in, late for work, but she had the carseats for Monkey Boy and Baby Love in my car. Needless to say, I was livid. Forced to keep my cool because the kids were there, I ushered my friend in the house and sent my man and the kids on their way, 30 minutes late.

In my life prior to Andy, I would have just thanked my lucky stars that she didn't drive my car while drunk and that she was okay. I never would have seen the predicament that she caused for my family. I would have been pissed, but I would have calmed down much faster and been able to deal with her. This time her stunt was different. And believe me, there have been some stupid stunts in the past, but nothing of this magnitude that directly involved me.

I had to put my big girl panties on and make a decision. Andy said he would handle it for me and talk to my friend (and by talk he meant put her out). As much as I wanted him to be the bad guy in this one, I decided it was my responsibility since I was the one who offered her a place to stay. I sat her down and told her... "Bottom line, you've got to find somewhere else to live." She cried, apologized, cried some more and asked, "Will you still be my friend?" Of course I would. I didn't hate her. I just knew, at that moment, she was a bad investment.

I love this girl. We have been there for each other through thick and thin for years now, and it's hard to distance yourself from people you care about. But Andy is right. He's got his head on straight about investments and friends. When they begin to cause turmoil in your backyard, it's time to cut the ties. It took me a while to wrap my head around this philosophy of his, but after I did, I was amazed at how drama-free, calm and happy my life was turning out to be. I pushed this friend out of my backyard and handed her off to her family. I still love her very much. She hit rock bottom shortly after that incident and has since started rebuilding her life. She's got a long road ahead of her, but I'm so proud of her. We talk, occasionally. We see each other, occasionally. But I definitely am still guarded regarding how close I can be to her.

People are all different. But ultimately, we are the ones who make the final decisions on who and what we allow in our lives, how close we allow them to get, and how much control of our lives we allow them to have. I was never really surrounded by a close family growing up. My family caused pain, therefore, my needs for connection with people were filled with friends, pre-Andy. Now, my need to be needed is filled by Andy and the kids. My family needs me. And my friends/associates/investments are kept at a safe distance. I still make time for my friends, love and cherish them all, but they definitely take a back burner to my family now. It's a great feeling.

Husband Meme

I jacked this from The Mom Jen at Cheaper Than Therapy who jacked it from Georgie at Decisionally Challenged (currently on hiatus, boooo!)

In an effort to try and keep this one short, I've included both mine and Andy's answers together. I emailed him at work and we answered them at the same time.

**Being that we aren't married YET, I've changed the term "husband" to reflect his name. (Don't be offended honey, because I know you stalk my blog during lunch at work, I can't wait to refer to you as my husband.)


1. What is something your husband Andy always says to you?

me: I love you

Andy: I love you

2. What makes your husband Andy happy?

Me: Spending time with the kids, camping, hunting, fishing, anything outdoors. And when we wrestle. That always makes him happy. And he's not afraid to cuddle afterward. Be jealous ladies. Be.Very.Jealous.

Andy: Spending time with family/outdoors

3. What makes your husband Andy sad?

Me: Duh! When I'm not happy. He's truly a worry wart. And I tend to make everyone else around me miserable when I'm not happy. It's a right that every woman gets, don't you think? We bleed like stuck pigs once a month and have to "plug" our innerds, push 10-lb watermelons from our loins and then get the pleasure of making sure their every need is taken care of for 18+ years. It's a God given right that we can make other people miserable!

Andy: when Denise is not happy

4. What was your husband Andy like as a teen?

Me: Pffft, his mama and baby sisters tell me what a whore he was, but I wasn't there. I'm sure he'll say he was athletic or really nice or something.

Andy: Way out going young man

5. How old is your husband Andy ?

Me: 33 - a year and a half younger than me. And he tells me about it on an almost daily basis.

Andy: 33

6. How tall is your husband Andy ?

Me: 6 foot, and he loves it that I have to look UP to him, even when I'm on my tippy-toes.

Andy: 6 foot

7. What is his favorite thing to do?

Me: All out-doorsy crap AND "wrestling". He loves to wrestle.

Andy: Hunting/fishing, playing softball

8. What does your hubby Andy do when you're not around?

Me: He's like a little lost puppy when I'm not there. Wandering around aimlessly, cleaning things, doing laundry... pffffffffffffft or has his head so far up ESPN that he doesn't even realize I'm gone.

Andy: wonders when Denise will get home/cleans

9. If your husband Andy becomes famous, what will it be for?

Me: He thinks he's funny, so I'm sure he's thinking comedian, but he'd really be famous for his cooking or sewing ability, like Martha Stewart, or being in some political office making laws and forcing people to obey him them.

Andy: Comic or business man

10. What is your husband Andy really good at?

Me: "Wrestling". That's code for um... you know... gettin' busy, doin the humpty dance, gettin your freak on, makin' whoopie, gettin' laid -- need I go on?

Andy: ask Denise she'll tell you :)

11. What is your husband Andy not very good at?

Me: Being nice to strangers/random bar people/people who touch him inadvertently. He also doesn't like doing things with friends. He's got this idea that most people are bad investments, therefore they cannot be friends. I'll have to ellaborate on that one later.

Andy: staying calm or quiet when I have had one too many

12. What does your husband Andy do for a job?

Me: Um, he does something for the State and gets a really nice check and really good benefits and just got a promo where he gets his own office to do something secretive and fight fraud and identity theft, I think. That's all I know.

Andy: State Job (I love how he gets all wordy and technical LOL)

13. What is your husband Andy's favorite food?

Me: Raw red meat. Steaks that are still moo'ing. Yuck!

Andy: Steak or Denise's spaghetti

14. What makes you proud of your husband Andy?

Me: He's a great father, role model, husband-to-be, great morals and values... just an all around fantastic guy!

Andy: The way I handle situations

15. If your husband Andy were a cartoon character, who would he be?

Me: He's my Superman. He's faster than a speeding bullet and ALWAYS there when I need him. He could lift a car with a pinky if it meant saving me or the kids from being hurt. Superman IS a cartoon character right? Ok, maybe a little like Papa Smurf too. He's got an old soul and always seems much more wise than most people I know, calm, secure, and people flock to him for advice... and actually listen to what he says.

Andy: Hercules there's nothing I can't handle

Hi! I'm Denise, the Grocery Store Grump!

**Disclaimer - this post is long as hell, but in my defense, I'm only trying to avoid putting away the groceries. Surely you can feel my pain. But it's funny too, I mean if you have kids, you'll completely understand my new found desire to hire a babysitter for me, the babysitter, while I'm at the grocery store.


Hi! I'm Denise, the Grocery Store Grump!


Yanno, grocery shopping isn't hard when it's just Andy and me. We usually end up getting stalked by some random old lady because were are just.that.damn.cute.

Taking the Baby K and Big K to the grocery store is a completely different story. Baby K throws a 10-minute fit when I place her in the front of the buggy, squirming, kicking, screaming and even producing real tears. Big K wanders off everywhere and I'm chasing her, constantly reminding her that her hand needs to be on the buggy at all times.

Then there's the endless conversation all the way through the store:

"Denise, do we have these at home? What are these? Can we borrow these? Buy, I mean buy, can we buy these. I want salad. Do we have salad at home? You said I get Dora fruity snacks. Where are the Dora fruity snacks? Did you remember we don't have any chocolate milk too? I like chocolate milk. And Dora fruity snacks. What's this? Can I have a plastic bag? I like plastic bags. Can we put meat in the plastic bag again? I like putting meat in there. That's fun. I like pickles too but I don't like pickles. Can we borrow some pickles? I mean, buy. Denise, when do we get to go to McDonald's? You said we could go to McDonald's and get chicken nuggets and french fries at McDonald's when we were done. Denise, will my mom be here in 2 minutes? What are these? Can we borrow... er, buy these? I want some yogret too. I like yogret, but only the Dora kind. I don't like that other kind like we had last time. Look at that little gril. She's got shoes like me. We both have little gril shoes. Not boy shoes. Boys eat bugs. Isn't that right Denise? Boys eat bugs and girls eat candy, right? Can I have some candy Denise? And some Dora fruity snacks?"

Finally, we get to the checkout, after of course the world has oooh'd and ahhh'd the precious kids I've ventured into the public world with. I'm always asked "oh how precious, how old are they?" and I usually respond with a blank look and "I don't know, they aren't mine," which causes all kinds of stares and maybe even secret phone calls the local police department. I've learned that it's much easier to say, "10 months and 3" and continue pushing my buggy.

I realize a lot of moms out there might like to stop and gab to complete strangers about how the growing process is just moving right along, how Sally Jane has pushed 2 new pearly whites through her gums and how Nancy June is the smartest kid in the universe...

But there are also those of us in there, *a-hem* ME, rushing through the store tossing things in the buggy because I've only got a 2 hour window before the precious teething 10 month old, cranky Baby K, is going to blow me a big, fat, runny, mud-kiss through her diaper and the smell isn't going to be pleasant for ANYONE. I've also only got one shred of patience left for Big K, the 3 year old, who is driving me up the wall touching everything in the store, trying to sneak stuff in the buggy, and standing in the middle of each and every aisle trying to poke a hole in the damn plastic bag she got from the produce section, all the while blocking traffic of the other shoppers who desperately want to get by her as fast as they can because someone else is going to beat them to the 2/$1 sale on canned green beans.

Of course I've got to have help getting out to the car because now I've got two buggies filled with groceries (I've never understood how I start with one and after it's bagged it takes up TWO) and two kids in tow. Do they send me out with some young, energetic kid? Hell to the nawl! They send me out with this 90-year-old, broke down, slow as molasses man saying "Lead the way" and I'm just thinking, "Yeah, try and keep up with me gramps!" He was super nice, but slowwwwww! C'mon skipper... any minute now Baby K's butt will explode and I do not want to smell that all the way home!

And woah, the race against time doesn't stop there folks. Then we've got to get to McDamnDonald's and beat the lunch rush to get that kids meal with blazing hot french fries so I've got to hear Big K yapping all the way home about how she really likes fries and they are really too hot and she likes chicken nuggets too but they are probably hot too and did you get me a drink Denise? because I'm super thirsty and I want chocolate milk did you get me chocolate milk from McDonald's? My mama does. Are the fries cooled off yet because I'm super hungry Denise...

We get home. I get the kids out of the car, sit Big K down on the couch with her happy meal b/c I'm going to need the entire kitchen table and all the counters for the shitload of groceries I just bought, get the baby changed, get the groceries in the house, sit down to feed the screaming baby her lunch, plug her with a bottle, set her in the playpen, move my quarter pounder and drink to the quad room where I think I'm going to get to enjoy it, far, far away from the kids... when Big K insists we listen to this stupid CD that was the "toy" in the happy meal.

We listen to the entire CD twice, singing along and dancing in the livingroom, I get her laid down for naptime and go back to the quad room with my food only to realize I'm too pooped to even eat. I want a nap. I don't even care that the fish sticks are melting away and the hamburger meat is probably bleeding through the paper sack. I just want to lay down and pass out. Like a power nap. Yanno, the 20 minute kind where you get up feeling all refreshed and ready to tackle the world again?

And I'm just the babysitter folks! I'll ship these guys off with their mommy at 530ish only to receive 4 more when Andy gets home... and the saga continues.

Even through the exhaustion and the serious lack of patience being one of my virtues, these napless, teething, screaming, kicking, yelling, ankle biting little people are the bestest in the whole wide world. And our four, ranging from 3 to 15, are my pride and joy! I love them with all my heart and soul, and wouldn't trade lives with anyone even if I could.

I'm off to put away the mini-grocery store in my kitchen and hopefully get 20 minutes of power-nap before they scream again. Happy Friday!

Selective Hearing of Monkey Boy

We are driving along Monday evening, all four kids, Andy and myself, rockin' the mini, on the way to Gma's for her birthday bash. The music is playing... probably some old rock song from my favorite CD I recently made for myself (Pat Benatar, Air Supply, you know the likes). The teen and tween in the very back tolerating the music and gazing out the window praying for a better song. The two younger ones in the middle seat, safely tucked into their carseats. Andy and I in the front engaged in convo about his job and new promotion. I occasionally look to Monkey Boy (3) and Baby Love (4) telling them to use inside voices and reminding them to keep their nasty little feet off the seats. They get their feet off the seats only to play the "I'm not touching you" game which is then ended with a pinch on the arm from the Monkey Boy. He's scolded, gets pissed, telling me "She peen me back, she peen me back" and then they go into another conversation. He's not the easiest to understand and sometimes we are WAY off base with what he's trying to tell us.

I gaze out my window just in time to see one car trying to get on the highway and another one speeding up to make sure the oncoming vehicle has to get behind him. "Stupid ass!" I quietly say to the moron driver as I glare at him through the window. How rude! I'm in a minivan loaded down with kids, in the very next lane... the lane he would have to turn into if that car didn't yield, and this asshole thinks the world will end if he doesn't fly up into the bumper of the car in front of him just so there is a car behind him. Like he's going to miss out on the checkered flag in a Nascar race if he ends up behind the oncoming traffic.

Andy continues rambling on about his promotion.

Monkey Boy: "Doop ash, doop ash, doop ash."

I look back at Monkey Boy, who is now looking me dead in the eyes, grins and continues chanting... "Doop ash, doop ash, doop ash."

Andy: What's he saying?

Me: (Wearing that quizocal grin and shrugging my shoulders, pretending like I don't know what the boy is saying)

Andy: (One eyebrow raised) He's saying stupid ass isn't he?

Me: (Still wearing that "stupid ass" grin)

How come when we say something meaningful like "I love you" or "Hold me" or "Good boy" he runs off to find the nearest mud puddle like we haven't uttered a word. But the moment I use a curse word or spout out something without thinking about the mini-people lurking behind me, he chooses to listen... and repeat... and repeat... and repeat what I've said.

I'm sure his bio-mom will be pleased to hear him chanting "doop ash" the next time they are sitting at a family dinner or out with a group of people. This I'm sure will be followed by Baby Love, the tattle teller, telling her bio-mom "He's saying stupid ass. Denise said stupid ass and then Monkey Boy said doop ash. That's what he's saying... stupid ass. Mom what's stupid ass mean?"

I learnt me some new things

While I'm supposed to be doing homework, I had this idea that sounded much more fun. I decided to look up things that I didn't know about. Just random things that caught my curiosity.

If you are new to bloggyland, you might be wondering this question too. What the heck is a meme? I pronounced it "me-me" because that's what it looked like. When in fact... it's a "meeeem". Hmph. I found an interesting read over at Chrisg dot com and he explained exactly what it is. I feel so much better now. Thank you Chris G. I'm still a blogtard, but I'm learning.

Another intesting thing I learned today... that stupid pig flu is in fact from pigs. So here's my warning: If you live with a bunch of PIGS, you are at risk. If you feel feverish, throw up a couple times and have the urge to squeal or "oink", immediately seek medical attention. You could be infected.

Speaking of Pigs, I was talking to my sister today and we were reminiscing about our childhoods. We laughed about the time we lived next door to Pancho and his million-people family out in the sticks where we would wake up Sunday mornings to an actual pig squealing... look out the window and see Mrs. Pancho out in the front yard slaughtering a pig and getting something ready in their gigantic, black, witches brew cauldron for what we could only imagine was going to be their supper. Meanwhile Pancho is feeding their shetland pony who is tied up to a tree in the front yard as well; the pony my dad won for me in a bet but then gave it back. We moved a little further down memory lane and talked about how we remember mom living in Reno. Sissy's only memory there was when she snuck out one night, while mom was dealing cards at a local casino, slipped into another casino, stole a name badge and smacked it on her shirt, found a used plastic cup of booze that was laying by the wayside and promptly went up to the next waitress, handed her the dirty cup and told her she would like another one. She was 15 at the time. My only memory in Reno was when I was kidnapped by my dad and grandpa who found me there, in the middle of the night, with my mom's "half-naked boyfriend" (he had his t-shirt off and was lying on the couch) and my mom was at work. I was 8. I'm sure I was asleep. The odd thing is... I don't remember my sister being there ever, and she doesn't remember seeing me there. This is only a couple of the many, many memories my sister and I shared. So as we walked down this road, reliving our childhoods, we couldn't help but wonder how we came out alive... and sane.

Did you know that babies are born without knee caps? They don't appear until they are between 2 and 4.

The nursery rhyme "Ring Around the Rosey" is a rhyme about the Black Plague. Infected people with the plague would get red circular sores ("Ring around the Rosey"), these sores would smell very badly so common folks would put flowers on their bodies (inconspicuously), so that it would cover the smell of the sores ("a pocket full of posies"). Furthermore, people who died from the plague would be burned so as to reduce the possible spread of the disease ("ashes, ashes, we all fall down"). Gross!

I was playing around on Google Earth (the free version) and the apartment that we moved out of 5 months ago still has my car parked in front of it. For those of you who thought it was in real-time... it's not. So don't go trying to spy on people. You'll only find out what they were doing up to 5 years ago LOL. Makes me wonder about that broad who claimed she found out her ex was cheating on her when she saw his truck via Google Earth at another broad's house. How long was that affair really going on huh?

That's all I learnt today. I think I learnt me up some pretty good stuff. My brain hurts. I'm going to look at pretty pictures in my art book now and pretend to write my paper. Happy Monday!

Monday Mania

OK what the flip man? Why when I wake up on a dreary Monday morning, after NOT sleeping well at all even though it stormed and that's usually when I have my best sleep, do I hear about a pig flu epidemic? No confirmed cases in Oklahoma yet, although half of our surrounding states have them, and I'm just a wee bit worried since I've been down with this horrible coughing snotty hacking sneezing bronchial infection for OVER A WEEK NOW! Even my normal savior Mucinex coupled with Sudafed isn't doing the trick. I think I'm over the worst of it, but every morning I still wake up to a cough attack and that elephant on my chest feeling. Ugh!

On to more pleasant things, like my weekend recap:

Friday Andy and I went to a dart tournament. The pot was $500 and we were ready to play! I got a pretty good partner, and Andy was partnered with our best friends new wife. She's okay, but neither of us really had a chance to take home the money that night. Cody, another dart player, is following me around the dang bar for over an hour before he finally stopped me and said, "You have a daycare right?" Well, I told him I keep a couple kids out of my house, but they are family. He goes into his whole story AGAIN about his girl and their new baby and needing a day care and willingness to drive the boy to me and he's a newborn and he doesn't trust anyone and I'm not with the State am I and how big is my house and blahblahblahblahblah! Cody! Shut the hell up man! I'm trying to throw back tequila shots with beer chasers and you are screwing with my buzz man! And dang Donna brought her camera so there are umpteen pictures of Andy and I, along with the other drunkards in the bar, highlighting just how unpretty we can look when intoxicated. And then I see that Donna has them all posted up on her MySpace. Great. Just great!

Saturday morning Andy headed off to go fishing with the nephews at like 5 in the morning. Pffft, I didn't even know he was gone until I woke up at 8:30. I texted him to tell him to have a great day and rolled back over because Taco Bell doesn't open until 10. NOTHING is better than Taco Bell for a hangover. NOTHING.

Except Subway. The 15y/o and I decided we each needed a footlong. Pigs. I saved half of my sammich for later, but that kid of mine ate the whole thing in like 4 minutes flat. Seriously, I don't think she said a word until she had snarfed the entire sammich down! And then proceeded to tell me how much smaller her sammich was then mine because she doesn't put tomatoes on hers. Um... ok horker.

Saturday was a completely lazy day. I was supposed to work, but since the words on the screen didn't make much sense to me, I decided just to lay up and watch the boob tube with the teen all day long. We did manage to get to the grocery store though. I knew Andy hadn't eaten anything all day long so I wanted him to come home to a hot plate. Aww such a good girlfriend I know. I should get an award or something. I went in the grocery store for hamburger meat to make a meatloaf.. and ended up spending $45 on junk. And hamburger meat. Andy came home about 9 and dinner still wasn't ready lol. He was muddy, exhausted, starving... and supper wasn't ready! There goes my award.

Sunday we slept in and cuddled. It's been a long time since we just layed there and snuggled in bed. Sometimes we slip into this routine, that dull routine with our backs to each other at night, and we don't move until that stupid Mariachi (sp?) band alarm starts yapping on full blast volume. We can't be the only couple that does this... but we've only been together a little over a year and it's already happening. He's hot natured and I'm always frozen, so if I try to get close while he's asleep, when he gets hot he'll toss and turn until I get away from him lol. Then when he tries to get close to me, after his body heat warms me up, I find myself sticking my left foot out of the sheet, then my right foot, and before I know it I'm yanking away from him because I'm too hot. Fat folks trying to snuggle can get complicated.

I worked yesterday afternoon and up until about 9 pm. Of course there were like 239087234 breaks that I took, but I managed to get my work done so we could watch a movie together. Joyride 2. Don't waste your time if you haven't already. I will never get that hour and a half back. The first one was way better. Andy and I just sat there finding all the flaws in the script and filming. And if they are obvious enough for ME to find, something is really wrong with the film.

So we head to bed, snuggle for a few minutes and then we being the toss and turn game again. I dreamt I was a lesbian. Odd. We should definitely snuggle more.

Then I wake up this morning to the pig flu epidemic. And I remember all the homework I've been putting off since class last Wednesday. Good thing I have the next two days off.

That about sums up my weekend. I suppose I should go clean or do homework or something.

Wednesday Revelation: Coupons

**This is something I wrote about 2 years ago, pre-Andy days, back when I had a rommie and we were penny-pinching in my apartment. Everytime I think about clipping coupons, like now especially in a recession, I remember this fiasco and opt out on coupon-clipping**

Today's Revelation:

Coupons are a manufacturers way to get you to purchase the items they know you never would otherwise!

So I'm on a budget these days, being unemployed and all, trying to be frugal and aware of where my money goes. My mailbox is constantly filled with coupons, not to mention the plethora of coupons found in the Sunday paper. So my roomie and I clipped them, carefully choosing what we would and wouldn't like to get at the next visit to Crest, our local super cheap brand name grocery store.

I arrange them neatly in an envelope, on the back of which contains our well thought out grocery list. I'm pumped. I'm ready to save some money. I'm grabbing the bull by the horns and keeping money in the bank.

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT!

It's a HOAX I tell ya, a complete and utter HOAX!



We get to the grocery store, event planned in our heads of how this should go, and I end up turning into a super charged Coupon Bandit! I'm going down the aisles examining over and over again which coupons we clipped, putting things in the basket just because I have a coupon clipped just for that item! Things I'd never eat! Things I've never heard of! My roomie looks at me, after calming her recent belly laugh as I comb the aisles, and tells me, "We aren't going to use EVERY COUPON YOU HAVE TODAY!"

Well why the hell not? We clipped them, we brought them, we should use them!

Get a grip, I told myself, get hold of yourself woman! We make it all the way to the bread aisle before she sees a coupon attached to a rather pricy loaf of bread. It said if we buy this loaf we will get $1.00 off a gallon of milk and $0.55 off a carton of eggs. JACKPOT! Her eyes light up like a kid getting their first red Schwinn bicycle!

Next aisle - shredded cheese and canned biscuits. Ut oh! I distinctly remember clipping at least 5 coupons for Grands Biscuits! Ok, so we couldn't justify the $0.35 coupon for a $4.00 pack of sweet rolls, no matter how yummy they looked. Especially since the other brand was only $1.29 at regular price. We do okay in this section. One more to go.

FROZEN FOODS

At this point we looked and were actually using 5 coupons for a savings of about $3.00. Not too shabby. This section of the grocery store never really appealed to me like it did today. I'm not a frozen meal kinda girl. I love to cook, and these foods required a microwave and paper plate and voila', supper was ready. But today, today this area had so very many things to offer. Did you realize you could purchase a baked potato? I mean a potato already baked with all the toppings? And for goodness sake, there were at least 6 flavors of hot wings! Coupons! Where are my blasted coupons!

I'm searching and searching. Low and behold I have at least 10 great coupons for $1.00 off some Tyson bag-o-chicken thing, $1.00 off the Totino's pizza rolls, $0.75 off something called Anytizers, $0.55 off here and $0.45 off there. Holy toledo batman! My roomie tried her best to calm me down. I looked like some freak, up and down those two aisles, going through the coupons one by one, searching for the best deals. My roomie would find something that caught her attention for a few seconds and I would scurry down the aisle, trying to lose her, sneaking the next item I had a coupon for in my buggy.

It was horrible. I was exhausted. Two hours later and we are finally finished. We get up to the cashier, beaming, like we had just caught a fish and even baited the hook ourselves.

BLAM! Reality hits...

Cashier says "Your total is $132.32 with a total coupon savings of $7.45 ladies!"

Ex-ca-use me? So I spent an additional fifty damn dollars to save SEVEN?!?!?!?!



I swore off using coupons that very moment. We didn't even look at our flippin grocery list not one single time!

What's worse... I'm sitting here writing this and thinking about all the things I need to pick up from Wally world tomorrow. Dish soap (I have a coupon for that), papertowels (I just happen to have a coupon for Viva $0.50 off two rolls), Zip-lock bags (oh lord, I have a $1.00 coupon for two of those too)...


and the saga continues...



*Update: Just went into the kitchen to get some iced tea and saw 6 boxes of cereal I just purchased earlier. SIX! There are three of us in this apt. I don't do cereal and my kid eats breakfast at school. I had coupons! Stupid coupons for cereal!

GOVERNMENT WARNING!

I just thought you all should know. Happy Saturday!

Here's What's for Supper Ya'll!!!

So I'm not a planner. I love to make plans and lists, but life gets in the way and things get altered and I get pissy and it's never a good thing. Rarely do things happen the way they are planned.

But... I've been reading all these blogs where these perfectly organized mommies plan everything, down to every meal for.... get this....

A WEEK AT A TIME!

Can you imagine? A 7-day plan of meals. I give you all well-prepared mommies a big ole virtual high five because stuff just don't go down like that around here. In light of that (and because of my competitive nature), I'm going out on a limb here and I've planned the weekend meals. Baby steps. If this goes right, I might, just might, consider doing an actual 7-day meal plan. Probably not though because plans change on a dime here and I never know what's really going on until I'm in the middle of it.

So here's the meal plan:

Tonight's meal will be BBQ Beef Filled Baskets, Andy's (Martha Stewart is what we fondly like to call him) famous fresh green beans sauteed in fresh garlic and onion, and some ranch mashed taters. Super YUM!

I didn't come up with this one myself. I snagged this one on another blog *gasp* and I regretfully can't remember whose or I'd give her some "props". She got it from Kraft and you can find the recipe here. Looks like something the kids and I can all get together and do, so I'm really excited about it. She did say there are some amazing recipes on there. When I stop stalking the blogs so much, perhaps I'll take a gander.

Saturday evening I will be serving chicken enchiladas, Martha's Andy's famous Spanish rice, refried beans n cheese... and some chips n salsa. My whole idea behind this one simple. My mama sent me a recipe for salsa and I want to try it out. So I planned an entire meal around it... as an excuse lol.

Sunday evening we will be entertaining so we are going to fire up the grill. We decided on pork chops (mostly because we bought an industrial sized pack of chops from the grocery store last night for only $0.98/lb. The package was $16 something. That's right folks... 16+ pounds of chops). For sides I'm making a broccoli cheese casserole, corn on the cob and some spicy cornbread with Ro-tel... mmmm! For horses doovers (hor d'oeuvres) I will be preparing cream cheese stuffed jalapenos wrapped in bacon and grilled. Now THOSE are super, super YUM. I'm only doing those because my perfectly delicious friend Cilla bought me a real live jalapenos pepper corer gadget that she found at Affair of the Heart (an annual craft show/fair) and she thought it was screaming my name. I told you, I love gadgets! And she obviously loves me! Or she just felt sorry for me the last time she was here and I made those and got pepper juice in my eye.

So that's the plan folks. I won't be around this weekend (except maybe to write that one blog about Nisha's dang volcano report that I've been chomping at the bit to vent about). This is our weekend with the kiddos (yanno, the divorce, joint custody thing) and we don't get all four of them under one roof very often. Not to mention I've got an oral presentation on genocide to prepare, Maus to finish reading and write a 5-7 page paper and an oral presentation on that one too, two 1-page movie reviews and two 1-page conversation starters to get done. Monday is the last day of my Holocaust class *wiping sweat from brow* and I've learned SO much, but it's time to move on to the next class... and NOT be some bombarded with homework.

Have a fantastic weekend blogger peeps!

Junk Mail - I'm just plain confused!

For a while now I've just clicked on "delete all" that was in my junk mail without paying any mind to the content. I've had this email address for many, many years and I'm sure I've signed up to and subsequently unsubscribed to a billion websites.

Here are a few that I actually looked at today...

I have been given the opportunity to buy an all-natural remedy, 100% money-back guarantee to enlarge my penis. Limited time offer! Is that like Miracle Gro for the "hot-rod"? And seriously... how do they determine it didn't work so that I can get my money back? I'm certainly not sending them before and after shots. In any event, being that I'm all woman, I didn't see how this would benefit me in the least. Delete. Undelete. Forward to my brother. Delete again.

1 800 Pet Meds somehow refuses to believe that we don't have any pets and continually makes me an offer to save $20 on brand name ped meds. Now, if they are referring to my children, ketamine might be an option. Delete.

Team Beachbody (ya, uh huh, when I take off all my clothes and underneath this layer of flubber I've got the body of a model I tell ya, a hot hottie MODEL) keeps sending me emails about the parasites in my water. They really, really want me to take a "Parasite IQ" test. Thanks, but I think we'll just continue drinking our cootie infested city water and be none-the-wiser. Delete and unsubscribe for the billionth time.

The F Word, aka Fubar, keeps sending me this one: Crazy Talk Spawns Midget Ninjas. I have no idea what the hell that's all about, but I'm afraid. Very afraid. Delete.

I can't even tell you the number of emails telling me to become a medical transcriptionist (which I have been for 15 years) using their online courses... or how to become an ultrasound tech ONLINE or how to become a private investigator ONLINE or how to become President of the United States ONLINE (ok that one was a stretch, but the rest of them are true). Delete, delete, delete, delete and delete.

Now I don't mind getting email, or junk mail. In fact, in between medical reports that I type I'm constantly (you better admit this too!) clicking back over to check my In Box for comments on my latest blogging adventure. My only request... and it's not a big one really... is that they would send me things I could actually use. I am, afterall, the queen of infomercials and unneccesary gadgets that will somehow enhance my life to the Nth degree.

Perhaps if I got junk mail on painless nosehair clippers or a natural remedy with a 100% money-back guarantee to keep the grey hairs from popping up all over my head, I might be more inclined to purchase.

I might consider purchasing something that shocks the little children's hands when they open the fridge or a mysterious voicebox that goes off when the last square of toilet paper is used that says something like "You better change the roll or the toilet will self combust in 10 seconds!". It would be great if I could get that in a Darth Vader voice. And then maybe another one of those that detects when a pissy hand grabs the doorknob to the bathroom door because the kids haven't washed their hands after using said toilet that says, "I've got eyes in the back of my head! Wash your nasty hands! And USE SOAP this time!" I'd like that one in my don't-talk-to-me-before-I've-opened-my-eyes morning growl voice please.

Ok I'm over it. Back to stalking my In Box work. Love you Andy! (Insert big fancy heart emoticon here)

American Idol... and other random thoughts

Alrighty you Idol fans... here's my top 3 for this weeks' hot seat... (not hot like "oh you are so hot" but hot like "oh you've definitely got to go!")

Lil Rounds - I'm just tired of her. I think she's tired of being on the show too. The judges have given her sound advice over and over and over again and this lady just won't listen. She has absolutely no artistry to her singing. She sounds, and looks might I add, exactly like every original artist song she sings. Bleh! Don't get me wrong... she's definitely a powerhouse with a mad voice, but she isn't using it. I so wish she would have chosen a Whitney Houston song from Bodyguard or Preacher's Wife.

Matt Giraud - Although I normally like this guy, he's just to wishy washy for me. One week he sounds great and then the following week he sounds like he's got laryngitis.

Kris Allen - I really don't want him to be in the bottom three because I like this kid, but when I compare him to the others, I have no choice. I think he did really well last night, and I think he's got something good coming in his future, but honestly, he has no chance of winning the competition.

To my dear, dear Gokey. I have an issue with you Sir. I LOVE your voice, your reserved attitude and how you appear to be so humble. However, these last two weeks I feel you are grasping at straws and playing the wifey-sympathy card a little too hard. You pick songs that will yank at the heart-strings of every American voting and my dear, it's getting old. You definitely have an amazing voice and I love that you have heart. But Danny, I've noticed you are wearing your wedding ring only for the performances.... and I've noticed you are taking off your glasses, which are oh-so-delish, I can only imagine for people to see the true emotion in your eyes. We see it... even with the frames. I'm not down-sizing the sea of emotions you must be experiencing in the least. I truly sympathize with you and wish you all the best in your healing process. All I ask is please stop trying so hard to rip my heart out. Use your amazing God-given talent and win this competition so I can laugh in the face of all the hard-core Adam Lambert fans. Is that too much to ask?

And on to lighter subjects:

I am in the process of writing how the lovely ex-wife pissed me off the day before Easter. Stay tuned... but for some important history on the lovely ex-wife you might enjoy reading I DONT LIKE MUSHROOMS.

Ramon and the crew have yet to show up to vacuum my yard... and if they come during nap time I'm going to scream! Yes, I said vacuum b/c for some reason I can never think of "lawnmower".

I have had 2 cups of coffee and 3 glasses of tea so far today... I'm hoping I don't pass out before 4 from heart palpitations.

I'm sick and tired of typing about sick patients. I like the psych reports. Makes me feel sane. But it gets very depressing that every patient who enters the ER is diagnosed with 4 more disorders/issues than what they came in with. Seriously doctor, can't you just treat the pneumonia without labeling them all with depression, insomnia, SLE, type 2 DM and CAD? And while I'm ranting about doctors... really, after over a decade of schooling, is it possible that you might be able to pronounce the drugs properly so the little peons like me know what the hell to type? And furthermore, it is not necessary to say "pee-rod" (period) after every sentence or "break" when you want me to start another paragraph. I know proper sentence structure. I know how to make your reports look pretty.

I let my plants (the veggie plants I have been growing, from seed mind you, in my kitchen since February waiting and counting the days until I can move them into their garden beds) stay outside all night last night. I was scared. I've babied these guys, nurtured them, fed them, almost killed them with Pennington Plant Food, tripped over them in my kitchen, and talked every single day to them. They did very well. I was so proud of my veggie babies. And as soon as Mother Nature gets that rainy day stick out of her butt, I'll be able to set them free to grow in their beautiful beds made by Andy and produce me many, many veggies all season long. Gardening is therapy. I have probably saved $10K in therapy by just planting some seeds. It's a beautiful thing.

Last random thought: I hit the jackpot in the washing machine today. I have made a whopping $1.62, all in change. I can't wait to see what the dryer holds for me. Last time I hit the jackpot, I opened up the dryer to find a $5 bill with one end of it stuck inside the cylinder. I ripped it while hastily trying to unwedge it and tuck it in my pocket before anyone saw me. Andy says it's now a $4.75 and we cannot use it anywhere.

Random Tuesday Thoughts

So I'm joining in with the rest of the folks at The UnMom...

Frogs don't have tails, even though I'm "tale", so I'm thinking about giving my blog a facelift again.

Woo hoo! American Idol tonight! I so look forward to Tuesday and Wednesday nights. And although Andy is secretly jealous of my obsession with Danny Gokey, he still watches it each week with me. I heart him.

Never fails, I say "Big K, we are having pizza for lunch today!" And she says, "I don't want pizza. I want a chanwich." If I were serving "chanwiches" she'd want poptarts or a pizza.

We've been watching Big Love. For those of you who don't know, Bill Paxton plays a polygamist with 3 wifes. I have to admit, I feel guilty watching it. I don't agree with their lifestyle. Not to mention I have to listen to Andy's constant threats of when he gets more wives, but that I'll still be first wife so I shouldn't feel threatened. Even though all of my moral being says this is wrong... I can't stop watching it. I'm addicted. Since we finished all seasons of the Sopranos, we needed to find another series that we could rent a couple DVD's at a time to watch. Andy's nephew recommended this show, of course he's the one who watches the Whores of OC or whatever that face lifted boob job snot bag rich bitch housewife soap opera crap is that obsesses over.

My poor, poor Andy. Every day I send this man to work with a lunch, coffee and some fruit. His friends at work all comment on what a wonderful wifey I must be to pack his lunch every day. He gloats. It's nice. We snacked all day Sunday and Monday night I was at school, so Nisha and Andy went out to eat. There were no left-overs to pack for his lunch, so for the past two days he's only had his coffee because I haven't cooked. His friends at work today asked him if we had broken up.

If Mother Nature could keep the Windy Stick out of her butt long enough, I could get my indoor garden out of the dining room and into the raised beds Andy built for me. It would be so nice to have my dining room back.

Things I have to remember to blog about:

• My coupon fiasco
• My sister's Dick
• The Ex-Wife

We are actually paying someone to mow the lawn. $60 a month. It's not a lot. I suppose I could go to Starbucks, get me a grande frozen crack in a cup and do the lawn myself for about $5. Who am I kidding... I'm going to sip my frozen crack in a cup on the front porch and watch Ramon and the crew mow the yard in about 15 minutes flat.

I got out of school early last night and decided to surprise the folks at home. Andy and Nisha both had "chores" they were supposed to do before I got home. Andy had the kitchen and Nisha was to sweep the floors. How come when I pull up in the driveway at 7 nobody is home? And no chores are done? AND they are out SHOPPING!

My mama called yesterday to tell me she bought me a canning utensils set from eBay. You'd have thought she's just offered me an all expense paid trip to the Bahamas with how excited I was. Simple pleasures I tell ya. Simple pleasures.

My mama also told me that granny said I could borrow her canner, but I couldn't have it. She's 900 years old... seriously. Then she said I could "borrow" granny's canning jars too, but I had to give them back as well. Huh? Really... I'm not going to can some shit and label it "granny's jar" so that a year from now when I bust open that jar of marinara sauce I'll remember to send that jar back to Texas. Thank you for the offer granny, and I'll definitely borrow the canner... but you can keep your stinkin jars lol.

That's all I've got for now. Time to feed the kids and get ready for the most glorious part of my day.... Nap Time.

Monday Minutes

Just a recap of the last few days:

Thursday after Nisha, the 15 y/o, comes home from school she tells me she's gay. I guess she was looking for a shock-face from me, but didn't get one. My reply, "As long as you're happy." Then she changes her mind. She decides she's got a girlfriend, but she's also too boy crazy to be gay, so she's going to be bi. "As long as you are happy baby girl." I let it go. She followed me around the house telling me more about this new girlfriend of hers and I just listened.

Friday I tried my hand at canning. That's right... I canned. I made some applesauce (cuz nothing beats homemade applesauce) and canned it. It worked! Ahhh, the simple pleasures lol. Nisha was away at a vocal competition all day and they took 2nd place! Go girl! Then after school Nisha tells me she's being ridiculed for being gay. She looked so sad. Then she tells me it was just a joke and she's not really gay, but she certainly didn't like the way kids were being so mean about it. "As long as your happy baby girl, but now you see it's not so nice to poke fun about something so serious huh?" She agreed.

Friday night Andy and I go out for the dart tournament and a drama filled night at the bar. Ugh. Two of our friends had birthdays coming up, so that was the designated night to par-tay! All was good for most of the night until everyone who boycotted our home bar because one of the birthday girls (who happened to be a bartender there) was 86'd and fired the night before wanted to show up at that bar. Why? What was the point? "Hey, we are boycotting your bar but we are going to act like a bunch of heathens and show up here just to prove a point." Ridiculous. Andy and I left right after we got there. Got us some drunk burgers from Mickey D's and passed out at home.

Saturday we did the Easter egg hunt at his mom's with the rest of the fam because of the 100% chance of rain on Sunday. Nisha rode with us and Andy's ex-wife dropped off the rest of our crew (Oh I've got story about that fiasco, but I'll save it for another time lol). Good times! I love hanging out with his family. They are really some good people. That evening a bunch of us were going to meet up at one of the nephew's houses for some drinks and fun, but my old ass was too hung over from the night before... Man I remember the days when I could party the entire weekend... So long 20's, I'm an old broad now.

Sunday we took Nisha too her dad's so she could go to church with his family. Her dad was out of town (what moron schedules a couple's retreat on Easter weekend?!?!?!) but her older sister called and asked that we bring Nisha out there and she'd bring her home. I thought that was a really nice gesture. Nisha sometimes feels left out of their lives and I know it made her feel all warm and fuzzy... especially since her own daddy didn't even call to say Happy Easter! Sense some animosity? Perhaps.

Andy and I spent a lazy day on the couch watching Big Love and eating snackies. I really enjoy my lazy days with him, especially when I get him all to myself. I love having all the kids together and I love being a mommy, but our alone time is precious to me too. It's an odd feeling to me. In past relationships I would have felt smothered, but with Andy I can't get enough. I'd rather be curled up next to him on the couch than out and about. It's a great feeling. A really great feeling.

And today... I've got work until noon, homework until 5 and then class tonight. Somewhere in there I'll get supper started so we can eat before I head to class. This is the 4th of 5 weeks of Intro to Holocaust. Tonight Nisha and Andy will do their ritual bonding time while I'm away. I love that they have quality time too. Nisha really loves him to pieces, and I know he feels the same about her.

So I guess I should get busy with my day huh?

Wednesday Woes

Didn't sleep well last night, and every morning lately I've been waking up at 5 am. ACK! Well this morning I decided to get out of bed and be productive before the rest of the house was up. By 6:15 I had the livingroom and hallway swept and Murphy's on the floors. By 6:20 I realized that my floors need MUCH more attention, and I'll be calling my sissy, the expertive on wood floors, later this morning. Since she lives in Cali, the urge to call her at 6:20 am my time was subsided by the knowledge that I would be cussed out for waking her up at 4:20 am with questions of proper wood floor maintenance.

The household is up by 6:30 and ready to rock and roll by 7:15. Poptarts and chocolate milk for breakfast for the little ones (oh yeah, I'm a health nut) and the big one eats at school (at least she says she does). Andy doesn't do breakfast, so his routine morning coffee was enough for him.

I run to 7-Eleven to get cash for the teen b/c the mom of the year forgot she had to turn in her money today for their field trip to Arbuckle for a vocal competition.

We get Baby Love and Monkey Boy all tucked into their carseats, the teen ready to roll with her cappuchino money in hand. I move the polly-cart to the side of the house (trash day was yesterday) and politely remind Andy our house is a pit because we don't put thinks away after we are done with them. Hug and kiss everybody and Andy drives away.

I'm in a good mood! Normally I'm a grouch in the mornings, and I figured since I was up before the buttcrack of dawn today, I would be extra grouchy. Not the case...

Until I walk back in the house.

Poptart crumbs all on the floor in the newly swept and mopped livingroom. Grrrr!

While I'm sweeping that back up, I notice that half the kitchen cabinets are open. Grrrr!

Seriously... why does that happen? I mean, does it take that much more effort to close the damn cabinet than it did to open it? I sent Andy into the kitchen to make his own lunch this morning b/c I had to run to the ATM. Normally this is my job. I like it. Feels like I'm doing something special for him and he appreciates it...at least I tell him he appreciates it. I pack a lunch with sides (usually leftovers), an orange, a tangelo, and a small container of this powder fiber crap that he thinks he needs lol. Today I do a bag check and he's got a hamburger patty with cheese over it, no sides and no fruit. But he didn't forget his damn fiber! So I get him a small baggy of chips and throw it in there and he tells me he's got an orange left at work. Whatever. He just didn't want me to know he can't pack a lunch.

Anyway... I'm in the kitchen, closing all the open cabinets and then I notice every damn light in the house is on, along with every TV.

It never ends.

Tuesday's Daily Dilly Dally...and Maalox

First of all, thank you for the "Compose" button clue. Really, I swear I'm not an eeeediot. I created an intranet site for a company I worked for, but that was all raw HTML code and I feel useless if I just have to click the mouse.

• Something I did last night: Managed to somehow get my 100 pages read, two 1-page papers written for class, and even participated in the class discussions on the Holocaust. Wonderful Andy doesn't think I participate in class (because he swears I hate people) but I really did last night. I talked like I knew what I was talking about... nevermind the odd glances in my direction or the "what planet is she from" stares.

• Something I learned today: The kids showed up this morning with less butt issues and I learned a neat trick. Maalox (check out my new use of colors!) cuts the acid in pee-pee, so it makes it less painful to change the diaper of a kid with super-red-butt. However, there are no handy tricks to make sure the Maalox doesn't get all over the couch when you try to pour it on the butt-paste... but I guess I'd rather have a mint flavored couch than a screaming kid and end up elbow deep in butt-paste again.

(check out my use of bullets! YAY, go winda-licker! Ok, I'm over it.)

Something that pissed me off so far today:
I get an email from my boss. Yeah, that's right... I work at home and I have a boss. Apparently, in my bliss of thinking I don't really have a job (outside the home of course) I've been slacking on my actual check-I-get-every-two-weeks job and decided blogging was much more fun. I mean really, how boring is it to type about snotty nosed kids going to the ER b/c their parents don't have a PCP or insurance for that matter. Or typing about every chest pain in the State of Oklahoma that turns out to be the japaleno peppers wrapped in bacon and filled with cream cheese from the BBQ the day before. Or typing about the dummies who saw half of their hands off while reaching for that wire they ran over moments before under the RUNNING lawnmower. And I can't leave out the cat fights at the bar where one broad gets pissed off because her "honey" is buying shots for some tootsie roll in a too tight mini skirt and tank top that's trying to disguise her "muffin top" (yanno, that fat roll the bulges out of the top of jeans... looks like a muffin top dontcha think?)

Anywayyyy... jeeze I can't stay on target for the life of me!

So I get this email telling me I better shape up and do at least my daily requirements or they want their "equipment back"... and by "equipment" I mean the computer that I'm typing on right this second. Pfffffft! I'm not giving up my computer. Nevermind the fact that I have another desktop and a laptop in the house, and my school will be issuing me another laptop (included in my tuition) in the next few months. No way... no how.... am I giving up this PC.

Who does she think she is? Telling me I need to actually "work" in order to claim having a job! I have worked for this company for 15 years and my boss is like a surrogate mom to me. I've worked in the office, I've worked at home. Sometimes I'm a super-producer and bringing in the big bucks, and sometimes I like to take it easy and pretend like I don't have a job. I like the option of not working when I don't want to. Some days the blogs I read can keep me busy (between chasing the two kids around during the day yanno... I don't just ignore them... all of the time) for at most of the day. And if they are particularly funny or hit home for me, I can be knee deep in blogs by 10am. Then there are the blog rolls that I must check out, especially if they have catchy titles! I've got to at least just glance at the blog, only then will I know if I really want to stalk them. Not to mention, I've got to take a peek at my MySpace and see if my brother put anymore pics up and stalk my local friends, friends from high school, bar friends, and check up on my kid's MySpace(it's the right thing to do... snoop on your kids). THEN... I have to check my daily gardening blogs and forums for any new growth, take pictures of my garden-in-the-kitchen-that-has-started-blooming-and-can't-wait-to-be-move-outside so I can post them for the world to see. And FINALLY, I have to check my school website to see if my instructor graded my last paper yet, if my "Discrete Math" grade is posted yet... etc.

I have a LOT to do before I can work ya'll!

So this morning, while I'm preparing for work, I'm thinking of all the other things I need to get done around here and somehow end up on damn blogpost again. How.Does.That.Happen!

In my defense, I do have until the 10th to reply to her email.

And finally, something I'm going to gloat about: I missed class last week because I was totally unprepared for class and lost my book my kid was sick so I emailed my 5-page paper on The Night. I was very anxious about this paper because not only did I write it an hour before it was due, I was submitting to my instructor who is also a published author and screenplay writer. Sooo, for a week I was waiting and waiting, checking my email 2398407234 times a day for a response. Finally, yesterday I checked before I went to class and he responded:

I have graded your paper and I will not be submitting a printed copy with corrections... because there was absolutely nothing wrong with your paper. You are a tallented writer. A+!

Woo hoo! Go Okie girl! (Did you also notice my use of "block quote" feature? Huh? Huh? Did ya? I'm gonna be an expertive blogger before long I tell ya!)

Thrift Stores and the Stinky Lady

I guess I'm on a roll today with the "shit" stories. But while I was stalking other blogs, this funny memory from this weekend popped in my head.

Ever been driving down the street and something funny happen and you want to write yourself a note so you can remember to blog about it? That happened ALL WEEKEND LONG! Andy kept me laughing the whole weekend, only I didn't write anything down, because he'd think I was nutzo about this blog thing and so now I have nothing to blog about... Except shit.

Ok ok, back to the story.

So we had three of the four kids this weekend (the oldest was with her bio-dad, and by bio I mean that shithead rarely goes out of his way for this kid unless he gets a phone call with my foot coming straight out of the receiver aiming for his tail-end, and sometimes that doesn't even work so I call his wife and tell on him :D).

Anyhoo - we like to meander through thrift stores. I admit it, I'm a thrift store junkie. Now I'm not the old lady buying undies and fancy dresses for a buck, but I will get the kids play clothes, books (because I have time to read LOL), and occasionally I'll find some neat Nascar stuff for Andy. We just browse through there really and if anything hits home for us, we'll get it. The kids have a ball. I love that our kids don't care that we are in a thrift store and not Macy's buying $85 jeans for them to rip to shreds or grow out of in a week.

Jeeze - get to the story lady!

So the tween is trying on some shorts. She's in an odd size right now, so we just pick up what looks like will fit and have her try them on. Next to the ONE AND ONLY dressing room in this joint is the wall of books. I'm in book heaven! Well, on the other end of the book wall there is a lady, also seeing the jackpot of reading material, browsing through each and every book, moving her finger along as she reads title outloud. I'm not sure if she was just practicing reading aloud, or if this was a normal process for her... either way it was distracting to me and I couldn't focus on what the hell I was doing.

A few minutes into her title search, we met in the middle of the book wall and had to switch sides with each other. She moved in front of me and politely said "Excuse me." I backed up, but apparently not far enough. This woman smelled like pure D poop! I thought at first, maybe she farted and the smell would go away. Hell to the nawl... that smell had some hang time baby! It was rank, disgusting and I'm not sure exactly how she could stand the smell of herself. Ewwwww! And THEN, this lady squats down so she could read aloud all of the book titles on the bottom shelf! Oh-my-God lady! So just squish all the jam you got in your chonies all around will ya! Gag! I just threw up in my mouth a little thinking about this story.

So I gracefully move to the END of the wall-o-books, out of the nasal-scope of stinky lady. My beloved, sweet, charming Andy walks up and looks at a few books. I step away because I know in my heart of hearts, this man that I love so dearly, is going to say something outloud and my face will turn 10 shades of red, embarrassing for both the stinky lady and myself.

The tween comes out of the dressing room and goes to her dad's side.

Andy: PEW! Tween, did YOU do THAT?!?!?!?! (he's a grown man ya'll, and NOT a quiet one at ALL!)

Tween: Ewww! Gross daddy! That wasn't ME!

I turned and headed for the register, trying to hide from my family. I can't imagine the look on stinky lady's face, or why she stunk to high heaven and thought it would be cool to hang out at the thrift store.

Poopsie Daisy

It's Monday morning, and so far, the day is shitty... literally.

The kids I watch during the day have an awful bout of squirts. Baby K, 10 months, has saturated her clothes already and her mom sent the handy dandy buttwipe container only HALF FULL today. Nice. She has a God-awful rash and screams everytime I change her diaper. I manage to get elbow deep in poop and butt-paste. Poor baby, just breaks my heart :(

Then Big K runs to the toilet earlier and hollers for me.

Big K: Denise!

Me: What? (A rhetorical question mind you. I figured it was the routine "wipe my butt" conversation we have at least once a day)

Big K: There is poop in my panties.

Me: (Walking down the hall toward the bathroom) Did you poop your pants K?

Big K: Nope.

Me: Then how is there poop in your panties?

Big K: I don't know. But there is poop in there. Look. (she points)

Me: Yep, you're right. There's poop in there. Lets get them off so I can wash them. Stand up so I can wipe your butt.

Big K: I can't.

Me: Why?

Big K: Because I have poop on my butt.

Me: Are you done pooping?

Big K: Yes.

Me: Then stand up.

Big K: I can't. The poop is stuck.

I get the child to stand up and sure enough, there's poop stuck to her butt. Poor kid. This is the kid who can't stand touching dirt, anything sticky, washes her hands constantly and freaks out if she spills something on her clothes.

So me, being super mom *cough cough*, I go in for the wipe... and my damn hoodie strings jump out of nowhere and land right in the poop blob just as I go to wipe. Now I've got poop stuck to my dangling string, a stinky kid in one hand and toilet paper in the other! Nobody move! Gross!

All I can do is shake my head.

So I finish up with Big K and the phone rings. I rip off my hoodie, take the poo'ed panties, Baby K's onsie and pants and throw them all in the washer so I can answer the phone. It was my beloved Andy calling for the 4th time today; the first time to tell me to have a good day (aww how sweet), the second time to tell me that I forgot to sign the check for the water bill so they are sending it back to me (ditz I swear, and I was trying to be so organized!) and the third time was to tell me he got a quote at Geico that could save us $15/month LOL.

Andy: Whatcha doin?

Me: Seriously?

So I tell him the shitty stories I had so far and then proceed to tell him exactly how much toilet paper we've used since the 1st. TEN flippin rolls of toilet paper VANISHED in five days! I'm the toilet paper nazi I guess, being that I even took the time to count the rolls. I think it's mostly because I changed the roll 9 of the damn TEN times it needed to be changed.

Andy: Well, it wasn't me. I don't even use toilet paper when I poop.

Me: I'm hanging up now.

Ok ok, he's trying to be funny. He DOES wipe his butt, I promise. I think. God I hope so!

Pee Pee Dance

I'm sitting here, all alone, in the quad room (office/den/laundry room/dart room) and I really gotta go pee. I'm doing the chair version of the pee pee dance, and seriously, it's not fun.

I've finally gotten the two kids that I keep during the day down for nap time and let me tell you, the baby fought me tooth and nail. Every time I'd get her all settled in her play pen, I'd walk out of the room and she'd stand up and throw her bottle out of the cage. Not funny little girl! So I go back in there... lay her back down, stick the bottle back in her mouth, mush the blankey up to her side and watch her eyes roll into the back of her head... hopefully a sign that she's going to sleep and not that I've given her a concussion. Leave the room again, and she's up and throwing that damn bottle out of the cage again. Finally, on the third try... after I let her cry for about 5 minutes... she's down. It appears that her 3 y/o sister is down for the count as well. Yippee! Auntie gets quiet time.

I meander into the quad room, thinking I've got some peace and quiet to stalk more blogs... er, I mean work... yeah, that's it... WORK... and I've got to pee like a Russian racehorse. Only I'm too scared to venture back into the rest of the house, through the dining room, slide through the livingroom, down the hall and finally to the torlet. Why? Because my damn floors squeak and crack everytime my elephant ass steps on them!

So I sit here, trying to occupy my mind of anything other than the fact that I'm going to pee my pants, my feet tapping the floor, knees locked together and a grimace on my face... seriously, I could be turning blue right now but I don't have a mirror down here to check.

So while I was searching google pics high and low for an image that described my predicament... I ran across this Kenyatta Jones story on TMZ when he tried to pee on a dance floor.

Wowzerz! That reminds me of a gross story. I was at a club one time (mind you, I was still in my 20s and clubbing was the in thing) and this chick, who was apparently having a visit from "Aunt Flow", was a drunken dancing fool that night, in her miniskirt and barely there top. Well, I guess she got a little too jiggy with it b/c her "plug" somehow managed to find itself on the dancefloor. Drunk as she was, she didn't seem to notice her nickname was immediately changed to Bloody Mary as the other club patrons pointed and laughed, all the while backing away from the dancefloor and "Mary".

I told you.... gross.

And with that story out of the way, I bid thee farewell... I'm off to pee.

Come out, come out, wherever you are....

I'm in the kitchen this morning scrounging around for something to snack on while I work (bahahaha, I'm actually stalking blogs and commenting). I have my Pepsi that the mom of the kids who I babysit was kind enough to surprise me with this morning WOOHOO! Now I needed a snack. I don't do real breakfast, except on the weekends, because that will just put me in a coma and I'll sleep right through the morning and not get any work (blogging) done.

I went grocery shopping the other day and accidentally bought a few things that we didn't need... I justify this by claiming everything was on sale and even if we didn't need it, you can never have too much. Andy thinks I'm nuts and preparing for WW3 or really concerned about the recession. I think like this... he gets paid once a month... when I work (lol) I get paid every two weeks... when we are nearing the end of the month and I need pasta to fix our family Pennsagna recipe and the bank laughs at me, all I have to do is open up the pasta drawer and voila! Dinner will be as scheduled.

Looking for my snackies this morning, I open cabinet #1:



Seriously... who needs 5 bottles of salad dressing?

Then cabinet #2:


Now I know you can't see all of what's in there... but check this. Somehow I managed to rack up 5 jars of peanut butter, 2 bottls of syrup, 4 jars of Miracle Whip (including one jar of Light Miracle Whip in the back that nobody will touch), 2 bottls of squeezable grape jelly, 2 bottles of catsup and I can't see if there is anything behind that.

Nothing I can immediately shove into my mouth...

Moving along to cabinet #3:



Here we have 3 bottles of apple juice, 4 boxes of 10-pack juice packs, 3 jars of sweet relish and 1 bottle of mustard.

Again, nothing that I'm looking for.

Off to cabinet #4:



This is actually a drawer... a drawer filled with nothing but wheat pasta. There are 4 boxes of Rotini, 1 box of Penne, 2 boxes of Lasagna and 6 boxes of thin Spaghetti. We like pasta! LOL

Nothing that will give me my fix as of yet...

Next cabinet, #5:



You can't really see how much is in there, but this is twice as deep as the picture shows. Every thing from canned veggies, every canned tomato product known to man, soups and broths, I don't even know how many tuna cans (I love tuna and crackers).

Still nothing to help me out. What the crap man! There has got to be something in this flippin house to snack on! And that was only half of the cabinets... all neatly arranged with the lables facing forward... Ahh the joys of kitchen-OCD. But where are my dang snackies!!!

And just then I remembered! JACKPOT!



I have a secret hidey hole for my snack crackers... with 4 kids it's hard to call "dibs" on your favorite snackies, so I just hide them. I've bought the nastiest looking crackers, the wheat kind with absolutely no flavor thinking the kids wouldn't like them. Pffft, they snarf them down just like Doritos. I buy them their own boxes of fruty snacks so they leave my stuff along, but to no avail. Apparently nasty wheat original flavored wheat thins are better than Dora the Explorer fruity snacks! So in the quad room (the garage that's been remodeled and turned into the laundry room/den/office/dart room) I have some built in cabinets over my desk filled with paint and junk for the house. This is the one place the kids would never look, especially for food... so I've hidden my Cheez-Its and Triscuits there.

Life is wonderful again... what more could I ask for than my 32 oz Big Gulp of Pepsi and Cracked Pepper & Olive Oil Triscuits...Ahhhh!

Thursday Revelation

So I'm addicted to reading blogs. I'm not sure what the issue is with me. Perhaps the virtual world is much more exciting than reality... perhaps I'm looking for a different perspective on my own reality. Perhaps I'm just avoiding work.

Anyway you look at it, the blogs I'm recently reading (stalking is more accurate) are all about how perfectly delicious every mom in the world is. How little Jimmy dropped jelly on the floor and she didn't freak out even though it's new cream colored carpet... or how princess Susie gets read to every night... or how hubby is so perfect! Where do I sign up for a life like that???

I, for one, am perfectly imperfect. I'm frumpy, I don't like people, my kids get on my nerves, my job sucks, my schoolwork is always behind and poor Andy gets the brunt of it all. I'm not at all in a bad mood... I'm in a perfect mood! I'm in a "lets be real" mood.

I've got tattoos, been pierced in places other than my ears and love to drink a cold one at my local bar. I occasionally enjoy strip clubs and tip both the males and females. I love to play darts in smokey bars filled with rednecks and local trailer trash.

My kids and my man are my life. Don't get it twisted. I wouldn't trade them for the world. But let's face it... when the teen starts wearing too much make-up and I tell her, "You look like that hooker I saw on 1st and Main last week" or when the 3-year-old intentionally whacks his 4-year-old sister in the head with a branch he found in the backyard, my first instinct isn't to tell him "Now play nice son."

Life is complicated. Life is wonderful. Life throws lemons and without sugar, that lemonade is going to suck big time.

I curse, I wear "Corona" sweatshirts and I spank my kids. I bite my nails, I have fat dimples on my ass and I don't own a brush. And sometimes, when the kids pass out in their clothes, I let them sleep OVERNIGHT in them! Gasp! I make my bed every morning and think my room is clean. I rant b/c I'm the only one who changes the tiolet paper roll and I sometimes will even burn dinner just so everyone knows they are blessed to have a good meal served.

Thurday's Revelation: I'm human! And my family understands me and loves me in spite of it...