Teletubbies *VS* Action Figures

At 16, I was cute. I was a size 5 with a big ol' ass and hair like Pam Anderson (yeah...I love her...so what if she's got Hep C and makes more sex tapes than Jenna Jameson!). I was bubbly and happy and obnoxious like 16 year old girls are. I have been told that the demise of my bubbly attitude was around this time when I dated Skunk.
He had a mullet. This is an important detail being that it was 1998. (His hair styles did not get better...at one point he had purple and orange and etc with this crazy Flock of Seagulls shit going on. Guess he was just ahead of the time and didn't wait til Emo was in...) But his eyes were so blue. They were gorgeous. And he smelled wonderful.
We dated for many months (I was 16. That's a long time in 16 year old time!) and he was the first guy I slept with. So of course my heart was attached. And then he went to Pizza Hut...
One night...after many fights that include but are not limited to him grabbing my face and squeezing it like I was a bad 5 year old that stuck out my tongue, I was sitting in my super awesome room (Black lights and strobe lights and a bomb ass stereo...my room was tight!) waiting for Skunk to get off work. It started to get late and so I called his house thinking he was there. His brother informs me he isn't supposed to tell me where he went...followed by he went to Pizza Hut. ?????? Why not just tell me?
When he gets home and we are talking about him being at Pizza Hut he claims he was with D and that they just went to eat...I later find out that he was with this chick he works with and that they are most def sleeping together. My poor broken heart!
To make it better, I find out he is not only sleeping with her but obtaining oral favors from a friend of mine and making out with another friend of mine. What a slut!!!! And when we are breaking up and talking about things that really aren't important I feel cuz once you state that you're breaking up that should be it. You should not crush some body's bubbly happiness with statements such as "You laugh too much" or "You're always bouncing around and excited about something" or Goddess FORBID "You're childish and immature! You wanted a Teletubby that talks for your birthday!"
NO HE DID NOT!!!!! First off, it was the yellow one. And LaLa was totally cute! And second off she said Faggot Faggot. (I don't think that was what she was supposed to say but it sounded like it and being 16 and thinking things are funny all the time, I loved it!) I carried her everywhere and loved her like a newborn baby is loved by an adoring mother! HE had ACTION FIGURES glued to his bed! But I'M childish and immature! My room was the epitome of awesome and his was the epitome of a 10 year old nerd. (I do realize that the cheating should have made me angrier than being called childish and immature but I really think that the bigger picture is the hipocritical nature of his statement!) And he baby talked. Like a giant pussy! So while I did love the Teletubbies and the Power Puff Girls...I could still kick his ass!
Once again, I'd like to reiterate....
HE HAD ACTION FIGURES GLUED TO HIS BED!!!!! Just sayin'...............

Mmmmmmmm...Karma Tastes Like Dookie, Huh?

In the interest of not being a mega cunt bag, I will not go into GREAT detail...but I enjoy it when an ex that has wronged me in ways that are inexcusable gets his just desserts. And this happens 9 times out of 10. I have a great belief in karma and when it rolls back around, it tastes like the chocolate covered strawberries my mother sent me for Mother's Day...like a slo-gin fizz after a long day...like a corner brownie with chocolate frosting...like a strawberry mojito with my buddy Sheart...too much? You get the point...it's delicious!
But when the bad karma is on you, what's it taste like? Probably poop.
So when my ex calls and says that he is lonely, I do not take pitty. Because I believe it was brought on by his love of money (especially other people's money) and his pride in his awesomeness (which to be quite honest isn't that awesome).
When my baby-daddy (oh yeah...I went there) calls and is having trouble with the old Canadian hippie (I'm hippie in all my awesomeness...she's hippie in a patchoulli scented yuck bag) I have nothing but snide remarks this side of "Well, the grass is always greener isn't it???" When he asks if I have room "in there" and I ask what the fuck he's talking about and he says "Your pants" I enjoy telling him that he had his own room in there free of rent...and he chose to vacate the space for an older, less enjoyable space.
When the injun calls and says he can't get me out of his head, I take great pride in saying "I don't know what to tell you about that". I do not add the side note that in future relationships he should probably not take so many liberties on a person's garage door, as this tends to make someone not care if they're on your mind, no matter how good you are in bed. (See previous statement about not being a mega cunt bag)
Will I go to Hell for this? Or come back reincarnated as a port-a-potty? I don't think so. I believe that it's my reward for going through all the ridiculous shit they put me through...which I will detail at another time. Because I'm sure someone can get some enjoyment out of my misfortune.

Maybe I'm Not the Best Role Model...

Kids are funny. Always. When you are supposed to be the person that lets them know that they did wrong, it's hard to be stern when they're funny. I remember an interview with Damon Wayans (I think) and he said "If it's funny, they don't get in trouble." This is the problem I have.
For example, when 2 out of 3 are fighting and the one that you birthed walks over to the swing set with such ambition that you wonder if she has been watching Steven Seagal and says "Oh yeah? I bet you're scared to get on a motorcycle!" *Insert pause for retaliation that never came* "Yeah. I said it!" with her hands on her hips...because she is in fact hardcore...what do you do? And when the one that is accused of being a "scaredy cat" that won't ride motorcycles uses the rebuttal "I'm gonna ding ding and sing a song" should you stop laughing (and snorting because it was that kind of funny) long enough to tell them to stop fighting? Cuz I found it hard.
I also feel semi guilty for the bully walking around saying "Someone screw with me!". I didn't realize I was the cause of this until a few days later...And this is why:

When the bully comes over, not only are we forced to listen to mass quantities of Bieber (while he sings and dances) but we are  also forced to listen to him talk about war history (which, honestly, do I seem like a history buff???) and then he relentlessly chases the girls punching them or threatening to take his shirt off. We have done many things to get him to stop torturing them with his fists and nipples, but boys will be boys. My general response to this is "Stop screwing with the girls!" (which I felt was a better alternative than "Stop fucking with the girls" which I almost said and caught myself...thus screwing came out) and he now uses it regularly.

I do apologize to Judy for her having to deal with it, as I'm sure it was my fault. The Bieber love he feels (and attempts to deny) is not.

I have also started good things! For instance, they speak a little Spanish such as "No Bueno" and "Aye Dios Mio". And while they're not going to need these things in school, I find them very useful in everyday life. Futuristicly I'd like to teach them some more Spanish (Una Cerveza Por Favor) and French (Ne'pas tes onions, fiche le comp, omlette du fromage, fermer le bouche) but I don't think they're ready for that jelly...