Tuesday, August 30, 2011

I'm shitting craft sticks. Thank you Irene!

Let me present you with a series of events.

-I buy an iPhone, discover that I can snap and upload pictures of Violet to facebook EVERYWHERE ALL THE TIME, as well as do other fun internet things

-iPhone breaks years later, I realize I spent too much time on it!

-Violet's new book becomes "The Berenstain Bears Too Much TV", which I read nightly over top of the sound of the TV

-I notice the computer battery is dying earlier than usual and needing to be plugged in when it used to last all day, and assume it is because the battery is going up

-Hurricane Irene hits!  Transformers blow!

-I live approximately FOREVER with no lights, AC or fans, phone, television, stereo or phone.  Basically I camped in my own house for 2 nights.

What happens next is I discover I LOVE a life free from technology!  When my phone went up, I felt like I was dying without instant facebook access, so I started bringing the computer out into the living room for "periodic" check-ins.  I was still taking Violet out for our playground trips and library trips and playdates, but while we were at home I didn't realize how much time I was spending on this stupid lap top.  I feel horribly guilty now that I'm thinking about it.  I did think to myself that maybe I heard Violet asking me to put the computer down a few times too many, but surely I wasn't ignoring her or choosing the internet over her because that would make me a bad mom.

Honestly though, now that I'm out of it, I knew I was being a bad mom to her!  I wanted a way out but I just couldn't figure out how to put the Internet down.  THANK YOU HURRICANE IRENE for the technology detox and helping me defeat my facebook addiction.  I wonder if it's possible that I was actually addicted?  Whether I was or wasn't, I hope I never feel that constant aching draw toward it ever again.  Violet and I did so many crafts the past few days that I'm basically shitting craft sticks.  And oddly enough, I haven't had one anxiety attack since before Saturday either.  I bet the pharmaceutical companies have some deal going on with the television and computer makers to emit anxiety-inducing radiation so that people will have to buy anti-anxiety drugs!  Hmmm, something to ponder.

Something else to ponder:  why are our fingers all different lengths?



A is for my mom's an Asshole

Friday, August 26, 2011

A picture of me in a bright orange dress

I was never into dressing up in high school (or now for that matter).  My uniform consisted of slip-ons, ratty jeans and a t-shirt/sweater/old man cardigan/old lady doily vest.  For occasions where I HAD to dress up, I wore my "nice" slip-ons, my "nice" dark jeans, and a button up under my sweater/old man cardigan/old lady doily vest.  At the ripe old age of 26, I'm still a jeans and t-shirt kind of person.  I can appreciate the fanfare of getting all dolled up, but I'm just too lazy to do it ever.

For some reason I really dug prom though.  I thought I looked decent in my dress, I didn't do that bad in the BIG ASS heels considering I'd walked in heels like twice in my life before then, I managed to keep my hair-do intact all night, and I even did my own make up!  The music sucked (I guess I like the song but who plays Sweet Home Alabama at a high school party?) and I could have done without 85% of the people there, but the limo ride was special and at the after party I had my toes sucked on a dare (changed. my. life.).  It was a novel experience for me, and it by no means converted me to the type to do my hair everyday (or ever) or own make up, but I definitely could understand why people would get a kick out of looking pretty.

So my friends and I decided to do it again the next couple years.  We called it Mock Prom and we went to Hooters in Downtown Baltimore and we wore our dresses and we even did superlatives on sashes (and we TOTALLY called Melissa on "Most Likely To Leave Her Man At The Altar"!) and I'm sure we danced in the middle of a street somewhere.  If we had the means, we would have absolutely had a full blown dance floor/DJ/crabcake dinner/limo ride home kinda Mock Prom.

I just recently found out that "Adult Prom" is a real thing.  A)WTF, I'm more convinced than ever that someone is stealing all my ideas and executing them on a grander scale and making money off my shit.  B)  I haven't read a single person have anything positive to say about Adult Prom.  Really people?  If it's the wording, maybe I can understand that.  Personally I think Mock Prom is way catchier, and it takes out the hint of patheticness that results when you lead another word with "Adult" (another example being adult diaper).  Most people though seem to have an issue with the fact that prom just plain sucked and you're just plain stupid if you'd want to redo it.  But maybe those most people need to get a sense of fucking humor.  It's as if everyone thinks just because some dork at the NY Times called Adult Prom "A Second Shot to Have the Best Night of Their Lives", that people ACTUALLY considered that the best night of their lives.  Yes, I bet the 60some year olds who have had weddings and children's birthdays and sleepover weekends with their grandkids think all that pales in comparison to High School Prom.  And the 30somethings attending Adult Prom think getting the keys to their newly built home is cat shit compared to High School Prom.  It couldn't be that they enjoy an excuse to dress up in tacky dresses and get their hair curled by a professional and it DEFINITELY couldn't be the excuse for a mani/pedi.  And I'm sure the nostalgia of a person's younger days have nothing to do with it.  I know I gave up sliding boards the second I turned 18 because nostalgia and fun are lame and evil.

Rich people have some sort of gala going on every damn weekend.  And have you seen some of the clothes that rich women wear?  Rich Person A: Hey, I'm having a charity event this weekend, please come and please wear a shapeless dress made entirely of sequins a la Golden Girls but somehow it's considered fashionable today.  Rich Person B:  Ok cool!  Hey I farted, please come to my "Release Party" and wear all magenta!  And no one is judging them.  I like to think of Adult Prom has the poor man's answer to that.  Sure, we'd love to buy dozens of multi-hundred dollar dresses every year for a business launch party or charity auction or any random event you can think of.  But we can't.  So we search the clearance rack at Sears during prom season, or EVEN BETTER, wear our original prom dress, then we stick a tuxedo t-shirt on our husbands and we enjoy a night of silly style and ridiculousness with similarly silly and ridiculous company.

And now that I have defended Adult Prom, if one is ever organized in Baltimore I BETTER get a free invitation.


All dressed up and no Adult Prom to be at.



PS  Just kidding about the toe sucking changing my life.  It was enjoyable in a that-tickly-feeling-intrigues-me kinda way, but I'm no perv.

Monday, August 22, 2011

Put down my iPhone? Maybe.

Joe's probably gonna be pissed that I'm sharing our patheticness with the public, but a blog wouldn't be very much fun if I withheld personal information (like how the only thing I like about wearing socks is pulling the sock fuzzies from between my toes).  So, due to the recent combination of mismanaged funds and the fact that we just don't make enough fucking money anyway, Joe and I recently lived more than a week on $30.  Then we got paid, yay!  And now we're back to nothing again, hooray bills.  In the meantime, I stopped paying my cell phone bill because I was tired of being raped by my iPhone every month, and now I've gone a whole week without ANY phone.

It's been quite the adjustment because I've never gone without ANY phone since high school, and I haven't gone without a smart phone in maybe 4 years.  I used to always be the type who said I didn't need a phone except to make occasional calls on-the-go... then I discovered texting and realized I couldn't live without that either.  The great thing about texting is you don't have to have a full conversation at once.  And you don't even have to actually TALK to anyone at all (I totally have a thpeech imped-imped-impe-duh-ment, so I hate talking).  And if you just don't feel like interacting with someone, you can just ignore a text for hours.  Or days.  Or forever!  Not that I'd do that, but I like the option.

So then a few years ago, I was living at my mom's house, had very few bills, and was into spending money on things I didn't need.  So I bought some kinda (crappy by today's standard) smart phone.  Internet!  At my fingertips at all times!  On break at work!  On the shitter!  At a stop light!  Walking down the street!  And a full keyboard?!  And TOUCH SCREEN? *phonegasm*  It was the best.  Then I got an iPhone - The Holy Grail of phones (Android users, you just don't even know, so stfu) - and I made the decision that it was iPhone or no phone.  iPhones are the black of phones, and once you go black, you never go back.
Fast forward to me now:  semi-responsible, with a mortgage and bills (so broke), mothering, and enlightened about myself and my priorities... but most notably, broke, and with two really cute little girls to adorn.  I LOVE being able to take pictures of them wearing silly hats or going down a big slide (or the Fail Slide), but there's that whole broke thing going on still.  And there's also the fact that with being able to connect to the cyber world with such ease, and with me having no will power, sometimes it's too easy.  Too often I find myself saying "Oh Violet, how cute that you smashed blueberries all over your face!  Let me take a picture and upload it to facebook!  And since I'm on facebook I might as well check out everyone else's status updates.  Oh that reminds me of a funny story I have to tell about you!  Must update!  Hmmm, I should text Daddy about that too.  I wonder what Daddy wants for dinner tonight.  I'll just look up a recipe real quick!"  Half an hour later I finally realize Violet has left blueberry fingerprints all over the house, and blueberries are a bitch to clean up.

So here's the Pros and Cons of an iPhone:
PROS                                                                     
  • Easy access to Facebook, Safari, YouTube, Email, apps
  • Pocket camera to capture the smiles of my children and embarassing photos of idiot people
  • GPS for when I'm lost in BFE, Baltimore, or for when I need to locate the nearest McDonald's because I'm too lazy make a real lunch
  • No pesky buttons to touch
  • Music player on the go (I never even used this feature, but like I said, I like options)
  • Part of the special club that only iPhone users get to be part of

CONS
  • I cannot resist its fancy screen-rotating and page-swiping sitting all alone in my back pocket
  • I don't pay enough attention to my children
  • I probably don't pay enough attention to my husband either
  • It costs the equivalent of 2-4 pieces of grown-up clothing a month, which I could desperately use because I am currently wearing a shirt I bought for $.98 in 2001 (Happy Decade Anniversary to my favorite shirt!!)
  • If it breaks I'm too poor to replace it
  • I'm ADD enough without it
  • Does anyone really care that much that Leela army crawled 3 feet?
  • A regular boring phone makes calls and texts just as well (ok, the text part is debatable)

So anyway.  That's why I'm considering just dropping down to a free brick phone with a few minutes a month and texting abilities so that I still don't have to actually talk to people.  It'll save us a ton of money and maybe I'll be participating in the mess-making with Violet more often instead of just cleaning it up.


Must Upload To Facebook NOW!


Plus then I can judge all the moms I see updating their facebook status on the playground, because that's what we moms do (judge, I mean).

Friday, August 19, 2011

It's happening!

Remember I was talking about how I suck and never follow through with blogging?  Well... I feel I'm slowly drifting towards Neverneverblog Land.  I blame part of that on the fact that I realized last week that my father and sister read this crap and now I feel all violated.  Like I realize this is a public blog and all, but I just assume that when I post something A) no one will actually read it, and B) that the few people who do read it don't actually know me as more than a bunch of words on a screen.  Good thing I didn't write anything embarassing or incriminating about either of them, like how I'm pretty sure one of them smokes the ganja.

Another reason I haven't been blogging is because I have a very specific idea for a Roll Model blog and I'm so ADD that every time I sit down to write I can't think about anything else but this hypothetical blog... and curtains and unicorns and zombies and Dora... but nothing else blog-related.  Unfortunately it involves me taking pictures of myself, and I just haven't lost enough weight yet to voluntarily post pictures of my fat flaps on the internets.

So until I get drunk enough or rich enough to get the whole world drunk enough to put their beer goggles on while viewing pictures of me, here's my latest random thought, brought to you by Pinterest.


You know what would be the most comfortable place to sleep ever?  Space.  The second most comfortable place?  Underwater.  Wearing one of those underwater breathing apparatus from Harry Potter.  OMG I die just thinking about it.  With all the warmth and weightlessness and no back pain and no boob squishing if I want to sleep stomach down.  Like being in a womb, but less gross.  I want this.  Ok?  You hear that inventors?  Make this happen for me.

P.S.  Before anyone says anything, it is nothing like a fucking water bed.  With water beds there's still gravity and blankets and sheets that get twisted when you roll over and pressure points and that nasty *sloshglosh* sound anytime you move.  Oh, and don't even get me started on sleeping in a water bed WITH someone.  Water beds?  Worst invention ever.  A "bed" inside water?  Genius.  When you go to test out the Water Chamber 3000 at Sleepys a few years from now, you just remember you have ME to thank.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

An envelope of money

Three or four years ago, I was walking through a parking lot and found an envelope containing a substantial amount of money.  I picked it up and put it in my pocket and kept walking.  The whole way to the store I thought about how many radio purses and slap bracelets I could buy, or how I could pay off an entire year worth of bills (I was young and living at home.  It'd last maybe 2 months now.  *sigh*).  Then I walked into the store and turned it in.  

Everyone I told about it couldn't believe I didn't keep it.  Some people were downright ANGRY that I didn't keep it.  Everyone was like "WTF IS YOUR PROBLEM?".  For whatever reason, it's been a popular topic again the past few weeks, and whenever I talk to someone about it they STILL think something is wrong with me.  I guess my problem is I'm not a sucky human being.  SERIOUSLY.  It is so crazy to me that anyone could keep this money for themselves.  When I saw it, I couldn't not imagine who it belonged to.  I have a crazy soft spot for poor little old folks, so I imagined this belonged to some old lady who had just cashed out her dead husband's pension check and this was her livelihood for the whole month.  Or what if some kid had been saving up all of his birthday and Christmas money for his whole life and was about to go buy a puppy (or 10).  What if it belonged to a stripper and in losing this money she had essentially just flashed her vag thousands of times for free.  Or what if it was someone's donation to an orphanage.  Would you steal from orphans?

Honestly, it makes me sad.  Not one single person said to me "That was a really great thing you did Kate!  I would have done the same!".  People are always wondering what's wrong with the world today.  What's wrong is everyone is an asshole!!  Everyone thinks about all the stuff they want and no one ever thinks about all the stuff they already have or all the stuff someone else doesn't have.  I could have kept that money and bought something but I would have lost all that shit by now, and maybe the person who lost that money would have lost their house and would be bouncing between shelters now, so neither of us would be left with anything.  Instead, I turned it in and those people got their money back and they slipped me $40 (which given the amount of money in the envelope was a pretty cheap ass reward, but hey it was $40 I didn't have before).

I dunno.  I just remember being in school and constantly being lectured to treat people the way I want to be treated and everyone would be happy.  Does that stop applying once you're old enough to make your own money or something?  Meh.  Sorry this is a sort of depressing blog today.  Here's a strangely-related (not at all really) funny picture to leave on a good note.

It seems I have no choice but to sell you my baby for $3000.  You promise she's going to a good home right?

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Delusions of grandeur

I may or may not be about to reveal exactly how insane I am.

Does anyone else picture themselves in life or death situations and out of nowhere all of a sudden you're a super human body builder who defies the law of gravity AND has a snappy one liner to boot?  Today, I'm at work, driving my forklift around (WHY they let me operate a 5 ton vehicle inside a building I'll never know), thinking about how I might perform under extremely dangerous circumstances, when BAM I crash my forklift.  A 30 foot stack of pallets - OBLITERATED.  So as it's falling I'm like "OH SHIT!" and drive away as fast as I can to avoid certain doom but my wheel was turned all the way to the side, so I FLIP MY FORKLIFT.  As it's falling I looked back and saw a co-worker was in my path, so somehow I managed to reach out and basically throw him out of the way, get my arms back into the forklift standing area and contort my body so that none of my limbs would be crushed.  I climbed out really quick because I was convinced this thing was about to blow Michael Bay style (even though it's not even a gas powered machine), and assumed the fetal position for a second while all this shit was falling all around me.  Finally everything is leveled and the crashing sounds stop and I raise my head a little to hear a tiny newborn scream.  Why is there a newborn at Costco at 4am?  It doesn't matter why, but I need to find it in case something fell on it!  I SEE IT! It's pinned under a 500 pound pallet of Orange Crush soda, but still very much alive thanks to a lot of now-crushed boxes of juice... but they're about to give all the way.  SHIT!  So I squat down and Hulk out that ENTIRE PALLET OF SODA, throwing it 10 feet away at a wall.  I pick the baby up and it's unscathed, just very obviously shaken from all the crashing.  I cuddle it a minute and calm it down, then say "They orange going to crush you this time."  Aaaaand scene.

So obviously the real reason an unattended newborn is at Costco at 4am is because I'm delusional, and this was one of my more grandiose daydreams.  Oh, and I'm also aware that my one-liner wasn't very snappy at all, but I couldn't think of anything better.  In my mind though, it's similar to that feeling you get when Arnold's like "Hasta la vista, BABY" and you're like "OH SNAP!".  BUT ANYWAY, usually these little daydreams I have are a lot more realisitic, like Leela starts choking on something and I manage to Heimlich it out of her even though I wouldn't actually have the first clue of how to do that, or I fight off a rabid dog that has attacked me, or I might swerve to avoid a seagull and drive the van off the bridge but manage to unbuckle and swim Joe and the girls to safety before we drown, or the Earth suddenly opens beneath me and I catch myself by my fingertips and climb out even though I know for a fact that I could not even do a pull up if my life depended on it (because that's totally realistic).  But what I'm trying to get at in a very long-winded way is that I always wonder if I would be able to save myself and my family if we ever were in some real danger, or if I would just be useless.  You hear stories of mothers lifting cars off their children in an adrenaline rush - I wonder if an adrenaline rush could help me in any dire situation like I like to imagine. 

Sooo, am I crazy?  Probably.  Could I whip out some super hero powers and save myself in a life or death situation?  Probably not.  But am I going to start training for Ninja Warrior so that I have the strength, speed and agility, just in case?  Now that I think about it, HELL YES!

You never know when you'll have to scale the Warped Wall to save your child's life from a forest fire.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

When did I become this?

The other day at work, a friend told me I hadn't changed since having babies.  I assume he meant because I still cuss like a fucking sailor and I enjoy going to see a tit or two every once in a while (both girls went to their first strip clubs while in utero, hooray!).

But today, I was practically crapping myself with excitement ALL. DAY. over crescent rolls.  Did you know you can STUFF THEM?  With ANYTHING YOU WANT?  We had strawberries and cream cheese, peanut butter and chocolate, turkey and american cheese, and chicken POT PIE.  ARE THE CAPS FULLY EXPRESSING HOW BOGGLED MY MIND IS?  After dinner, I went outside to help Joe build the slide for Violet's swing set.  Then I came inside and used different color fingernail polish to paint the alphabet on rocks for Violet to sort.

I have become my biggest nightmare.

When I was a teenager and my sister started having babies and she cooked stir fry for our family once and my mom was so proud and then I started noticing other old people I knew knocking up their wives and talking about the injustices of children's soccer games and discussing the best crock pot chicken they've ever had, I decided I couldn't be that.  I wasn't completely opposed to kids someday in my 30s maybe, but I never wanted to become lame.  I wanted to be designing Frank Lloyd Wright-esque buildings and bringing home killer checks and shaving my head and tattoing on my hair and going on trips to Budapest and scoffing at the conformist music on the radio and heading seminars on kicking ass and taking names.


Bitch I KNOW you didn't just say the Zombie Apocalypse can't actually happen.

Instead I'm getting excited about pastries in a can and know the words to The Berenstain Bears Too Much TV by heart and I know and use the term "SAHM" on a regular basis and my days off involve wiping 4 different people's pee and pinning kid crafts (that I'll never actually do) all day.  I like to think I can still tell a decent joke... as long as we're joking about pregnancy pains or potty training woes.  Today I perfectly timed dinner to be ready the minute my husband walked in the door from work and I'm still gloating about it 6 hours later.  I HAVE BECOME MY BIGGEST NIGHTMARE.  If anyone was to call me out on it, I would deny it and declare myself "domesticated".  MAYBE there's a difference, because I'm still holding out hope that when the girls are in school and I no longer have to pay attention to constantly supervise and engage them, then maybe the rock star in me that shows glimpses of herself will re-emerge for good.  For now though, I'm going to own it.  I guess.

I'm lame.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Things I Can't Believe I Never Knew

I haven't posted in a while.  The most interesting thing to happen to me the past week was losing my shoes and calling out of work as a result.  Actually that whole thing had me really pissed off because my boss said to me "Kate.  I literally have 70 pairs of shoes.  You have ONE?" and I was all "Yeah lady, I'm poor, that's how I roll, blow me," and then I barefoot roundhoused her ass through the phone because I'm a teleninja.  The other part of the whole thing that pissed me off is that literally two days before, I had a whole shit ton of shoes that I had been saving "just in case" and I had finally decided "just in case" wasn't coming.  So then it came.  So I'm officially never throwing anything away ever again.

Anyway, so somehow this next story is related but you wouldn't believe if you stopped after this paragraph.  I was just talking at Joe about how I hadn't blogged in a while because I couldn't think of anything to say, and he wasn't paying attention of course and he's like "The guys at work were making fun of me the other day because I didn't know turkeys could fly."  Wait.  What?  TURKEYS FLY?

Which brings me to this.  Things I feel really dumb for never having known before.  Some with video proof in case your dumbass didn't know either.

1.  Turkeys flyThis just surprises me because those things are BIG.  I figured they could do the ol' jump-and-fly-10-feet, but no, they actually FLY.

2.  The average American woman owns 19 pairs of shoes.  This search was prompted by my asshole boss.  Not that I don't support a woman's right to own however the hell many shoes she wants, but I don't think I've owned 19 pairs of shoes in my whole life, muchless that many at once.  What do you do with that many shoes???

3.  You can make salisbury steak.  I'm not sure what I thought salisbury steak was, but I always figured it was some kind of pre-chewed naturally occuring thing.  Like scrapple and hot dogs.  Uh, yeah.  But apparently it's beef and pork and god knows what else combined.

4.  Casey Kasem is still alive.  Every single time I hear this guy on the radio I think "Holy crap, he's still alive?!"  I swear he died like 15 years ago.  Isn't he 110 now or something?


Honestly I can't even think of any of the really good examples of dumb stuff I didn't know, but I feel like almost every day I learn some sort of common knowledge and I'm like "wait, what?" and people look at me like I'm the stupidest person to ever breathe (like when I discovered white people are mutated black people).  It's probably true sometimes.  Oh, another thing is I didn't know human boobs make milk and that babies eat from them until I was like 15.  WTF?

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Roll Model: My weight loss segment.

Ok, HOW MANY TIMES have I made the same joke that "Roll Model" would make a great name for Tyra's next model competition show featuring plus-sized ladies?  That was the last time, I swear.  From now on though, every time I update my Roll Model segment, you will think about me telling that joke over and over.  And then you'll probably hate me and not read my blog anymore.  Maybe I shouldn't have made it this one last time.

Anyway.  I've lost at least 57 pounds in 6 months.  I'm going to pretend that 30 of that wasn't pregnancy weight because it makes it sound a lot more impressive.  Since it seems like I might actually be on my way to being some variation of "skinny" (a long time from now) for the first time in my life, it's had me thinking about how often I say "That's one of the many advantages of being a fatty".  Clogged arteries and tent-sized shirts aside, there are some things I will miss!

1.  Having something to fall back on.  When I'm feeling awkward in a situation, I throw a fat joke about myself out there.  Suddenly everyone else feels WAY more awkward and I'm the coolest person in the room.  Also, I literally have a big fat something to fall back on.

2.  Warmth.  My thighs are the size of two baby bears and are the softest, warmest, cuddliest mittens in the winter time.

3.  Fat flap pencil case.  See picture.

Hey stud, let me write down my number with this pencil I just found under my babs**.

4.  Super strength.  I lift 200 pounds everytime I stand, that 55 pound box of sugar is nothing (yes, such a thing exists.  I would know).

5.  Live longer.  I wouldn't list this if we weren't apparently on the verge of another great depression.  Months from now when a loaf of bread costs $85 and all you skinnies are like "omg I'm so hungry *keel over*," I'll still have 7 months of fat reserves AND some people to grill up.

6.  Chairs fear me.  And it is always a good thing to be feared.

Clearly being fat is the way to go.  So then why do I still want to lose weight?


Because I love chairs.
CILF.



**Babs - back abs.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

I'm officially a professional blogger.

I got the money in the bank, so shorty what you drank?  Bartender, I'll take half an eyedropper full of that.

This probably goes against some kind of rule I was supposed to read but didn't, but thanks to whoever accidentally clicked an ad!

6 Unconventional Reasons to Breastfeed

It's better for the baby, will lower mom's chances of breast cancer, will help mom lose weight quicker, cheaper than formula, better for bonding... BIG WHOOP.  Here are the real reasons to breastfeed.

1.  Excuses.  The older sibling needs a poop diaper changed?... shucks, I have to go feed the baby.  My mother in law just showed up unexpectedly?... I'll be in the back room feeding the baby.  The house is a mess and needs to be cleaned immediately?... Well I would, but I need to go sit on my ass for 20 minutes to feed the baby.

2.  Big boobs.  I mean, it's cool to have some killer cleavage for a year of breastfeeding, but for me it's even funnier to look down and realize that your boob is bigger than the head that's sucking on it.

Of course that's nothing new for this lady.


3.  You finally have something to shoot at your husband.  Not that your husband is just squirting HIS "stuff" all over you whenever he walks past or anything (unless you guys are into that sort of thing), but it's inevitable that you have to handle it at some point whether you're trying to make babies or prevent them.  And I'm sure I'm not alone in that it's not my favorite stuff in the world.  So if you find yourself 1 week post-partum and you're exhausted from having this baby connected to you literally 12 hours a day and your nipples look like fresh ground beef and your husband is sitting there admiring this beautiful baby but seemingly oblivious to the fact that between his snores vibrating the bed last night and the baby's neverending cycle of crying, eating and pooping punctuated by 2 minutes of sleep, if he then says "So what's for dinner tonight hon?", rest assured you will not be judged by me if you pop him with a stream in his eye.  I will also not judge you if you do it just for the hell of it because it's hilarious.  Even if you only do it once, there's something so satisfying.  Take THAT, POP.


4.  BM b.m.'s smell better.  I've had a formula baby and a boobie baby, and breastmilk poop is like fresh baked cookies in comparison.  Or maybe that's just me.

5.  Parkinson's baby.  I can't tell you how flattering it is when someone gets SO excited to be near your naked boob that they get the shakes.  Although maybe I'd get this reaction if I was willing to expose my boob to more people, but babies don't judge so I'll stick to exposing myself to them only.  (I am not a perv.)


Michael J. Fox is always excited for boobies.  Because of Parkinson's.


6.  The best reason.  PeriodThis isn't a very unconventional reason at all actually, but I just want to reiterate how. friggin. awesome. it is to not have ANY period for OVER a year.  Just imagine the first 9 months of growing a baby and no worrying about putting anything absorbant near your nethers, then double that and subtract the pain of actually growing a baby.  It's like Heaven.

Monday, August 1, 2011

I know how Satan fell from Heaven for real.

For the past year and a half-two years, I've been really fascinated by this God and Jesus stuff and how and why people do and don't believe in it.  My most recent obsessive thought has been about Heaven and the afterlife.

And I just had an epiphone because of a hairball on the bath tub ledge.

ALL Satan wanted was a little kitty cat!  But because it's my understanding that all you have to do is believe in ol Jeebus to get into Heaven, and because his precious little LucyFur (that would obviously be his cat's name) doesn't even have a soul and also can't believe in anything but cans of tuna, they had to part ways.  So he was like "Screw this God guy or whatever his name is, he won't notice if I sneak Lucy in" but God DID notice because he is allergic as shit to cats (HENCE why he started Earth so all the animal lovers could visit their pets for 80 years or so, but Satan didn't want to just visit dangit, he wanted an ETERNITY of kitty meows and purrs and kneading dough on his back [oh that does sound nice]), and so God was like "GTFO SATAN" and so began the story of the Bible.

So at least between lightening beam back whips in Hell I'll have a soft little Molly (my childhood furball) to rub my skinless hands over.  So that's cool.

Hi, I'm Sarah Mclachlan.  Will you save an innocent puppy from those animal hatin angels?
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