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Wife. Mommy. Lover of cookies.

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RT @HonestToddler: Toddler Tip: She has a bounty of nerves underneath that "last" one. Don't worry :)

Archive: 2005

But I Have a Good Reason

So, someone said that I need to blog more often. True enough. Does it make it any better if I say that my computer was in the hospital for a week? I don’t have any of my settings saved on any other computer (well, I do now, since Kevin backed everything up for me last night), so I couldn’t log into anything, including MT. I honestly don’t know any of my passwords or logins for anything. Thankfully, my little Mac was returned to the Genius Bar with all of my information still intact. I don’t have the slightest clue what I would have done if I had to re-register at every single site I visit. That would suck.

I sincerely hope everyone had a wonderful holiday, and I’ll catch up sooner rather than later, I promise. But, hey. I work retail, and I’m trying to recover. (See, C? I had to get it in!) 😉

Horrible Confession

On my way home today, I heard the Christmastime in Africa song. You know, the one from the 80’s by Band Aid? Okay. So here’s the deal (and Kevin and J&C know what’s coming).
When I was a kid (when the song first came out, in like, 1984), Ethiopia was big news. This was before Sally Struthers came and ate all the Twinkies. There were pictures all over the TV every day of these poor little kids with distended bellies and flies all over them, and, obviously, it made my 9 year old heart very sad. Imagine my further distress when I heard the Band Aid song for the first time. The trouble is, I heard the lyrics wrong. You know the part where they say “Do they know it’s Christmastime at all?” That part was okay. But what really got me was the part where they sang “The only gift they’ll get this year is life”. The only thing is, I heard it “The only gift they’ll get this year is lice” (cut to images of Sally Struthers with the kids with big bellies and flies). I remember being so distraught over that as a child, and it wasn’t until years later (in high school), that I learned the real words.
Here’s my dilemma: You can never un-learn the orignal way you heard something. So, even though it’s wildly inappropriate, I found myself giggling today as that song played on the radio. Don’t get me wrong; I was laughing more at myself than the poor little kids, but some images stay in your head forever, and damn. In retrospect, it is kinda funny.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go reserve my condo by the Lake of Fire in the pits of hell.


What’s the worst thing that could happen to me, but the best thing that could happen to my husband? That’s right. I’ve completely lost my voice. Trust me when I tell you that this is the very worst thing that could happen to somebody who talks as much as me. The good news? I feel totally fine. Too bad I can’t tell anyone.

Do I Offend?

What could I have possibly done to all the bacteria in the world for them to mount an all-out assault on my poor body? I swear to everything holy that this is the absolute longest that I’ve ever been sick. We’re going on damn near a week. Last night, much to my (and my husband’s) delight, the little bugs decided to take up residence in my chest, so neither Kev nor I got any sleep. I went from sounding like a flock of geese to sounding like a….well, like I was hacking up a lung or two. Dear Lord! Will this ever end?

Damn Bugs

Lemme check. Yep. Still sick. Dammit. It’s like I have concrete in my sinuses. Like 1,000,000 tiny flies are dancing in my throat. I’ve tried sooooo hard not to take any Heart Attack in a Bottle pills today, but I’m about to have to give in. Mucinex just isn’t bulldozing through my sinus cavities enough to give me any relief. I sound like an enitre flock of Canadian geese. I bet the husband can’t wait to crawl into bed with his snotty wife tonight. Damn, I’m glamorous.

So Bad, But It Feels Sooooo Good

Everybody knows that decongestants are bad for you. Especially if you have heart problems. But I finally broke down (in the interest of my own sanity) and loaded up on Sudafed Extreme Cold and Allergy Ass Kicker. I’m pretty sure that’s what it was called. Lo and behold, I can breathe. It’s a Christmas miracle!

Hit Me Baby One More Time

You know that feeling of total and utter relief? The one that says “Damn, that could have been me if I left 30 seconds earlier”. Yeah. That happened to me today on my way home, when the car in front of me got totally smashed up. Those mini Coopers are cute, but I sure do lurve my gas-guzzling SUV. That little thing took a hell of a beating from a Honda Accord, while I, the safe driver that I am, and having left plenty of room in front of me, avoided the crash entirely. I will not, however, get back the next 45 minutes spent giving a statement to the cops. BTW, it was totally the mini Cooper’s fault, and nobody was hurt.


Today, I am thankful for my husband. I am thankful for our families, and for our dogs. I am thankful for our friends who have become our family, and for their families. I am thankful for the strength that God gives each of us, and I am thankful that He can be depended on to see us through hard times, and to remind us of His grace every day through little miracles like sunsets. I am thankful for the love that surrounds our hearts and our home.

Oh, yeah. And I’m thankful for turkey and champagne.

I Keep It

Dear Little Shits that live in Amarillo Slim’s yard:

I realize that you have a complete loser for a father and a doormat of a mother, but could you please refrain from throwing all your fucking toys in my yard? It’s not cute when you chuck your baseball(narrowly missing my dog), and then run inside giggling, waiting for me to come out and throw it back at you (I could have hit you, too, but I didn’t want your dad to shoot me). You are both the brattiest children in the known universe, and I hereby pledge to burn all of your army men, because I’m tired of tripping over them. It will be my mission in life to stockpile the vast load of shit that ends up in my yard (that pink frisbee? it’s mine now) and proudly display it just out of your reach. You’ll never see those Nerf balls again.

Thank you,

P.S. There really is a monster under your beds, and he’s just waiting to chop you into kiddie-bits and feed you to his puppy.
P.P.S. Santa hates you, and will not even be bringing you coal. Oh, wait. Did I forget to tell you that there is no Santa Claus? And no Easter Bunny. There is a Tooth Fairy, but he said he’ll never leave you a dime. Oh, and he can kick your ass.

So Very, Very Wrong

So I get in the car today to head home from work, and because I was too lazy to fish my ipod out of my purse, I decided to listen to the radio. I hit the “seek” button, and much to my horror, the tuner stopped on the one station that is playing……CHRISTMAS MUSIC!!!!!!! All day, everyday, through Christmas Day. It’s 83 frickin’ degrees outside. I really didn’t need Feliz Navidad for my drive home.

But I secretly listened to it anyway.

Air Raid Bitches!

It’s a party kind of weekend here on the Mound, because for the first time in a long time, everybody will be around. Tap the keg and fire up the grill, cuz it’s gonna be a wild weekend.

I Drink From The Keg of Glory

Yep. I voted. Now bring me the finest muffins and bagels in all the land.

Blog or Brownies?

Sure, I could sit here all day and scribble random musings, but there are brownies to be made. Nothing is as soothing after the ass-kicker of a week that I’ve had than baking. Plus, my husband’s co-workers have pressured me into it. So, on the menu today are truffle brownies, mint chocolate truffle brownies, chocolate cake, and fried chicken (that’s for dinner). If I get really motivated, I might even make cookies.
In other news, there is something so wrong with the fact that I would rather bake today than go and get my nails and toes done. I just really want to be home today, forgetting all about the ass-kicker of a week I just had. Did I mention that my ass was sore from being kicked?
See? That right there is why I need to be baking, not blogging. The whiny lament will never end otherwise.

People Friggin’ Suck

Seriously. People who do bad things should be shot. For everybody else who doesn’t do bad things, please don’t start, because as I’ve previously stated, bad people who do bad things suck. And they cause my life to suck, too. Bastards.

Revenge. Ain’t It a Bitch?

K: How Texas is this?
M: What?
K: Tomorrow, I’m gonna go to the dump, get the truck washed, and put on a tuxedo and go to a black-tie dinner. But I’m really only looking forward to the dump.




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