Merry

As I survey (with my rheumy, cold virus encrusted eye) the wreckage that was, just a short time ago, my living room, I feel the urgent need to wish a Happy Holiday to all of you fruitcakes out there who are still into that crap. It's probably the huge amounts of mucus and fluid filling up my lungs and making me woozier with every labored breath that makes me want to do this. Be grateful-because this is probably all you're gettin' due the fact that I haven't been able to talk since Saturday and have been so out of it I never made it to the post office with my stupid Christmas cards. Merry frickin' Christmas everybody.

An Open Letter

Dear Christmas (and intrepid sidekick Winter Snow),

It was not too long ago that I would eagerly anticipate your

arrival and, by the same token find myself to be crestfallen

when it was time for you to take your sabbatical from

our lives. But, for some time now I have found you to be

extremely tiresome and to have permanently worn out

your welcome. I feel I would be remiss if I did not; with

the same enthusiasm with which I used to herald your

arrival, invite you(and usual accoutrement) to jump up my

flabby white butt.

With fervent hope that you be immediately replaced with

Valentine's Day and a cooling Autumn rain forever-

Sincerely,

your former friend-Shauna

Update

Well, when life knocks you down and kicks you in the teeth with it's steel toed boots and then stomps on your kidney when you roll over-you don't get your blog updated because you are too busy spitting blood out onto the pavement. So-I am updating my blog for all of the naggers out there(Emily). Life sucks and then you die. Usually slowly and painfully and with poop in your pants because nobody will help you to the bathroom and with no pain meds to help you through because you are too poor to buy any and County General kicked you out and won't give you any more. So there.

Um

Um, well, I don't exactly know how to tell you this but-I ate a whole package of Starburst for breakfast. While listening to Roxette and Sir Mix-A-Lot. Don't tell anyone about that last part. It may not be possible to live down. Especially because I can't get "My anaconda don't want none unless you got buns hon." out of my head. Thanks.

Musings

So- I haven't been getting much sleep lately. I usually don't when things get stressy around here. Or, to quote the Wu-tang Clan-when times are hard like leather. All I do is lay in bed or sit on the couch and all of this CRAP goes through my head and won't let me shut it off. And it is usually rattling around the next day which makes me a GREAT conversationalist-let me tell ya. So I am dumping some of it here in hopes of a more peaceful slumber tonight. And no, you big baby, I don't expect you to read it all. I still can't figure out what the hell you're doing here in the first place.

Is it the eighth sign of the apocalypse when you hear Whitesnake and Color Me Badd twice in one day?

How lame is my life that all it takes is a passing reference to Leonard Bast to make me inordinately happy for the rest of the day?(and if you don't know who that is, shame on you)

How many times can you re-watch the Ryan Reynolds parts in BladeTrinity before it makes you a pervert? Should I like that he gets stabbed just because it causes him to be shirtless almost the whole rest of the movie? Does this make me bad person?

I am going to hell because my husband(the truck driver!) has a cleaner mouth than I do? Or am I going to hell because I don't care?

Is it a sign of mental instability or good judgement that I have begun to fervently wish-every day-that every single one of the women driving SUV's, talking on cell phones and not even caring that they aren't the only ones on the road as they drop their kids off at Turner's school will be swallowed up by an enormous hole in the earth? As long as I promise not to laugh, am I still okay?

Do I really have to keep lying to people about what state I am from due to the enormous corn maze done in the likeness of David Archuletta? Can I at least go set fire to the part that says "Archuletta For President" and get this state back on the road to recovering at least a shred of it's dignity?

What if somebody finds out that I could give a ---- about the election in Nov? They're all the same guy. I could get drummed out of Utah(red, red everywhere) if anyone finds out that I think John McCain is Cuckoo Bird. Then if I have to take refuge in Califirnia they'll run me out on a rail when they find out that I think Barack Obama is a worthless spendthrift. And don't even get me started on stinkin' congress. Those bailout voting pieces of refuse. It did soooo much good eh?

-Well, that's enough for now-At least it's start-

Ahhh, memories

So-this weekend, I got a phone call from a gal I went to High School with. Yes, I ended that sentence using with, I did say gal and no, I'm not telling you her name-for her protection of course. I don't know many people from high school that would claim to know me so-I don't want to out her-just in case. It appears that our 15 year class reunion is next Saturday. Kinda short notice but if Emily had wanted to go, I would have tried to rearrange things to accompany her but she would rather have a weenie roast, so there you go. As everybody knows, I'm always up for a good roasted weiner. In the flyer they sent out, if we're not going, we are encouraged to create a profile on Facebook so that everybody can catch up. Well, being the good little citizen that I am, I dutifully went on Facebook last night to check things out. Yes-shocking behavior for me but Tim was watching Sportsbeat-what else was I gonna do? Go to bed? But then what to my wondering eyes should appear? 3 pages of class of '93 to go see my dear. (That little bit of poetry is my gift to you. You're welcome.) Every profile with pictures of course! Thanks for not making me get out my yearbook to look you up because I can't remember who the hell you are beyond- I think that was the guy that always stared at my boobs or Oh that's right- he was on the football team and thought I couldn't know anything about football because I was a girl! Those knobs @ Facebook make you sign up if you want to see anything good, so I am now the proud owner of a brand spankin' new Facebook membership. I actually considered putting up pics like the rest of the class until I remembered that fat and old isn't such a hot look for me. Especially since I didn't see one person that looked like they knew what a donut tastes like. Um-hello! you're SUPPOSED to look worse fifteen years later! It looks like I'm the only one that got that memo (and then probably spilled my Coke on it. mmmmm Coke. with sugar. mmmmm) Maybe I should put up a picture of my torso just like the guy from CA that Tim and I found. I am sure my back fat is enough to impress even the most snobbish of old class chums. (you know- chum-as in we chummed the water to attract the sharks) Maybe I'll have to sleep on that one. No dummy, not my back fat. I sleep on that every night. Anyway-if you want to borrow my membership to laugh at people incognito- I'll send you my password. Just don't be surprised if all of your "add as friend" overtures are rejected.

Spiders, spiders everywhere

WARNING!-Make sure you're eating lunch while you read this!
Tim is standing in the hall and calls me in to look at something. I walk down the hall and look down at the biggest stinkin' spider I have ever seen. Now, spiders don't normally bother me that much but this spider was HUGE! It was bigger than my whole thumb. It also looked really wierd. It looked like it should have been striped all over but instead, it looked kind of fuzzy-like it's back half was covered in black dotty bumps. Tim picks it up in a cup and drops it into the bathroom sink and as the spider starts to try to escape, all of these little baby spiders start to jump off of it and swarm around the sink. There must have been at least fifty of the little suckers. Tim says closer to 75. It doesn't matter how many there were-it was one of the coolest/grossest things I have ever seen in my life. I wish I could have gotten pics but I don't think the spider would have chilled out enough to give me time to go for the camera. I keep thinking about it every time I walk down the hall. If I don't have my glasses on, I wouldn't even see a spider before I stepped on it with my bare foot. Yum. For all of my spider loving sisters and friends out there, maybe you'll get lucky and have something this fun happen to you.

P.S. Don't be ridiculous. Of course the spider and it's numerous, disgusting babies got flushed down the sink. Don't tell PETA.

So busy.

Sorry that it has been a while since I have updated but I have been finding a lot more things to keep me busy than I thought I would. Plus-the kids are back in school- which has allowed me to schedule in a few more things than I would otherwise. Besides keepin' it real, yo-I have found the time to:

-Find several vans that will work should I find myself looking for accommodations down by the river.

-Sort through all of the hotties from San Quentin on writeaprisoner.com so that I can find myself a man when Tim gets tired of my self-indulgent crap and tells me to hit the road. I think those guys make .33 cents an hour or something, so, that should help.

-Make a countdown calendar that helps me keep track of EXACTLY when the New Kids on the Block release their new album.

-Do a little investigating on Brett Michaels and his upcoming third incarnation of Rock of Love. It's going to take place on a TOUR BUS! I think they should call it Rock of Love 3: Ho's on a Bus.

-Buy a little notebook and keep painstakingly detailed notes on what the neighbors are up to.

-Spend the grocery money on new scrapbook stuff-
ME: "Kids! Look at mommy's fun things!"
THE KIDS: "But mommy, we're hungry!"
ME: "Don't be selfish!" (smack) "I made you ramen noodles yesterday! It's mommy's turn!"
THE KIDS: "Boo hoo hoo"
ME: "Whatever." (smack)


-Drive 44 mph down the highway when I go pick Turner up, just to piss. you. off.

-Make a pro-con list between watching Pam Anderson's new reality show or poking out my eyes with a hot poker.


Sorry, thats all I've got time for now. I REALLY need to finish watching the rest of THS Investigates:Love Behind Bars before Tim gets home and asks me what I did all day.

Helpful Hints

As I gird up my loins (because really, nobody wants to see me with ungirded loins at my age) to go work my final shift at FMN(Forget Me Not), I have been reflecting on my experiences at the store as it was re-opened this week and here at home as I have started to deal with the shift back to a useless member of society. In the last 2 weeks I have learned a few things that I thought I should share. No, not because I am a shameless TMI(to much information) kind of person but because I am a selfless, caring kind of person that is willing to tell you these things in the hope of helping others. While wallowing in JLD(jobless loser depression-keep up with the acronyms people!) I have discovered:

Mainlining Wild Cherry Pepsi does help(albiet temporarily).

If it's on sale, people will do anything to get it.

Randomly cursing at inanimate objects around the house is always a good time and a nice stress reliever to boot.

Cheap frozen pizza is your friend.

It IS possible to play the PS2 until your hands cramp and you almost wet your pants and not feel like you have hit rock bottom.

Your husband will only tolerate so much whining and dirty dish avoiding before you find yourself locked out of the house.

ALL scrapbookers are a little off (yeah, me too).

THIS is why I wish Summer and all of it's attending irritations would crawl in a hole and DIE!

Kids WILL eat peanut butter sandwiches twice a day if you don't shower very frequently and look very very mean.

Also, if it's on sale, it will instantly seem 50 times more desirable than it was before.

Comparing your neighbors to the devil is not going to get you very far; heaven wise.

You CAN listen to Public Enemy with the volume at 75 and not go completely deaf.

After a certain amount of time as a JL, hookers do start to seem more just like creative entrepeneurs-you must remind yourself -THIS IS NOT TRUE!

After gaining all that Pepsi weight, you don't look so good in spandex hot-pants anyway.

There actually are whack-jobs out there that want to spend a mint on a huge die-cut machine and dies. These people should be avoided. They are crazier (and richer) than you.

When someone calls and asks you to be the Neighborhood Watch block leader-I don't care how much Coke you have had-just say NO!

That's all for now. I am positive there will be more. If you find even one or two hints helpful then my sharing will not have been in vain.

Hey buddy, can you spare a dime?

So- it is with a heavy heart (and rear end) that I come to you tonight. I am officially jobless it seems. No- surprisingly enough, Rita didn't finally get fed up and give me the axe. Rita finally got fed up and is giving the whole store the axe. I am a little sadder than I thought I would be. (Though, obviously not too sad to be watching some 30ish crackhead on Intervention(on A&E) admit to his parents that he hasn't showered in 5 weeks and then get on his bike and speed over to one of his girlfriends house because she just bought $100 worth of crack. Did I mention the girlfriend appears to be betwen 60-70? Yum.) Anyway, as I was saying, how often do you find a job that you look forward to going to? One where even a bad day is a good day if you know what I mean. I don't think those kinds of jobs wander by with much frequency. This begs the question: Now that I am a jobless loser, what next? Am I psychotic enough to work at the Post Office like Tim wants me to? Do I go on the dole and start panhandling on the weekends? Do I embrace my unemployed state, eat Cheetos and watch t.v. from my couch until I become fused to it and have to be trucked out of my living room? Is is still profitable to shake down hookers on State Street? Is there any possible way to sue one of my former co-workers for sexual harrassment and win?(I'm thinking lewd notes in the back room here. What do you think?) With my supreme back-fat; is stripping even an option anymore? Do I just throw myself on the mercy of my husband despite the fact that I am now not pulling my weight? (except when I occasionally get off of the couch) Ah me, so many things to ponder, so little brain power. I'm off to bed to think (drink?) myself to sleep. I suspect I will find sleep a little elusive tonight with so many wonderful options in front of me. (well that and the fact that I just watched half of Wildest Dating Show Moments on E! and I can't stop throwing up in my mouth yet.)

P.S. Of course the smelly crackhead went to rehab. Don't lie. I know you've been wondering. No, they didn't make him shower before they put him on the cross country flight. Love it.

Okay

Whatever.

ABC's of...CRAP!

I decided that I had better get this ABC thingy done since Emily tagged me and I don't want her to hit or yell at me again. Here it is:

A- Attached or single: I prefer to keep all of my limbs attached, thanks you.
B- Best Friend: my pimp
C-Cake or Pie: Whatev. As long as it's not the kind with chocolate ex-lax.
D-Day: When the voices in my head stop screaming.
E- Essential Item: Edible underwear.
F-Favorite Color: The color of love and tenderness and fluffy baby bunnies.
G-Gummi Bears or Worms: gummy rats
H-Home town: Crazyopolis, on the corner of passive aggressive and overly emotional.
I- Indulgences: just a little crack smokin'
J- January or July?: What's so great about those? Why can't it be March vs September-or-The 17th of May vs the 13th of Nov.? Huh? Jerks.
K-Kids: Evil. Like the Devil.
L-Life is incomplete without: Coke/Pepsi and a nice set of matching back fat.
M- Marriage Date: All Hallows Eve.
N- Number of Siblings: I need a clarification here. Are we talking the ones my Mom gave birth to or the ones that I actually claim?
O- Oranges or Apples: Haven't you ever heard of fruit salad you elitist sob's?
P- Phobias or Fears: Mismatched paper colors, women that shave their armpits and legs, large chunks of cheese.
Q- Quote: "I wanna go pet the wounded goat!"
R- Reason To Smile: I haven't wet my pants again today.
T- Tag Three: If I had known we were playing tag, I would have worn different shoes.
U- Unknown Fact About Me: My sense of humor is painful to everyone but me and could possibly indicate mental instability. Surprise!
V- Vegetarian or Oppressor of Animal: Oppressor of animals-totally. PETA has been trying to get me to free my herd of pack kittens and puppies for years. I always lose a few each spring when we head up the mountain with all of my supplies.
X-Rays or Ultrasounds: I didn't know we got to just choose.
Y-Your favorite food: Jello shots,Tainted meat sandwiches and medium rare chicken-basted with sun brewed mayonaise.
Z: Zodiac Sign: Restroom For Customers Only.

Oh, Woe

In keeping with the Master Plan of weeping and wailing and knashing of teeth, I submit my first(hopefully lucrative) tales of woe. Here are all of my reasons to be depressed this week. In list form of course-Why be original?

I managed to consume 56 ounces of Coke/Pepsi day before yesterday.

Turner heard me call her teacher a, well, a bad name. Let's leave it at that-shall we?

I just listened to a Billy Squire song. Yes, the whole thing. On purpose. No, it wasn't The Stroke.

I have been praying for David Archuleta to fall off of the American Idol stage and land on Paula Abdul. I don't even watch that show and I am unbelievably sick of him. Even if he is from Utah, do we really want to root for someone that could turn even an AC/DC song into elevator music if he sang it?

I made notes on scrapbook projects all through Relief Society yesterday. And then left early so I didn't have to listen to the testimonies. Hell, anyone?

I made fun of a really clueless lady at work. And enjoyed it.

I don't have matching towels in my bathroom. And won't have in the near future.

My neck resembles that of a turkey so much that I can rent myself out as a decoy during hunting season.

I deliberately avoided fulfilling my church calling this week because I. Didn't. Want. To. Once again, Hell anyone?

I can just feel the crushing depression lifting. Thanks for listening. After staring at the ceiling all night I'm sure I'll have a new list and will need your compassionate shoulder to cry on tomorrow.

Cash, checks and money orders are accepted.

The Plan

The other day I saw this bit on the news about some chick here in Utah that has a blog that is pretty famous. She has even been on Good Morning America(woo woo!) or something. Well the story is that she was always depressed and crap and blogging helped her turn her life around. She used to be a member of the church but now she hates it because apparently we are all a bunch of judgmental jerks that won't ever support depressed people because it means you are evil or something. And her parents are mean and didn't like it and blah blah blah. But NOW she has her own website and she and her hubby live on the income that she gets from it. Oy. I feel like an idiot because all of these years whenever I have had a hard time I just figured out a way to deal and didn't make the world suffer with me. Man am I stupid. So- I have a new plan. I am abandoning the whole bad poems and rambling drivel blog. I am going to be sad and whiny about eveything and all of you are going to send me money. Thats right. From now on it's boo hoo all of the time. Except when I am counting my cash, obviously. Of course this chick doesn't just blog about depressed crap all of the time anymore but I need to start out the same way she did to get the goods in the end. Maybe I'll get lucky and my blog will get me fired fom my job like hers did and then I won't have to deal with the fact that I am mostly going to hell because of some of the things that I say and think about most of the people there. Wow. That last sentence was a doozy. Do they give out prizes for most rambly run on sentence? Thank (boo) you (hoo) for (waaa) your (waaa) support. That will be five dollars please.

Road Trip!

On the road.
The view of my sad looking mug from the front passenger-side window. Magnificent!
The road again. A different one.
A random gully with people running from it.
A portrait of a foot in repose.

With the specter of spring break looming overhead, the idea of being stuck together for a week forced us to the open road and escape. We drove Highway 191 which links Highway 6(just above Helper) to whatever Highway runs through Duchesne-where we spent 30 hours waiting for them to bring us our food at a little place called Carlings Country Kitchen. Needless to say, we didn't actually dare to look in the kitchen. The waitress was a peach let me tell ya. You could tell she was really happy to be there serving us. It was super duper fun! Yea! I took pics of all the best parts for your enjoyment. Last one to the car is roadkill!!

Cutting back

I have decided that I have no choice but to cut back a little on the booze. At least before bed. I can't handle many more dreams like the last few. They have been weighing heavily on my mind and I was hoping if I wrote about them here I could figure them out better. Everybody knows that unless it is a sexy dream about Bret Michaels and Donnie Wahlberg(We all know what that means Krysta!) everything in your dreams mean something. Everything.
In the first dream, I was in a large, rickety house and was using a HUGE piece of chalk to write words on the wall that kept getting increasingly smaller and smaller at a slant towards the bottom corner of the wall. When I was almost done someone came in to tell me that my Mom had recieved a letter from my crazy sister(2 pages-on parchment no less). In it she went on and on about how my Mom had ruined her life because she(my sister) had actually started out life as a small boy in a little village in Africa and she was upset because my Mom had made her grow up into what she was now. She had wanted to remain a little African boy and was going to sue my Mom. That was after the dream where I had to come up with 200 words that meant the same thing and started with w and all I could think of was the words who, what and where. Then last night I had a dream that was pretty much a parade of colored animals that kept bloating up with big huge pustules as they enlarged themselves. If I could draw you a picture of the bright purple porcupine, you would throw up a little in your mouth I am sure. So- I guess all I can do now is lay off the sauce and hope some psych student happens upon this, takes pity on me and helps me out. Because really, is there anyone more pitiable?

Food for Thought

As you may well know, the author James Frey was in the news recently. His book, A Million Little Pieces was exposed as a work of fiction. When it came out a few years ago it was released as a true story. Apparently, he was going to submit it as a novel but didn't think anyone would buy it that way and decided to sell it as a memoir. I found a copy of the book at the D.I. for a buck and bought it. I have wanted to read it since it came out and was now intrigued because of all of the uproar about it. I just finished reading it this week. It is a gut wrenching, incredible book. It was one of those books that you read wide eyed and can't stop reading even though you may be uncomfortable or whatever. Here is the question then: Is it a more impressive feat to be able to write about these awful, unbelievable things without having gone through them first? Whether I liked the book or not is irrelevant. Does it truly matter that he didn't actually go through everything in the book? I can't quite decide what I think. Maybe if James Frey would trade me bank account balances for awhile I could clear my head and figure it out.

I'm crushing

In the great tradition of bloggers everywhere I submit to you my list of go to boyfriends. The guys I am crushing on right now: (in no particular order)

Sorry, I am way too lazy to go find pics. So- you're on your own there.

1-KID ROCK

The long, stringy grease mop on his head is just the icing on the cake. How could you say no to a dirty wife beater, elvis shades and the smell of old cheese, gym socks and cigars? Plus, you know he'll probably make you ramen noodles before you go out and score a 40 of Natural Light at the 7-11.

2-TOM JONES
I saw a picture of him a while back and he is still lookin' pretty good for his age! He probably won't even notice if you take his car for a spin while he is down for his second daily nap. I sure can think of a few things to keep us occupied in between hip replacement surgeries! Two words: Ben Gay.

3-BRET MICHAELS

Maybe if I prove how much I love his morning breath smelling of cigs, vodka and beef jerky with a touch of Goldschlager, he'll let me scratch under his bandana wig of a nice Friday night.

4-SNOOP DOGG

The fact that he used to be a drug dealing pimp just adds to the appeal. It turns me on to always be wondering-If I object to the fact that he reeks of old smoked out bongs and never piks out his nappy fro, am I gonna get smacked upside the head?

5-TOM CRUISE

With his sallow skin and that wild, slightly off look in his eyes-how can you go wrong? I love it when he smiles to show off those enormous choppers. At any minute he could lose it and just start chomping away on my arm and then lecture me on the evils of anti-depressants while he spits out bits of cartilage. Thrilling.

6-FLAVOR FLAV

Despite the fact that I can't stand to watch the newest incarnation of his show, he is still on my list. You know he never removes his shiny grillz to brush so there are probably tidbits of food and cheap champagne residue to discover every time you kiss him. Every time I look at him I can just feel his skin under my fingertips. Mmmmm-just like a slightly greasy, bumpy leather armchair.

I accept your challenge!

Or, in the words of the unforgettable Tom Servo while watching Devil Doll on Mystery Science Theater 3000; "I accept your mumbltypeg challenge Varelli!" So Krysta tagged anybody with this 7 things about me thingy. I accept her challenge and up the ante by giving you 10. Krysta said they are supposed to be interesting but read them anyway.

1-I would eat cold cereal 3 times a day and 4 on Sunday if I could get away with it.

2-I watch Mystery Science Theater 3000:Giant Spider Invasion probably once a month.

3-I kind of like most Neil Diamond songs.

4-I only do housework when it is an emergency.

5-I am utterly useless before noon.(not to mention grumpy and sometimes mean)

6-I would stay up until 4 A.M. every night if I could.

7-If I have the right book, I can stay in the bath for hours.

8-I think cursing is funny and do it WAY too much.

9-I can read really fast. Even faster than my smarty pants husband.

10-I am way too lazy to care if my bathroom towels match.

The test

I swear that I do other things than watch reality t.v. crap. And I also swear to do my best to never mention it in a blog again. That being said, I think Rock of Love 2 has really taught me all I need to know to live my life the right way. And to think I nearly missed out on this important nugget of wisdom. I almost changed the channel because I couldn't handle watching that fake-lipped creep-fest Daisy crying all over the place because she still lives with her poser Nikki Sixx imitating ex-boyfriend. Not to mention the heebie-jeebies I was getting from the chick doing nude cart wheels on the lawn. After all the drama, Amber (the most normal seeming girl on the show-so she is probably a closet crack whore or is really a man or something) gave me the new scale on which I should judge the quality of my life. She said, "I'm not living with my ex-boyfriend, I didn't throw up in the trash can and I'm not a stripper. Yep. I'm good." When I am laying in bed at night, reviewing all of my mistakes of the day, this is what I should consider. If I can still say that none of these apply to me then I am going to consider my life going well indeed and sleep peacefully. I think I should make Tim use the same criteria so that we are on the same page. Now if I just forget the fact that this came from a chick that has had the good judgement to let Bret Michaels put his tongue in her mouth, everything will be perfect. Yep- I'm good.

P.S. Okay Granny, Nikki Sixx is the former coke fiend that also happens to be a member of Motley Crue. Jeez.

Celebrate!!!

No-not Easter. That's over and there is still too much candy in my house. A better reason to celebrate-I am officially done with the mind and butt numbing torture-fest that is online traffic school. I even have a printed certificate to prove it. I am so glad that now I know better than to ever be Chatty Charlie, Randy Roadrage and Amanda Aggressive. What a relief! That's worth 65 bucks any day of the week!

I hate people!!!

Alright. That's it. I do not get paid nearly enough to put up with the raving idiots that roam our fair Happy Valley. After the day I had at work yesterday, I am considering the whole living like the Uni bomber thing a little more favorably. You know how sometimes you can't think of a good comeback until after the person is gone? Well, I couldn't sleep last night so of course that is all I did. Here is my list of things I SHOULD have said:

1-I too am very proud that your Dad was in the Navy but
I don't need to have every battle recreated for me to help
you pick out the right blue paper.

2-Listen you cheap piece of crap, I don't care if you know
my boss. You still need to pay for
your own glue stick, scissors, chalk, paper etc...

3-I don't care how blond you are, how dark your fake tan
is, how much money you have or how busy you are. I
am still not making you 35 baby shower invitations you
lazy cow.

4-Whatever Grandma-the 80's channel is NOT hard Rock
and Roll. I don't care if Rita listens to Rascal Flatts.
Suck. It. Up.

5-Okay Porky, if you and your fat kid drop one more
goldfish cracker through the store, I am going to shove
the whole bag in a place a lot less pleasant than your
fat mouth.

6-It doesn't matter if you use a cutesy breathy voice
to interrupt me for the 10th time while I am helping
someone else, you are still being rude and should
consider cramming it in your cram hole next time
you want to ask me a stupid question.

7-Spending $32.00 on die cuts isn't the cheapest way to
scrapbook. However, it is the ugliest way.

8-No-I don't think your sticky snotty kid that has been
touching everything in the store and asking me idiotic
questions is precocious and adorable. I do think they
might be the missing link in the evolutionary chain and
that you need parenting lessons.

9-No-you colorblind freak show. I don't think those two
papers go together. If you don't want the truth, don't
ask.

10-Yes-dumba**. The store is closed. That's why the lights
and open sign are off and I am standing here with my
coat on and my purse over my shoulder. And-no, you
can't just grab a few things.

Now that I have my list assembled, I think I am going to keep a copy by the register so that maybe next Saturday goes a little smoother. I hope my boss doesn't mind.

Remember to blink

Daylight savings time can kiss my sweet patoot. (FYI-patoot is another word for keister) And so can anyone who likes it or thinks it is a good idea or even feels ambivalent about it. This week I feel like I am starring in a Dawn of the Dead remake. How long can you sit on the couch and stare into space before your family should be concerned and/or very annoyed? I may get the answer to that before Sunday night. Maybe if I didn't drool so much it would buy me a little more time. If I don't get a decent amount of sleep soon, I am going to start sounding like Charlie Brown's teacher. I know. I know. That couldn't make this blog any worse but it might make it more difficult when I order pizza. I guess if I still can't sleep in the next week or so, I can finish the rest of my David Hasselhoff poetry book and post every last poem on this blog.....

A Mother's Sacrifice

Since I can't seem to get any of my class work done and I have a Father's Day book and a Travel book to turn in; also since the little matter of cutting all of the crap for my card class on Tuesday hasn't been addressed I have been sitting in front of the t.v. all day. Maybe I have had too much practice writing run-on sentences. My apologies for that last one and all of the others that are sure to come. Let's be honest here. I am too stinkin' lazy to use proper punctuation. Proper punctuation is for snobs and wussies. So are paragraphs that make any kind of sense apparently. Feel free to sigh dramatically and turn away now. Instead of going to church, I watched the NASCAR race. Or as Tim put it-kneeling before the alter of the great Atlanta Motor Speedway. Yes. I am aware that I am going to Hell but maybe Jeff Gordon will be there too. It's not like he has been a regular church goer. This is my small secret hope. Anyhoo. After that was over the channel ended up on KBYU. Well-what should come on but Little House on The Prairie. UGH. All of the children had wandered in and seemed to be engrossed in the show so, being the considerate mother that I am, I couldn't just change it. I sat down and tried to ignore it as best I could. That lasted for all of 60 seconds before the cheese and sap started to invade my every pore and I couldn't shut it out. I am trapped on the couch, trying valiantly to ignore all of the snarky/and or filthy comments that have formed in my brain and are fighting to get out. Do you know how many ways you can twist Pa Ingalls saying to some guy, "Well, I'm in charge and you have to do what I say."? Trust me. Alot. Since I am sooooo tired and at that time only had about half a Pepsi, I am pretty sure that the fact that only two (two!) comments (neither of which were even remotely dirty)made it out of my mouth means I should at least get a pat on the back for such a sacrifice. What a Mother won't do for her children- I tell you. The kids wanted to watch the episode that came on after that one was over but I didn't think I could make it through 2 in a row. Not without a significant amount of booze or a network sponser with one of those little bleep buttons. Now to all of you that are reading this and preparing an e-mail to me listing the merits of Little House on the Prairie, I say- get over your sad sad childhood and watch something worthwhile-Like Rock of Love II.

Keeping Up With...

Last night, after having wasted an extremely embarrassing amount of time looking at other blogs on this site, I came to the conclusion that 75% consist entirely of bad poetry and/or rambling drivel. Present company excepted of course! Far be it for me to do anything but run with the herd.(anybody not wanting to be compared to a cow, insert your own analogy here) So-with the handicap of being completely Pepsi/Coke free this morning(dangerous, dangerous), I submit my new poem. Maybe tomorrow I'll post some pictures of our latest adventure to the grocery store or some of the pictures from 1999 that document all of our favorite diaper rash ointment brands. Riveting!

I eat

my peas from the can

the tears

fall

the clown

enters and cries

with me

oh why

I ask the heavens

but no one

answers

it is left

for me

to ponder

Oh cruel

fate

Bret Michaels

sleeps

sleeps!

in his

bandanna wig

Pressure

It is obvious that my boys helped me name my blog. I actually wanted to use The Dark Lord: Chuckles the Silly Piggy but Thomas wouldn't hear of it. What a bosser. I am not actually the blogging type but I started to feel the peer pressure alittle too heavily. I have so few friends that I can't afford to lose any so here I am. To be honest it was Krysta that made me do this. I can't afford to have her stop sending me stuff to read about ROL2.