The Day My Butt Went Psycho

That's the title of the book that I just bought for my daughter. I saw it in the bookstore and I couldn't NOT get it for her. It's about butts plotting to take over the world by switching places with the heads and other various dastardly deeds. I heard her laughing until almost midnight. I think I'll have to read it when she's done. I'm also wondering why I didn't write this book.

FINALLY!

I have slain the basilisk and rescued the entire world AND gotten all my gold wizard cards! Now I hope I will stop having dreams of little sparkly gold areas full of jelly beans. I really hope so. Only problem is now I have to help my daughter through, which is how I got roped into this mess. And THEN she'll install "Prisoner of Azkaban". I'm doomed.

I Didn't Watch the Super Bowl

I don't even know who was playing. I do like the commercials and I wanted to see the Stones, but I was too busy collecting jelly beans so that I could have enough of them to buy the Nimbus 2001 from Fred Weasley so that I could fly around collecting yet more jelly beans to buy snot to make the wiggenwild potion so I don't die when those damn little imps bite me and so I can buy wizard cards to get the keys to open the quadruple locked chamber so I can get the gold ones for some reason that I don't know of. My life is complicated.

I'm Comptetely Math Deficient...

...and even I don't need one of those dumbass tip calculation cards! First, let me say that if you are a complete moron, I'm not talking to you. You need one. The rest of you, listen up. How difficult is it to figure out fifteen or twenty percent? I know, you're too busy. Two seconds in the life of the most important person in the world, on whom all other life hinges is just too much. I think that's a separate issue that you will have to address with your therapist, so for now, let's discuss the math that is supposedly so difficult that you need to carry this card in your wallet.

Let's say your bill is $84.95 before tax. How on earth will you figure it out! Oh the drama! Move the fucking decimal to the left to get $8.40! This is ten percent you dumbass! Now take a nap from the mental exhaustion. I'll wait.

Back? Rested? Great. Now that you have ten percent, can you figure out how to get twenty percent? I'm not going to tell you. I refuse. $16.80 you say? Very good! You get a cookie! But wait! You are cheap and only want to give fifteen percent! Oh no! This is a disaster! How on earth will you figure out how to get one and a half ten percents????? I'm not going to tell you. $12.60! Wow, you deserve a vacation after all that hard work. I'll leave it to you to either round down to $12 or up to $13. It's a free country.

It should be the law that anyone who uses a tip card should not be allowed to work at a job that involves percentages, statistics, money, weights and measures, or any kind of profits. It should be legal to search their wallets daily for a tip card. I don't want a pharmacist who can't use a decimal point and I sure don't want someone like that handling my money. And if you are a teacher or involved in education and you use a tip card, you need to go right to the toilet, stick your head in, and flush. Right now. Go.

The rest of you, throw out your tip cards and relish your new freedom from decimal point phobia.

Feeling Especially Irritable

Look, how about you just don't talk to me today, Okay? Thanks.

AAAAAH!!!!!!!!!! FEATHERS!!!!!!!!!

Remember last spring's dance costume from hell? Well, being that I'm an idiot, I let my daughter keep it, thinking that eventually I'd put it together for her. Today I went to clean out their closet and there were just feathers everywhere! I would put something away and feathers would fly up. I'd throw something out and feathers would fly up. I tried to get all the puzzle pieces back into their proper boxes and there were all these tiny feathers trapped among the pieces. They were flying through the air in the whole room and stuck to everything. They're in my hair, on my clothes, and I just knocked one off my nose. We have dance class today and I'm going to look like a crazy person. I'll never get them all off, especially out of my hair.

Maybe that's a good thing though. Maybe everyone will stay far away from me. Last week I was subjected to the Dr. Phil show. No, not on TV. I could ignore that. There was a family there working out their lifetime of issues. The mom brought her daughter to class and brought along the girl's teenage aunt, and the girl's grandfather, who apparently, they hadn't seen in many years and had never met his granddaughter. They hashed through A LOT of stuff at full volume as if they were at home! I was sitting there trying to will myself to go deaf. I felt like yelling "HEY! I'M HERE! HELLO!" but somehow I don't think it would have helped. What the hell is the matter with some people? I don't care who your real father was, as revealed to you on your mother's deathbed. I don't care who the favorite child was and I certainly don't want to hear about the creepy uncle who stalked your boyfriends. How nice that you forgive each other, now SHUT UP! They weren't just telling family stories, they were SHARING FEELINGS that they had never spoken about, ASKING FORGIVENESS for all kinds of major shit. I don't think that stuff is included in the tuition! There was just me and these three wackadoos. I sat knitting and trying to ignore them like they were ignoring me. It was torture. Thankfully, the girl's class ended a half hour later. I'm sure it went on all night. Couldn't they have saved this? I hope they aren't there again today. I'm not that patient. What I need is a can of Freakbegone spray. Anyone know where I can get some?

How Tired Is He?

My husband is so tired that when he called home today and I told him that I was in the middle of painting our son's toenails (Disney Princess Aqua Sparkle), he said something like "oh that's nice". Man, he needs a day off.

Been away too long...

I haven't posted here in forever. I'm certainly not lacking in things to say, I'm just thoroughly exhausted. Weeks without my husband is a lot to handle. My kids can really wear me out. I never get enough rest. I've been sleeping on my feet for a week straight. Tomorrow is my daughter's birthday party. We're paying bucks that we can't necessarily afford so that I don't have to do it myself. All we have to do is show up, although due to her allergies, we still had to make cupcakes and we'll bring her a happy meal for lunch instead of the pizza they're having. Meanwhile, I'll leave you with a final thought to tide you over. We try to set a good example for our children. When your 2yo comes over to you with a can of frosting and a spoon, gesturing with a cute little squeak for you to please open it, that can't be good. Oopsie.

Just Yummy

These have been public long enough now that I think I can put them here. If there is any doubt about my taste in harem boys, this should clear that up. And all you bachelors who want to pick up chicks, my kids are for rent if you can afford it. It's far more effective than a dog.

Friendship

What's cool is when your best friend's kid is your kid's best friend.

What sucks is when you see your friends headed for a massive train wreck and there's not a damn thing you can do about it except to brace yourself and hope you don't get splattered between them.

I Think He Uses a Remote

My husband got on a plane two days ago. You know the rest...

Solstikwanzukahmas

December is such an eventful month. All that holiday goodness crammed in. Who could think of a better way to spend winter solstice eve, than the traditional sitting up all night in the ER with the toddler who ate a glass ornament off the tree? Mmmm...now there's a tasty and very crunchy holiday treat. Isn't that why mama hangs them on the tree? So you can pick the appley looking things for a yummy snack? And the wonderfully warm feelings that are shared when it's clear that nobody at the hospital believes he really ate it because he has no cuts and it doesn't show up on the x-ray, and clearly mom must have some kind of Munchausen's deal going on. But there's always a solstice miracle. Yes, little Angus Claus delivered that little diaper full of sparkly poop to his daddy the next day. Yes sir, there it was for all to see. I should have dropped it off at the registration desk as a thank you gift. It was quite festive looking.

Then of course, there are the Christmas specials that we watch every year. You know, the ones that are so classic that we know the words. We snuggle up with the kids to share the tradition. Like this one- sing along, don't be shy. I know you know the words..."Mr. Hanky the Christmas Poo, he loves me, I love you..." Makes you all warm and tingly, doesn't it? "I can't wait to jingle your bells, and falala your la..."

Making holiday treats with the kids is fun. My favorite part is trying to convince a toddler that marzipan isn't playdough and is edible, then trying to convince him that the playdough isn't marzipan and is NOT edible. Haha! Oh the larks we have!

Wrapping the presents and putting them under the tree is one of my favorite solstice/christmas activities. My mom showed up with bags of gifts from herself and my brother and my cousin, and as I placed the festively wrapped packages under the tree, one meowed at me. One had the nerve to say "this place looks like a pigsty!" That last one was Dusty the Talking Vacuum Cleaner. He's lucky my son loves him. Loud seemed to be the theme this year. My little brother, now an adult living across the country, continues his career in sibling irritation by sending my kids things like the Disney princess talking cash register and Tumble Time Tigger, who does cartwheels to MC Hammer music. It's his way. In addition, my kids got a Furby, a talking school bus, and an "interactive" US presidents thing where they press a button to learn about a president and it plays "Hail to the Chief" and ends with "Good night, and God bless America." That was from my strange cousin. She's really old. 'Nuff said. Mind you, I'm not the only one around here with a little brother. Their other uncle got them a musical instrument set. LOTS of them in there. Some that you bang on. I try not to think about it.

I know there's a denoument after the official celebration is over. It always kills me when the last cookie gets eaten. I really like cookies. But that holiday excitement returns with the roaring fire in the oven when you use the self-clean feature after spilling beef drippings. It's almost like the return of the sun after the longest night of the year. Flame on! Oooh, ahhh, pretty...cough cough. Then we open all the windows and doors so that the new year can blow out all the smoke. Yeah, that's it.

I hope your holidays are just as much fun as ours. And yes, I say "holidays" because I don't give a crap which ones you celebrate, I just hope they're happy.

X3 Teaser Screencap

"Listen Ri. Ya gotta stop breaking the danger room. Storm's getting really pissed."

Another Holiday Tradition Continues

Echoing my Thanksgiving turkey tradition, I'm only halfway through decorating the tree and it's already crispy. If only life were as consistent as holidays.

Is There No Justice??????

I finally found that stupid Netflix disk that's been lost for a week and now the red mailey thingie is missing! AAAAAAHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!

On the other hand, I finally found the picture I wanted to use for a tattoo. That's been lost for a couple of years now. I guess I can wait a week for another disk.

Astonishing

I like Emma trying to read telepathically through Wolvie's head.

When Elves Drink Too Much

Dickhead the Christmas Duck

We went to get a tree today. The guys there tied it on top of the van for me. I had to come up with a plan to get it down once I got home, as I can't reach up there without the assistance of technology, but then I realized it really doesn't matter because it's FRICKIN' COLD out there and I'm not going back out! Mr. Tannenbaum can have a nice little nitey-nite in the driveway and the much larger spousal unit will get it in the morning, when the sunlight gives the false hope that one's fingers might not turn blue and break off in the process.

Meanwhile, my littlest princess is traumatized because some dumbass six-foot duck hugged her while I was getting bagels. Yes, it's that kind of store. Oh man. Every so often she breaks into tears, followed by sobbing "Mommy I don't like the duck". I am almost of the mind to go back there and kick that duck's ass. Actually, I was of that mind at the time, which is why he left in a hurry to go harrass other customers. Of course, I feel like an ass because a duck hugged my kid while I was getting bagels. Nice work, mom. Way to look after your kid responsibly. What if he had been Duck the Ripper? Perhaps I can beat out my guilt upon Mr. Duck. Hmmm. I don't think I'm doing anything this weekend...

And now, I am going to take my frozen ass over to my rocking chair with a big steaming cup of expensive cocoa and read "historical fiction" until my husband gets home.

Set Me Up, Petey!

Thank you thank you to Joan (one of my favorite photo goddesses) for finding this fabu pic of Wolvie in the midst of a Fastball Special! (for those of you who don't know what that is, it's when he has to go really far or really high, so Colossus just picks him up and throws him.) Ah, I could gaze at it all day, but alas, I must go change a poopy diaper. No, it is not mine.

Angus: 2:10

And he held the fork aloft and said unto them "Pantate! Ummmm!" and they were amazed.