That sounds like fun. = Please for the love of GOD don't invite me!
Sure, we'll be there. = I guess I can stomach this for a few hours before I make my excuses and get the hell out.
We can go get coffee and talk = Coffee is the only balance that is going to keep me from telling you that I don't give a shit about your crybaby whiney assed opinions or problems.
LOL = That was so god damn stupid I am at a loss for words.
That sounds great. = FML this is going to suck.
I love my family. = If I keep saying this, eventually the urge to run through the house screaming and punching walls will subside.
Today is a good day. = Hey, look.. Someone got screwed and it wasn't me..
Life is good. = Revenge is fun.
I can't wait. = I can't wait to get this over with.
You're an amazing person. = You're less shitty than most shitheads on this shithole planet.
I love you more than life. = I hate life so pretty much I just tolerate you better than I do most. (My half husband and family don't count because I really do love them)
Thank you. = Surprise surprise that's really what I mean.. I'm not ALWAYS mean, god!
Please stop. = Get the frick out of my face before I gouge your eyes out with a spork.
Go away. = Step away, slowly and carefully.
Good point. = I guess you aren't as bat-shit crazy as I thought.
I'm impressed. = That's the only smart thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth.
That's a good idea. = I wait with anticipation to see which of the 46 possible ways it could backfire blows up in your face. You're back on the dumbass list.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Screw you, Martha Stewart.
http://powerofmoms.com/2012/04/your-children-want-you/
I got this article from my sister who posted it to her page. At first I thought I would want to stab myself in the temple with a dirty spork, but it turned out to be pretty on the spot. Nothing needs to be picture perfect. You don't need to be Martha F'ing Stewart to be a good mother/wife. When did Martha Stewart become perfect? Wasn't she in prison?? I've never been to prison! (I never said I don't belong there, just that I've never been) Moving on..
I'd never knock anyone for their artistic side. I love to show mine as well. I'd never look down on people who make their own decor and bake/cook the world's prettiest food. I love to cook as well. I love to scrapbook and make seasonal baskets, wreaths, candles ect.. Honestly, what mother doesn't like to be crafty?? The point is, I realized that the article is SOOOO right!! I can be, but I don't NEED to be.
Honestly. I could change the entire living room and bedazzle the walls and throw glitter all over the tables and floor and I can say with certainty that David would have no idea. As long as his couch cushion still indents perfectly to the shape of his ass and the t.v isn't on Lifetime, he doesn't give one shit what sits on the tables or hangs on the walls.
Brianna would rather I had 50 cent Salvation Army decor around the house. She doesn't get in trouble when it's someone elses garbage that she breaks. She wants to run through the house and be a kid. Not sit and admire a $400 vase that has no use but to collect dust and piss me the hell off, or be grounded for a month for breaking said over-priced, likely ugly anyway, vase.
I still have gold glittery sticks sitting in the ONLY vase you will find in my house. They are from Christmas. That's right, shut your face. I said Christmas. I bet they are still sitting there next Christmas, too.. Why the hell should I have to get glitter all over my hands just to change the color theme of the room. The point is, they both still love me even though I keep ugly Christmas decorations up year round just because I'm too lazy to walk downstairs and find my Spring flowers. It's not killing them or making them hate me. They don't even look at it. How do you like them apples, Martha?
My bathroom has a theme. It's called Everybody's towels and clothes on the floor. I have a few shells Brianna has found for me sitting on a shelf, but I challenge you to find them behind all of the makeup, hair products, curling/straightening irons and hordes of cold medicine we use on a weekly basis. What of it? I don't need rubber duckies jumping out at me in the bathroom to be happy, and I also am not a fan of things watching me while I do what people do in a bathroom. I don't need a matching soap dish, tissue box, hand sanitizer and toilet paper dispenser. I don't need soap shaped like flowers or fish or ducks. If I had money to buy soap for show, I'd probably have matching towels. Trust me, I DON'T. If you can't wash your hands with my Safeguard and dry them off on a plain colored towel then you should get the hell out of my house. Brianna and Dave still love me. (Though you might be asking yourself why by now) In your FACE Martha freaking Stewart.
My kitchen decor consists of flour scattered all over and dished piled as high as the dirty freakin ceiling from my daily fight with baked goods. I have one picture hanging on the wall of a vase of flowers in an abstract fashion. It's probably covered in some sort of baking batter from a fight I often have with the mixer. It's not for you to look at. It's for me to look at and keep my mood leveled as to not stab my family as I am cooking dinner and they repeatedly ask me "when's dinner. what's for dinner. is it ready yet? are you burning it? ARE YOU DONE YET?" Brianna and Dave don't give a DAMN what's on the kitchen walls as long as that kitchen produces meals for them. Eat that, Martha.
On to cooking. I do love me some baking. I love to make things pretty and create things Brianna wants to show off to her friends. But at the end of the day it's not a requirement. They will eat a cake that fell apart because I frosted it too early (THAT'S FOR YOU MOM!!!) just as quickly as they eat a cake I spent 2 hours perfecting. They eat cupcakes that are plain with as much ease as they annihilate the ones I spend 3 hours layering with colors. Dave makes a "casserole" that consists of ramen noodles, hot dogs, cream of chicken soup, green beans and other disgusting things that only he will touch when I'm sick. He inhales that just as quickly as a 6 layer enchilada dinner I spend 3 hours on. Brianna doesn't like anything but Mcdonalds and pizza.. She'd rather eat chicken nuggets from the microwave than a 3 course meal I prepare. They both still love me, because I feed them. I win, Martha!
My point is, I am so far from perfect that I'm surprised the universe even let's me type the word. My family is still my family and we get by just fine with our mismatched towels. If they still want to be around me by the time I've managed to pour a pot of coffee down my throat, I call that a win for the day. If they still love me when my mood goes from zero to certifiably crazy, I'm pretty sure we can get through the day with my Christmas decorations in April. If Dave can handle my "I'mflyingoffthehandlefornoreasonsotakeitlikeaman" moments, he can handle my baking disasters.
We do things as a family. We play board games, watch movies, play cards. We go outside and play football with all the neighborhood kids. I watch Brianna do cartwheels and roll down the hill. I listen to all of her grade school playground drama with interest. We have water fights in the kitchen and paper fights in the living room. I watch all of her ridiculous youtube video's she addicted to. We help her with her homework, yell at her when she doesn't do it, nag her endlessly about cleaning her room and laugh at her when she does something silly. She hangs out with me all the time. Not because she has to, but because she wants to. SHE LOVES ME!!! <3 That's what makes us a family, not my bathroom decor.
I got this article from my sister who posted it to her page. At first I thought I would want to stab myself in the temple with a dirty spork, but it turned out to be pretty on the spot. Nothing needs to be picture perfect. You don't need to be Martha F'ing Stewart to be a good mother/wife. When did Martha Stewart become perfect? Wasn't she in prison?? I've never been to prison! (I never said I don't belong there, just that I've never been) Moving on..
I'd never knock anyone for their artistic side. I love to show mine as well. I'd never look down on people who make their own decor and bake/cook the world's prettiest food. I love to cook as well. I love to scrapbook and make seasonal baskets, wreaths, candles ect.. Honestly, what mother doesn't like to be crafty?? The point is, I realized that the article is SOOOO right!! I can be, but I don't NEED to be.
Honestly. I could change the entire living room and bedazzle the walls and throw glitter all over the tables and floor and I can say with certainty that David would have no idea. As long as his couch cushion still indents perfectly to the shape of his ass and the t.v isn't on Lifetime, he doesn't give one shit what sits on the tables or hangs on the walls.
Brianna would rather I had 50 cent Salvation Army decor around the house. She doesn't get in trouble when it's someone elses garbage that she breaks. She wants to run through the house and be a kid. Not sit and admire a $400 vase that has no use but to collect dust and piss me the hell off, or be grounded for a month for breaking said over-priced, likely ugly anyway, vase.
I still have gold glittery sticks sitting in the ONLY vase you will find in my house. They are from Christmas. That's right, shut your face. I said Christmas. I bet they are still sitting there next Christmas, too.. Why the hell should I have to get glitter all over my hands just to change the color theme of the room. The point is, they both still love me even though I keep ugly Christmas decorations up year round just because I'm too lazy to walk downstairs and find my Spring flowers. It's not killing them or making them hate me. They don't even look at it. How do you like them apples, Martha?
My bathroom has a theme. It's called Everybody's towels and clothes on the floor. I have a few shells Brianna has found for me sitting on a shelf, but I challenge you to find them behind all of the makeup, hair products, curling/straightening irons and hordes of cold medicine we use on a weekly basis. What of it? I don't need rubber duckies jumping out at me in the bathroom to be happy, and I also am not a fan of things watching me while I do what people do in a bathroom. I don't need a matching soap dish, tissue box, hand sanitizer and toilet paper dispenser. I don't need soap shaped like flowers or fish or ducks. If I had money to buy soap for show, I'd probably have matching towels. Trust me, I DON'T. If you can't wash your hands with my Safeguard and dry them off on a plain colored towel then you should get the hell out of my house. Brianna and Dave still love me. (Though you might be asking yourself why by now) In your FACE Martha freaking Stewart.
My kitchen decor consists of flour scattered all over and dished piled as high as the dirty freakin ceiling from my daily fight with baked goods. I have one picture hanging on the wall of a vase of flowers in an abstract fashion. It's probably covered in some sort of baking batter from a fight I often have with the mixer. It's not for you to look at. It's for me to look at and keep my mood leveled as to not stab my family as I am cooking dinner and they repeatedly ask me "when's dinner. what's for dinner. is it ready yet? are you burning it? ARE YOU DONE YET?" Brianna and Dave don't give a DAMN what's on the kitchen walls as long as that kitchen produces meals for them. Eat that, Martha.
On to cooking. I do love me some baking. I love to make things pretty and create things Brianna wants to show off to her friends. But at the end of the day it's not a requirement. They will eat a cake that fell apart because I frosted it too early (THAT'S FOR YOU MOM!!!) just as quickly as they eat a cake I spent 2 hours perfecting. They eat cupcakes that are plain with as much ease as they annihilate the ones I spend 3 hours layering with colors. Dave makes a "casserole" that consists of ramen noodles, hot dogs, cream of chicken soup, green beans and other disgusting things that only he will touch when I'm sick. He inhales that just as quickly as a 6 layer enchilada dinner I spend 3 hours on. Brianna doesn't like anything but Mcdonalds and pizza.. She'd rather eat chicken nuggets from the microwave than a 3 course meal I prepare. They both still love me, because I feed them. I win, Martha!
My point is, I am so far from perfect that I'm surprised the universe even let's me type the word. My family is still my family and we get by just fine with our mismatched towels. If they still want to be around me by the time I've managed to pour a pot of coffee down my throat, I call that a win for the day. If they still love me when my mood goes from zero to certifiably crazy, I'm pretty sure we can get through the day with my Christmas decorations in April. If Dave can handle my "I'mflyingoffthehandlefornoreasonsotakeitlikeaman" moments, he can handle my baking disasters.
We do things as a family. We play board games, watch movies, play cards. We go outside and play football with all the neighborhood kids. I watch Brianna do cartwheels and roll down the hill. I listen to all of her grade school playground drama with interest. We have water fights in the kitchen and paper fights in the living room. I watch all of her ridiculous youtube video's she addicted to. We help her with her homework, yell at her when she doesn't do it, nag her endlessly about cleaning her room and laugh at her when she does something silly. She hangs out with me all the time. Not because she has to, but because she wants to. SHE LOVES ME!!! <3 That's what makes us a family, not my bathroom decor.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Letter to my daughter ..
Dearest Daughter,
As you are aware, mommy has been feeling a little under the weather since Wednesday when you infected me with your sickly germs. I am very proud that the value of sharing I tried to instill upon you did not fall on deaf ears. However, there are certain things in life that you absolutely should not feel obligated to share with me. Let's go over a few of those, okay love?
As I was walking out of the bedroom after 30 minutes of sleep and stumbling around in the dark, I found your laptop cord stretched through the middle of the livingroom. Your laptop is all yours sweetie, feel free to keep it in your bedroom. No really, I insist!
After untangling my foot from your cord, I promptly found your pepsi can on the floor next to the couch. I found this by taking a step with bare feet. It hurt, sweetie! Feel free to share those cans with the garbage can anytime you want, but mommy doesn't want them.
After limping to my computer chair, I sat down with a sigh of relief and was greeted with a loud CRUNCH. Upon standing I saw that you left me some sour cream and onion chips on my chair. Thank you dear, but we bought those for you. Mommy doesn't like sour cream and onion chips, and neither does her chair. Next time feel free to keep them all to yourself.
Now let's talk about some other things. Things that you SHOULD share.
I went into the kitchen to get a Pepsi and start a pot of coffee. Upon arrival in the kitchen I noticed that you made yourself 2 boxes of macaroni and cheese. I know it's 2 because the boxes were right on the counter next to the dirty pan. Next to the pan was an entire bowl of uneaten macaroni and cheese. Next time, I urge you to make ONE box and then give the other to a neighborhood kid so that it doesn't go to waste. That's when sharing is GOOD. Back to my Pepsi now. I reached in to the newly bought 12 pack and found one can alllllllll the way in the back. Thank you for leaving me ONE. That I suppose is also a good kind of sharing.
Lastly, I would like to discuss things I do not wish to share with you.
I decided to go take a shower to hopefully make myself feel a little bit better. Midway through, I reached for my body wash. I bought it a little under a month ago and normally it lasts about 5-6 months. The bottle was empty and my new lufa that I have never used smelled a lot like my body wash that magically evaporated. I bet your skin is pretty soft right now, isn't it? As you grow up and have kids of your own you will learn that you NEVER mess with a mother and her exfoliating body wash. It's the only luxury I have left.
I got out of the shower and decided to get over the body wash incident and NOT pull you from the comfort of your bed to shake you and make you tell me why you hate me. That's about the time I was reaching for my toothbrush. You know, the blue one. I know mine is the blue one because I bought a 2 pack of blue and green and you could have won an oscar for your melt down performance on why you refused to use the blue one. (Blue is for boys and you are NOT a boy you are A GIRL and girls need pretty things!!!! (sobsobsnifflemylifeisoverwhydoyouhatemesnifflesobdoorslam) Moving on....
My blue toothbrush had green sparkly toothpaste on it. I don't use green sparkly toothpaste. I use white stuff that comes out of a sample tube that grandma gave me because I can't afford my own after the 10 dollar bottle of green sparkly toothpaste you HAD TO HAVE! My dear child, STEP AWAY FROM MY TOOTHBRUSH! Is nothing sacred anymore?! I guess now I know how you so lovingly shared your germs with me.
I would also at this time like to address my makeup. I use makeup because if I don't, people run away screaming. I don't like to scare small children and this makeup is a tool to prevent that from happening. You have your own to play with that I bought for you so you would stop wasting mine. USE YOUR OWN!!! I can not afford for you and the 7 neighborhood girls that invade my house daily to use my makeup and hair products for play. Step away from the makeup drawer or you will find yourself super glued to the back of your door while I blast my "lame" music at the level you play yours.
You will probably never read this as you are usually too busy complaining about your lame mom to the brigade of 9 to 12 year old kids you march through my house every waking moment. I suppose it's for the best since I have no energy left to fight with you. Regardless, I love you so very much!
Sincerely,
Your lame mother
As you are aware, mommy has been feeling a little under the weather since Wednesday when you infected me with your sickly germs. I am very proud that the value of sharing I tried to instill upon you did not fall on deaf ears. However, there are certain things in life that you absolutely should not feel obligated to share with me. Let's go over a few of those, okay love?
As I was walking out of the bedroom after 30 minutes of sleep and stumbling around in the dark, I found your laptop cord stretched through the middle of the livingroom. Your laptop is all yours sweetie, feel free to keep it in your bedroom. No really, I insist!
After untangling my foot from your cord, I promptly found your pepsi can on the floor next to the couch. I found this by taking a step with bare feet. It hurt, sweetie! Feel free to share those cans with the garbage can anytime you want, but mommy doesn't want them.
After limping to my computer chair, I sat down with a sigh of relief and was greeted with a loud CRUNCH. Upon standing I saw that you left me some sour cream and onion chips on my chair. Thank you dear, but we bought those for you. Mommy doesn't like sour cream and onion chips, and neither does her chair. Next time feel free to keep them all to yourself.
Now let's talk about some other things. Things that you SHOULD share.
I went into the kitchen to get a Pepsi and start a pot of coffee. Upon arrival in the kitchen I noticed that you made yourself 2 boxes of macaroni and cheese. I know it's 2 because the boxes were right on the counter next to the dirty pan. Next to the pan was an entire bowl of uneaten macaroni and cheese. Next time, I urge you to make ONE box and then give the other to a neighborhood kid so that it doesn't go to waste. That's when sharing is GOOD. Back to my Pepsi now. I reached in to the newly bought 12 pack and found one can alllllllll the way in the back. Thank you for leaving me ONE. That I suppose is also a good kind of sharing.
Lastly, I would like to discuss things I do not wish to share with you.
I decided to go take a shower to hopefully make myself feel a little bit better. Midway through, I reached for my body wash. I bought it a little under a month ago and normally it lasts about 5-6 months. The bottle was empty and my new lufa that I have never used smelled a lot like my body wash that magically evaporated. I bet your skin is pretty soft right now, isn't it? As you grow up and have kids of your own you will learn that you NEVER mess with a mother and her exfoliating body wash. It's the only luxury I have left.
I got out of the shower and decided to get over the body wash incident and NOT pull you from the comfort of your bed to shake you and make you tell me why you hate me. That's about the time I was reaching for my toothbrush. You know, the blue one. I know mine is the blue one because I bought a 2 pack of blue and green and you could have won an oscar for your melt down performance on why you refused to use the blue one. (Blue is for boys and you are NOT a boy you are A GIRL and girls need pretty things!!!! (sobsobsnifflemylifeisoverwhydoyouhatemesnifflesobdoorslam) Moving on....
My blue toothbrush had green sparkly toothpaste on it. I don't use green sparkly toothpaste. I use white stuff that comes out of a sample tube that grandma gave me because I can't afford my own after the 10 dollar bottle of green sparkly toothpaste you HAD TO HAVE! My dear child, STEP AWAY FROM MY TOOTHBRUSH! Is nothing sacred anymore?! I guess now I know how you so lovingly shared your germs with me.
I would also at this time like to address my makeup. I use makeup because if I don't, people run away screaming. I don't like to scare small children and this makeup is a tool to prevent that from happening. You have your own to play with that I bought for you so you would stop wasting mine. USE YOUR OWN!!! I can not afford for you and the 7 neighborhood girls that invade my house daily to use my makeup and hair products for play. Step away from the makeup drawer or you will find yourself super glued to the back of your door while I blast my "lame" music at the level you play yours.
You will probably never read this as you are usually too busy complaining about your lame mom to the brigade of 9 to 12 year old kids you march through my house every waking moment. I suppose it's for the best since I have no energy left to fight with you. Regardless, I love you so very much!
Sincerely,
Your lame mother
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