Doorknobs fear me....

So, those of you who have read here for a while know that I have a bit of a history of with doorknobs. Don't try to keep me out of my house. I have no problem taking out a doorknob. Today was no exception.

A couple of days ago, Snazzy escaped - yes, again. She is one of the original Houdini dogs, after all. This time it was due to the fact that the fence at this house is quite old and should probably be replaced. Tuesday morning, I found Snazzy in the neighbor's backyard, having gotten there via a loose picket in the fence. She couldn't get BACK in our yard though and was very distraught. I found the picket, let her back in, checked for other loose boards (I thought) and then we had a nap. That afternoon, I went to pick up SugarPlum from school and when I got back, Snazzy wasn't there...McGee was, but no Snazzy. She had gotten out on the OTHER side of the yard thru a (missed) loose picket and the neighbor on that side has no fence across the front of her house. Hence, NO SNAZZY. SP begged me to go drive around and look for her, which I did until I had to pick up the boys. Then, we had to take SP and a teammate to soccer practice & then I had class. I was bummed. I had a headache. I was having major anxiety. I totally faked my way thru class that night. But when I got home, Snazzy was here - a lady about two blocks over found her, called & brought her home. Yay!

So...today...I had to go get a temporary crown put on at the dentist (or the "sadist" as my phone auto-corrected it to in a text HHAHA!!). I got home, noticed a picket that looked a little wonky & went out to check it. Both dogs were still back there, so I wasn't too worried. I secured the slightly loose board and then turned to come back in. Only the doorknob was locked. As was every other door to the house. My purse, keys and phone were sitting on the kitchen table. I COULD SEE THEM. But, short of busting a window, I couldn't get to them. Dammit.

I remembered my badassedness of a few years back. Only I had no hammer. So I grabbed the closest thing I could think of - the grill brush. That helped some but it wasn't terribly effective. SO, I scanned the back yard and realized that we have an abundance of loose bricks back there. (I have no idea why, but I wasn't feeling very inquisitive at that point) So, I grabbed a brick and proceeded to knock the crap out of the doorknob. Twice....and then about 900 angry ants came out of the brick. Oops. I survived that unscathed and found another brick that did NOT contain an entire colony of pissed off ants and continued the whacking. Eventually, the doorknob came off. But the door was still locked.

YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FREAKIN' KIDDING ME. (may or may not have been the precise words used...)

So, I went and pulled the Brinks padlock off of the shed (the only thing in the whole vicinity NOT locked) and used the top part to reach up into the mechanism and try to pull the ring from around it and then get it to unlock. AND? I broke the padlock.

I BROKE A DAMN PADLOCK, PEOPLE. It's like I have super-human strength....only not enough to get my damn door open. I was sweaty. My tooth hurt. I was tired. I was hungry. I wanted to be INSIDE my house.

I used the really hard part of the padlock to beat the small parts of the mechanism again and then used the other half of the U that hadn't broken off and fiddled around with the odd bits inside the doorknob mechanism (also cussed a little) until FINALLY the door popped open. I was so happy. And feeling very empowered. With the exception of my tooth throbbing now and the growing migraine. But I DID have the presence of mind to take a picture to prove once again what a badass I am. Because - seriously, GO ME! Also, I took the time to post it on Facebook. And write an entire blog post about it. Because that's how I roll....

Moral of the Story: Don't piss me off. Especially if there are bricks around. Ants optional.

Blessings Abound!

Ever have one of those weeks where God is shouting at you, "I'VE GOT IT UNDER CONTROL! SEE??" Yeah, that's what last week was like. One big picture of God's mighty power & grace. Blessing did abound!

I posted last week that God had laid Philippians 4:6-7 on my heart and that it was getting me thru the week.

6 do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

I really just thought God was helping me thru the stress of the last week before school starts. Things were busy and tense and I needed to let Him take care of it. I had no idea

If you saw my Facebook Saturday, you know that the transmission blew on my van . In Dallas. While I was taking my mom & the boys to the hotel. It was 101 degrees outside. Bear noticed the smell and then I saw smoke, thinking it was one of those "junkers" beside us as we exited the George Bush Freeway. Yeah, the smoke was coming from MY junker! That's when I started getting stressed. Really, really stressed. Then, that's when the blessings began.

BLESSINGS

1. The smoke started less than half a mile from the hotel. I managed to get to the hotel, avoiding being stranded in traffic, in the heat, in the middle of Dallas. I got Mom & the boys somewhat settled at the hotel & called USAA, who towed the van to the Honda dealership.

2. SugarDaddy had left about 45 minutes before I did and had SugarPlum & my dad with him at the soccer tournament. So, we had 2 cars there.

3. Another one of the soccer families was staying at the same hotel as us, so they took SP & my dad back to the hotel & then to the next game so that SD could meet me at the dealership.

4. Mom took care of the boys the whole time, walking them over to Black Eyed Pea for supper and then back to the hotel to swim.

5. After being informed that it would cost us $5000 for the dealership to replace the transmission & determining that we couldn't make an informed decision about buying a replacement THAT DAY, SD & I made it to the second game in time.

6. My wonderful friends, Mr & Mrs Jackalord got us a trailer and towed the van back to Candyland (2 hours each way!) with Mr. J's pickup. Who does that? AMAZING friends, that's who. We really didn't know what we were going to do otherwise.

7. After we got home, my beautiful friend, Charity, offered us the use of a car for as long as we needed it. That keeps us from having to rent a car while the van is being fixed or...if that is just going to be too much, it keeps us from having to jump into something without taking time to make a wise decision.

AND THEN...just to put icing on the blessing cake....God decides to show me that He really does have it ALL under control.

8. We finally heard from both of the boys' football coaches. (I'd been worried about football practice & how it would all work since last year it was a big hassle getting all three kids where they needed to be since it sometimes required me to be three places at once) Both of them have practice this year at the same place...at the same time....NOT on a soccer night! Woo hoo!!! Go God!

I still haven't heard about the van. The transmission guy says it will be early next week before he can tell me something. But honestly, I'm not worried. God has made it clear that He's got this one. I just need to get out of the way. Which brings to mind another verse in Philippians:

And my God will supply every need...Phil 4:19

I apologize now for the blatant abuse of parentheticals....

Tuesday morning....you are not my friend.

This morning started out okay. SugarPlum & I overslept a little, but only like four minutes. However, she has her morning routine down to a science, so four minutes can make or break her some days. Luckily, nothing of hers needed to be ironed, so SugarDaddy was able to get her out the door and off to school by 7:00. (Yes, 7:00 am. I know, right?)

Bug had woken up early & ate breakfast with SP. Normally he eats at the same time as Bear, but he was "really, really hungry!" so I went ahead and fixed his breakfast, too. But it just sort of threw my morning off. After SD & the girl were off, & after a few snuggles with Bug, I woke Bear up. This isn't an easy task, in that he is MY child and hates to wake up in the morning. It takes songs, back rubs, and silly little jokes - it's vital that he wake up happy or everyone's day is ruined. Then I fixed is cereal & scrambled eggs w/ bacon & cheese, got the boys' clothes ironed and actually on their bodies. (This is more difficult than it sounds most mornings. More than once Bug has been *thisclose* to going to school in his pjs. Oh, yes I would!) We actually ended up with enough time for the boys to play for a few minutes before they went to school! YAY!

This is where it started to fall apart. Okay, not that bad, but still.

The phone rings. SD( who had a monumentally bad day yesterday & had not had a good night's sleep leading to him misunderstanding my "I-just-woke-up-voice" for my "I-hate-you-you-are-a-moron-voice" - which doesn't exist but evidently is interpreted as such more often than I deserve)** had left his flight suit at home. Being a commander he never knows what uniform he will need at a particular point in the day, so he goes to work in jeans & t-shirt and changes there. But....I washed his flight suits last night & he left it here. So I agreed to bring it to him after I got it ironed & got the boys off to school. (And can I just say that flight suits are a BITCH to iron.)

At this point, the boys were ready except for shoes & socks - which didn't seem to be a priority for them. So after much shouting, bribery & threats, I finally got them off to school. Then I headed to the base with SD's clothes. After a brief chat, I volunteered to go to the coffee shop on base to get SD a Venti Caramel Macchiato and some tea for his secretary. (Always take care of the secretary. Secretaries make the world go 'round!) I was happy to be able to do something for SD since we had been a little cross with each other this morning.

I get over to the base library (home of the coffee shop) & find followed my nose to the coffee shop. There, I found the little barista chick, sitting in a cushy chair reading. She hops up & takes my order...which took a second, because I was unsure of what tea to get. When she rings me up, I discover that I have no cash & have to use my credit card. I am - evidently - visibly aggravated by that fact.

While she is making the drinks, I said something, can't remember what, but barista chicky says to me, "Yeah, you seem a little strung-out."

What?

THEN she says, "I'd say that's okay, but it's only Tuesday."

So, twenty-year-old chick who works at a very NOT busy Starbucks, is telling the mom of three kids who's day just got busier that I seem strung out. And that it is clearly not okay, because it's only Tuesday? Seriously?

I didn't even know what to say. I know that I am being over-sensitive, but who made her the arbiter of who gets to be stressed out? Seriously? Already, I am looking at this & laughing. But at 8:30 this morning, I was just pissed.

She SO didn't get a good tip.

Again, where was my camera?!

Driving home from, yes, another soccer tournament yesterday, we passed the Adult Video & Bookstore that is out in the big middle of Nowheresville. I have mentioned it before, not that long ago. Well, this time SD was with us and he was the one who noticed the sign that said:

Adult Video sale! RISE TO THE OCCASION!

Seriously? I have to hope that the meant to do that.

Perspective

You know, no matter how many lost wallets, extracted gall bladders, screaming kids, marital issues and other crap I have endured, never in all my days have I had to deal with what Lisa has had to deal with today. Never have I had to contemplate telling my children and everyone else that I love that I, most likely, am dying. AND? That while I am getting sicker and sicker I don't know how we will afford to put food on the table or a roof over our heads. It is a nightmare that I can't even let myself imagine. And yet, Lisa is living it. Right. now.

And to make things even more unbearable, someone is trying to take advantage of her situation to make himself look good. How is it that parasites like this are allowed to continue existing on this planet? Incomprehensible. And disgusting. That's what that is.

I apologize for every single time I have complained about my life. Because my life is amazing and comfortable and healthy and carefree and wonderful. I wouldn't trade this life or these people for anything in the world. So to those who might not be sure, know this: I love you. I appreciate you. I will not take any of you or any day God has given me for granted.

If there is any way you can help Lisa and her family through this, please try. Even if all you can afford is prayers, I'm sure that they would be welcome. Isn't that what we are all here for? To support each other?

How to make an ass of yourself for three days solid (A Step-By-Step Guide)

1. Go to get your haircut.
2. and one for your daughter.
3. When it's time to pay, realize that you must have left your wallet in the car.
4. Go look in car.
5. Realize that you must - for some unknown reason (probably those rotten boys) - have taken your wallet out at home and left it.
6. Go back in hair place, offer to leave daughter as collateral and run home (with daughter since the hair ladies are terribly trusting) and tear house apart (as well as car).
7. FREAK THE HELL OUT because you can't find your wallet.
8. Call CVS to see if you could have possibly left your wallet there when you went to get (yes, ashamedly) Hairstyle magazines.
9. FREAK OUT EVEN MORE because the lady says your wallet isn't there.
10. Dig out the credit card that you were going to stop using from the desk drawer so that you can go back and pay for the haircuts (which, incidentally, was possibly the worst haircut you have ever received and make note to self to never, ever get hair cut at "Kidz Kutz" ever again).
11. Consider very real possibility that some kid at the hair place took the wallet from your purse during the 29 seconds you turned your back to talk to lady cutting daughter's hair (which, incidentally was the most fantastic haircut ever - maybe THAT lady could cut your hair)
12. Pick boys up from kind friend's house and see if there is any chance that you took your purse in for the 5 minutes you were there dropping boys off and left your wallet.
13. Of course not.
14. Drag everyone home and bribe them all with $5 for who ever finds the wallet.
15. No dice.
16. Admit to husband that though yes, that very day, he escorted you to get a new military ID because you had lost yours just days before, you have now lost your wallet (containing new ID) and it was most likely stolen by some little hoodlum at Kidz Kutz.
17. Consider the very real possibility that the UNIVERSE IS FUCKING WITH YOU.
18. Wait for husband to come home and look for your wallet because he is always great at finding lost things.
19. Still. no. wallet.
20. Call all credit card companies to report stolen cards.
21. Call bank to report stolen ATM cards (yes there were 2)
22. Contact credit bureaus to flag your & husbands SSNs because they are on (brand freakin' new) military ID.
23. Realize that there was a $25 Old Navy gift card, $5 Starbucks card about $85 in cash in stolen wallet. Fucking hoodlum.
24. Realize that only good news is that drivers license was NOT in wallet because you'd had it out all week to get on base w/ the temp pass while husband was TDY (out of town).
25. Apologize to husband 900 times for losing wallet even though he is being very gracious and kind - which couldn't be easy for him - about the whole situation.
26. Sulk, bitch and moan all day Saturday about the little hoodlum who took your wallet even though you know that it won't do any good.
27. Go to Sunday School even though you're still feeling sore & crappy from surgery and grouchy about lost wallet.
28. Yell at children who ask for offering money because ALL OF MY MONEY WAS IN MY WALLET you foolish children!
29. Come home from Sunday School to discover a message on your voicemail from the manager at CVS.
30. Call and discover that your wallet was at CVS all this time, locked in the safe, but that the stupid girl that you AND husband talked to wouldn't even go to the trouble of asking her boss if a wallet was found.
31. Resist urge to curse stupid, stupid girl once you realize that if you had half a brain then you would have put the wallet in your purse and not left it on the counter by the register.
32. What the hell is wrong with you anyway?
33. Throw a big "I found my wallet" Party all day long. (Okay, that's an exaggeration. Perhaps what is closer to the truth is call your best friend and sing the "I found my wallet" happy song and make a total fool of yourself.)
34. Still believe that the universe was fucking with you because, COME ON.

Thoughts while perusing my 20 Year HS Reunion Website

* Oh, look! She finally got married. Bless her heart.
* WOW! He's lost ALL of his hair in the past ten years!
* Wonder if she's still a bitch....of course she is.
* So glad to see that they are still married. They were always my favorite couple.
* LOOK! She has a blog! AND she Twitters!
* Really? He's married? To a GIRL? I would have bet it all that he was gay.
* Holy shit! SEVEN KIDS?
* Damn, he still looks good.
* She alive? I would swear I heard that she OD'd.
* He invented THAT? I knew I should have gone out with him when he asked.
* Oh, dear...still has that 80's hair doesn't she?
* Who the hell is that? I don't remember her at all.
* Wow. He reproduced? How unfortunate.
* Really? Posted your prom picture? Not your best moment, hon.
* Aw, cute kids! Wait. She has a 21 year old? That means that during senior year, she...hmmm. I have no memory of that.
* He made parole? Scary.
* She was always so skinny! No fair!
* Mmmmm. He still looks like Jason Bateman!
* I can't look at her with out hearing her sad, sad performance of Total Eclipse of the Heart in my head. Make it stop!!!

Oh, yes it also occurred to me that perhaps, MAYBE I have become a bit of a judgemental bitch. But let's keep that to ourselves, shall we?

***UPDATED!*** Why didn't I have my camera? WHY? WHY? WHY?

Okay, y'all, seriously. I'm still laughing about this.

As I was driving home from our little adventure yesterday, I espied something that I have seen a zillion times, yet never really noticed. And people, it was HI-Larry-OUS!

So, as we are zipping down the highway, I glance over at the XXX Outlet <-----actual name of the place, not a euphemism or anything, I swear. The XXX Outlet is a store advertises that you can get, well, pretty much what you would expect of an establishment whose name is XXX. And at OUTLET PRICES! This is NOT what made me laugh. What made me laugh is the sign immediately next door to XXX Outlet. The sign that read: World's Best Beef Jerky!

And all I could think was, "Yeah, I'll bet."


After telling SD about this, he reminded me of the time we were driving the same route and, a few miles past the XXX Outlet, we passed the "Adult Bookstore"<---------also the real name, marketing GENIUS, right?! The sign outside the Adult Bookstore read: COME IN FOR OUR SPRING BLOW OUT!

Diet Coke came out my nose. Yes, as I've said before, I am a 12 year old boy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
UPDATE:

Okay, I was feeling all sad and depressed and then I received a comment from Belinda at Ninja Poodles which pointed me to THIS PICTURE. And now I may be laughing for the next four hours. Damn her. I really need to get some sleep.

TMI doesn't even BEGIN to describe this post.

So, I had a realization the other day. A horribly embarrassing realization. About a trip to Target. And my period. (Really this is so TMI, I am truly horrified. Yet, I feel compelled to share. And it's too long to put on Twitter, dammit)

I am terrible at remembering when my period is due. SD can tell with uncanny accuracy. As can my children, most likely. I have too many other things to think about. Like ears, bathroom antics and whether or not I have a legitimate mental illness** (as opposed to an illegitimate mental illness)(you, in the back there, hush). I sometimes find myself wondering if, perhaps, I should be on the lookout for Aunt Flo.

Heh.

Looking back, I see that it couldn't have been more obvious. I was at Target walking around, seeking great deals (as you do). By the time I checked out, I placed on the conveyor belt: one bag of Jamaican Jerk potato chips, one bag of Wasabi Mustard potato chips, one bag of Salt & Vinegar potato chips (yes, really), one bag of Sweet & Salty Snack Mix, a box of Dove dark chocolate Promises, THREE tins of Wasabi & Soy roasted almonds, a Hersheys Extra-Dark chocolate bar, two 4-packs of Blood Orange Italian Soda, eight cans of Pomegranate Soda, and (wait for it) TWO BOXES of....tampons. <------all entirely true - I can provide a receipt if necessary. And I had the nerve to be SURPRISED when I got my period a few days later!

Can you imagine the poor kid checking me out?! I practically had a neon sign atop my head that flashed "PMS." I'm not sure, but looking back, I think I may have heard a security alert issued about a "possibly unstable woman entering the parking lot....stay out of her way AT ALL COSTS!!"

But I'm feeling much better now.

**I think that this post should settle that question once and for all.

IRATE (warning:profanity laden post. read at your own risk)

To the Motherfucking Asshole "gentleman" driving the pickup on I-35 Saturday:

Dear Dickhead,

What the fuck is your problem? I am nobody to lay much fault on someone for accidentally rear-ending another person while driving. But I STOPPED and accepted the consequences. What kind of asshole runs into someone and then LEAVES?? And especially when it was patently obvious that there likely was a baby in the minivan that you bashed in? Who drives off without at least making sure that everyone inside is okay?!! Fucker.

I will tell you that that was my sweet Buttercup in that van. My precious godbaby. And her big sister, my other god-daughter. And my oldest, dearest friend. You hit her van with enough force that it shattered the rear windshield and glass was found as far forward as the middle row - IN THE BABY SEAT. Bless their hearts, they were all freaked out. Thankfully, everyone was okay NO THANKS TO YOU. Moron.

I suspect that you are:

a) an illegal alien
b) uninsured
c) a felon out on parole, afraid of going back to jail
d) any combination of the above

Guy, you had better hope that I never EVER find you. Because I will tear you to pieces. I hope that you are experiencing some terrible guilt. I hope that you end up having an ulcer and chronic migraines over this. Mostly though, I hope that nothing like this ever happens to you. Because the pain, anxiety and trouble that this has caused for my dear, precious friend is something that I cannot ever wish on anyone.

Should you wish to get in touch with the victim of your unconscionable act, you can get in touch with me and I will let her know. Until then....GROW A CONSCIENCE.

Sincerely,
SugarMommy

PS To all of the other people on I-35 in Dallas Saturday who failed to stop and help a woman who CLEARLY needed help or to even give her the license plate of the asshole who hit her: You should be ashamed of yourselves. You all saw what happened and you all chose to keep flying right past her. It's almost as bad.

(There really are not enough profanities in the world, or this post about you would have been much longer)

Resolution!

So, what was wrong with that picture? In short, nothing really.


I shot the teacher an email this morning (which is the morning that school started two hours late for no discernible reason other than it was COLD which totally jacked up my morning because then SP and Bear could go to school before 10:00, Bug's preschool was delayed until 10:30 and I had to be all the way out at the base for a lunch at the Officers Club at 11:00 and now there are chunks of hair missing from my head)** (geez....digress much?)


*ahem* As I was saying before I so rudely interrupted myself....

I sent SP's teacher an email this morning asking if I could meet with her during her planning period this afternoon to discuss the assignment. She called later to let me know that it would be fine, but could we just knock it out over the phone?

I told her that I hadn't let SP redo the assignment because we were unclear as to what the actual instructions were. That I saw no problems with the original. She said that she really didn't have a big problem with SP's picture, either. As some of us thought, SP had colored MLK's lips and fingernails a little darker than the rest of him.

Mrs. Englishteacher said that while SP's was appropriate, she had asked the class not to color the lips or fingernails a different color. She said that SP is the best student she has and is quite a leader in her class. Evidently SP's classmates often try to emulate her work. (The assignment was to be completed in class today.) Mrs. Englishteacher was concerned that while the colors on SP's paper were appropriate, she couldn't count on the other students being so judicious. She was afraid that some students might take the difference in color to extreme and that it might be viewed as racist.

I still think that perhaps the teacher was over-compensating somewhat in the name of political correctness, but I saw her point. I also wonder if she wasn't kissing my ass a little. But I thanked her for her time and I told her how I appreciated her willingness to listen.

I had SP just erase the color from the lips and fingernails and go over them lightly with the brown she used for the rest of the picture. She gave it to Mrs. Englishteacher this morning and the teacher was pleased.

Hopefully, I taught my daughter how to stand up for herself (or someone she loves) without having to belittle or try to make the other person feel bad about themselves. While going postal on someone can be satisfying at times (I'm looking at you TXU!), I really prefer to be nice and settle conflicts peacefully. Just like MLK taught us. Right?

**This run-on sentence brought to you by the Horrified Writing Instructors of America (HWTA).

What's wrong with this picture?

SugarPlum's teacher is making her redo this picture as homework this weekend. She told SP something about how in the past, people would make fun of African Americans by wearing black-face. SP is beside herself.

I honestly fail to see what the problem is. I have looked at this a dozen times in the past hour and can't figure it out. So, I am am asking you, my dear friends and readers, do you see anything offensive about this? I am at a loss. Any comments about this are welcome.

Moon Pies, Anyone?

Bug made his third trip to THE OFFICE yesterday. His teacher told me, trying to stifle a giggle, that while standing in line for the water fountain (or something), Bug dropped trou and proceeded to shake his bootie for the class. The only saving grace was that he kept his Superman boxers up whilst "entertaining" his classmates. *ahem*

Perhaps he has a future with Chippendale's?

We tried to impress upon him that mooning people is simply not acceptable. He gave us an apathetic reply - the four year old version of "Yadda yadda yadda." Every day is an adventure in this house, I'll tell you.

Conversations that make my mom laugh her ass off (10 year-old version...continued)

SugarPlum: My room is all clean!

Me: Did you really get it all clean or did you just push everything to the edges of your room so that the middle *looks* clean but if one pays any attention at all, she can see the piles of CRAP lining the perimeter? Because if it's the latter, I will have to say, no, it is NOT clean and you cannot go to Izzy's house until it is.

SugarPlum: :::BIGGEST SIGH EVER::: followed by *slamming door *

That's what I thought.


Me: Slam that door again and I'm taking it off the hinges!

Conversations that make my mom laugh her ass off (Theme for the rest of the week)

Remember when your mom told you, "One day you will grow up and have kids and I hope that they will act just like you are now!"! Well, evidently, it worked. And my mother is experiencing unspeakable joy over this fact.

To wit:


Me: ::standing in the kitchen, cooking dinner::

Bear: Mommy, may I please have a cookie?

Me: Buddy, we are going to be eating supper in about 15 minutes.

Bear: So, can I have a cookie?

Me: No, because it's almost suppertime.

Bear: Well, can I have a yogurt then?

Me: Bear! We're eating supper soon! No yogurt.

Bear: Well....a popsicle then? I can have a popsicle?

Me: *sigh* Supper! 10 minutes!! No popsicle!

Bear: But I'm starving!!!

Me: Well, call CPS then because you are not getting anything before supper. Now, go play.

Bear:.........can I have just one piece of candy?

ME: AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!

It's Spam-a-licious!

Every time I click on my Spam file in my Gmail account, I notice that in the little "random link bar" across the top of the page, it a link for various Spam recipes. Each one more gross sounding that the last. I have been known to throw up in the back of my throat a little when reading some of these.

Of course, I couldn't keep all of that Spam-tastic goodness to myself, so I have decided to collect these links and share them with you. Misery love company.

Spam Vegetable Strudel (Spam! and vegetables! in phyllo!)

Creamy Spam Broccoli Casserole - The name just says it all (urp!)

French Fry Spam Casserole The hell?

Spicy Spam Kabobs I don't even want to know...

Vineyard Spam Salad (Spam, grapes, and peapods - doesn't get any better than that!)

Spam Veggie Pita Pockets they're trying to make it sound healthy. it's not working.

Spam Quiche Ew. That's all. Just EW.

Spam Primavera?! Now they're just messing with me

Do you get the feeling you're in a Monty Python sketch?

If any of you decide to try one of these recipes, please let me know the results. Once you've recovered from the aftermath, that is. Try not to be too graphic. I've a weak constitution.

Some days you're the doorknob, some days you're the Giant F'ing Gorilla

Last night, I was the gorilla. And this doorknob pissed. me. off.



Yesterday was crazy. An absolute clusterfuck of activities. Totally exacerbated by the fact that SD was night flying and was therefore unavailable for transporting SugarBabies about town. He's so selfish. Working and all. So, the schedule was this:

3:30 Parent/Teacher conference
4:00-6:00: SP's soccer practice
6:00-7:00: Bug's soccer practice
6:30-??? Bear's Boy Scout meeting

Allegedly.

So, I bust my ass getting back from the conference to get SP to soccer practice on time. And we made it! But? Nobody was there. Because practice actually started at 4:30. No worries. We hung out for a few minutes and some people showed up. I remembered that I hadn't grabbed Bear's Cub Scout uniform, so I ran back home to fetch it and then came back. (Remember this...this is key) We hang out at practice and by 6:00, I needed to go pee. I mean REALLY needed to. And there is no bathroom at the practice field. So, as soon as SP is dismissed from practice, we hightail it to McDonalds, so that I can potty and so that we can get some food.

If you paid any attention to that schedule up there, it required that I be in two places at once. I'm good....but not cloned yet. Bug's practice got ditched. He's four. He'll get over it.

SO. We eat our crappy fast food on our way to the scout meeting - Bear still hasn't changed clothes. We get to the church right at 6:30! Wooo hoooo!! But wait! There's no one here. Not a soul. The doors are locked. the lights are out. CRAP.

Actually, not all that disappointed. I was ready to go home and chill. So, we head to the casa and everyone unloads their crap I go to unlock the deadbolt and discover that someone has locked the doorknob. I don't have a key to the doorknob. SD is flying. Crap.

So, I try hitting the door with my shoulder like the cops on TV do. Guess what. That shit hurts. Also, it doesn't work. So, I try to jimmy the lock with a credit card. That doesn't work either. Last resort? I start whacking the holy hell out of the doorknob with a hammer until it opens. It was actually pretty cathartic. Though, poor SD got home and thought that someone had tried to break into the house.

I'm such a badass.

What is the opposite of Memorial?

I haven't seen it on the news or the internet anywhere, but from the events at my house yesterday, I would swear that it was not only Memorial Day, but also National Opposite Day. Because regardless of what I said, the children in this house (at least the ones possessing Y chromosomes) were doing the antithesis of whatever I directed.

Exhibit A: The result of my answering, "No, you may NOT play with the water hose. Go put it back and do not turn on the water!!": One boy in the tree house holding the hose while it sprays down on his buck nekkid older brother. Then, when commanded in a booming voice heard throughout Texas asked nicely to come over to the sidewalk, little brother in the tree house instead plunges himself, chest first in to the ginormous mud puddle made by the contraband water hose. What. the. fuck???

Exhibit B: "Pick up this living room" evidently means pullout every blanket, couch cushion, piece of paper, and toy (that hasn't already been confiscated due to not picking up) and distribute evenly across the room and into the entryway.

Exhibit C: "No, you cannot have a snack right now, we will be having supper in ten minutes" translates to "By all means, get yourself a popsicle and one for your brother. While your at it? Grab a cookie or two when you think I'm not looking."

Exhibit D: "Stay in your beds, be quiet and go to sleep and NO PLAYING" actually means, climb out of bed as soon as Mommy shuts the door and into your brother's bed and scream while alternately playing and beating the hell out of each other. And, just to be ironic, come interrupt Mommy reading to SugarPlum to tell her that "I bonked my head on Bear's bed."


I could go on & on, all the way to exhibit Z and beyond. But, I'm sure you get the idea. I think that they are trying to make my head explode. Because, come on, how cool would that be? And as an added bonus, I wouldn't be able to nag them to clean these brains up off the walls and floor, "right now, mister!"

They are awfully cute. And they give great hugs and kisses. Lucky for them. Because that's about all that's keeping me from selling them to the gypsies at this point.

You know who you are

If you're going to call my house, at least have the balls to not hang up. I have caller id, you know. Oh, and a brain.

Who is in charge of such things and to whom do I send my (very profane) complaint letter??

**Warning** ***TMI Alert*** **Warning**

My husband, who has been gone for FIVE MONTHS, will be here in less than 12 hours.

And?

And?

I started my period last night.

I am not seeing the humor in this at all....