Friday, July 29, 2016

Fantastic Visions

Last night, I took a time out to watch the Fantastic Four with Bug. I have tried to do it numerous times and get interrupted each time. Still, last night did not disappoint in that task. I didn't get to finish it again due to mommy and house things. Anyway...during the movie, I could not help but notice...

ME: You know when he is stretchy dude in the vent system I wonder how long his wee wee goes and if it gets tied up in his peanuts. Does it get bigger or just longer? When he is stretchy dude is it limp or erect? Adrenaline has to kick in or something. I mean he is dragging himself along that metal. That has to hurt. Is the metal cold or hot? And why isn't he wincing when his wee wee gets hung up on the corners and he is on the straightaway? Or across the grates?

BUG: Mom! You are gross! Who even thinks about stuff like that.

ME: Well, he's naked. I know I wouldn't want my hoohah to get all stretched out like that and I am sure no man in America would want to see it either. And no one wants a va-jay-jay capable of swallowing large animals or children. That is why the stretch hero is a dude. It's OK to grow a wee wee bigger but not a hoohah. How could you not think about it? Except you. You should not even be thinking about stuff like that.

BUG: I'm not, Mom. Be quiet!

ME: Well, if the metal was cold or hot it could make a difference in whether he has a shrinky dinky or a hot dog. 

BUG: I CAN'T LIVE WITH YOU ANYMORE!!!


Seriously. Watch the movie and tell me you didn't think the same things.

Friday, July 15, 2016

Harry Potter House Butt Crack Chronicles #847801

Last night I was nasty and hot from cutting trees and gardening so I quickly took a shower when I finished. I couldn't stand myself and I was pretty sure there were some prehistoric bugs in my hair.

Hi. I am so happy to see you!




There was a knock at the door. Bug answered.

Some time passed and she stomped upstairs:

BUG: Mom, someone is at the door.

ME: Well, go see who it is. It is probably Joe.

BUG: I don't like answering the door.

ME: Do it! I am naked. I will get dressed.

*stomp*stomp*stomp*

Pretty soon I hear the door open and close.

*stomp*stomp*stomp*

BUG: Mom, it's the cops!

ME: Let him in!

BUG: I don't know him. He is a stranger.

ME: It is Joe. He is here about the electricity.

*stomp*stomp*stomp* opens door

BUG: My mom is naked. Wait for her here. She will be down after her shower.

JOE: Ok.

So I enter in my sweats and wet up do. I dressed for the occasion.

ME: Sorry about the mess. Just pretend you are at a cranker's house of hoarding and chaos.

JOE: Oh no worries. It looks lived in.

ME: Ew. The dreaded statement we all don't want to hear..."lived in."

Joe giggled.

I swear I really don't keep a wreck of a house but try to be neat and tidy most times.

Joe got his invoice paid and left. Bug and I had a chat about not being so rude to the cops. She insisted they were strangers and could wait outside until an adult could deal with them. Ack! Where did I go wrong?

BUG: And another thing, Mom. When you were talking to Joe, you had one boob in and one boob out of your bra. I could see it through your shirt. And you didn't have panties because your sweats were in your butt crack. I am sure he saw all that.

I looked down. Sho nuff.

Fuck me in the ass. Gah!

Wednesday, July 6, 2016

Can We Get Any More Random?

Bug is back from her Wyoming visitation and after a week of decompression and Momster moments, I think she has settled back down. It is always a tough time. I still can't get her to mow the grass without rude comments, threats, and bribery. I have failed. Back in the day (decades ago) when I was a kid and we walked up hill both ways to and from school, I just did things because I knew they were mine to do. My parents didn't have to scold me or bribe me. I did it out of respect because that is what you were supposed to do. That...and they could kill you.



Haha.

Yes. Parents actually had authority over kids and respect. Where did we go wrong?

Summer is sailing past me like a whistle fart. I can't get a grasp on anything. My writing sucks. My paid writing sucks even more badder. I can't finish two books I have started. Currently, I am mostly involved with working out, being a mom, keeping a clean house, and well...life.

Life gets in the way.

And bills. They keep coming and I don't want them anymore. I think I missed the right turn where I ran into a prince charming who would take care of me. My mom keeps telling me I am my own prince charming. She is a feminist. I really don't like that era of femiNazis. They can kiss my ass.

I want to be taken care of and treated like a princess like my dad said.



You other women can be self-sufficient. I don't like it anymore.

I need a little cheese to go with that whine. It is funny how I am the opposite of my mother. I like men. She does not. I like the companionship and well...sex is great! She does not.

Please, God, don't let me ever not like sex. Sex is awesome! Also, could I please get more of it. Please and thank you.

It's a problem at my age. Men can't keep up with me and I surely don't want to tangle with any young ones that can. I would have to put a garbage sack over their heads so I didn't feel like a pedophile and then once they started talking...duct tape. That then might make me a serial killer.



So...I say no to the cougar thingy.

Another reason why my sex drive is going through the roof more than normal is my workout load. If you increase exercise...you increase those sex doping thingies they call endorphins. I have no idea how we get dolphins in there. Some man probably named it that because how else would they refer to women's parts as tuna taco or the other fishy things. Ew. Gross.

I am seeing great progress in my workouts. Finally. Just in case you were wondering...to get an old lady back into shape takes an act of God. God gives me progress with an increased sex drive and no Dwayne Johnson to take care of the problem. Sigh.



Whew. It's getting hot in here. Speaking of heat...

Weather this summer has been all over the place. One day it is 93 with 54000% humidity and the next day I wake up to 55 with a high of 75. We have had little rain which means little tornado activity. Now...I'm not complaining about the lack of twisters, but the rain thingy is becoming pretty dire.

"They" say we are in a drought. Well, I have been in years of drought, baby, and rain once a week ain't no drought. This is not a real crisis, spoiled people of the near south. Can't you squeeze that condensation out of the air and water the crops?

I don't know. I still don't fit in around here although I am really trying. How many years does it take you to adjust to a new culture?

And if you think this post makes no sense, you should spend a whole day with me. I tell you. It's like I have teenager brain.



Can We Get Any More Random?

Bug is back from her Wyoming visitation and after a week of decompression and Momster moments, I think she has settled back down. It is always a tough time. I still can't get her to mow the grass without rude comments, threats, and bribery. I have failed. Back in the day (decades ago) when I was a kid and we walked up hill both ways to and from school, I just did things because I knew they were mine to do. My parents didn't have to scold me or bribe me. I did it out of respect because that is what you were supposed to do. That...and they could kill you.



Haha.

Yes. Parents actually had authority over kids and respect. Where did we go wrong?

Summer is sailing past me like a whistle fart. I can't get a grasp on anything. My writing sucks. My paid writing sucks even more badder. I can't finish two books I have started. Currently, I am mostly involved with working out, being a mom, keeping a clean house, and well...life.

Life gets in the way.

And bills. They keep coming and I don't want them anymore. I think I missed the right turn where I ran into a prince charming who would take care of me. My mom keeps telling me I am my own prince charming. She is a feminist. I really don't like that era of femiNazis. They can kiss my ass.

I want to be taken care of and treated like a princess like my dad said.



You other women can be self-sufficient. I don't like it anymore.

I need a little cheese to go with that whine. It is funny how I am the opposite of my mother. I like men. She does not. I like the companionship and well...sex is great! She does not.

Please, God, don't let me every not like sex. Sex is awesome! Also, could I please get more of it. Please and thank you.

It's a problem at my age. Men can't keep up with me and I surely don't want to tangle with any young ones that can. I would have to put a garbage sack over their heads so I didn't feel like a pedophile and then once they started talking...duct tape. That then might make me a serial killer.



So...I say no to the cougar thingy.

Another reason why my sex drive is going through the roof more than normal is my workout load. If you increase exercise...you increase those sex doping thingies they call endorphins. I have no idea how we get dolphins in there. Some man probably named it that because how else would they refer to women's parts as tuna taco or the other fishy things. Ew. Gross.

I am seeing great progress in my workouts. Finally. Just in case you were wondering...to get an old lady back into shape takes an act of God. God gives me progress with an increased sex drive and no Dwayne Johnson to take care of the problem. Sigh.



Whew. It's getting hot in here. Speaking of heat...

Weather this summer has been all over the place. One day it is 93 with 54000% humidity and the next day I wake up to 55 with a high of 75. We have had little rain which means little tornado activity. Now...I'm not complaining about the lack of twisters, but the rain thingy is becoming pretty dire.

"They" say we are in a drought. Well, I have been in years of drought, baby, and rain once a week ain't no drought. This is not a real crisis, spoiled people of the near south. Can't you squeeze that condensation out of the air and water the crops?

I don't know. I still don't fit in around here although I am really trying. How many years does it take you to adjust to a new culture?




Monday, June 20, 2016

Thigh High In Trouble

*cough *cough*

Whew.

It's dusty in here.

It isn't that nothing is going on. It's that I can't keep up. I think summer turned into a bizarre collage of "ohboyhangontoyourpants" type of season. I can't quite understand how so, but here I am trying to get in five minutes of writer's therapy.

Let me describe it in pictures...

I can't really describe how I know this feeling. It's worse than wearing butt floss underwear, really. I do know there will be a time for relief when the fence lets go.

In the meantime, I hang.

Bug is away for part of the summer for her visitation and should be arriving back home just in time for volleyball camp and practice.

The puppies?

Well, they are naughty most of the time and 10% good. This weekend, they locked themselves in the bathroom, turned the lock and then screamed for help. I had a heck of a time getting them out and then they sassed me when I finally used my burglary skills. LIKE.IT.WAS.MY. FAULT.

Shortly after that, we were all laying on the couch watching a movie and sprawled out like couch potatoes.

And to top it off, I have hives and a heat rash near the golden crotch area because of the HEAT, obviously, and the spandex boiling out the furnace when I run. I guess I am going to have to change to some other material and not my running shorts or capris. Blast it. It itches like crabs on a ball sack. It also looks terrible. I took some antihistamines and put cortisone on it and Calydryl. Oat meal baths anyone?

It sucks. Right now, my butt itches, too. And the burning between my legs is not sexual desire. If I continue to type, I will not have the urge to take a hairbrush down there. Hey. I wonder if Vagisil or any of the hoohah creme would work? Hmm...

Well, it's worth a try, right? The worst thing that could happen is that I grow into a unicorn, perhaps? I will surely let you know if horns start growing out of my head or other areas.

Tuesday, May 31, 2016

The mOMziLLa Chronicles

And so the saga continues on the Bugmeister defying her mother's advice. This weekend we spent time in my friend's pool.

Here is the backdrop....85+ degrees all day. Very few clouds. Slight breeze here and there.

ME: Bug, put some sunscreen on before you get outside. You have to spray it on, then leave it for 15 minutes so it is waterproof. 

BUG: NO! I AM NOT PUTTING THAT CRAP ON BECAUSE I WON'T GET A TAN.

ME: Honey, we are going to be out here all day and you will burn. 




BUG: NO. I TOLD YOU TO GET TANNING LOTION!!!! YOU MAKE ME SO MAD!!!!

ME: Honey. You are lily white and tanning lotion is something you can't use. It's your first major exposure for all day fun in the sun.

BUG: DON'T TALK TO ME!!!

ME: I don't want to hear about it when you burn and hurt all over. 

[Teenzilla ignores the Momzilla]


FRIEND: Well, you told her. 

ME: Yup. 

And so it goes that the Bugmeister burned so badly that it was 2nd, almost 3rd degree.

FRIEND: Oh my gosh. She is SO red.

ME: I know. 



BUG: IT ISN'T THAT BAD! I WILL TAN AND LOOK BEAUTIFUL!

She hurt.

She threw up all night.

She was sick for two days.

BUG: Mom, I am never not going to listen to you again. Why was I so stupid?

ME: I know, right? I rest my case. Wait until tomorrow when you get oozy nasty blisters and peel. So gross. I am sure you just sealed your fate of getting skin cancer at a later age.

BUG: Mom, why am I so dumb?

ME: I blame your dad. 

Tuesday, May 10, 2016

The Voices

I think I've become obsessed with running. It is my escape. This last week things going through my mind are trying to plod forward into my next plan and make sure it happens, rather than is just a plan. A plan is nothing without action.

There really is no logical explanation as to why I left a successful life and perfect home to move east to a place where I know no one to make a life with a man who didn't love me. I guess I always hoped things would change if the location where I resided wasn't so bad for him. He hated Wyoming. I thought it would be better if I moved since he was not willing to join me where I loved to live. I had the most to lose. In the end, it was just him. He was the problem.



And then there I am. Here. Unable to make ends meet and having to start all over again at 45. It was probably one of the scariest things I have done in my life. Now that I have made my bed, I have to lie in it. I have never been this poor or this alone.

Yet, I remain positive. That might be attributed to the crazy in me.



Yesterday I was talking to one of my best friends who is 80 and she told me someone wonderful will love me for who I am and she is certain I will grow old with someone who will become my best friend. I told her, "My mom thinks I should just become gay. I like men. I can't help it. I like the companionship. I could get sex anywhere or do myself if that was what it was about."

Yes, I talk like that to my 80 year old friend. She continued to counsel me as she does. She is my voice of reason. She said I am too special and too good not to grow old with someone. Added into the mix is the statement of scolding she gave me that I need to stop picking dogs. I don't even have to pay her to say that.

Well, for fuck's sake, I hope I don't have to wait until I am in a nursing home. She said, "Stop pushing God. Do your thing. Move forward. Your time will come. You just have to recognize it when it does."

I listen. I have no other choice. I respect my elders.

Dude, whomever and wherever you are: Wear a fucking sign. I am that dumb.