Shun the Non-Believer!!!! Shun! Shun!

First let me start with saying I hate wall paper and it's the devil.
So aside from my bathroom smelling like a room of douche, my daughter is finding it hard to contain her hatefulness today (which I'm sure has something to do with the mundane task of peeling wall paper and breathing in douche fumes).
As she storms out of the bathroom where I am feeling like buying spray paint and doing the bathroom with it because it seems like a better plan, she screams "I'm going outside...kiss my butt!"
WHAT????? Kid has lost her mind!!!!!
Once in her room after the lecture on disrespect (during which she claims she said KICK my butt...but we know better!), she screams through the door "All I can do in here is count to 100!!!!" I inform her when she is done counting she can come out. She comes out and I tell her there is no way she counted to 100...
"YOU'RE JUST A NON-BELIEVER MOM!!!! NON-BELIEVER! NON-BELIEVER!"
And I now know what MY malfunction is...

If You Didn't Love Me, Don't Mourn Me...Because I Promise A Ghost-Slap

Ya know what? Birth control makes me incredibly bitchy. And I don't say this because of anything other than the fact that I get very opinionated and start to yap uncontrollably in a very heated manner. Several times, death has come up in conversation. A particular death. When I was told of this death, I had nothing to say. Not because of shock or depression or disbelief. There were none of these things when I learned of the death. It was because I didn't care.
Does this make me cold hearted? Maybe. But I've lost people near and dear to me and nothing pisses me off more than some insincere asshole pretending that the person you are mourning was such an intricate part of their lives when you know that they are just overwhelmed by their guilt or the shock. Does this sound mean? Maybe it does. But sometimes it's harder to lose someone we aren't on good terms with or haven't seen in forever than it is to lose a close accquaintance.
Why is that? Because of guilt. Guilt over not seeing them more or being there or treating them badly or giving them a mean nickname in the 5th grade. It really gets under my skin when someone suddenly loves someone in death...despite the fact that they were horrible to them in life.
I didn't mourn this death. Yes it was sad. Death is sad. Not for the dead but for the living that did love them and will be carrying on without them. Sometimes the situation is sad. But I really didn't want to be "that guy". Because I really hate "that guy". I didn't feel sad or even skip a beat when the news came. I did feel a twang of sadness for my friends that loved this person, and would have gladly been supportive of their mourning (so long as they just needed a shoulder and didn't expect me to take a trip down memory lane...because my trip would be like eating acid laced brownies on a haunted hayride). But I was not phased. And I'd really like for people to stop trying to convince me that I'm a bad person for NOT taking a moment of silence. I'm sure this person looked up from Hell or down from Heaven or in from their respective treely reincarnation and thought "Yeah...I figured she wouldn't care" and rightly so. We weren't friends. We were secret enemies in some way that really was unclear to me. If it had been me, and she had cried and become inconsolable and mourned me, I'd have ghost-slapped her. Because I'd know it was the guilt of wrong doings or the shock of the situation. Not because it had caused some rift in her life...and I'd have been unoffended if she didn't mourn me. I wouldn't expect her to. Because we weren't friends and she tried to sabotage me in the oddest and most passive aggressive ways possible. I'm unsure why and maybe I was the mean one and once upon a time I stepped on her toe in gym class and didn't say sorry. Given our history, I'm not sorry. I don't know if incidents were coincidental or if my life just really sucked and she was in it to help prove it...either way, I don't care. This doesn't make me a bad person. It makes me honest and true to my feelings...and I know that the hormones in the Nuva-ring are helping me with my honesty!

PS: On that note...girl that I saw today wearing damn-near no clothes...don't do it again. Shirt dresses need leggings...gas stations are not music videos.

Sick My Duck

As we all know, there's many names for oral sex (yeah I used that!) depending on who you're talking to. The first time I heard it called "head" I think I was in the 7th or 8th grade and my cousin said something about it. I had no idea what he was referring to, but I figured it out because Goddess forbid I actually ask (never would have lived that down). Over the years I've heard many more...some entertaining and some just plain stupid. I've also heard many names for mouths in reference to oral sex (cock holster being one of my favorites).
The reason this has come up on my mind is that some how fellatio (oh yeah...used that too!) has been a hot topic this week on television and in conversation. First off, I'd like to let everyone know that virgins are 6 times more likely to suck wieners. The thought that came up after hearing this was:

Who's happier? A man with a virgin that's getting tons of head?

OR

A man that's getting laid but not getting as much head?

If anyone can figure this out, let me know. Because men are in love with blow jobs I've decided from research (yes...I do randomly ask men stupid questions like this.). Some claim they like it more as foreplay and some don't care...but the general consensus is head is good. So which would be better??

The other thing that brought this up is this:

If a girl says she is sick to her stomach, the very last thing she wants to do is put a penis in her mouth!!!! Tease the Gag Reflex is not a game for someone with nausea.

Gentlemen, if we are nice enough to give you warning, please take caution. Not all women do this and you should be thankful. If we tell you that we'd like to kick you in the junk because you are causing us great anger, that means walk away and let it go for a minute. If we tell you that we are PMSing and may or may not snap at any minute, be on good behavior. (SIDENOTE: This could also be good for you to do, as we would probably like a heads up when you're in a shit mood because *insert random thing that makes men grumpy*) So when we say "I want to vomit" don't bring up head, dome, brains, polishing your knob, or any other term you'd like to use!!! Not only does that significantly lower your chances of actually getting any mouth time, it also is a sign you couldn't give a shit less and would probably offer to head butt us when we have a headache...



You Can Pick Your Friends, You Can Pick Your Nose, But Only Your Family Loves Your Weird Behavior

When you're young, they tell you your family is the most important thing in your life. As you get older, you appreciate this more, and add to your family. And I'm not talking about children or spouses. I'm referring to the friends that stick around through your first love, first break up, stalking your first ex, your goth phase, your hippie phase (complete with half-assed vegetarianism), your ho-phase, and any other ridiculousness you tried.
Don't get me wrong, the family God gave me is plenty of fun and didn't need to be changed. My dad's family is straight-up country bumpkin (Yes my grandmother calls all feminine hygiene products Kotex and informed me there "ain't no niggers with the last name Jackson"...she also feeds me more than one person should ever eat then proceeds to call me fat. Oh and calls me a hippie for listening to rock. It's endearing, really...) and I wouldn't trade their crazy family feuds and redneck ways for anything in the world! (That's how I learned to snap peas and cook!) Papa would spoil us rotten and we frequently argued over the best Popsicle flavor while riding a tractor. My mother's side are Damn Yankees (ha ha ha Just wanted to use that) and they're superstitious (yeah I picked that up) and believe in ghosts (yep that too) and talk to ghosts and see ghosts and my grandmother was as crazy as a loon (which I hear we will all pick up at some point...and I'm OK with that). She made candy all the time and had a mean-ass black poodle named Bandit that I wanted to kick in the face but Mom said that's not nice. My grandfather's favorite color was sky-blue-pink which confused the hell outta me (kept telling him "That's purple Grandpa!") til I grew up and saw a sunset.
Then of course after my parents divorced, we had MORE family that I didn't choose. My step-dad's family is kinda crazy in a fun sorta weird way. As I got older I learned they weren't so much fun but my uncle used to catch a ton of hell from me for having no hair (I was 13...I think it was my job to be a shithead) and my grandma's dog really enjoyed riding with me while I learned to drive (this is a lie as I threw her wiener dog across the car slamming on the breaks). My cousin is fantastic and a great cook (even decided to start a religion called Nanism once) and my daughter loves her daughter, even though they've only met once. My step-mother's family is a little more scarce, as I was quite a bit older when my father remarried. My grandma, however, is hands down the coolest grandma to have. She loves The Crow and frequently gives me Cd's and movies that I've never heard of and turns me on to things that are new. She's a goth granny and I love it!
So as you can see, I didn't need to add to my family, expand my family (except my Pie, who is the coolest addition EVER. And my not-in-laws who are always in my heart despite Pie's father being an idiot.), replace my family or otherwise alter it in anyway. I have a uniquely awesome family. (I forgot to mention my brother, who was a bastard when we were young but could be one of the funniest people alive nowadays.)
My extended chosen family is the best I could ask for and I never wonder if they love me or think I'm crazy (the latter because they KNOW I am) and they are always there in a pinch. Some are far away and I miss them in my life on a steady basis, but they are all the greatest and this makes it hard when someone asks who my best friend is...because honestly, all my friends are the best!
They have been so helpful as to stalk people at strip clubs with me in the middle of the night, help me move back to NC by letting me crash and getting me a job, holding my hand when my ex died and I couldn't even look at the flowers without crying, and letting my mascara and dirty hair land on their lap while I cried through the entire funeral. She has been there for all my insanity (even when I decided I wanted to be a vampire cuz I read The World On Blood- best shit ever!) and she's still there for my insanity.
Judy has been to Hell and back with me, even fighting over previously mentioned asshole that impregnated me. She will stick up for me at a moment's notice and blow up anyone that thinks they should treat me badly. I was there for Lamaze class (and even dragged people with us for entertainment purposes) and she was there for my horribly depressing pregnancy. I was there for her mother's death and she's been there for crazy men and assholes and let's me crash at her place when I'm lonely. It never matters how much time has passed between us fighting and making up, we're there in a heartbeat when it counts. We're so connected that when we reconnected after the fight over the ex, it was the day that I was leaving literally minutes before I left that she called.
Sheart is me in another body and her husband is wonderful as well. They are always there for me and Broseph will screen any boyfriend (and more than likely not like him) if needed...and has offered to knock them off if needed...which could be necessary someday! She even rushed over to fix the hole I put in my hand the other night with scissors...cuz I'm awesomely coordinated.
I could go on and on and on about all my amazing people in my life. People I work with, people I hang out with, people that I get to talk to but rarely see. I guess this is really just an attempt at letting everyone know that I love them and they are appreciated! I apologize for writing a book...but my house is very quiet without Pie here and I needed to kill some time.

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...