A Mousican Stand-off

Sunday morning started for me bright and early at 5:30, when I woke up with what I can only assume is a pinched nerve in my right hip. Hubby had just come to bed and when his minor settling-in movements made me wince, I came to the conclusion that I needed to get up and take some morphine.

I decided to settle for Advil and aspirin, since morphine would require me robbing a hospital dispensary at gunpoint, and who has that kind of energy at such an early hour? So, after taking just shy of overdose proportions ummm handfuls some pills, I settled into the couch hoping to A: move in such a way that I un-pinched the nerve B: not cry before the pain killers kicked in and C: fall back asleep very, very soon. I turned on the TV and set the sleep timer, waiting for my body to stop shriek-yelling at me and retreat once again into something resembling God, if you love me make it a coma that lasts till this nerve is un-pinched sleep.

Ninety minutes later, I was still awake and decided to give up the unattainable brass-ring of sleep. I got up to make coffee, took as many as I dare take without winding up in an ambulance one more of each pain killer and retreated back to the couch to bounce between watching news, morning programs and the innumerable preacher programs available on early morning Sunday television, when I heard a noise in the kitchen. I dismissed it as auditory delusions stemming from too much Advil and aspirin and too little sleep. Until a few minutes later, when I saw it running around on my kitchen counter...

A Mouse

I crept as quietly as... well, a mouse... into the kitchen, scaring the ObviouslyDiseaseRiddenCauseIt'sAMother BleepinRodentForShitSake mouse back around the entire length of the counter; weaving around the vase and the candlesticks, past the sponge I wash dishes with burn it!, behind the dishtowels burn them too! No wait, they're new, OK, wash them in bleach until they're nearly disintegrated, and the toaster and the cooking utensil holder and the blender into the corner behind the crock pot bleach counter until the fumes in the house are so strong we have to go to a hotel for a week!.

I wait in the middle of the kitchen floor trying to decide what to do. I've had two and a half hours of sleep and I'm pre-coffee and in pain, but I am adrenaline-wide-ass-awake. After a millenium a few minutes of waiting, I'm starting to wonder if there's some sort of under-wallpaper hole in the corner that I was unaware of, cause Mister Mousy hasn't emerged beyond said crock pot corner to run behind the stove, which is where I, were I a mouse, would go to escape.

So I move the crock pot.

And Mister Mousy takes this as his cue to run back up the counter, behind the blender, past the cooking utensil holder and possibly the toaster, but the trail has gone cold. What the hell do I do? My brain starts no-sleep-no-coffee-adrenaline-fueled thinking; I may have an inkling of where to find a mousetrap, but if I go get it and set it the little fucker will get away and the munchkin could find it when he wakes up and get hurt... I'll have to risk moving the utensil holder to extract the butcher's knife. I'll stab the offending intruder and once impaled on my butcher's knife, I'll fling the vanquished beast out to the what the hell are we keeping you for you didn't catch the effing mouse outdoor cats. Yeah. And that way I won't wake up the hubby or the munchkin. I've already gotta bleach the counter, what's a little Mister Mousy blood to clean up?

So I've got my game plan, and I make my move for the knife. No Mister Mousy behind the utensil holder ~ knife acquired without incident... Now I'm ready! I move the toaster quickly, half-expecting the little fucker to charge me. Instead I see the tail poking out from underneath the toaster damn it now I need a new toaster too. So I quickly poke-stab at it's hind end with the tip of the knife in the same kind of motion one makes when they get the brilliant idea to pierce their own ears, IE: with no real conviction or success. It moves... barely. I try again with equal non-results. But now I'm emboldened! So I whip the toaster across the counter so fast that Mister Mousy is fully exposed.

And he just stares at me like he's working the Jedi Mind Trick and I, big 'ole bad-ass with my butcher's knife that I am, am totally having a Mexican stand-off with a fucking mouse at not-even-8-o'clock-on-Sunday-morning. And somehow... some incredible are-you-kidding-me way, I find myself just watching, stock still, as Mister Mousy turns tail and runs back down the counter past the sponge that needs to be burned and candle sticks and the vase and disappears from view altogether.

And it's three hours later, and I still haven't slept have absolutely no idea where he went, but I keep checking on the munchkin, and Mister Mousy is not in the munchkin's bed threatening to chew off his face if I don't acquiesce to a list of food and territory demands. But I swear, those lazy-ass outdoor cats are going on half-rations until Mister Jedi Mousy is apprehended and prosecuted to the highest extent of Texas law; and y'all know what that means... death penalty.

You're goin' down, Mister Jedi Mousy. I am Darth Aria.

LMFAO Friday #14

Well, well, well... let's see what ridiculousness we can giggle over this week... Happy LMFAO Friday!

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Pretty Woman 2 just isn't as romantic as the original...




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That's proper bar order... they forgot the part about waking up in a few hours steeped in shame-filled-regret though.




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How are we supposed to get our squirrels clean then?!? And does that policy apply to beavers too?




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OK, yes... it was me at the wheel. I had that job for a grand total of 7 hours; 1 hour official tour bus time, 6 hours of trying to make it back to the station.




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Ahhh, so I see the government bailed out Taco Bell too...




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No self-respecting MILF would be caught dead in that outfit... too many layers.




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Mommy! Mommy! Did you see me? I made a hole in one on the penis green!




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If that doesn't scream, "Fuck a Prius!!!" I don't know what does.




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Seriously, didja all notice that the peanut butter & jelly sandwich was more expensive than the slut in Singapore?




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Oh damn it! I forgot my gate key again!

Not Wel, Not Fare

Hi Y'all... no I didn't fall off the planet. The welfare office didn't suck me into some alternate universe portal. It did however make me sick... not that I knew it until mid-Monday afternoon (so now I owe apologies to anyone that I was with on Memorial Day... even if it hasn't hit them yet... I'll pray for you).

So Friday, as y'all were reading LMFAO, I was traveling the 30 miles to the county welfare office in an attempt to get food stamps. I showed up at 7:30 for my 7:45 appointment. First one there, lights barely on, no one behind the counter yet, although I could hear people talking and laughing from somewhere behind the combination locked door. So I sign in, and sit down to wait. Within 5 minutes other people start to file into the waiting room and sign in for their respective 7:45 appointments. And there we all sat... silently trying to not make eye-contact with the other waiters until our name was called. I, personally, find that my old cell phone, the one without service, but with all the downloaded card games on it is perfect in this capacity. So there I sat silently gin-gaming my way through until I was the first one called at 8:30.

Don'tcha hate showing up on time only to have the appointment-setting entity be exorbitantly late? Kind of like doctor's offices. Makes being early almost stupid, except that the one time you're late they will be running early and they'll skip you. And they wonder why people are hostile in these places. I'm convinced now that they create these hallway mazes to get back to the worker's offices so that angry citizens don't hop the registration desk, go to the back and shoot up their workers. Cause, honestly, the shooters would be trapped and never make it out.

Anyway... so I'm ushered through the maze of hallways back to my new worker's office. However, despite the lateness of getting started with my "early morning" appointment, I have to say, this was the nicest worker I've ever had to deal with. She wasn't all sanctimonious and condescending. Instead she was personable and the time went by fairly quickly as she typed all my information into the system. She was so pleasant in fact, that I didn't even for a second hold it against her when the computer spit out the amount of food stamps that we'd be entitled to.

$26.00 a month.

Let me say that again: $26.00 A Month.

Because Texas has no compassion whatsoever for it's citizens... and just so I'm not the only one completely incredulous about the bureaucratic bullshit I have to share this; it's a good thing I didn't try to get medical for hubby or myself, cause our entire household can not make more than $251 per MONTH in order to qualify for state medical coverage. Considering that minimum wage is set to go up again on June 1st to $7 and change, I couldn't work 12 hours a week at McDonald's and bring in that small an amount of money.

And yet, I can go to welfare and their shoddy janitorial staff can not disinfect the tables and chair arms in the waiting room and I can wind up with Martian Death Flu or possibly, from the high Mexican immigrant population in our area, Swine Flu. Which one it actually is, is not something that I'll ever know; because I don't qualify for medical at all, and we only qualify for $26.00 per month in food stamps, therefore, I cannot afford a trip to any doctor in the area, as they all charge upwards of $70 for a cash payment office visit, more if they write you a prescription or you need a test of any kind.

So it is dear readers, that this undiagnosed illness, the one that I didn't know I had when we went to our friends' home on Memorial Day (I swear y'all cause I'd never have gone), took three days to incubate, and now I've possibly infected upwards of 8 people outside my immediate family with HolyShitYouDon'tWantThat disease.

And here's the fun part. When you wake up in the morning you don't feel so bad, but as the day progresses you can't make it all the way through Fry's without passing out, unless you get to their in-store cafe and collapse into a chair by the grace of God before your vision fades completely to black and you look whiter than Casper as every inch of skin covering your body is going hot and cold in waves and you don't care that people are looking at you like something they'd pay admission to see because you're just so happy that you're sitting quasi-upright instead of sprawled out in an aisle somewhere while your husband tries to decide which roll of speaker wire would enhance his a/v system even though you told him you needed to sit down cause you were seeing things in front of your eyes.

And this, my dedicated followers, is why I haven't updated since LMFAO Friday. Thank you for your comments. I'm sorry I haven't been all bloggy and commenting on your blogs and reading what y'all are writing like I promised in some earlier post that I would. I miss y'all and I'll catch up blog by blog as soon as I'm able to sit upright in the computer chair for more than an hour without my vision getting all swimmy on me...

And if I don't make it... tell my kids I love them... and for God's sake, stay away from the welfare office!

LMFAO Friday #13

Happy LMFAO Friday Y'all! As you chuckle away I'm off begging attempting to get food stamps. Such is life, eh? Thankfully, I'll be able to think about these in the waiting room, so it shouldn't be too bad... *hopeprayhope* Then again, it is LMFAO Friday #13 ~ is that bad luck too? I mean, will bad JuJu strike me since I'll be laughing out loud to no one in the waiting room will they think I need psychiatric help... wait, that might mean really strong knock me on my ass meds along with food stamps... OMG, for the first time this week I'm actually looking forward to going down there!

Hope your weekend is wonderful... and on to the funnies...

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Did you hear? Yanni just landed spreads in both Playboy and Playgirl.




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That's the sign on the motel... the mini-golf is down the road.




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The ultimate in backseat driving!




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...from the concession stand at the timeshare sales convention...




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My server doesn't like your IP address, dude.




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Looks like Nina's a Texan with PMS.




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No mayo, thanks.




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That's a harsh test of friendship, isn't it, Tom?




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We know Junior and Mommy will both love their toys... wanna take bets on who will break theirs first?




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Cause who has the time to wait all day for old fashioned slow cooked bowels like Mama used to make...




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Ted, how many times have you seen the Roadrunner and you still bought the kid an Acme shovel?

Psychotica

Well, well, well... wouldn'tcha know it... after a lengthy rant about Verizon, I came home from the library and my phone was working. Sometimes the Universe knows when you've had absolutely enough and it throws you a bone. I still have the welfare appointment to look forward to, so my bitchiness wasn't totally wasted.

Besides now that I can post from home again, I can surf my fellow bloggers and leave some comments. Along with all the other wonderful things I can do from home that I can't do at the library... like get into my email without having to write down my password cause I change it so often that I totally couldn't remember it Monday when I posted. That's to be expected though with less than 4 hours of sleep and no coffee.

I was so lost without the internet that I actually got Twillight from the library. Thankfully I haven't started it yet, cause I'm not sure I'm up for the addiction that has afflicted so many Twillight lemmings... Including my own sister. At this point I'm convinced that the series needs a Surgeon General's warning, so I'm sure you can understand my trepidation at even starting the book.

Of course, Twillight aside, having the internet back also means that I'll be spending obnoxious amounts of time in the computer room which will probably be a good thing as far as hubby is concerned. To say that we've been getting on each other's nerves lately would be so understated that I can't even come up with an analogy to compare it to. We are literally driving each other crazy ~ as in straight-jacket-5150 crazy. Our 'together time' is temporary and we have the munchkin to commisserate over. How do retired couples do it when it's permanent and there are no kids left in the house? I'm guessing they take separate vacations or they have their own sides of the house to retreat to. Unless they actually get along and want to spend time together like Joan at The Retirement Chronicles and her hubby. God bless em, but considering the spots I've seen on The Today Show and my own experience, I'm thinking that they're in the minority.

Speaking of kids to commisserate over... I hear my son tearing down the hall like he's been up to something he knows he'll be in trouble for. Time to investigate...

Aaaannnnddd more things in the toilet. This is starting to scare me as a parent for one simple reason. He isn't finding new things to get into trouble for, he's doing the same things that he's already been in trouble for. Isn't this how career criminals get started? At least when my daughter put things in the toilet, they were her own things; not the toothpaste and the toenail clippers.

I think this may be the biggest factor for insanity in parents. Disney comes second. The number one reason is repetition of stupidity by children. I know memory isn't the last thing to develop in kids. They remember all sorts of things. So why is it that they can take a bunch of DVD's off the shelf and get told, "no". Then they do it again and get a time out. Then they do it again and maybe finally earn a swat on the rump. Then they do it again every stinking day for months with the same result and they still persist in the behavior. I mean, seriously, that's just borderline retarded isn't it? Forrest Gump would know better. But a two year old that can figure out how to operate the entire sound and home theater system, including remotes and changing settings, is too brain-damaged to not repeat behavior that will get him put in baby jail?

Parental psychotica makes sense now, doesn't it? And spousal psychotica? And societal psychotica?

So isn't it amazing that I'm still sane and not completely psychotic?

My Rice Krispies think it's amazing too.

Joy. Rapture. Bullets.

So here it is Wednesday afternoon ~ late ~ and my phone service still hasn't been fixed. I am once again at the library which sucks because I have (unusable) internet at home, but I'm thankful that I can get some blog time at all... besides, they have a T-1 line, so baby, I'm flyin'!

As far as my home service goes, must..resist..urge..to..kill we have changed out the complete phone line and box and all that crap on our end only to find out that it's in Verizon's line. Yay. So I called for service and ya know what I got?!?!? ...a promise that it would be fixed by 7pm on Friday the 22nd. Uh... Hell*fucking*oh!!! Did you just say FRIDAY?!? This was when I called on Monday the 18th.

Pissed doesn't even begin to describe it, especially since despite living in the middle of nowhere, we are (what qualifies for out here) neighbors with the local Verizon repair guy and I see the truck going up and down my major thoroughfare about 3 times a day. But I have to wait till &*(&*%^&*&*()()^%^&*(^%&*(&^*%&T& Friday?!?!?!?

Thank God Boo's drowning of the cell phone was not handled by Verizon's tech support, but by Sprint's. We called them on Friday and had a brand spanking new replacement phone on Monday... by noon. With hubby being home, I can actually receive (after 7 or it costs out the wazoo) and make calls to people... or Verizon tech support, who could not possibly have heard me over the buzzing in my line if I'd called from their line home.

Apparently Verizon ~ aka The Network ~ you know, the network with commercials showing thousands of people whenever their "customers" brag about being able to survive the dreaded 'Dead Zones' they're warned about by sun-starved-black-eye-bag having pseudo-zombies to make the point of how resillient and strong their network is, does not hold this to be a requirement of land-line service.

They must have all their techs busy chasing around behind and showing-off-en-masse for the cellular customers...

Therefore, I must warn you in advance that this Friday's LMFAO may be a bit late, since I only get two hours at a clip on a library computer... but for y'all I'm going to do my best to run out the clock and work on it Thursday if at all possible. Because y'all mean that much to me. You're welcome.

You see, on Friday morning, I'll be three towns over trying to beg steal and borrow my way into a semi-helpful amount of food stamps, cause this afternoon I finally got my "we need to see you in person" letter from them. Ya know, over two weeks later now that I'm out of everything and paying out of pocket again for luxuries like milk and eggs...

My hey-we-know-you're-a-white-American-citizen-so-you-get-contacted-dead-last letter says that I have to show up at Oh-Early-Thirty on Friday morning and if I'm late they'll see to it that I'm deported to California and I will have to give them my first born if I ever want to think about applying for help cause who the hell do I think I am applying in the first place, I'm lucky they didn't just laugh in my face and shred my application because I'm obviously filing a fraudulent claim, and they know sure as they're breathing that I've got millions stashed away in my mattress and I'm just being greedy or some such shit, cause we all know what a joy it is to deal with the welfare department in any state; but it's especially Degrading. Infuriating. Frustrating. wonderful in Texas because welfare is only for the illegals. Decent white folk should go beg at church with a sob story or grow some damn food and quit taking up the coffee break time of the sanctimonious welfare workers.

So yeah... things are peachy here. Dealing with Corporation-Couldn't-Care-Less-ness and Burecratic Bullshit all in one week.

Joy.

Rapture.


Bullets...

An Irresponsible Train Wreck in Cotton Pants

I'm getting a little frantic now. All day Sunday, and even now at 2 something on Monday morning I am unable to get online. I fear this is due to a combination of outdoor cats messing around under the trailer and the fact that we had some rain Saturday. Some rain, big deal, right? Wrong. The phone line has been so static-buzzy ever since it rained, that even my daughter doesn't want to talk. I understand completely... it's hard to hear over the buzzing (which is annoying as hell in it's own right) and neither of us likes to shout our conversation.

The modem is still trying to connect, and it is making more progress than this afternoon, but still no go. I'm thinking that I'm going to have to put this onto a memory stick and post it from the library when I get up and make it out of the house... ya know, whenever the hell that'll be. I'm not huge on early mornings right now unless they are left over from not going to bed the night before.

So, with the phones being nearly unusable and not being able to get online, I'm not exaggerating when I say that I'm feeling very cut-off from the world. Stuck here in my back room with no way to connect to civilization. Hubby and Turbo Tot passed out at this late hour. I suppose I could go 5 miles down the road to the Shell station and strike up some sort of conversation with the counter person, but that would be fairly strange, and probably get me introduced to the cop working the night shift.

*sigh* There really is no help for loneliness out here. Hell, even the cows are asleep at 2:30. So are the chickens (did I tell y'all that another one has adopted us?)... and every other respectable human being for miles. I am all alone. Which would be fine if I could check my email or turn up the TV loud enough to hear it over the newly cleaned box fans. Funny how it gets harder to hear the TV late at night, almost like your ears have turned against you. I remember in the not-so-long-ago when the TV seemed to get louder the later it got and I'd find myself turning it down so low that when I turned it back on later in the day, only dogs could hear it.

Speaking of TV, I was watching the Farrah thing on Friday night and aside from the sadness of the whole situation, it struck me that I totally owned the Jill Monroe doll cause she was my favorite Charlie's Angel, (Chris and everyone else that tried to fill the Jill shoes were total imposters) and holy shit, the woman's dying (Ryan O'Neal is still an overacting sanctimonious twit), and Jill Monroe was 32 years ago! 32 Years People! That's like forever ago. That's Steve Austin and Jamie Summers ago... For.Ev.ERRR.

I read blogs written by people that haven't even gotten that old yet. Seriously, do I need to cash in my wheelchair coupons (or is a Hover Round more convenient, Sonny?) and get a Miracle Ear? When did I get this old? When did I become (ominous music DuhDuh Duhhhhhh) ~the adult in the room? When did I turn into the one with the kids in school that's supposed to cook Sunday dinners and appear to have her life together and seem stable?

When? Who's responsible for this grievous mistake. Cause I'm not. At all. I'm an irresponsible train wreck in cotton pants. I haven't managed a consistent tradition ever. I don't do anything special for Sunday dinner that I wouldn't do any other night of the week. And I don't live close enough to my family to have them come over for it if I did. There's no 'same-house-until-the-mortgage-is-paid-off' home front. Hell, my kids consider stable, being in the same dwelling for three years, never mind thirty.

And while I freely admit that I may be worse than some, I know that I'm not entirely alone in this. Sad thing is, now that I am *ahemOLDERahem* I miss all those things. It was up to me to keep them going and I dropped the ball. I'm not sure if it was sheer laziness or not being aware that it was being handed to me in the first place. Because I'm not an age conscious or age phobic person at all, but sometimes, when I do the math and things strike me ~ like Jill Monroe being 32 years ago ~ I'm genuinely surprised.

This year will be my high school reunion, and I JUST NOW realized it's the 20th reunion!!! Aaaakkkk!!! And that's not aaakkk as in OMG I am not almost 40. It's aaakkk as in OMG, where did the time go? Keyport just won state and thigh-length jean jackets were just cool. When did my life get hijacked? I haven't accomplished anything I'd planned on... Oh wait, I didn't plan much of anything, which may well have been the problem. Cause one day I was waking up to Fine Young Cannibals and Lita Ford, and now I'm wishing I could hear the TV without waking up everyone in the house at 3am. And it just doesn't seem... SOOO long ago even if it was. I remember when the song Major Tom was on MTV, now it's on a car commercial.

I need a glass for my teeth and a cane ~ that way I could thwomp people that piss me off with my cane. I'll be able to because in a blink I'll be 50 and if I swallow my breath mint I'll be 60 and if I take the time to try to see my butt in a mirror, I'll bypass 70 altogether and be 80. and if you make it to 80 you should totally be allowed to thwomp people with canes especially if you see them wandering around with their heads up their asses.

But of course, then we'd have two different viewpoints about what constitutes grounds for a cane thwomping which would lead to two 85 year old women thwomping each other which will get caught by some teenager in LA on his 'camera earring' and he'll pitch it to FOX, and we'll have a new reality show, "Octogenarian Cane Wars". Which will get boring after they decide that the ones that need the most thwompings are the politicians and then they'll just start stalking politicians... throwing out a decoy 70 year old while the 80 year olds hide in the bushes to give Mr. Politician-Man a cane thwomping and it'll get twittered and blogged and...

OK... I'm starting to scare myself. Obviously, I need to get some sleep now.

LMFAO Friday ~ Happy Birthday Karen Edition

My little sister turns *ahemcough35coughahem* today. I wrote about her in the post The Difference Between Sisters and may have mentioned briefly that she is the reason y'all are LMFAO Friday~ing your way into the weekend. It was Karen who turned me on to Fail Blog. And since I wrote the post about her, she has since returned to her beloved fire department as a volunteer firefighter. A fact that, although I can't get a hold of her round the clock like I used to, and she doesn't watch Gray's season finale on the night it airs so I have no one to O.M.G.!!!! with until Friday, and the whole idea of her rushing into burning buildings kinda scares the livin' shit out of me; it makes me so proud to have a sister that's dedicated to helping others. Just one more reason I ponder if we're actually blood related... JK... it's just one more reason why I love this woman...

Aside from the fact that she's twisted like a corkscrew in the humor department ~ thank God, cause otherwise I'd be all alone when I went to hell for some of the things I find hilarious...

So today, I say to you,

"Happy 35th Birthday my amazing sister!!!"

and her reply would probably go something like this, "Thank you, now get to the good stuff, I'm a busy woman!"

So I shall... cause I suck, and this is the only birthday 'card' she's getting from me ;-)

Love Ya Kar! Hope it's a great day (and that you aren't hung over like a dog tomorrow...)

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What a Merry White Supremacist Christmas




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"...short people got, no reason. Short people got, no reason..."




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Diabetics are thrilled at the new meaning of 'a stick twice a day'...




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That's one hell of a gas cap ya have there, Fred.




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Note to Self: Do NOT get new tattoos when I'm a week out of Prozac and have been drinking...




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It says: Apparently you morons didn’t understand me the first time. I CANNOT take time off from work. I’m not putting my familys wellbeing at stake to participate in this crap. I don’t believe in our “justice” system and I don’t want to have a goddamn thing to do with it. Jury duty is a complete waste of time. I would rather count the wrinkles on my dogs balls than sit on a jury. Get it through your thick skulls. Leave me the f–k alone.

I have to know... did he get another jury summons?




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So... Southern hookers work out of McDonald's?




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Teachers always know which parents shop at Dollar Store for school supplies.




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Now y'all know where 'flavored' Coke comes from...




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With global competition as fierce as it is, this is the future of Japanese rush hour.




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Budget cuts are hurting everyone...




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Laugh all you want, Jimmy had to run like hell to catch that filet mignon!

All Hail Elmo, Friendo

For those of you that didn't see No Country for Old Men, that title may not make any sense. However for those of you that have; this is what I'm now calling my Totally Terrible Two-year-old. Friendo. OMG!

Yes, only two months into the terrible two's, y'all we are SO Screwed I am (we are) nearly ready to end his days with a compressed air canister and the flip of a coin... luckily for him, he keeps winning the toss.

My son is revisiting one of his old joys: the beloved "toilet toss" and adding some new tricks to his repertoire. I know that I've mentioned in an earlier post that electronics and toilet water don't mix... Wanted to let y'all know that it hasn't changed. Water still destroys electronics.

Especially when your two year old washes his father's cell phone in the toilet and then turns around and washes it some more in the sink... so that Daddy has to order a new one to the tune of $80 after $150 in 'discounts' even though we totally can't afford it cause we're trying to survive on unemployment you mini-minion!!! Later that night, an entire brand-new-jumbo-roll of toilet paper got tossed in for fun. And on Mother's Day the munchkin had to wear his old shoes because the new ones got tossed in and then a couple of towels got thrown in on top of that and then some toys to round off potty mountain... so, I was already wheeling out the compressed air canister when...

Two nights ago he decided to 'what-the-bleepin-bleep-did-you-do?!?' to the disc drawer on the regular DVD player and it was stuck half in, half out. At that point Daddy did the coin toss and lucky for the kid, the kid won. We dismantled the DVD player from the system, and then dismantled it in and of itself. We managed to fix it (otherwise another coin toss would have ensued, and this time hubby would have used a double sided coin) and reassemble the unit itself and then put the whole system back together. Eye-frickin-Roll! But seriously, I'm nearly afraid to imagine what the hell this kid's going to come up with next...

He already turns on my computer every time the door to that room is left open even a crack, and if it's already on... let's just say that no file is safe (a note here to my faithful readers; if I stop posting without notice, it's because he managed to destroy my computer and I am totally going to be on the 6 o'clock news, so keep an eye out, I'll wave to y'all *manic smile*).

And I feel bad for hubby cause this is his first full-time-hands-on parenting gig. He's 45, and before me he lived alone for 5 years... the man is Absolutely NOT Prepared for this. He is just now having the real reason for, "buy the cheap one" dawn on him. It's not because I'm cheap. It's because even if it's built like a Sherman Tank, a two-year-old can, and will, destroy it.

A two-year-old has a direct, private line straight into Hell itself. A two-year-old knows exactly what to play with and or break, that will make his parents ponder crossing over to the dark side. A two-year-old knows exactly what it will take to get his or her parents to start calling them "Friendo".

Kids are cute in self-defense, and that coupled with scenes from CSI flashing through our skulls at opportune moments, somehow dissuade parents from popping them in the forehead, therefore, these children are still alive today. But it's a coin toss nearly every day. Once in a while God has mercy on us and the child mellows out for a day (or like 12.2 minutes when he's sleeping), but it's few and far between all the *sarcasm*WOHNDERFUL*sarcasm* things these kids come up with to torture us. And my son is a friggin' master in that department. He's becoming the Rembrandt of parental water-boarding.

At this point, I'm just thankful that he's not in daycare, because I can imagine it now. With him being this adept at *ahem* mischief without outside help or influence from other two-year-olds. If he was socializing with other munchkins daily, he'd become their revered leader and they'd take over the world, one cell-phone-in-the-poo-water at a time. Luckily for me (and you), I know how to usurp this world domination plot (aside from containing it within my own walls)...

Elmo.

When Elmo speaks, two-year-olds listen.

All hail Elmo.

That squeaky-voiced-Muppet will save us all.

I Dressed Up for a Road Trip

It was a nice Mother's Day. After posting yesterday, and talking to My Girl for the second time, Hubby and Jas and I loaded into the car for a day out.

I was kinda snarky... oh who am I kidding?... I was bitchy, because hubby insisted that I not wear anything remotely comfortable what I was wearing, but that I needed to 'look nice', and what woman doesn't love to hear that? Me, that's who... For some, this would be a cherished phrase implying that they were about to go somewhere special and probably expensive and don't you want to look good when we get there, dear?

I, however, was not un-presentable considering where we were going, which happened to be my favorite Chinese restaurant. I'd worn this or a similar outfit to this place oodles of times before. So WHY on a day that's 90+ degrees with 80+ percent humidity when we're going to a restaurant that we barely have to order before they know what we want, and then we're going to spend the remainder of the day in the car do I have to put on my jeans that are barely loose enough when I'm not PMSing it's not sweltering and I'm not sweating like a freshly run race horse and we're not going to go eat super-salty-bloat-you-fast Chinese food. Not to mention hubby's ham handed attempt at tact by not coming directly out and saying that I looked like shit and needed to change.

I simmered down soon enough after changing and getting 20 miles from the house and we had a nice late lunch with plenty of leftovers. Jas must have realized this was Mother's Day, cause he actually behaved the entire meal even though he fell asleep in the car and we had to wake him up when we got to the restaurant. Honestly, this would normally spell disastrous eating conditions, but he behaved beautifully for a 2 year-old and didn't bother too many of the other diners.

Once we left there I unbuttoned my pants the second we got to the car we headed off in the opposite direction of home and wound our way through a plethora of small towns talking and stopping for sodas. We made our way to Lake Somerville and got out for some pics.





Whenever hubby saw something that piqued his interest we'd stop so he could talk to whoever was 'in the know' about whatever it was that he was interested in. We found out about the four rusted out 50-something Chevys and Fords (no Edsels) in someone's driveway cause they were out working in their garden. We found out all about the new store at Big Creek Marina because hubby went in and chatted up the proprietor for 30 minutes, while I sat out in the car with the sleeping munchkin. Normally, this would have made me homicidal sunburned and angry, except that while I was cleaning out the car, the proprietor's father was out picking up garbage around the parking lot and started chatting me up by thanking me for using the garbage can...

We lost 10 pounds each in water-weight from sweating all day drove over 200 miles round-trip. I would up with two new outfits that were both comfortable and didn't look like crap and we were out and about away from the house for the better part of eight hours... Once we got home and I put away all our loot, peeled myself out of my 'nice' clothes, and settled into the air conditioning and a pair of sweats, my day was complete.

This morning I woke up to my son, already out of his bed and putting Quantum of Solace into the blue-ray player... nice to know things are back to normal... at least I don't have to dress up.

Happy Mother's Day

First of all, thanks to all of you who commented on the last LMFAO Friday... Lovin the Comments, people! But this is a different kind of gratitude post... It's a grateful Mama post. Things that made this Mom a mom, and things I'm grateful for on Mother's Day 2009.

I love you Mom

I miss you Gran

Thank you Jos & Jas

Happy Mother's Day, Y'all!