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.

RTT: Sims 2, One Missed Call & Projectile Vomit

Random Tuesday Thoughts - yanno, this is my favorite part of the week, as far as blogging goes. I get to ramble on about nothing really, and people pretend (my fantastic 23 followers) to show interest... And some even comment! It does wonders for the stuckinthehousealldayandallnight EGO and I'm perfectly comfortable rambling. It's a "forte" of mine. (Gettin all fancy on ya, bet you didn't see that one coming!)



I'm going to admit that I've been keeping a RTT note pad. Ok, it's not really a notepad per say, but I do scribble notes and jot down thoughts on the back of an envelope. Hell, I have a slew of blog envelopes, one for each day of the week. I've decided to pick a new bill for each day of each week to draw all over and scribble on. Makes me feel better about paying the bill that's inside in some sort of way. Plus, this way I've always got fresh ideas. These are pretty much in chronological order, as they really happened, because you won't find any lies and false shit here folks. Because that's.how.I.roll.





Last week Andy, feeling sorry for me because I couldn't seem to get rid of that hacking, nagging cough, brought me home a surprise. Colloidal Silver Classic. He tells me to take a teaspoon of this liquid metal and put it under my tongue for 1 minute, then swallow. I'm not sure if it was mind over matter or what, but the next morning I felt FANTASTIC! I was even in a good mood, and mornings and I usually don't get along very well. Andy of course thought it would be a neat experiment... I would have to bow down to his feet because HE brought me the two week long lougie-hacking remedy, not to mention he thought I'd be shittin' nickles. He only wanted his initial $21 investment back for the tiny 4 oz bottle. I completely understand.




I'm back to work right? Kinda. Well, I'm part-time, mostly because the great doctors at one of our local ER's (the one where I once made sooooo much money it hurt people's feelings) figured out that instead of spending hundreds of thousands of dollars a year on a transcription service, they could just invest in a point-and-click piece of shit software and completely ruin my life. So now I'm stuck doing stupid discharge summaries and transplant institute reports. Bleh! Anyway... I got my first paycheck since I had been back and it was a measly $200. WTF man! I think I got ripped off or something. Surely the account lady screwed up. Surely.


Andy occasionally looks at my blog at work, on lunch of course, because he wouldn't want folks to think that their hard earned tax dollars are going to a plethora of bookmarked pages for his enjoyment. He looked at one entry I made last week and tried to be sneaky and comment. Bahahahahahaha, it didn't take because he is not a blogger. I told him you have to have special woman powers and go through an excruciatingly painful interview by a panel of Xanax-free, hormonal women to be able to post. Then I added him as an author to this blog. Warning: Watch out for random Andy thoughts. He might sneak in here.


This weekend, I think it was Sunday evening, Andy and I were sitting in front of the boob tube and watched One Missed Call. It's supposed to be a scary movie, but it's pretty stupid. Basically, someone dies and right after they die, a "contact" of theirs from their cell phone is called from a future date and leaves a scary message, indicating their death is next. Right in the middle of the movie, and the futuristic death calls, my cell phone goes off. It's a text. Needless to say, we were a bit freaked out. AND it just happens to be one of my life long best friends, who Andy isn't that fond of. I should be dead by 7 pm today, according to the storyline.

I'm not sure if many of you are "blended families" or not. Yanno, step kids kind of blended. We are. And every time the oldest, my bio kid, the 15 y/o, goes to her dad's for the weekend and I have to endure the 2-hour long convo about how she hates her step-mom upon her return. She doesn't really hate her. She just listens to her older sisters over there bitch about her, so naturally, she thinks the step-mom is evil. I try to even the playing field and stand up for the step-mom, even though I'm secretly laughing inside... because I'm better... at everything... but for the sake of argument (with bio-dad) and respect for their household (pfffft, as if), I do what I can. One thing I'm particularly happy about is that she (the step-mom) can't cook. The 15y/o, Nisha, hates her step-mom's cooking. I love it when she comes home and tells me how horrible her food is. But this weekend was different. Nisha comes home and tells me she had the most fantastic salad ever. "It was the best salad of my life mama!" Ex-ca-use ME! Biting back my sharp tongue and cynical look, I listened and smiled. "She puts strawberries in her salads mama!" Whatever. Sounds gross to me. And my salads are WAY BETTER!

I'm completely addicted to Sims 2. If you don't know anything about it, don't look it up. It's dangerous. I played that game from 2 pm yesterday until 2 am. TWELVE FREAKIN HOURS! I declared it a left-over night and never stepped away from the laptop screen (except for the 30 second bathroom trips). In any event, I managed to virtually kill Andy and I (because I created us as characters). We started out with no kids, he knocked me up twice and we raised them. Then all of a sudden, out of no where, I can't get us to get out of bed. We aren't doing naughty things in there either. Sickos! We are just sleeping. And we can't get up. Nothing I click on works. I think my Sim actually pee'd the bed. I killed us. So then Nisha wanted to play and I helped her create a Sim. Because she's just a beginner, she did it all wrong, and now all her Sim wants to do is make babies. Ack! I'm teaching the kid, the hormonal teenager, how to MAKE BABIES! Anyway... at 2 am, everyone in our REAL house is asleep (at least I thought they were) Andy comes down the hall, takes one look at me all snuggled up on the couch, eyes beet red and plastered to that screen and says, "Ok, you are officially a loser." Sims 3 comes out in June. I need rehab.

And finally, yanno how when a kid pukes sometimes it just flies out of their mouth and ends up 4 feet away. I always wondered how that happened. Like, what mechanism in their throat and mouth causes them to shoot puke that far away. I was awestruck. Until today. I'm minding my own business in the kitchen, getting Big K some apple juice, and having a normal morning. I have another one of those damn coughing fits and all of a sudden, out of flipping no where, I hurl! And not just puke a little bit in my mouth kind of hurl, where I can cover my mouth and charge to the bathroom toilet before spewing. This was pro-jec-tile! I turned my head just in time for the monsoon of Pepsi to come rushing out of my throat! It hit the back of my top teeth, which somehow guided it right into the kitchen trash can. It was like when you turn on the faucet and magically a steady flow of water comes flying out. Let me tell you, there is no wretching and body curling like with normal puke. This was just a steady, even flow of regurg-Pepsi. Like at the fountain drink station at 7-Eleven. Totally gross. All I could do was stand there for a few seconds to process. I.just.puked.a.tsunami. Then of course I took out the trash and headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Yuck! On the positive side, there was no acid taste, like something was eating the enamel right off my teeth.

Ok, your turn. Go on over to Keely's at The UnMom, snag the button, hook up with Mr. Linky and post your RTT. I'll be back later to make sure you have done it.

And NO... I'm not going to play Sims. I'm doing homework. Nosey.

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!

Friday High Five

Happy Friday folks! It's early and I've got a big to-do list again, mostly because I suck and didn't get yesterdays list done, but I'm determined to get started early today. Here are the five things on my mind at this very moment:

• Sims 2. So I'm minding my own business last night, playing Sims. I've created Andy and I with no kids. Neither one of us have jobs and we are independently wealthy (mostly because I know cheat codes so I get $50K by merely pressing a key stroke combo). So in the afternoon, while the kids are entertaining themselves of course, I'm decorating our new house. Putting in plush white carpet and beautiful art on the walls. Adding in every top of the line stainless steel kitchen appliance, a big fancy flat screen that hangs on the wall, a big ole game room with a pin-ball machine, dart board, chess table. I've even installed a pool in our backyard. The house is amazing! I get started on actually playing the game. Almost immediately Andy knocks me up and I'm waddling around the house like a fat cat only interested in peeing, eating and sleeping. Good thing I don't have a job. I give birth to what I think is a girl, we name her Kara Michelle (Andy picked the name) and then winter hits. I'm carrying around this baby and then a message pops up "Kara Michelle is freezing. You better keep her warm before the social worker shows up!" It's then I realize I didn't put a roof or any ceilings on our beautiful 3-story home. And because the house is already built, I'd have to tear it down and start all over to get the ceilings in there. This took me HOURS to build! So we moved.
• It's grocery store time. I hate... despite... loathe going to the store on the first of the month. To avoid the crowd I'm packing up the kids and heading out as soon as I'm done with this post. There is now way we would make it through the weekend with no food if I didn't go today. Nisha is going to her dad's for the weekend, but we get DD, Baby Love and Monkey Boy, along with their cousin, this weekend. It's going to be a mad house around here mostly because the yard is muddy and it's supposed to rain all weekend, so I can't just put them all in jeans and throw them out the door. Mother Nature hates me.
• Holy shit it's MAY! It seems like just yesterday it was the beginning of April when I got my sister's flight info for when she would be here in May.... and I wrote up the list of crap I needed to get done before she gets here. HAY-SUESS! (That's how we say Jesus around these parts, so we don't offend, of course.) I haven't accomplished anything on that list. In fact I don't even know where it is. On the back of a bill's envelope I'm sure, but WHICH bill is the real question. My garage is still a pit, I haven't waxed the floors, there are about 4 pictures up on the walls in the entire house (excluding the kitchen because that's my favorite room and it was the first, and only, room that was finished a week after we moved in), my seedlings are still sitting on the back patio waiting to be planted in the garden beds, my quad room (laundry room/office/den/dart room) is a complete mess, and I've got about 25 days to get this place ship shape. On a good note, I get a present this month. It IS Mother's Day month right?
• Is it just me or what? Am I the only anal retentive person that thinks it's rude and disrespectful for a service technician to park in my driveway? They are here to perform a service, they don't live here. So don't be pulling up in my driveway like this is YOUR home. That irritates me to no end. I had the phone guy come out yesterday to fix my land line because my cell phone bill is $265 AGAIN because we needed a home phone and that moron just whipped into my driveway like he was coming home for lunch or something. Grrr! And to top it off, he wasn't nice. He wasn't rude either, but he wasn't nice. Very curt and to the point. No additional information was given and I had to ask a million questions just to get him to tell me what the hell the problem was with my phone line. And his answer was, "Cox converter, sign here." That's it. Go park in someone else's driveway you zit faced geek!
• This morning I get dressed, like usual, in the quad room (because I've boycotted doing laundry and all of my clothes are now in the dungeon) and come into the living room, where Andy is ready for work, feet perched up on the coffee table, enjoying whatever is on HBO, and ask him to fix my bra. I've got one arm out of my t-shirt and my hair is all tangled in my bra strap. I just wanted him to fix the flipped over strap. Easy task. He's fumbling around back there for what seemed like an eternity, cold ass hands all over my shoulder and back, and he finally says "THERE! I did it!" and then proceeds to pull the strap all tight, because I guess it looked like it needed to be flipped AND adjusted. Now I'm walking around with one boob at chin level while the other is sitting over there all comfortable and laughing. Thanks Andy. Thanks.A.Bunch.

So that sums up my High Five Friday! The highlights of my morning, and what looks to be the beginning of another adventurous day. I'm off to the God-forsaken grocery store on the first of the month. If you all don't hear back from me by mid-afternoon, call the President. Seriously.

Writer's Workshop

It's that time again... Mama Kat over at Mama's Losin It offered the following prompts for the Writer's Workshop:

1.) Who really helped you get over something? Write about that person.(writingfix.com)

2.) Is plastic surgery an option? Without being vulgar, write about the body part still attached to you that you would most like to dis-attach and replace with a better one. (writingfix.com)

3.) Share an interesting email exchange you've had with someone lately.

4.) Have you thought about shutting down your blog? Why haven't you and what would cause you to make that decision final?

5.) Today I will...

I'm sure I could find something to jot down about all of them, but I'll go with #1 only because I've got a big to-do list today and I should get started on it.

Andy. He's the one that helped me get over something. My insecurities.

History: I was a girl just out of high school and he was a guy with 2 kids and recently separated from his evil first wife. He was 6 years older than me. I thought I hit a gold mine when I found him. He was a family man, a preacher's son, good morals and values, a good, steady job and seemed to adore me. Jackpot! Four years and one kid later, I found out he cheated. So long Knight in Shining Armour and in comes Jackass of a Lifetime. I was crushed. Apparently, this broad he cheated with also had a man... who found his way to MY front door to whip my man's ass. I didn't believe it at first. He surely had the wrong guy. Surely he was talking about my man's friend, the whoredog. Nope. He politely pointed to our family portrait on my living room wall and said, "That's the guy. That's the one who is sleeping with my girl." Complete and utter devastation.

Wowzers. Looking back, that was the night I lost all faith in relationships. Needless to say, my "man" was gone that night. I put him out and threw our family portrait shattering on the ground right in front of him. He cried. I cried. And I sent him on his way.

For the next five years we were off again and on again. I went to therapy. He made promises. I vowed to make it work. We even got married. Big ole church wedding and all that jazz. He went back to being the loving man and father that I once knew. But something changed inside me and I couldn't get back to the place I was before. I was jaded. Then finally, one day, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Just get out. So I did. But I was still jaded. I trusted this man with my heart and soul and he ripped me to shreds. He was sorry, I knew that. But that didn't change the fact that it happened.

During the next five years I had few relationships and dated a few guys. Nothing serious. They thought it was serious, but I never looked further than that moment. I never thought of a happy ending or forever after. I never wanted to put myself in a vulnerable position that would allow someone to hurt me again. That emotional rollercoaster was for the birds, and I wanted no part of it.

And just when I thought I had my emotional state under control.... along came Andy. A friend of mine told me about a dart team that was needing a female. I knew one of the three other guys on the team. My darts were going well and I thought I was ready to actually play on a team. I was introduced to Andy and the other guy and threw my darts. It was fun. Andy thought I was a bitch and I thought he was an asshole. But we had a wierd chemistry from jump. I like banter, and he dished it out like nobody's business. I gave it right back to him. From that first night I knew there was something about him. I had to get to know him. He had this energy that I fed off of.

Well, turns out this asshole had a sensitive side. The more time I spent with him, the more I wanted. I found myself stalking him. Complete voluntary stalking. I would show up where he was throwing darts on another league, with the girls of course, just so I could be near him. We would stay at the bar after everyone left and have "alone time". Lol, alone time in a bar.

Anyway, he had just gotten out of a decade long relationship and was forced into the single world again. He had three kids and was very particular in who he introduced them to. I was still in the mindset that men suck, really bad, and I wouldn't count on tomorrow with any given man. We started spending time together outside the bar... with all the kids together. Doing things like a family would. I fell in love with his kids and he treated my kid like she was his own. I let my guard down, without reservation. It was like all of a sudden I was in a trance. One day I'm a man-hating jaded biotch who couldn't care less about who I hurt, and the next day I let go of the self-preservation mode I'd been in for years and found myself in.love.with.Andy.

Without even trying, this beautiful man managed to single handedly give me the strength to believe in love again. To believe in the happily ever after. To realize that being hurt once doesn't mean that I was doomed to be alone or in meaningless relationships. Never once have I felt like this man was looking at another woman. Never once have I doubted where he was or who he was with... or if after one beer too many that trailer tramp trash three barstools down looked like she needed some company. Never have I felt like he wasn't sincere. Not one time have I wondered about his love. Not one time have I regretted giving in. And today, I see beyond tomorrow, next week, next year. I see a lifetime. A future. A home. A family. The greatest thing about it all... I don't remember the pain and bad memories I have from the past. It's like all of it has vanished and all I can see is the moment we met and the life we have together. It's as it that's when my life really began. When I look to the future, because I can do that now, without fear (YAY), I see us and the life we built together. I don't remember life before him and I can't picture my life without him.

Ok, enough sap. For more Writer's Workshop, go visit Mama's Losin It!

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?"

RTT: Tantrums & Big Mama Bras

Go check out The UnMom and Baby Boogers and play along. Mr. Linky is waiting...

It seems all my entries are random as of late. I just can't seem to wrap my head around one single thought long enough to write about it.

I've realized the backspace key is the most often used key on my keyboard.

I wish I could communicate better. I threw a tantrum last night, like a 2-year-old, and my poor Andy caught the brunt of it. We snuggled later, but I hate that I can't just say what I mean when I mean it, instead of waiting until I blow up about stupid things.

Andy's new promotion starts July 1. I'm so proud of him! He transferred to headquarters shortly after we got together and said there was more opportunity for advancement there, plus he could mingle with the big-wigs. I guess he was right. He really is a great employee, knows his stuff and isn't afraid to be right. I love that about him. He is the "go to" man of sorts around there and of course it swells his head, but he totally deserves it.

Someone remind me... make a neuro appt for the 15 y/o! Jeeze, you'd think one simple phone call during the day wouldn't be that hard to remember! I've got to get this appt scheduled so I'm not the mom calling in a month from now saying that my kid doesn't have enough medicine to last until her next appt. Seriously, they write the Rx for 6 months worth and I wait until the very last minute to make an appointment. It's not like she's just taking Motrin yanno lol.

Speaking of the neuro, we are coming up on the 3rd year anniversary of the 15-year-olds brain surgeries. I'm so proud of her. She really has come a long way. I have experienced nothing scarier in my life than sending my child off to a secret room to have part of her brain removed while I'm just directed out to some room with a bunch of other scared people to wait it out. I held it together until her dad and I had just said our "goodbyes" and were heading down that never ending, stark white hallway to the waiting room. I lost it. Nearly fell to the ground bawling like a baby. And then having to repeat that scene 2 more times within a matter of days. Wow! Talk about patience, prayer and the strength of a family.

Now that postop child is looking forward to a drivers license. Eek! Jeeze I'm old. I remember like it was yesterday when she was 4 and bringing me the brush and pretty pink bows saying, "Mama, fix my hurr." She only wanted to be the prettiest girl playing in the mud.

We were over at Andy's mom's yesterday for her birthday celebration with the rest of the enormous family. Seriously, her 5 kids were there, with their kids, and their kids' kids. All jam packed into the front room of Gma's house. Good times! I love that their family is close-knit. I didn't really have that with my family... hell, I'm the only sucka left in Oklahoma from my family. They all tricked my mom and I into moving out to Oklahoma from sunshiney California... and by the time I was out of high school, most all of them had relocated. Now I'm ridin' solo out there. But to tell the truth, there isn't any other place I'd rather be. I love my life here.

Goal for today is to get my homework done and get the floors done in the house. Surely I can manage that.

I get a package in the mail last week addressed TO my mama, who lives in Texas. Our names are similar, but two completely different zip codes in two different states. Odd. I'm confused, but then I remembered that my mama is back in the online shopping game and thought maybe she sent me something. She's been known to just send "blessings" every now and again out of the blue. It's from A Woman Within. I have no clue, so I tear open the package. Inside there's a bunch of magazines, an order form, and another package. I don't bother to look at the magazines because DUH, there's something else to rip open. ACK! Inside I find a big mama bra... 44D. The kind with four snaps in the back on a 3-inch wide strap. The Fort Knox kind of bra that holds big mama boulders, not boobies. What tha.....this CAN'T be for me! Apparently, our addresses somehow got crossed and it came here. Boo! I wanted a surprise. Instead I get this:

Ok, I'll shut up now. That's enough random thoughts for the moment. I'm sure though, in the midst of diligently doing my homework, I'll find some reason to get back on the computer and end up here again before the day it done.

Makin' Friends Monday

So this is my third post today and I'm not nearly finished. I know I said I was going to get to my homework, but I don't wanna. And you can't make me.

That Girl over at Sunshine and Rainbows (who I stalk already) posted from Kasey's All That is Good (who I will now stalk) a little thingy called Makin' Friends Monday. Go on over there and check it out, and link up with Mr. Linky to show your stuff!

Each Monday Kasey posts a task for everyone to do... simple, nonpersonal stuff... in hopes of folks meeting new folks, getting to know each other better, etc. Sounded cool. I wanna play!

This week her task is

5 Senses: List 4 likes and 1 dislike from each of the senses.

Smell
Likes:
1 - Fresh cut grass
2 - Rain
3 - Andy with all of his frou-frou stuff on
4 - Clean laundry fresh out of the dryer
5 - Diesel fuel
Dislike:
Rotten potatoes

Touch
Likes:
1 - Andy's bare skin next to mine
2 - Soft baby skin
3 - My bare feet on the sheets
4 - Sand in my toes
5 - My mama's hugs
Dislike:
Raw hamburger meat on my hands - the 15y/o mixes the meatloaf for me lol

Sound
Likes:
1 - Rain hitting the rooftop
2 - Motorcycles and muscle cars RAWR
3 - Music in the morning, helps me wake up and puts me in a good mood
4 - The kids playing together... nicely
5 - The sound the dart board makes when I hit a hat trick!
Dislike:
Fingernails on chalkboard

Taste
Likes:
1 - My mama's frito chili pie
2 - Anything on the Taco Bell menu... especially during a hangover
3 - Pepsi
4 - Avocados with pepper
5 - His lips on mine
Dislike:
Eggplant

Sight
Likes:
1 - Old folks walking hand-in-hand
2 - Babies sleeping
3 - Andy walking through the door after work
4 - A fully stocked and organized kitchen
5 - Any body of water that I can jump in
Dislike:
Buttcrack in public

There ya have it! Now go post yours so I can stalk you too!

Addendum: I apparently don't follow instructions very well. I posted 5 likes and I was only supposed to do 4. Ooopsie. (Insert dingbat blogtard emoticon here)

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!