Tuesday, December 13, 2016

So...naturally,

Today started off last night.

Oliver, bless his soul, ate some of Bug's chocolate candy.

So naturally, I was pretty sure he was going to die. He was fine for most of the evening and then I went to bed, bringing him with me because... I felt I should be near him in case he got sick or needed me.

Well, so came the ENTIRE crew of dogs. Beat me.  They all had to be there.

So naturally, I thought he was going to die because the OTHERS had to be right up on his butt. And very close to me. It's a sign, right? Dogs know?

This resulted in ME not having any room at all. Sucks. But what can you do? It's love. We were all going to be together in Oliver's time of need.

So naturally, I fell asleep and woke up in a jolt because Oliver was whining profusely and it sounded like he was going to die. It was pitiful. My heart was heavy. I surely did not want to lose my little feller. I sat myself up and propped my neck with some pillows and rubbed his belly. It seemed to calm him. I nodded off...and he would wake me up whining and I would rub his belly and well, you see the process. OVER AND OVER. ALL NIGHT LONG. THE ENTIRE NIGHT. I even looked at the clock ALL THE TIME.

So naturally, you can imagine that I got ZERO sleep. Add that to a kink in my neck and a pinched nerve leaving the entire right side numb. Oliver...still whining. Geesh. I was going to have to miss a day of work. I thought for sure if we got through the night, it would be OK.

I had to pee.

I scooted out from underneath the dog pile and hobbled to the bathroom. I did my duty and came back. Moose got up and moved to the end of the bed.

Well...

Underneath Moose was Oliver's toy. Oliver jumped up and grabbed it and was HEALED.

Little fucker.

All night. All night.

He is one obsessed dog.

So naturally, I do not know how to speak dog language. I am going to learn...Cliff Note version. I am still so pissed.

Naturally. 

I had to use my neck traction machine to unstuck my neck and was late for work.

Little fucker.

God bless him.


Friday, November 18, 2016

The Black and The Blue

Whew.


Last night was heavy.

When I came home, Bug sat next to me on the couch. We have been having some moments of glory and then the NOT SO. The not so makes my head spin around and the Madea came out.

So in order for this to all make sense ( to me and the voices in my head) I have to rewind to yesterday...

Yesterday we had a conversation at work and my friend told me everything Bug is doing is normal and this will all work out...parenting is not black and white. Well, I responded as best you could expect and I said, "No shit. Parenting is all about the black and the blue." You could imagine how well that went over. It went over about as well as a fart in church. And we started using the ghetto argument tactics. You know...where you talk and then talk louder over the other one and point fingers and tell the other one they don't know what they are talking about and yada yada. I was just doing it because I knew it gets under the skin and it is fun to razz my friend. Then the big boss poked his head in and said, "Yeah. Madea. We all parent that way. Hell to the no." Life is hard sometimes. You have to laugh your way through it.

But not on this day. She was frustrated with our viewpoints.

It was so much fun.



Anyway, we didn't solve world problems. Nor did we end up agreeing on parenting styles...but she is a great person and I enjoy her friendship. Now on the naughty side of me...so easy to play with my academic friends...whooeee...I love to jazz up the liberals who don't spank or discipline with the rod like the bible says  corporal punishment viewpoints or even in a strict way. But...they do make good foods for pot lucks.

See.

If the child bucks the system, the system bucks her off. That's the way I roll. And there are consequences. I do not hand out trophies and I do not give participation ribbons.

Kiss my what did you say?

Child...I gave you life. That is enough of a prize. Hallelujah!

Who me? Would I say that? Oh hell to the yes.




So...back to our couch visit... (no psychiatrist involved)....Bug poured her guts out to me and it broke my heart. She has been defiant and nasty to her mom because I have been gone a lot and it felt like when I was a cop. Her words. Do you know how that feels? Erg. Yeah. I felt like a big turd on shit mountain.

Yeah. That hit me in the guts.

But it doesn't mean she needs to act bad.

So I had to explain that while I am getting my Master's Degree it's going to be a little crazy like this but I made some concessions to help ease her mind. I am going to make more crock pot ideas in the mornings and have things other than pb and j, mac and cheese, fruit, and frozen Totinos pizza on hand. The fruit counteracts the processed, right? Ack.

She told me she really likes my cooking and likes to eat healthy...so OUT WITH THE OLD. I don't eat that processed food, so why should she. It is here I have failed. I also promised to have one night (at least) a week that we have our day to do something together. We do chat and share each night but it really is only an hour.  Then our day is done and we go to bed. That is not a lot of time.

It was a good cleanse of my daughter's heaviness and to see her sob was very hard and my heart broke. But it was good to get it out. And then we decided to torture the dogs and get selfies with them. They did not like it. Here is a sample of Oliver's torture.



Notice his look of "save me".
"Lady...come at me one more time with that phone camera."

And all settled down to "NORMAL" or what we call normal. 

Wednesday, October 26, 2016

Confessions Of A Hot Mess Slacker Mom with Pictorials





Howdy, camo lovers!



I suppose you think I left this blog in the dust. Well, that is partly true, partly false. Making sensical? Nah. I just really didn't have anything outstanding to share and thus...no posts. Scary, quite frankly, that I would have nothing important or dramatic to say.

Bwaahahahaha!

Oh. Boy.

There is no use in catching you up to date because that would be a boring waste of my time and about 15 minutes off your life you couldn't get back.

I signed up for a Spartan race next summer. Why? Because I'm crazy. Another reason is because the price was sliced in super sale in order to generate some interest so I decided to try it out. It has been many years since I have competed in an obstacle course and now is the time to really get rolling.

Bug just got her learner's permit. I was proud she passed it and now we have to log hours. and they have to be parent approved, parent co piloted, and I had to sign for financial responsibility at the state BMV for anything she does while driving. Fuck Me In The Ass. I also had to sign sworn affidavits that I am the one who gets sued. Where's her father in all this? Oh...yeah. No where. In another state. Indiana is rigid for teen driving. I am not opposed to that. I think it is a pretty good plan. However, I am super NOT HAPPY about the privatization of driver's education. Holy balls! If I want her to do that it is $500 and the school does not sponsor it. It is a private company. But my insurance rates are literally going to be unaffordable without out. Yep, they have you by the balls.

All this teen driving and driver's education costs has me frazzled. I am pretty sure it is a government conspiracy to give parents heart attacks to keep the cardiologists in business, thus jacking up insurance rates to make everyone love Obamacare and keeping the government in business with all this regulation and fees.

Do I sound like those way left or right wing conspiracy theorists? Not yet? Maybe I should try harder.

As for me, I am still here working out trying to lose weight, going to grad school, trying to restore homes, working a full time job, being a slacker mom,and always a hot mess. Still single. Men just don't work out for me.It's sad really, because I really like sex. I really like to be active. I like all kinds of things and I am a generous person but I am too independent and strong willed and my own person. BUT I do like to be treated like a princess and a lady. It just isn't happening. I know how to pick 'em. I also have gotten stood up. Do you know how long that has been since that has happened? Like freshman year in college. And that guy was a dick so God was watching out for me. I seriously would consider women if I was attracted to them because they at least are on the same page, but alas, no sexual desires that direction. I'm just not gay.


I mean, who doesn't want to hang out with this hot mess?
I wear pigtails for Pete's Sake. 


My office manager got after me today for my attire. Literally. She ripped my ass for wearing clothes that are too sexy for the office lately. I was like fucking kidding me, right? This is what I wore today: grey on top with black pants and black shoes. I look like a freaking school marm. But it is colder than a witch's tit in this office so this is what I look like today.

I know. I look tired and old. It's part of my outfit. 



And this is what I wore last Friday because Friday we can wear jeans and dress like slobs. I chose to dress like a college student.
No camouflage. Rats. I will work on that.

Mostly, I wear shirts up to my neck and pants or a long skirt. It really isn't even exciting. NOR is it really fashionable. I wear fun things after work. So this all struck me as weird. One time I got quips for wearing cross necklaces and they came at me like..."you like a lot of crosses, I see." I work in international programs so it raises bells. I wear them proudly because it is what I am. I love Jesus. Fuck 'em. I know, God, I'm sorry. But in my defense it was to uphold my Christianity and religious freedom.

Last Tuesday, I wore this and even pulled the shirt up so my boob crack didn't show. I did not get one "talking to" that day:

Did not go to work with boob crack showing.
I pulled that shirt up higher and adjusted prior to work.



So this is a mystery. And I am beginning to think that I can't do anything right in her eyes. It really is hard sometimes for me to separate the things I think are just office culture and business versus personal attacks. But...guess what...I just blow it off. No sexual pun intended there. I do have some great bosses and they actually have complimented me on my suits and other attire by saying it is nice someone in the office has dressed for success. And I don't have to get down on my knees either. Whew. That creates a lot of jaw issues and complicated positions to get up from because at my age...things don't work as spry as they used even as soon as 5 years ago. 

So...in all honesty...I know the difference between class and trash. I will be shoulders back, head high, and tits up to work. And for all you snobby nosed personnel who think tasteful fashion is something you have to mock or put someone down for...shame on you. Just because you want to look like a frumpy dumpycus doesn't mean I have to nor does anyone else. Dress who you are and dress appropriately for work. That's the rules. 

Keep you nastiness to yourself. Don't be a nasty woman. Yes, pun there intended.




Friday, September 9, 2016

Girly Things And Mother Dings

Whooeee! It's dusty in here.

Sorry about that. All I can say is: LIFE.

Today's post is brought to you by the number 7, the color blue, and teenagers. But first, some advice for lovers.

1. You must kiss really good to make a girl wet her pants without touching there. Oh the kisses.
2. Create butterflies. Not in the laboratory or nature field of vegetation, but in a woman's soul.
3. Curse the day you can't have sex anymore and hope you don't give a shit by then.
4. Touching a woman's body the "right"way is indescribable. Even the best smut novels don't get it right.
5. Subtle hints and teases and plays before the final submerge are sometimes better than driving the submarine right in there...just sayin'.

The drapes^^^ do not match the carpet (below blip). I am forewarning you of that. Two different thoughts, but both having to do with interior design. And I must tell. Why? I have no idea but I am sure my mother will be calling me to tell me to take it down! Take it down! You can't tell the world about those things!

So...(fanning myself)...the Bug said some extraordinary things last night...about a present I received in the mail from a friend. It was the bomb!


My present! Very awesome!


BUG: That present you got in the mail looks like it belongs in the bedroom.

ME: What? 

BUG: It looks like a vibrator.

ME: Bite your tongue. You don't even know what that is, sister.

BUG: Yes, I do. It is a dildo. It's plastic.

ME: No. It isn't. 

BUG: Yes it is. And you have one. Kari told me. She told me you bought one at the passion party. 

ME: Kari exaggerates about things and should not tell children those stories. I am appalled. 

BUG: Well, I believe her. And it takes batteries I was told.

ME: WTF is she telling you this stuff and why were you even discussing it.


BUG: I don't remember. 

ME: Man, I am pissed.

BUG: So, it's true. And that is gross, Mom. I don't want to hear it buzzing in the night.

ME: I need to exercise safe words here. I am not comfortable with this conversation. 

BUG: What are safe words?

ME: Ugh. Never mind. Different forum. I am going to my safe place. (puts hands over ears)

BUG: Why do people like them?

ME: Gah! Enough! 

So as a mature adulting mother, I just ran out of the room. Why me, God?

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.

Tuesday, May 3, 2016

Storm Pussies

Storms bother me still, but I have been trying to grow accustomed to the difference in real storms in Indiana where you could virtually die versus Wyoming 5 Minute Rain Attacks. 



Take Sunday for instance. It was a beautiful 80 degree day and as the weather cooled off a little, I decided to go for my five mile run. Happy May Day! I think my Facebook status at 10:14 pm said it all:



Reasons to check your forecast before running:

1. Accuweather is not my friend. "Light rain in 5 minutes." Accuweather, it was torrential rain and lightning. I started sprinting the last 2 miles home being as I was stuck on the country road. Luckily it was still 60 degrees. You don't get a pass because of the temperature.

2. I am sure I felt hail because that was some fierce rain if not. So Accuweather, it was fat rain.

3. The lightning was every 20 seconds which is bad bad. Accuweather, you failed to say fire from the sky. 

4. My music skipped from Volbeat "A Warrior's Call" to my dad's playlist of Johnny Cash "Ring of Fire." I say skipped and it is an iPhone, so what does that tell you? Accuweather, you forgot to tell me subliminal messages were coming. 

5. Accuweather, you forgot to check in with Jesus. I think God was trying to tell me something.

Anyway, that is the fastest I have run those last two miles in my life. The first three were awesome. I almost died. Not really.



At the same time, my child was putting a status on her Facebook page: 

When thunderstorms happen-
Normal people: "grab Teddy bears and hide under blankets covering their ears"
Me: "opens all windows and curtains in my bedroom and laying on my bed like I'm about to make a snow angel and grinning like a child on Christmas"



Now, the funny thing is...30 minutes later she was hiding in our basement screaming at me to come down there because there was a tornado warning 30 miles away.  After I did not respond as a normal Momster would have and just tried to ignore the banshee wails, she called me, begging me to get in the basement so I wouldn't die. I told her my goodbyes and went to sleep. I heard her dragging all her belongings back up the stairs about 30 minutes later. 

We will not go quietly into that good night. We will scream and shout our way through it. 

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Oliveered

The verge of summer is upon us. I think it just showed up overnight. I'm not complaining by any means. It was a welcoming surprise. Occasionally we will have a mixture of rains between the rays of sunshine, but that makes the plants grow.




Oliver continues his wrath on our underwear. We are almost down to commando. I have learned to pick my things up and put them in the laundry straight away. Bug on the other hand, is a typical messy teenager.

ME: Hey! Oliver ate out the crotch of your legging pants. They are goners. Nasty!

(very huge teenage fit and tantrum like sounds)

It did not take long for her to stomp over to me in the bathroom.

BUG: I hate that dog! He makes me so mad! And you should never say he ate out my crotch, Mom! Do you even know what that means?

ME: Uh. I'm not sure where you are going with this...

BUG: Do you know what it means when a guy eats you out?

ME: Danger! Danger! Abort your mission! LA LA LA LA LA LA! NOOOOooo! Danger!

BUG: You need to stop saying that. That is gross.

ME: It was just a fact of the circumstances of the pants. You are not even supposed to know what that other things is you were talking about.

BUG: You don't know what it means when a guy eats a girl out?

ME: STOP! Yes, I do.


BUG: Have you ever had that done to you? Do you like it when they do that to you?

ME: Shush! I can't take this anymore. Put your pants in the garbage.

BUG: You are so gross!

ME: ME? Oliver is the one who ate your stinky crotch out of your leggings. That should tell you something. Pure nastiness.

BUG: I AM TALKING ABOUT YOU! YOU ARE GROSS TO LET GUYS DO THAT TO YOU!

I have now had 15 therapy sessions and not one of them is burning this conversation or images out of my head. It's on to whiskey and a bubble bath. Calgon!

Maybe we should have gotten cats.



Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Putting On The Fits

A woman is only helpless when her nail polish is drying. Or she can't fix things by herself and has no funds to pay a work husband to do it. I sometimes do without. Or use duct tape. It's the ghetto way.

It's hard to be a woman. We have to be strong. People expect us to act like a lady. Then we are supposed to be fun. Oh, and look like a Barbie! Plus, work like a horse. And then there are those who like us in dresses. Yeck.

Actually, I like dresses when I am skinny. Fat dresses are tents. Don't let anyone fool you. You can't put lipstick on a pig. The best you can hope for is to pitch yourself at a nice location.

I am really happy in yoga pants or jeans. Or anything camo or rugged. Also, I used to like to fix things, but now I am pretty much over it.

So...an outing must be had by all because staying at home looking at patched walls and things to do will drive a girl batty crazier plum nuts. I've never tried those by that way. 

This is something I learned about areas of higher population. Trails are busy. And they are not high up in the air nor on rugged ground. You could fit 5 people across on the flat, nice trails. Once you get into ravines and cave areas, you just walk through the water and again, on nice groomed trails. And added bonus, is they put boardwalks, stairs, and bridges for us ladies. It's like throwing the coat down over the puddle trick.


You guessed it. I was the only one in all The Land carrying a small day pack with water and snacks and a camera. So weird. If we were to be trapped in a canyon with zombies, I would not share.

Not only that, you do not dress up in your North Face or Mountain Hardware outfits with hiking boots. *shudder* Don't even try to impress anyone with zip off pants converted to shorts. They look at you like you just got that off a local stripper train. Everyone around here wears active wear like yoga pants or spandex and tennis shoes. And matching. Boy, aren't they cute? I was floored.

And me, sporting my braids and Wyoming gear looked way out of place. Did I rush to fit in? Nope. I continued on my merry way and they could just assume a tourist stomped through town. Oh well.

I don't fit in anywhere. I'm kind of awkward like that.


Friday, April 8, 2016

The Vagina Diaries Entry #8579

Four score and 7 years ago was my last post. I am so ashamed. To add to that bad news, this post has no plot. It's more of a circle jerk. Fair warning!

My humor is a little off the mark in case you haven't noticed.


I realize some will not get this one.
I'm not really that violent. But I might bore you to death.

Really my life contains no excitement as of late. Drama remains to be sporadic in the Bug's life and we do have those episodes. Sometimes I just hide the hair brush and wait for the screams. It is so much fun!

Occasionally, I will get a funny dog incident, poop or vagina mystery, or a school mean girl teenager crisis, but mostly it is milquetoast. The dog incidents lately have been of Oliver being chased around the house with underwear in tow. He really has gotten us both down to commando. And let me tell you, nice underwear is not cheap. Even crappy underwear is expensive. Maybe I should go to the Salvation Army and throw out some decoy pair. Ew. I mean, who would recycle their underwear? Who does that? And who buys it? And certainly I don't want to kiss someone else's vagina. I mean, for that matter I really don't want to kiss mine either. Damn you, Oliver!



But he's so cute.
Maybe I just need to wrap him up and confine his paws so he can't run around and cause trouble...
This?
You know when puppies poop on the floor, I was taught to rub their nose in it and put them outside. Well, I don't think rubbing his nose in dirty underwear is the ticket. First, I don't do the nose in the poop thingy because I kiss that nose. I know it is up his own butt and around his balls a lot, but still. 

Never mind. Dog issues. Sigh. 

Hark! Intermission! I must back up the bus and get busy with some positive thoughts expressed to you in a meme...I found this to be quite near perfect...


Carry on!

My road to fitness hit a snag yesterday. I went up instead of down on the scale and I am so miffed. Plus, I had cramps in the middle of the night and I knew I was dehydrated. I DO NOT want to go through those fiascoes again.



So this morning, I am pumping up with two cups of coffee and a lot of lemon water. I am hoping the lemons and coffee (not in the same glass) will result in free flowing poo today. Well, not diarrhea, but good poop. Is poop good? Oh yeah. You don't realize it until you hit your 40's. That is the time when those incidents are necessary and good to be regular. So I suggest to everyone to do it right while you are young so it doesn't get stuck up in the pipes.

I never thought I would be talking about poop in the Internet to literally millions and billions of people. Hopefully, only two are listening. Additionally, it would be nice if those two folks don't tell their friends about it. Chalk that up to lessons learned. Furthermore, to even think I would be talking about female vagina incidents. *shudder* If my mom ever finds this blog I am in so much trouble.

Perhaps my life will get more interesting as time goes on. Hopefully not in the biological sense, but socially and fairy dust will come down from the heavens. Wine. Wine is good.

You talking to me?


The only thing different which happened to share is a pretty boring vehicle story. I know I need to get my Master's and get a job where I can afford a newer vehicle. Until then, I will nickel and dime myself to work. It's all good. I have also really valued the notion of things that are paid for and not borrowed against. Whew. Took me 3 decades.

To anticipate that I am going to have to save big dollars for new tires, I called around...

"Hi. Could you give me an estimate on some tires? I am just shopping around to see how much I'm going to have to fork out. I will probably be ready for some new ones before fall. Also do you have any sales coming up?"

"Sure, ma'am. I can go over all that. Can you give me the size? We can look at different options."

"First, before I get that up close and personal, I must preface this with I want fair prices on some tires that aren't going to kick me in the vagina. Just because I'm a girl, doesn't mean I should get higher prices."

*crickets*

"I mean that because we girls don't jack them up on the corner based upon a dude's car. Fair price is the same right?"

I got hung up on.

Maybe I should try a different approach. I was kind of feeling snarky.





Thursday, March 31, 2016

Basic People

Have you ever had a day when the planets don't align? I think those days happen when teenage hormones go awry. It's like everything is whacked.

Last night Bug was unbearable. Sassy. I can't handle the sass. Now many will say I am too intolerant and strict. Well, I don't want to raise an asshole, so poop on the haters. She is a great kid and gets A's and wears a purity ring and keeps her moral ground even with the peer pressure. It's just those moments when she gets too big for her britches. I snap inside. It's like my hot button.

Those who criticize this generation seem to forget who raised it. I know. I know. It's all my fault. But still. I think my fingers are whining.

This time, I just took her phone away and went upstairs and got my jammies on and went to bed. I had to drown out the sobbing and whining with visions of sugar plums in my head and it wasn't even Christmas time. At 7 freaking thirty. I am such a loser. I mean, who does that? I didn't want to deal.

Today's a new day, right? Nope. It's raining. I don't want to deal. I thought a night of snooze would decompress me, but for some reason I woke up grumpy. I do not relish these days because I boast of being mostly positive with a lot of snark.



Don't be basic, Fargo. Get up and get out there. Make something of yourself.

So...I put my big girl panties on and headed to work. It has been a trying day there, too. Special snowflakes all day. Parade wave and a lot of NOs in the room.



Enter the "ex" *shudder*. He has been a world class dick today, but it is to be expected and I should now be used to it. It's just the cherry. My dick is bigger than your dick. Yep. I challenge all y'alls because I can honestly say that figuratively speaking.




I think I'm going to run a lot tonight at the gym.

Friday, March 25, 2016

Hell To The No

Recently, I shared TMI poop events which led to my demise of severe dehydration. I'm sure glad I'm off that gravy train. Pooping regular is like marshmallow happiness.

In the meantime of colon recovery, I have encountered some issues with teenager being a Miss Sassy Pants. She told me to "shut up."

Yeah.

Exactly. Oh, HELL TO THE NO!



In my day and age I would have been thrown through a sheet rock wall. Not really. Well, really. Ok. I never would talk to my parents like that. Why? Because we had wood paneling and that would have fucking hurt like a bitch.

No, I am not typing this from jail, although wouldn't that be fun?

I ....wait for it....took away.... THE PHONE.

*shudder*

Can you imagine what cometh next?

 I watched as my cute little Bug...this one...


turned into an Instatantrum monster because she could not take selfies or text boys. Instagram would be telegram by pigeons. There would be no Snatchchat. Faceplant was a face palm.

The world was over on March 24, 2016 at 5:30 PM.

Word to yo motha! Don't sass us, sassy bitches. We can end all to end all battles of the mouth. We were once sassy pants teenagers, too, and knew the tricks better than you. For one...never talk to your parents like that. Use sugar. It goes farther and you have them eating out of the palm of your hand. But NO! You think you rule the world. Bamp! Bamp! Wrong answer.

Thank you, Verizon, because without you, I would probably be in an orange jumpsuit.

Get this. The teenager even woke me up in the middle of the night to beg for her phone, sobbing like I would have a soft heart. Silly daughter.

Poop emoji!

Word of advice, my little ones, your parents have no hearts.

All their give a fucks were used up by the time you became a teenager and your cute little pinchable cheeks and dimples were taken over by near adult cheekbones. Once you start looking like an adult, you are not able to sucker your parents. Why? Because we know. We know.

And keep getting attached to that device, my beautiful daughter. There is a reason why it has the word "vice" in it. Heh heh. Believe me...it's a crutch. Oh, and yes, I monitor your posts and accounts because technology is so great and besides, your mother used to be a spy. Sucks to be you.

I love you with all my heart.