“My anaconda don’t want none unless you got buns, hun,” ~Sir Mix-a-Lot Oh I’ve got buns. A whole bag of them, to be exact. The large assortment of ciabatta, bagel, kaiser and dinner rolls that was only $2.75 at Walmart … Continue reading
I had an epiphany at the dentist.
Soph was playing while waiting for her appointment (which resulted in the finding of her 2nd cavity in a row. Hmm.) and I was thumbing through gossip mags. My realization came from People magazine – the issue that had all the Oscars coverage.
Boobs’ sister has a double. Named Johnny Weir. They look scarily alike but she’s in no way as talented, well made up or fashionable as he is.
Here’s a picture of Johnny Weir:
Actually the more I look at the picture of Johnny that reminds me of Stinkhole (the sister) I also realize they both look like Peewee Herman.
Once again though, both Peewee and Johnny wear makeup and are more well-groomed.
Oh, I forgot. You’re probably wondering what she looks like right? Here:
Ok, so I modified the picture a bit but I’m sure you get the idea.
Boobs is gainfully employed again! Frankly I’ll be glad to get him out of the house. He’s disturbed my whole routine. Obliterated my me time. Fecked up the daily Feng Shui.
The cats and I want our schedule back!
If you read the cartoon in this post, I’ll second what Mr. Sasquatch says, but more like: “If you hire my husband, I won’t eat your face off.”
Boobs has eclectic taste in music. Maybe that’s not even the right word. Diverse? Varied? Obscure? While we both love Depeche Mode and a bunch of other 80s classics (Platinum Blonde, The Fixx, The Cure, Psychedelic Furs, etc) there are … Continue reading
I’m one of those people that has to have an answer for everything. I don’t mean comebacks in an argument – I’m talking needing to know why, what, why did something happen – needing to hear an answer or ending … Continue reading
This morning I was sound asleep, then I heard the sound of a doorbell in my sleep – you know the one from the American Horror Story series? Exactly like that, so I knew that it wasn’t our doorbell. It was weird though because I hadn’t had any freaky Piggy Piggy nightmares or anything. Not five minutes later Soph comes out of her room insisting to go downstairs at 5:30 in the morning.
Come oNNNN, man! I don’t say much. I grunt. I leave her to stand there for a few minutes and wander off, but not likely back to her room.
Then Boobs gets up for a bathroom break and falls back into bed. I was really tempted to get up and enjoy a good 2.5 hours of coffee time before having to get anyone ready for school but I forced my self to remain in bed. I decided to play Candy Crush Saga. It worked. I fell back to sleep. It was only for 1/2 an hour.
Boobs kindly pointed out the bags under my eyes this morning, but the painful, crooked finger of arthritis was pointed right back at him because he forgot to take his medication last night!
You know that long, drawn-out, lonely, ?@#? expanse of time between the end of the school day and when your husband gets home? Especially if he’s working late?
5 out of 5 moms agree, that that gaping black hole of time when it’s just you and your kids can suck. Out of sheer boredom, cabin fever, or being out in public – hearing other people chat instead of your kids squabbling – is often essential at these times (but also bad for the budget if you go shopping).
Boobs has to work late. If I was any kind of crafty person, I’d be arranging crafts, kiddy DIY projects or baking with my kids. I really should be doing that, but instead I’m dreaming of eating at my favourite Thai restaurant to be waited on, or going to Ikea for mystery meatballs and some ställningen. Even going to the Dollar store is an option.
It looks like it’s going to rain soon and since I probably won’t want to lug the kids around in the rain…home it is.
But oh, peanut curry………
Our vacuum is one of the Eureka’s that’s supposed to clean as well as a Dyson. And it does. But looks like it’s got a bit of a weak heart. The other day Boobs started vacuuming our bedroom. He vacuumed … Continue reading
I can’t even plan well enough to dress my child in something extra nice for her photo with Santa.
OK I have two excuses, well, just one: we were in a rush and I dressed her in something semi-festivish-wintry-a-la-holiday shirt. She threw on her boots, grabbed a stuffy and we were out the door to the mall.
The photo turned out great – no complaints about that. In the car I had a sudden thought. “I hope I didn’t dress her in the same shirt that she wore for her picture last year,” I told Boobs.
Well, the new photo and last year’s are side-by-side. Same Santa. Same big green chair. Same effing shirt! The only proof I have that it’s a different year: she’s holding a different stuffy, wearing different boots and the year 2012 is printed on the bottom.
I’d say people are pretty picky when it comes to what Christmas music they love, what they’ll tolerate and what makes them so angry their soul implodes.
I’m pretty easy going except for Madonna’s Santa Baby, which I hate. My dad absolutely cannot stand Little Drummer Boy (for some reason. A family story yet untold perhaps) and Boobs just loves the Elvis Christmas album. Santa Bring My Baby Back to Me is a standing favourite. His favourite line: “Fill my sock with candy…”
What holiday songs do you abhor or adore? Check out Maxim’s list of 10 awful Xmas albums: