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Sunday, 29 January 2012

suck ass sunday

meh... so i missed my customary Sexy Saturday post. forgive me? i'll give you this as an apology:
you're welcome

the reason i missed it, is that i was hung THE FUCK over. see, i drink maybe once a month now {geez, YES I KNOW.. i really gotta settle down with my crazy ass}, and friday was one of those nights. and as a result of my pounding, about to explode brain, i postponed the customary morning-after "scroll of shame" until today. it's not as bad looking at all of the foolish, irrelevant, and downright WTF moments of online inebriation when the hangover is nothing but a memory.


anywho, because of my over-indulgence in the wine on friday night, i didn't so much as open the lid of my laptop on saturday. not that i had much feel-good, positive sexy saturday goodness to report..


so today shall be dubbed "SUCK ASS SUNDAY".




ok, i will admit that this entire week hasn't sucked ass. there were a few good things. but FUCK i'm mad NOW, and i don't want to be un-mad.. yet. 


1. BF is a dick face who was gone for 3 days without a single call, message, or ANYTHING. apparently he got picked up while on his way home for a weed possession charge. i really don't care if the fucking aliens came down from planet whateverthefuck to anal probe him and bring world peace from the info collected in his rectum. HE COULD HAVE AT LEAST TRIED IN SOME WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM to contact me. he's back now, and i am trying to restrain my spork hand from sporking his nutsack off and mounting it on my wall. the adult discussion will commence once the children are asleep. and by adult discussion i mean me TEARING him a BRAND-NEW shiny asshole. 


2. my cat is in heat and had a threesome {?} with my dogs. yeah, i know.. WTF?! and no, i am NOT going into an in-depth explanation on THAT. the fact that i had to type those words is enough of a reason for me to say FML as it is.




and there you have it. this sunday can suck my pretty little ass :)

Monday, 23 January 2012

turning a ho into a housewife

for the purpose of this blog, i will be using the following definition of ho from urbandictionary.com: "a woman who uses her body...for material gain or to boost her own ego."


k, everyone all clear? alright, brace yourselves. i, the ranting kitchen bitch that you have come to know and love {i hope!}, was once a HO. while i never did straight out prostitution, i did bang a lot of guys. i'll explain why. 


you see, i used to be a fat girl. i was obese all through junior high. around the time i discovered weed and alcohol, i discovered anorexia as well.


of course, once the weight came off, i was suddenly visible to all the boys that had once ignored me. rather than enjoying this new attention, i was terrified. you see, despite my new figure, i was still that shy and insecure girl inside. as a result, i made a lot of bad choices. i didn't respect my own body, and would do ANYTHING to please ANY guy who so much as gave me the time of day. add in some substance abuse issues, and you can see that i was one motherfucker of a trainwreck.


fast forward 10 years. i am now a stay at home mom of 3 lovely children, and i have been with my darling {yet frequently infuriating} BF for 8 years. i am living proof that a ho can be a housewife.. a fucking damn good one too, if i may say so myself.


hey hey HEY! get the fuck back here and stop texting that skank!! i am NOT finished. 


FIRST OF ALL, not just ANY little slutmuffin that you pick up at the bar after she's finished blowing chunks on the dance floor can make this transformation. SECONDLY, not all chicks want settle down with one guy. some of my bitches just wanna have some fun. you know these chicks.. get in, get {me} off, get the FUCK out so i can watch my shows and fart whenever the fuck i want. last, but by no means least, not all of the undomesticated sex kittens out there are fucked in the head with issues like mine. some of them just like the cock, and lots of it. and there's nothing wrong with that. 


i guess what i'm trying to say is that there are perfectly valid reasons to be promiscuous, provided you respect yourself, be safe, and are doing it for YOUR pleasure. needless to say, i was doing it wrong. until BF came along, of course. following, you will find my theories on how he turned a ho {the kind that i was} into a housewife:


1. don't just fuck her, make love to her. {unless she's in the mood for a fuck}


2. help her see that her body is a beautiful thing, to be respected and worshipped for its power to give pleasure and life, not just a prop for the pleasure of others.


3. encourage her to voice her needs in bed, and make sure she has an orgasm first. some of us haven't discovered how much pleasure our bodies can bring us, after years of using it solely for the pleasure of others.









Saturday, 21 January 2012

finding the funny


so, i'm depressed. big fucking surprise there. i'm also pissed off at myself for being so goddamned apathetic and moping around like a fucking kicked puppy. what the fuck, self?



it seems that what i really should be doing is taking my own advice of a couple weeks ago: try to find the fucking funny in shit. ok. so how? re-do this week's SEXY SATURDAY post perhaps? nahhh man, i kinda like that one. even though i wrote all of one sentence. hmmm... funny funny funny.. where the FUCK is my funny?!


if you've ever been depressed before, maybe you'll be able to relate to this. i looked really funny today. this morning i changed out of my bed clothes into *surprise* more bed clothes. a BRIGHT blue and pink striped tweety bird tank and canary yellow shorts, to be exact. don't judge me. depression doesn't color coordinate. don't try to envision how i must have looked, either. i don't want your eyes to bleed. 




this morning, i didn't brush my hair. i just piled it all up into a messy bun at the top of my head. well, i finally got around to brushing it out some time after supper, and imagine my surprise when a whole family of disgruntled rats jumped out! well, no. that really didn't happen. but it could have. i'm surprised a new species of something wasn't discovered in there. 


any more funny? well, this morning i went out to check the mail since i hadn't gone yesterday. and since it is only at the end of the driveway, i just threw on my ancient, fuzzy red robe and my broke ass, rez-looking sneakers and went. apparently BF watched the whole spectacle from the window, and by the time i had turned around to go back to the house, he was there, with both boys, all of them laughing hysterically at my outfit. fuckers. when i think back now though, that must have been pretty fucking funny. i also wonder what my poor older neighbour thinks of me after that display? am i now the crazy cat/dog/bird/kid lady of the street, known to run amok from time to time in a fuzzy red robe and canary yellow shorts IN THE MIDDLE OF FUCKING JANUARY?! oh well. haters gonna hate.




another thing that gave me a little smirk and a giggle or two {or seven}, was a particular thought provoking mini-convo i had with BF that somehow turned to the subject of me possibly being mildly bipolar {if there even is such a thing. i haven't googled it though, because i don't want to know ANYTHING until i hear it from the doctor}. BF said to me, "i don't think you're bipolar. you're just smart. smart people are fucking psycho. it's ok, i still love you. but i am glad that you're not a genius!"  ummm ok. thanks? i think? despite BF's diagnosis {?} of "fucking psycho" and his rather hasty assumption that i am not, in fact, a genius, this little exchange made me laugh. i love him for being able to bring some laughs and smiles into this blackness. 


that's about all i got, folks. i do feel a little more human and a little less zombie-like today though, so i suppose that's better than nothing right? and if i never haul my ass out of this funk, at least i can take comfort in the fact that my fashion choices will be providing someone out there with a bit of entertainment, and perhaps even provide them with their daily recommended dosage of "WHAT IN THE SWEET FLYING FUCK?!" 

SEXY SATURDAY #3

ummmm... this week? let's just fucking forget about this week, mmmkay?
here's some sexy ;)






is it getting warm in here?
NOM
*drools*
shut up, conan's my man <3
whooops!! 
HOT.. now if that skinny bitch would just
fuck off and get out of the way..
umm..
OMFG
please, ladies.. keep your panties on. 
<3
mmm... ink..
conan can rock the jeggings 
yumm <3



new blog link


so i made a new blog, for the more serious side of me. i'll still post here when i'm feeling funny, though. 
if you'd like to check it out, click here.

Sunday, 15 January 2012

pet peeves





we all fucking have them. i don't care if you are a fucking SAINT, there is at least ONE THING that has the power to drive you completely APESHIT and leave you desperately clinging to your self-control so as not to rip off some asshat's extremities and beat them with the bloody stumps. don't try to tell me there isn't either. you may not have found it yet, but it's there.. waiting, biding its time.


while i consider myself to be a pretty calm, patient, and fucking mellow individual {fuck off right now. IT'S TRUE!!}, i do have a few pet peeves. quite a few. why the people in my life persist in these asinine activities when they MUST be able to see the smoke and volcanic ash billowing from my fucking ears, i will never know. i just can't explain it. below, you will find my list of pet peeves that you can reference, should you ever have the desire to have me beat you with your own fucking dismembered limbs.


1. leaving empty containers/boxes in the cupboard and/or fridge, when the garbage is LESS THAN 10 FEET AWAY and the fucking kitchen sink is WITHIN ARMS REACH. this also applies to leaving those goddamned toilet paper rolls all over the fucking bathroom. is the fucking GREAT FLOOD upon us? will we need all those cardboard tubes to construct an ark and save civilization?! no? I DIDN'T FUCKING THINK SO.


2. overflowing garbage that NO ONE seems to notice but me. oh SURE, just keep throwing shit on top of that god awful, stinking pile. maybe it will magically disappear! even better, when you throw some trash in there and miss, leave that shit on the floor. yeah, because even though i spend most of the day taking care of you fuckers, wiping your asses, and cleaning up all of the nastiness you leave behind, my life will not be complete without scooping up and re-bagging handfuls of coffee grounds, soggy diapers, and tuna cans.


3. glasses and mugs lined up BESIDE the kitchen sink, with crusty, dried on protein shakes and/or oatmeal. even WORSE, when i find that this atrocity has been committed on MY coffee mug. listen, even if you have essentially NO experience with washing any dish of any kind, you must be able to recognize that that shit is fucking hard to get off when it dries. and unless you want a permanent ceramic, glass, or plastic addition to your colon, i'd suggest you take a few seconds to RINSE THAT SHIT OUT.




4. the toothpaste and water splattered mirror and counter-tops in the bathroom. i know what happens when i brush my teeth. they get brushed, i move on. yet somehow, i am convinced that something involving water cannons and acrobatics is happening when the kids or BF brush theirs, or do anything else in the bathroom, for that matter. how else can the splatters of toothpaste, water, and GOD KNOWS what else that i find from one end of the bathroom to the other be explained?! for some reason, i get a mental image of a bunch of rabid monkeys, foaming at the mouth and crawling the fucking CEILING, while simultaneously brushing their teeth and pissing  everywhere BUT the toilet. 




5. sick days. why, you ask? because unless i am dying of the fucking bubonic plague, smallpox, AND leprosy, i dare not have one. if i do, the dishes will rot in the sink, the kids will be fed out of pots and allowed to go all googly-eyed on brain-sucking computer and wii games. as if this wasn't enough, the fact that he had to "do everything" for the day will go right the fuck to BF's already bloated head. and in the next week or so after the sick day, if i complain about ANYTHING, he will go on and on  and ON about that day he did "everything" and never once complained. yes i could imagine, it must be fucking exceedingly DIFFICULT to fuck around on the computer all day, throwing random foods at the video game zombies that were once cute little children, and making a fucking game out of piling dishes and pots and any fucking thing imaginable into to the kitchen sink. rough fucking deal. excuse me while i go shed a tear over your valiant efforts. step away please. my tears are now toxic and radioactive from all of the fucking crud i've had to pull from the kitchen drain over the years. yes, i know i have it too easy. 


6. putting shit where it DOES NOT belong. this often occurs with BF's crazy, disorganized cleaning sprees, which honestly consist of moving things around and wiping down random surfaces. the kids are guilty of this particular transgression as well, but i can let them slide. they have to put up with me for the rest of my life, so i can go easy on them now. 
anywho... the putting of shit where it does belong might not sound like that big of a deal. but i am telling, nothing gets the blood boiling like  looking in the cupboard for a snack, only to find a stack of mail. or reaching for a mug to find that BF's hoard of supplements and protein powders has migrated from its appointed spot and taken over the territory of the coffee mugs. 


7. waking up in the morning to a kitchen counter littered with granola bar wrappers, dirty dishes, crusty protein cups {see #3}, and piles of spilled protein powder and/or oatmeal. what in the sweet flying FUCK? i realize that he is in a hurry, mixing his concoctions and bagging some protein powder and whatever the fuck else to take along to the gym, but does he seriously have to go about it in the same fucking way as he goes about his bathroom business?{see #4} does every fucking action have to be carried out in the manner of a rabid  monkey?!


and there you have it. while this may not be a complete list {i fear for my fucking sanity if i take on EVERYTHING that pisses me off in one post}, it is a pretty comprehensive break down of WHAT NOT TO FUCKING DO to your wife, husband, significant other. alternatively, it also serves as a guide on how to drive some poor soul to the very brink of ripping you limb from limb. what ever the fuck floats your boat, man.

Saturday, 14 January 2012

SEXY SATURDAY #2









happy sexy saturday folks!! this week has been pretty fucking special!! but i don't fucking remember what good things fell on what fucking day this time, so this is what you will get: a list of all the good shit. 




1. i have a new puppy, and she is smart as fuck. even though i have to wake up several times in the night to take her out to pee, the fact that she has only had 2 accidents on my floor in the 3 days that i've had her makes up for all that. i've had my chihuahua for A YEAR, and he is still resisting me when it comes to going outside to piss. 




2. i started a little project which may or may not evolve into a book! a REAL, LIVE BOOK... with chapters and shit!! now, i'm not sure where this will take me, or even how long i will be able to keep interest, but i have to at least try. many thanks to my beautiful, sweet sister for her encouraging words!


3. #3 is doing awesome with her potty training, building her experience as a piss ninja of epic proportions. some day soon, i will buy my last package of pull ups and be done with it. i think i will throw a fucking party.


4. the boys are back to school, and we were able to fall back into our old routine without much difficulty.


5. after some ass-kissing of EPIC proportions, i changed my fb relationship status back to engaged. after our fight, i hadn't changed it to single, but i did change from engaged to blank. while it may have been an impulsive, spur of the moment reaction on my part, i did have my reasons for keeping it that way for a couple of weeks. and while no dates have been set nor any plans made, what i DO have is a beautiful ring.. but even more than that, an actual sincere apology. hmmm.. seems they DO learn eventually. 


6. one of my inspirations for my fb page and blog, the wonderful Holdin' Holden, has decided to use one of MY posts as a guest blog!!! this chick is FUCKING AMAZEBALLS, and this is a HUGE honour!! i do encourage you to check out both her fb page and her blog, because her shit is THE SHIT!! 






that's it for this week, folks. i'd love to write some more, but i have important shit to do. like eat ribs, watch the game, and sip some cold beer. have a wonderful week everyone!! 

Friday, 13 January 2012

best thing i've seen all day

click here to see what i mean. this is an important issue, and as someone who struggled with anorexia in my teen years, i don't want to see any more young girls think that they have to be stick thin to be beautiful.

Thursday, 12 January 2012

new addition to the funny farm



"kitty"
it all started with my darling cousin's seemingly harmless status update stating that she had 3 chow mix puppies to give away. i didn't expect to be getting a puppy, but i was curious as to what they would look like and... ok, well the seed had been planted. now BF really does not like the animals that we now have, with the exception of kitty, our oldest cat. there has been many an occasion when he's stormed out of the house bitching about the animals that are "completely useless". 


"winnie"
anywho, i simply commented on the aforementioned status: "pics?", promptly forgot all about it, and was greeted the next morning with 3 ADORABLE pics she had tagged me in. i was in LOVE. and while i do realize that i already have a lot on my plate between the 3 kids, 2 cats, a parrot, and one very temperamental chihuahua, BF and i had previously agreed that a bigger dog was definitely in our future. 


"spike"
so i went ahead and made the decision without his input. NOT COOL, i know.. but how could i resist that face? and also the research i did that stated how chows are very protective of their people and homes. that is EXACTLY what i need in this neighbourhood. no, i am not saying that i want my dog to be vicious and wild and bite people's asses off.. but it would be nice to know that any potential thief or peeping tom {we have a lot of both} will think twice about messing with my house when there's a big, bear-looking dog sitting in the window. BF and i had discussed getting a pitbull from his friends for this very purpose.. but to be realistic, we can't afford a purebred dog right now, and it seems unfair to all the mixed breeds out there who would be just as protective of the house, just as loyal, and just as wonderful as a member of the family. plus, i gave him the deadliest blow job of his LIFE the night before i got the puppy, so i could have set the house on fire and still be in his good graces. hehehe.


another underhanded aspect of my puppy acquisition was the way i got the kids onboard with my scheme before BF was even aware of the dog's existence. yes, i know. shady as fuck. but look at the pic!! try saying no to that wittle face! 


"sonny" & #1
in the end, BF wasn't mad. he laughed and teased me a bit, because he knows as well as i do that i am the one that is home most of the time, so i am usually the one who takes care of the pets. and even though the big, tough, bad-ass of a man wouldn't dare admit it, he was as bowled over by the near skull-imploding cuteness of the puppy as i was. while the kids and i squealed with glee and hugged the poor thing damn near furless, he said, "i like how it looks like a bear." in BF-talk, that is the equivalent of "SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!"


it hasn't all been smooth sailing since, though. the regular puppy business i did expect: the waking up multiple times in the night to take her out for a pee/poop, as well as the customary crying at night. but i was able to soothe her to sleep by just sitting calmly by her kennel for a few minutes. what i didn't expect was spike's utter HATRED of this little intruder. he's attacked her once, because even though he is a tiny little thing, he is one bad ass motherfucker at heart. i will continue researching ways of getting spike to come to terms with our new furbaby as soon as possible. i'm also hoping that the puppy's calm demeanour will rub off on him. 
"watson" the newbie


another little glitch that i hadn't expected was kitty to act out as a result of the new puppy. i should have anticipated some kind of retaliation, though, now that i think about it. he is a cat, and they are spiteful bastards. and of course, we had been through this last year when spike joined our little family. this morning, i was greeted by a huge pile of cat turd by the front door, compliments of kitty. but, i know that these things will pass in time. kitty and spike will somehow learn to forgive me, and we will be back to our old routine. and if anyone ever, EVER posts anything about puppies or kitties needing a home, i will look away {possibly at the litter box, or at a chewed pair of shoes}, give my head a shake, and resist the urge! XD  







Saturday, 7 January 2012

suck my dick saturday



yeah, yeah.. i fucking know. i was all about the sexy saturday, and trying to find some good in every day, or at least every week. i posted that shit too early, man, because as of RIGHT NOW, saturday can suck my big, sweaty, imaginary dick. and saturday better fucking swallow instead of gagging like a little bitch. 


i'll warn you now, this post will NOT be filled with rainbows, gumdrops, OR fucking candy-shitting unicorns. this is just me on a sleep-deprived, caffeine-fuelled bitch-a-thon. 


rather than feeling the sexy saturday vibes, i feel and look more like that bitch to the right. to be honest, even that bitch is having a better hair day than i am. this is all the result of #3's completely FUCKED sleep schedule. she's barely napping anymore, and when she does, she stays up til at least 2am. and when she doesn't, she wakes up too early. WTF?! 
anywho, the little fucker darling woke up at 4:30am this morning, and refused to go back to sleep or even relax with a movie. she was all, "oh let's play with toys and fuck shit up even though you look like shit mom!!" after a couple attempts at getting her to simmer the hell down, i gave up. no way did i have the energy for her go to sleep ritual!! by then it was 6:30am so i decided to put the coffee on. after doing a quick run-through the upstairs to make sure it was devil child-proof, i snuck out onto the back porch for a cigarette, in hopes that the combination of nicotine and cold winter air would wake me up a little. by the time i came in, the coffee was done brewing. I CAN DO THIS, i thought. while pouring my coffee, i happened to glance into the living room to see the little fart factory sprawled on the couch, ASLEEP. FFFUUUUUUUCCCKKKKK!!! now what?! i want to go to sleep, but there's a fresh pot on!! i had a cup or two, only to fall asleep slumped over on the couch. and as if the stiff neck wasn't enough of an all-consuming JOY to wake up to about an hour later, i took a sippy cup to the face from #3 herself. THEN, when i finally stumbled my way into the kitchen, i discovered that some ABSOLUTELY FUCKING WONDERFUL SOUL had decided to drink the rest of the coffee. GOOD TIMES!!


the rest of the morning passed without incident, other than the occasional moan, fart, or cough from the bedroom, where BF was quarantined with a terrible case of the man-cold. i might add at this point that i had slept poorly all night even before #3 got up, because of his snoring and groaning in discomfort every fucking hour. another point for pondering: this is the SAME FUCKING COLD that i have had for the past couple of days, and this fucking sentence is the first time i've mentioned it, online or otherwise. fucking men. i've said it before, and this will probably not be the last time i express this same sentiment: THEY SHOULD ALL BE KEPT ON A FARM SOMEWHERE AND RELEASED ONLY FOR RECREATIONAL AND REPRODUCTIVE PURPOSES!! .. except for the gay men, they can stay and chill with us.


the usually scheduled time for #3's nap came and went, without so much as a yawn. i did try once to get her to at least rest for a bit, but it just wasn't happening. i should have tried harder, because by 4pm, she was a miserable, shrieking wreck. and another thing that always occurs around this time every day is the INSANE increase in the boys' energy levels. and of course, all of their winter gear is in the wash to get ready for school on monday, so i can't just boot them out. i spent the next hour pleading with them {#2 in particular} to stop screaming and jumping and fighting so that i could get #3 to snooze for at least an hour. my pleas fell on deaf ears, so both boys earned an extended time-out to be spent cleaning their rooms. #3 finally fell asleep. she's actually laying on the couch beside me, and still wearing the evil little scowl she fell asleep with. while i'm happy that she's asleep, i know it won't last much longer, since the boys are forgetting their inside voices already. but that's ok, because i am in no shape to stay up into the wee hours entertaining this little bugger, as frightening cute as she may be.


and that, my darlings, i why saturday {THIS ONE anyway} can suck my dick. 

SEXY SATURDAY **World Premiere**

so, i've been inspired by a few of the blogs i follow in that some have a day each week where they list things they love or are greatful for. seems like a good way to help me to see the good in every week. but which day? and what title? Things I Love Thursdays and Faceless/Fuck off Fridays are taken.. no fucking way i'd attempt to shove positive bullshit down your throats on a monday, tuesdays are usually busy for me, and wednesday.. well wednesday just doesn't sound fun. so here we are on saturday. saturday is fucking awesome {unless you got drunk last night lol}, everyone is home in their jammies, and bras/pants are optional. fuck, as i'm pounding away here on my keyboard, i'm rocking a tank and short shorts. comfy as fuck, AND showing a bit of skin for BF's benefit. so here we go with my first installment of Sexy Saturday {HEY look i even capitalized the first letters!! so you know it's important!}.. and why sexy? well because when i feel good, i feel sexy.. and it has a ring to it.. and if the sexy saturday post has nothing sexy in it, it will be accompanied by a sexy pic, courtesy of the internets. or whatever.. i never told you that my posts would always make sense, did i? fuck off and read it, mmmkay?




Sexy Saturday #1


excuse me while i go hose myself down...
*drools*
look at that savage, sexy beast!! NOM NOM NOM!! now that just makes my day instantly better, and i hope you enjoy it too.


now, this being my first sexy saturday, i'm afraid i might struggle with finding much good in this week. maybe i'll get better at it as i do more. i hope so. well, i guess if you're readng this, then i must have.. because if i can't think of much, this sexy native and whatever assortment of typed words on this page will be forever exiled to the draft folder.. i pray for strength not to fail you, oh sexy brown man.. whew.. ok, here goes nothin..




SUNDAY
first day of the new year. whoop de fucking doo.. oh yeah, i said this was going to be GOOD things about my week right? ok, then we'll just not mention the horrible fight i had with BF. hmm.. good things, good things... oh, i have one! this is the first time i didn't start the first day of the year with a nasty hangover! {not counting the times i was pregnant, since staying home was involuntary} yay for me!!


MONDAY
i was still reeling from the fight, but BF did suck it up and apologize today. AND admitted he was wrong to do what he did. there might be hope for this one, as he NEVER does any of those things if he can help it. 


TUESDAY
omg GROCERIES!! had an awesome laugh and talk with a dear friend while she drove me to grab my food. we talked and laughed and screamed and bitched. it was an EPIC good time. i love her!!


WEDNESDAY
#3 became a "piss ninja" today, by not only indicating that she had to pee, but also by holding it in until we took her to the potty. yay for her!! and yay for me, for being just that much closer to the end of an 8 1/2 year stretch of buying diapers every week!! in honour of this momentous event, i declared a day-long celebration of piss which i dubbed ever-so-creatively as "piss day" on my fb page. fun was had by all, as i scoured the internets for anything hilarious and piss-related. bear grylls would have wept with joy.


THURSDAY
got off of my ass and went through the entire house on a germ genocide mission. i even stayed away from the computer for almost  an entire afternoon!! i was fucking EXHAUSTED after all of that though. BF ran me a hot bath and let me be for awhile so that i could read and do girly stuff.


FRIDAY
good times on the page today. turned a potentially shitty situation into something funny as hell, with the help of my followers of course!! it never ceases to amaze me how strangers connected only by the internet can be so understanding and kind... AND FUNNY!! omfg these people are just as crazy as me!! 


SATURDAY
god knows what this day will bring, seeing as how it's still pretty early. but you know what? i survived another fucking week, so there's that!! and i have my 3 beautiful children, a BF who i am KIND OF done hatin' on, and the snow outside is pretty. my motto for today? hmm.. how about this one: "all a person really needs is kids, coffee, and metallica."


this concludes Sexy Saturday for this week, and i hope i have good things to tell you about next week as well. have a lovely day, week, month, year, fucking CENTURY everyone!! and if shit gets rough, try your darnedest to find the funny in it XD 


uuuuuggghhhh omg i love conan!! <3



Friday, 6 January 2012

kitchen bitch kryptonite


there's not many creatures in this world that i'm scared of. partly because the creatures i am regularly exposed to aren't that scary {canada is not exactly known for killer sharks, crocodiles, or anything poisonous}, and partly because i am usually able to find the good in every creature. 


for example, the poor, misunderstood spider. they mind their bidness, spin their pretty webs, and kill pesky bugs. what's not to love? fuck man, they have 8 eyes! that is some cool shit! i really like spiders.. so much so, that one of my fondest spider-related memories is of BF and i having a toke outside in a light summer rain and watching a group of spiders maintain their webs and wrap up a few unsuspecting insects who were so masterfully caught in these awe-inspiring works of art. YES, i know, i was stoned.. isn't EVERYTHING awe-inspiring? but man, those spiders were the shit. ok, so i'm getting a tad off topic, aren't i? well i guess you could say i kind of dreaded writing this, even though i wanted to. but it's january, and i'm safe from the winged spawns of satan for another 5 and a half months. 


basically, that ugly motherfucker up there is one of my BIGGEST fears ever, and that is the subject of this post. maybe they will be less terrifying if i can laugh at them, or at least make someone laugh at me. i know, i know. they don't bite, they don't sting.. some fucking psychos people even think they're cute. ugh. so this fear makes absolutely no sense, right? but still, i am reduced to a cowering, screaming, crying, hyperventilating wreck if one so much as zooms by my head. many a dumbass has had a chuckle at my expense as i spastically jerk around, twitch, jump, and scream at every little sound that even bears a passing resemblance to that horrible, blood-curdling whir and click of their disgusting little wings; this, of course on the rare occasion that i allow myself to be put in a position where i have to be outside during their peak season. 


i don't know when this weird, irrational phobia began. and it really is a phobia, not just a case of being creeped out by a bug. here is the definiton of phobia according to wikipedia: "phobia (from the GreekφόβοςPhóbos, meaning "fear" or "morbid fear") is a type of anxiety disorder, usually defined as a persistent fear of an object or situation in which the sufferer commits to great lengths in avoiding, typically disproportional to the actual danger posed, often being recognized as irrational. In the event the phobia cannot be avoided entirely the sufferer will endure the situation or object with marked distress and significant interference in social or occupational activities."


i do not like being classified as having a "disorder" at all; i'd rather just say i'm unique.. quirky even.. but who am i to argue with wikipedia?! {*snickers*} what i will admit is that i do indeed have a "persistent fear" for the aforementioned winged spawns of satan, and i will go to GREAT MOTHERFUCKING LENGTHS to avoid any exposure at all to them. obviously, this is VERY disproportional to the actual danger, because like i said THEY DON'T BITE. also, when i can't avoid them {read: when they ATTACK} i react with something a bit more intense than "marked distress". i'll give you a couple examples before i go curl into the fetal position somewhere over the realization that i have but 5 and half months before they begin their annual reign of terror


DEMONBUG SEASON '06
i was hugely pregnant with #2, it was early june. i was so hot and uncomfortable inside the house because we had no AC, and as soon as the sun started to go down i had shut most of the windows so i wouldn't have to hear the blood chilling buzz and click of the dirty little assholes trying to get in through the screen. yeah yeah, i KNOW that they couldn't get in, there were no holes, but FUCK. i was scared ok? scared shitless. 
but of course, BF and his silver tongue convinced me to come out onto the porch and cool off a bit in the middle of the night. it was breezy, and he assured me that he would not let a single junebug within 5 feet of me. so he brought out my chair, and stayed true to his word. but then one of his friends stopped in, seeing the light on. this guy is an ASSHOLE, in every sense of the word. after shooting the shit for awhile with BF, he commented on my incessant twitching and ducking at every noise. with a sigh i admitted my fear, not expecting anything worse than a little teasing. a few minutes later, ASSHOLE decides to try to be funny by pretending to grab a junebug out of the air and throw it at me. WELL, i am telling you that i don't think i have ever moved my ass that fast in my life, at least not while carrying around an extra 50lbs of pregnant lard. i was in the house and locked in the bathroom within seconds, huddled down by the sink in a sickening, sobbing mess. then i heard BF yelling. FUCK. i had to pull myself together enough to go back out and see what was up. ASSHOLE was terrified, apologizing hysterically as soon as he saw me, going on about it being just a joke, and backing away from BF, who was ready to lose it. thankfully i was able to convince him to chill out and let ASSHOLE leave without tearing his head off.


DEMONBUG SEASON '07
it was late-may, the winged devils were just getting into the swing of things. we had recently moved to a small town about 3 hours away from where we originally come from. i was in no way prepared for the earlier appearance of the fuckers, but i was coping. i also didn't want to pass on this fear to my boys, and damage them somehow. 
BF had a manual labour type job, and he worked long, hard hours every day. part of my ritual every evening was to run him a hot bath as soon as he got home to help with the soreness. on one such occasion, he asked me if i would mind washing his clothes for the next morning, as he hadn't done his laundry {yeah, i know!! he does his own laundry, YAY}. this was back in the 2 kid days, so i didn't have quite the same hatred for laundry as i do now, so i said SURE, NO PROBLEM. little did i know what the evil hell's minions had in store for me. you see, SOMEONE had left the windows open in the basement where our washer and dryer were. that same SOMEONE had also left all of the basement lights on. add that to the fact that by the time i made it down there, it had been dark for at least an hour.. well if you know anything about these junebugs, you'll probably know that they love light and are drawn to it, AND they are most active once the sun goes down. of course, none of this had occurred to me. after all, who would be cruel and/or stupid enough to leave ANY window open during hellbug season?! anywho, down the stairs i went, tired after a long day of minding a 1 year old and a 4 year old. i was in too much of a cartoon-induced stupor to take any note of my surroundings. it was my house, i felt safe. 
BF didn't have quite enough laundry for a load, so i figured i'd throw in a couple pairs of jeans from the kids' pile too. i picked up the closest pair in the pile, and that's when i saw it. those next few seconds passed by like hours as i first realized that the jeans i was holding were covered with at least 20 fucking junebugs, THEN looked up and saw them fucking EVERYWHERE: on the walls, on the ceiling, on the floor, and flying around the bare lightbulbs. how the fuck had i been so tired as to not have noticed that awful clicking, buzzing sound?! i'm not sure how long i was frozen there, like a deer caught in headlights, before i started screaming and swearing and running up the stairs. i went straight to my room, still screaming, stripped naked, shook out my clothes and put new ones on, all the while feeling like they were all over my body, under my skin, in my hair, EVERYWHERE. but they weren't, i was just sketched the fuck out. well, BF had nearly went into cardiac arrest at all the madness and mayhem that had erupted and had hopped out of the tub, running naked through the house in a panic trying to find me. it took ages to compose myself enough to tell him what had happened, but when i did he redeemed himself for leaving the windows open and the lights on. as tired as he was, he went downstairs for at least 2 hours and killed every last one of those evil, disgusting little bastards. he even disposed of the disgusting little carcasses, and tried his best to wipe up the stains left around each little murder scene. despite the great lengths he went to in order to right his wrong, however, i was afraid of going down there by myself for the next few weeks. 




and there you have it folks. my kryptonite. the one thing that will have me crying and begging for mercy within seconds. even though this may accomplish nothing but making a few of you laugh at my expense, i'm hoping that maybe the utter ridiculousness of this fear will become more clear to me and that some day i'll be able to get over it. ugh. 


after all of that revisiting of past traumas, i gotta go eat some cigarettes while curled into the fetal postion and regroup just a little. anyone have a valium?



Tuesday, 3 January 2012

the unholy ritual

the evil sweet, sweet child of mine


it begins at approximately 8pm every night. the conditions must be perfect, the timing precise, the planets aligned... well, ok, that might be going a bit too far... but not by much.


what i am referring to is the unholy ritual of getting my youngest child to sleep every night. this child, i believe, is my punishment for all those i times i bragged about my boys and how easy it was to get them to bed. a little snack, a bath, a story, and off they would go, without a single objection. i lived this heavenly existence, shaking my head at those harried-looking mothers who complained of late nights and whiny children, thinking that their troubles were simply due to a dreadful lack of structure and routine. ignorance is bliss. 


then #3 made her appearance. while i won't lay the blame completely on her {partly because i fear her wrath}, she truly is the most stubborn, hard-headed of my brood. below, you will find a step-by-step breakdown of what i go through on an average night for the little tyrant angel.




1. THE YAWN
god help me if i so much as THINK about starting this nightly ritual without the appearance of at least 3 "big ones". of course, i am referring to yawns. and not just any regular yawn. it has to be one of those total body, stretching her mouth so wide i fear for her jaw kind of yawns. with the first one, stealthy preparations must be made. lights slowly turned off, music gradually muted, tv volume lowered precisely 3 notches. at this point, it is of utmost importance that she be unaware of the preparations, and it's best to pretend to be busy with something, so that she thinks that yawn went entirely unnoticed.
after the second yawn, it is merely a waiting game. again, i must make sure not to let on that i know that she is tired. because if she knows that i know, there is no hope for a peaceful ritual and this poses a significant risk to my sanity. 
the third "big one", the most challenging. not only must i pretend not to know that she is tired while at the same time sneak about with blankies and "bee-bees" and "cuppy", i must also contain my excitement over the impending break from the iron grips of cruel tyranny mommyhood. no theatrics, no jumping up and down {as much as i want to!!}, no tears of joy if i can help it.  


2. PREPARATIONS
before i get into this, grab some fucking duct tape and put it over your mouth. i know i might not going about this the "proper" way {whatever the fuck that is}, but it works. kind of. plus, i'm resistant to change, as is my little girl. and we don't want to anger her. please PLEASE don't anger her. ok, is everyone sufficiently gagged and restrained? alright. 
my daughter will not fall asleep in her room. at least not without much screaming and attempts at summoning the fires of hell itself. and i'd rather not have to subject myself, let alone my sons, to that high-pitched, head-splitting devil's scream. additionally, my next door neighbour is an old lady, and i have no desire to shorten her lifespan any more than necessary.
anywho, back to subject at hand. she will not fall asleep in her room. therefore, the couch must be made up nice and comfy for her. then, her cuppy must be filled with ice water and set in an inconspicuous, yet accessible area and her movie collection must be located. her current go to bed faves are rio, alvin and the chipmunks, and fern gully. 


3. EXECUTION
within a few minutes of the third "big one", it's time to make my move. i scoop her up, turn on the dvd player, hit play, and then lay her down. while  changing her diaper, i nonchalantly pass her the cuppy. next, the blankies. there is always 2. always. one for her body, which she prefers to have tucked in under her arms and over one shoulder. even if the first does indeed cover her toes, i must take the second one and lay it over her legs. a kiss on the forehead, and i must make myself scarce. at this point, is it extremely tempting to go to my room and into bed. i have found that giving in to this temptation almost always proves catastrophic. so, i must silently slip out of the living room and into the kitchen, without making too much noise and staying in her peripheral vision at all times. once in the kitchen, i must stay by the island {thankfully, it has an outlet to plug my laptop into}, and stand there. i am not permitted to move from my post until i am absolutely certain that she is asleep. it is at this point, that the entire ritual is in jeopardy. any deviation, however slight, will cause her to leap from the couch and continue her rampage. at which point, the entire ritual must begin again, from the start. ALL THE WAY BACK TO THE YAWN-WATCHING.


4. EMERGENCY MEASURES
there are times when the ritual doesn't proceed as smoothly as i would like, yet has not deviated from the beaten path enough to require a complete do-over. swift action on my part is still required, however, because there is still danger of upsetting the delicate balance enough to warrant a do-over. additionally, these "emergency measures" must also be implemented, without delay, when she is sick or in any kind of discomfort. these additional steps proceed as follows: restart movie. locate feet, place them in my lap. gently rub bottom of each foot simultaneously, without breaking rhythm. when the devil baby has been motionless for several minutes and her eyes have a slightly glazed, zombie-like appearance, foot rubs may stop. however, DO NOT remove hands from feet. if, once the foot-rub has stopped, she begins to fidget or stretch, rubbing must resume IMMEDIATELY.  if she remains motionless, hands should remain where they are and pressure should be constant. only once her eyes have been closed for at least 5 minutes, should any attempt at hand-removal be made. at this point, the temptation of going straight to bed makes a comeback. however, this must be avoided at all costs. remain seated for another 5 minutes. at the end of this time, if she has still not stirred, SLOWLY stand and back away silently, like a ninja.
it should be noted at this time that foot-rubs may also be replaced by back-rubs; however, the feet must still be placed in my lap for the duration of this portion of the ritual. 




and there you have it. this is the unholy ritual that dominates my life every evening. strangely, all of these retarded completely reasonable requirements are not necessary for nap time. all that's needed for nap time is complete silence, cuppy, and bee-bee the doll. 


right now, you may be tempted to offer advice or perhaps refer me to a skilled exorcist. please refrain from doing so, lest we anger the beast since i really don't mind this little bit of quality snuggly time with my darling little girl.


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