Saturday, December 19, 2009
Wolf Pack haahaaaa
Had a major blast on my mostly hookey day. Oats n me went shopping, giggled goofed and had an in general blast.... Comic relief for the day.... people will totally think you are a re-tard, if you sing "we're the three best friends that anyone can have" in the middle of a busy mall.... and PS rude t-shirt folding lady... did you ever make sense out of the mess? Anal retentive bitch !!
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Deep Thoughts: Not by Jack Handy!
Thought implanted by Kat Stevens: Romantic movies set all women up for failure!!! No man in the world says the shit that guys say in cheese ball romantic movies!! Women write them for men to say, hence our constant disappointment with the men in our lives.... For shit's sake I am totally positive that I have never been called someones own brand of heroin.... or the butter to their bread, in any type of non coerced conversation. Sure I could implant the thought that I am my husbands own personal brand of heroin in his head, but my husband has never even smoked pot, those words would never come out of his mouth! Seriously, the whole man saying something that makes us fall down on the floor with our legs in the air thing, sorta never happens in real life!
And the smoking hot sex scenes.... UM no. After the first year of being with someone they have a sense of entitlement. They roll over and pretty much say, ya wanna? I have asked around. It's not just mine! Don't get me wrong the actual carnal pleasures are still way fucking worth it. The two hour long foreplay where the clothes fly and the hickeys abound.... Phhhst, that shit is long gone. Most nights were both lucky to get off before we fall asleep. Little hard to go for meaningful wonderful foreplay, when ya know for a fact, the alarm is only a few hours away... Foreplay sometimes consists of, hey I took an ambien!
Serious, a trip to the couch to watch a TV show without a fart is good enough for me anymore! I see all these chicks who try to make like their dude is actually romantic, ummmmm NO! Good luck, I am positive your dude farts, and laughs.... or worse and you have to deal with it too.... and that's not mentioning all the other unromantic things that they do... leaving the toilet seat up, picking at body parts while watching TV, showing you weird shit that comes out from the picking, total inability to remain silent during teary parts of movies....
It doesn't make my husband any less in love with me, just because he farts during conversations. If I ask how I look, I know his first glance is to my tits... and he says fine. Burping after a good meal now means "Hey babe that was good shit". These are just real life things that happen in life. He isn't going to change into some fictional character from a movie just cuz I want a little more romance then I am going to lose 50 pounds and all of a sudden decide I want to bring a chick into my bed. I'm a realist people, and no man in his normal fucking mind is going to NOT check out your tits and your ass when you ask how do I look. I doubt if he got a terminal cancer diagnosis he would take the time to collaborate with my mother to write me a series of letters to help ease my pain, and help me transition into another relationship.... but I do know that he would do whatever the fuck he could to make me happy before he kicked the bucket. He'd also make sure his life insurance policy was huge and current hopefully.
Do I want Gerald Butler to walk into my job and lists reasons he is in love with me, Umm DUH of course.... More realistic, I'll curl up with a Gerald Butler movie, and hopefully have a good dream after I fall asleep...
On an opposing note, for the ladies.... Seriously, watch a fucking porno with him. Try not to laugh, I guess it ruins it for them... Personally I find it difficult to not laugh, I have never in my life seen ANYONE make those faces in real life!! Show a little tit every now and again, everyone likes to see em if ya got em! Take care of yourself. If ya slouch around in sweats and a pony tail all day, how the fuck is he supposed to want to take you to the bedroom and ravage you??? DUH, I mean we don't generally want to screw a scrubby looking,stinky, greasy looking man. Generally, ya get what ya give. Why on the gods green earth would they wanna bury themselves in your, ummmm, sideways smile, if it isn't taken care of, anymore then we wanna play with the, ummmm ,mushroom, if the soap has been 3 years removed. And dudes.... a lil trim wouldn't kill ya either. Besides, it makes it look bigger, something you are all obsessed with. PS, a little hint, size does matter. Both ways... chicks don't wanna see a pencil, or the one up mushroom from Super Mario, but we also don't want to wonder what internal organs are going to be impaled. If no one has laughed when ya pull your pants down, or grimaced with a look of anticipated pain and agony, your probably OK.
If sex is the drug, then what is the cost ...... PAPA ROACH
And the smoking hot sex scenes.... UM no. After the first year of being with someone they have a sense of entitlement. They roll over and pretty much say, ya wanna? I have asked around. It's not just mine! Don't get me wrong the actual carnal pleasures are still way fucking worth it. The two hour long foreplay where the clothes fly and the hickeys abound.... Phhhst, that shit is long gone. Most nights were both lucky to get off before we fall asleep. Little hard to go for meaningful wonderful foreplay, when ya know for a fact, the alarm is only a few hours away... Foreplay sometimes consists of, hey I took an ambien!
Serious, a trip to the couch to watch a TV show without a fart is good enough for me anymore! I see all these chicks who try to make like their dude is actually romantic, ummmmm NO! Good luck, I am positive your dude farts, and laughs.... or worse and you have to deal with it too.... and that's not mentioning all the other unromantic things that they do... leaving the toilet seat up, picking at body parts while watching TV, showing you weird shit that comes out from the picking, total inability to remain silent during teary parts of movies....
It doesn't make my husband any less in love with me, just because he farts during conversations. If I ask how I look, I know his first glance is to my tits... and he says fine. Burping after a good meal now means "Hey babe that was good shit". These are just real life things that happen in life. He isn't going to change into some fictional character from a movie just cuz I want a little more romance then I am going to lose 50 pounds and all of a sudden decide I want to bring a chick into my bed. I'm a realist people, and no man in his normal fucking mind is going to NOT check out your tits and your ass when you ask how do I look. I doubt if he got a terminal cancer diagnosis he would take the time to collaborate with my mother to write me a series of letters to help ease my pain, and help me transition into another relationship.... but I do know that he would do whatever the fuck he could to make me happy before he kicked the bucket. He'd also make sure his life insurance policy was huge and current hopefully.
Do I want Gerald Butler to walk into my job and lists reasons he is in love with me, Umm DUH of course.... More realistic, I'll curl up with a Gerald Butler movie, and hopefully have a good dream after I fall asleep...
On an opposing note, for the ladies.... Seriously, watch a fucking porno with him. Try not to laugh, I guess it ruins it for them... Personally I find it difficult to not laugh, I have never in my life seen ANYONE make those faces in real life!! Show a little tit every now and again, everyone likes to see em if ya got em! Take care of yourself. If ya slouch around in sweats and a pony tail all day, how the fuck is he supposed to want to take you to the bedroom and ravage you??? DUH, I mean we don't generally want to screw a scrubby looking,stinky, greasy looking man. Generally, ya get what ya give. Why on the gods green earth would they wanna bury themselves in your, ummmm, sideways smile, if it isn't taken care of, anymore then we wanna play with the, ummmm ,mushroom, if the soap has been 3 years removed. And dudes.... a lil trim wouldn't kill ya either. Besides, it makes it look bigger, something you are all obsessed with. PS, a little hint, size does matter. Both ways... chicks don't wanna see a pencil, or the one up mushroom from Super Mario, but we also don't want to wonder what internal organs are going to be impaled. If no one has laughed when ya pull your pants down, or grimaced with a look of anticipated pain and agony, your probably OK.
If sex is the drug, then what is the cost ...... PAPA ROACH
Mead
Personally I am all about Rocky Mountain Meadery's meads Oats prefers St. Kathyrn's Mead: Fluid of the Gods I tell you. Tastier then most beers, and usually produces a super happy reaction. More like smoking pot than drinking.... but totally legal and ya don't need a fucking card for it. Just a liquer store that has taste and class!!
Main Entry: 1mead
Pronunciation: \ˈmēd\
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English mede, from Old English medu; akin to Old High German metu mead, Greek methy wine
Date: before 12th century
: a fermented beverage made of water and honey, malt, and yeast
Main Entry: 1mead
Pronunciation: \ˈmēd\
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English mede, from Old English medu; akin to Old High German metu mead, Greek methy wine
Date: before 12th century
: a fermented beverage made of water and honey, malt, and yeast
A new day 5 more pounds from foods that taste awesome, and I didn't need to eat.....
Went to Oats n Lori's last night to make Christmas yummies.... Oats was in a cooking mood.... or was it a drinking mood LOL..... watched the kids fight over cookie dough, and act like boogers enough to drive Lori nuts, even tho she is way to nice to say it. Then shared a tear or two over the drink of the gods, mead. Totally needed I think for all of us.... Loosing important people in your life sucks ass. We all try to hold it back way to often probably. I am sure that if we let it all come out a lil more often, it wouldn't hurt so bad when we did.
* Note for people not actually in my life, to know who anyone is or why we cry.... Oats lost her grandpa about a month after my dad died. Lori is Oat's mom... so she lost her dad.
Info on Oats.... She's 20, she's our family liaison.... Ya have no clue... Ugh more history for everyone... Oats started as our babysitter. She saved the day when the children tried to effing burn down my house, and had cops called cuz they were throwing rocks at some kid....
She's 20, tall, thin, blond, smart ass sarcastic, and my friggen pole of support. Sure, I coulda been a retarded jealous bitch, and hated the fact that when my life went into the shitter she was here for my husband. I am also not an idiot. She cares about my kids and was my husbands friend when he needed one. I respect her and appreciate the bullshit she dealt with. At 20 years old she is more mature then most people my own age... She reminds me to be young when I need it, and doesn't walk out when I have a moment and tears well up. We usually have a good time, either making fun of ourselves or some fucktard who happened to be stupid while we watched. In short, She is the third part of the adults in my family. Yes we have a trio not a couple. Get yer dirty minds out of the shitter... her hearts taken by Chan... AKA Tedder LMAO..... She's BB'd into my calender and keeps me on my toes. If life was a business.... she would be the personal assistant I couldn't live without! So She'll be in here a lot. She's like my little older sister.... hahaaa , Either as stepping up when I couldn't or as comic relief when I need it.... Thanks Oats! PS.... Oats knew a chick named Nikki... we'll be super nice and leave her last name off..... She used Oats which pisses me off. Comic relief for yesterday, Oats cut her off then paced the slow ass van next the impatient & selfish biatch! Hey Nikki your so fine your so fine ya blow my mind, hey Nikki.... Personally I would have thrown something out of window so it landed on her windshield, but I guess I am a bigger bitch than Oats. I rolled laughing. which is probably stupidly immature.... but hey, I needed a laugh. If I tell you the shit Nikki did..... You'd laugh too..... Every town has to have an idiot right?
Anyways, I am going to log into work and make da loot. Ideas yet? Anyone? Anything.....
Nope, total blank.
Someday somehow I'm gonna make it alright, but not right now........... NickleBack
* Note for people not actually in my life, to know who anyone is or why we cry.... Oats lost her grandpa about a month after my dad died. Lori is Oat's mom... so she lost her dad.
Info on Oats.... She's 20, she's our family liaison.... Ya have no clue... Ugh more history for everyone... Oats started as our babysitter. She saved the day when the children tried to effing burn down my house, and had cops called cuz they were throwing rocks at some kid....
She's 20, tall, thin, blond, smart ass sarcastic, and my friggen pole of support. Sure, I coulda been a retarded jealous bitch, and hated the fact that when my life went into the shitter she was here for my husband. I am also not an idiot. She cares about my kids and was my husbands friend when he needed one. I respect her and appreciate the bullshit she dealt with. At 20 years old she is more mature then most people my own age... She reminds me to be young when I need it, and doesn't walk out when I have a moment and tears well up. We usually have a good time, either making fun of ourselves or some fucktard who happened to be stupid while we watched. In short, She is the third part of the adults in my family. Yes we have a trio not a couple. Get yer dirty minds out of the shitter... her hearts taken by Chan... AKA Tedder LMAO..... She's BB'd into my calender and keeps me on my toes. If life was a business.... she would be the personal assistant I couldn't live without! So She'll be in here a lot. She's like my little older sister.... hahaaa , Either as stepping up when I couldn't or as comic relief when I need it.... Thanks Oats! PS.... Oats knew a chick named Nikki... we'll be super nice and leave her last name off..... She used Oats which pisses me off. Comic relief for yesterday, Oats cut her off then paced the slow ass van next the impatient & selfish biatch! Hey Nikki your so fine your so fine ya blow my mind, hey Nikki.... Personally I would have thrown something out of window so it landed on her windshield, but I guess I am a bigger bitch than Oats. I rolled laughing. which is probably stupidly immature.... but hey, I needed a laugh. If I tell you the shit Nikki did..... You'd laugh too..... Every town has to have an idiot right?
Anyways, I am going to log into work and make da loot. Ideas yet? Anyone? Anything.....
Nope, total blank.
Someday somehow I'm gonna make it alright, but not right now........... NickleBack
Friday, December 11, 2009
If life wasn't a biatch, would I still be?
A little intro....
I obviously have way too much time on my hands. I recently watched a very long slightly boring, ultimatley good movie Julie and Julia..... Long story short, bitch writes blog, bitch gets grumpy, blog gets noticed, bitch gets happy.....
SO here I am, at work, trying to hide the click of the keys, about to blab my lifestory, to a either noone, or a bunch of people who don't give a shit anyway.
I'm 31, I'm married, I have three kids and one step-child, 4 dogs, one cat, a bearded dragon... and a partridge in a fucking pear tree. We live in Pueblo Colorado..... We own our home, we mostly pay our bills.... we mostly survive. Sometimes every now and again, we thrive.
The last year of my life has litterly sucked. I visisted home in May for a high school reunion.... travelled with someone who is totally wonderful at home, and makes the world's worst travel partner. Had lunch with my dad.... high school reunion.... blah boring blah, bought a bunch of bootleg purses and sunglasses......
June, life was normal.... for about a week...... and then my father's wife called me. Said he was sick, and that she was worried. They found something on his lung xray.....
Week later.... He was on a vent and I flew home. Stayed for 2 weeks, did what I could. He was getting better, feeling better..... still some fucked up shit, and we knew we were gonna deal with some. Scope says: Cancer, lung cancer.... and because of all the complications, we had no clue what kind.
Come home, cuz while I was gone, my daughter went through a bunch of stuff. Personal private stuff, she's 11....
Wasn't there when Pop needed me..... Wasn't there when my daughter needs me....
Personal issue, I know, but I have this whole superwoman complex. Gotta be there, gotta do it. Take care of everyone, take care of everything. My personal version of hell..... Not being there when I am needed. Sort of goes along with the fear of not being needed I think. I am middle of the road, cute but chunky, middle aged now.... given my families lovely genetics.... 31 is middle aged for us.
So, now here I am. About to use and abuse my right to free speech..... I guess saying I am middle of the road is only half true, can you a moderate extremist? Hence the Serenity in Turmoil, I seem to enjoy walking contradictions better then anything..... and they are very fitting to me personally......
Ok, so flash forward..... It's now December..... I have no fucking Christmas spirit at all. I am so not fa la la la-ing.... I had the hardest time yesterday. I was totally faking the funk and just trying to get the friggen xmas tree up... ya ya ya I know my dad died this year.... mourning and all I don't have to put one up... but again. I have kids.... I really don't want my father to haunt me about not giving them a tree, I'd really rather he haunt me to let me know where he put the effing will... but ya know.... any who.....
So I am digging through the boxes of shit we have collected over the years... all snowmen and Santa... eww...
and hiding in the corner of the last box was a pile of last years Xmas cards.... SWEET! Nope.... bottom of the pile is last years bday card from my dad..... Boo..... so much for hoping the decorations would put me in the holiday mood.....
Anyways I probably suck at this, I am OK at writing the kids book reports and science projects... but those audiences don't really have a choice.... So I am shooting my rambling brain into the Internet to see what comes back.... some advice from the cosmos that does NOT consist of... It gets easier.... some fucking aspiring phone psychic who claims to know where my old man hid the extra copy of the will.....a shitty email from his wife's daughter who will prolly recognize the story.... or maybe, nothing at all.... some fucking peace from the voices that don't shut the fuck up.
I obviously have way too much time on my hands. I recently watched a very long slightly boring, ultimatley good movie Julie and Julia..... Long story short, bitch writes blog, bitch gets grumpy, blog gets noticed, bitch gets happy.....
SO here I am, at work, trying to hide the click of the keys, about to blab my lifestory, to a either noone, or a bunch of people who don't give a shit anyway.
I'm 31, I'm married, I have three kids and one step-child, 4 dogs, one cat, a bearded dragon... and a partridge in a fucking pear tree. We live in Pueblo Colorado..... We own our home, we mostly pay our bills.... we mostly survive. Sometimes every now and again, we thrive.
The last year of my life has litterly sucked. I visisted home in May for a high school reunion.... travelled with someone who is totally wonderful at home, and makes the world's worst travel partner. Had lunch with my dad.... high school reunion.... blah boring blah, bought a bunch of bootleg purses and sunglasses......
June, life was normal.... for about a week...... and then my father's wife called me. Said he was sick, and that she was worried. They found something on his lung xray.....
Week later.... He was on a vent and I flew home. Stayed for 2 weeks, did what I could. He was getting better, feeling better..... still some fucked up shit, and we knew we were gonna deal with some. Scope says: Cancer, lung cancer.... and because of all the complications, we had no clue what kind.
Come home, cuz while I was gone, my daughter went through a bunch of stuff. Personal private stuff, she's 11....
Wasn't there when Pop needed me..... Wasn't there when my daughter needs me....
Personal issue, I know, but I have this whole superwoman complex. Gotta be there, gotta do it. Take care of everyone, take care of everything. My personal version of hell..... Not being there when I am needed. Sort of goes along with the fear of not being needed I think. I am middle of the road, cute but chunky, middle aged now.... given my families lovely genetics.... 31 is middle aged for us.
So, now here I am. About to use and abuse my right to free speech..... I guess saying I am middle of the road is only half true, can you a moderate extremist? Hence the Serenity in Turmoil, I seem to enjoy walking contradictions better then anything..... and they are very fitting to me personally......
Ok, so flash forward..... It's now December..... I have no fucking Christmas spirit at all. I am so not fa la la la-ing.... I had the hardest time yesterday. I was totally faking the funk and just trying to get the friggen xmas tree up... ya ya ya I know my dad died this year.... mourning and all I don't have to put one up... but again. I have kids.... I really don't want my father to haunt me about not giving them a tree, I'd really rather he haunt me to let me know where he put the effing will... but ya know.... any who.....
So I am digging through the boxes of shit we have collected over the years... all snowmen and Santa... eww...
and hiding in the corner of the last box was a pile of last years Xmas cards.... SWEET! Nope.... bottom of the pile is last years bday card from my dad..... Boo..... so much for hoping the decorations would put me in the holiday mood.....
Anyways I probably suck at this, I am OK at writing the kids book reports and science projects... but those audiences don't really have a choice.... So I am shooting my rambling brain into the Internet to see what comes back.... some advice from the cosmos that does NOT consist of... It gets easier.... some fucking aspiring phone psychic who claims to know where my old man hid the extra copy of the will.....a shitty email from his wife's daughter who will prolly recognize the story.... or maybe, nothing at all.... some fucking peace from the voices that don't shut the fuck up.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
