A day in the life. OR why vodka is good for lunch.

Wake up at 5.
5:15: Suck down horrible tasting coffee before giving up 1/2 way through despite desperate need for caffination because it tastes that bad. It was like someone jerked off in my coffee. Fuck you, Dunkin Donuts.  FUCK. YOU.
5:58 have two minutes to put on work out clothes, brush teeth, and check email. Computer crashes. Skip email. Put on work out gear and get ready to do Brazil Butt Lift for toned,tight, and high bum bum guaranteed!
6:02: Pick up toys from work out area. Cannot find Brazil Butt Lift DVD.
6:07: Locate Brazil Butt Lift DVD, put into player, DVD does not work.
6:07.5: Chuck piece of shit Brazil Butt Lift DVD across the room.
6:09: Sit on the floor and cry.
6:15: Settle for Turbo Jam instead, begin workout.
6:30: Mister leaving for work, hands Homeslice over to me.
6:55: Have paused Turbo Jam approximately 7 times to pull Homeslice off couch, dining room chairs, kitchen chairs, and train table, wipe Girlfriend’s ass, get her a pre-breakfast snack, and find “cup.”
7:15: Head upstairs for shower. Drag Homeslice kicking and screaming into the bathroom with selection of toys which she ignores in favor of standing with both hands on shower doors while screaming.
7:30: Dry off, get dressed in mis matched skirt and tee shirt from giant pile of laundry still waiting to be put away since motherfucking Saturday, change Homeslice’s poopy diaper while she writhes, twists, screams, and kicks at my face with shit on her heel. Brush Girlfriend’s hair while she screams bloody murder and Homeslice climbs up my leg, also screaming.
7:45: Homeslice finds horrible coffee left on my nightstand and dumps it all down her dress, my comforter, my bedskirt, and the floor.
7:47: Change Homeslice’s dress, mop floor, strip bed.
7:49 Discover that while I was cleaning the coffee mess, Homeslice has opened a bag of cotton balls and shred them all over the place. There’s also one in her mouth.
7:55: Girlfriend, for some reason, has taken off all her clothes and gotten back into what is left of my bed. I now have to fight her to get her to put them back on.
7:57: While fighting with Girlfriend, Homeslice finds the 1/2 full beer Mister left on his nightstand and dumps it into a basket of library books.
8:00: Wipe down and fan out library books.
8:20: Prepare and serve breakfast. It actually goes okay.
9:30: Go back upstairs to gather laundry. Pick up basket, carry down to first landing. Back up stairs, carry Homeslice down to landing. Pick up basket, carry to next landing. Go back up, carry Homeslice, repeat three more times until laundry is finally at washer in basement
9:55: Clean cat box, find that he’s eaten a good length of satin ribbon, gather Mister’s dirty dishes and empty beer cans from basement, collect Girlfriend’s shoes, get laundry out of washer.
10:15: Repeat stairs procedure and head out to clothes line to hang clothes out. Pull Homeslice off deck stairs approximately 897 times, give or take. Stop her from eating chalk. Stop her from walking through Alice’s Meadow Muffin Mine Field.
10:50: Go out to the garden to pick 8 million cherry tomatoes. Put 8 million cherry tomatoes into large silver bowl, while stopping to pull one out of Homeslice’s mouth about every other tomato.
11:00: Homeslice trips and falls into the bowl of 8 million cherry tomatoes, spilling the entire thing and sending them rolling all over the garden.
11:30: Re-collect tomatoes with Girlfriend’s help. Bring tomatoes in to sink to wash, open under sink cabinet to throw away paper towel and bottle of cleaning solution tumbles out of cabinet, onto floor and spills everywhere. Cleaning solution not safe for hardwoods. Douse floor with water while keeping Homeslice at bay with foot. Fail miserably, must now bathe Homeslice to get cleaning solution off her hands and arms and legs after she splashed in it.
12:13: Blogging about my morning which has been pretty typical actually while Homeslice, after a busy morning attempting suicide, is asleep in her organic freeze dried bananas. Girlfriend is having croutons and pickles for lunch and I’m totally understanding why those moms in the 1950’s were shit faced by 1:00.

It’s a SMURFOUT!!@1111!!!

Shhhhh!

Lynne and I are going on a stakeout. We spent all day planning it yesterday.

This is what we’re wearing:

Except we got so excited planning it, we forgot why we were going on a stakeout. I doesn’t really matter though because just getting a chance to wear some pretty kick ass outfits is justification in and of itself as far as I’m concerned. And we can hide in the bushes and then, at that critical moment, we can jump out and shout “AH-HA!!!”

That’d be cool.

Also, we’ll bring snacks like Ring-Dings and Twinkies so we have them in case we get hungry because if you leave a stakeout to go do drive through you could miss the thing you’re staking out and then you’re fucked.

Maybe we’ll just pick some random person’s house and just go hide in their bushes. It would be a shame to waste our outfits and delicious snackfoods.

Let’s see…what else did I want to tell you guys?

Oh!

I’m trying to find a babysitter for Homeslice for one day a week and it’s harder than it seems, you guys.

Remember the scene from Mrs.Doubtfire where Daniel calls Miranda and does all the voices to scare the shit out of her?

That’s EXACTLY what it’s like!

They’re all either

Too religious: One lady gave me her entire religious history and then was just like, “oh, and I love children!” I can’t have her turning Homeslice into a CATHOLIC. “Ev-ry sperm is sa-cred, ev-ry sperm is great, if a sperm is wa-st-ed, God gets quite i-rate” is not my favorite nursery rhyme.  NEXT!

Too illiterate:  If you don’t know the diff. between your and you’re then ur not smart enough to take care of my kid.  Is it too much to ask for some basic literacy skills?  Yes.  Yes it is.

Too young and stupid:  Your profile pic should not be of you making SEXYFACE with your cleavage hanging out. Save that shit for MySpace, kay sweetie? I cannot stress this enough.  Also, see above re: your/you’re.

Too foreign:  You know how I feel about  foreign people, right? Too much yucky white guilt when I have to shout en espanol at my nanny. No GRACIAS!

So maybe I won’t be getting a NEW NANNY like Mrs. Fancypants after all.

I found the perfect lady on a babysitter finder website thingy.  She’s 58, has 10 grandchildren, has been foster mother to 14 kids and won Foster Mother of the Year in 2007. I want her! But she’s not getting back to me because obviously she’s also a cunt. I spent $30 to get her email address, the least she could do is tell me to fuck off so I can stop fantasizing about Mrs. Doubtfire babysitting my kid.

HOLY SHIT!

THAT’S WHO WE CAN STAKEOUT!

And we can jump out of the bushes at her and hold up Homeslice and shout “why don’t you want to take care of my baby??”

Wait.

I just remembered who we’re really staking out. We’re supposed to stakeout the Facilities Manager over at Schmuckytown Pubic. She’s got men coming and going all day long and we think she’s running a whorehouse out of the basement. She’s such the type, too.

Homeslice pretty much says “cup” for everything and so Mister thinks we should have taught her “smurf” because it can describe anything and it wouldn’t make people look around for cup when what she really wants is something else entirely. It happens a lot. It’s kind of a problem.  Especially when the closest cup contains vodka and you give it to her before you realize.

It only happened twice, SHUT UP SHE’S FINE.

At least with “smurf” it could mean anything and we can keep guessing until we get it right and perhaps not alcohol poison her.

Also, I’ve been trying to sell some baby crap forfuckingever and nobody wants it, so I posted this ad on Craigslist and the only people emailing me are people saying I’m funny and that they’re sorry they don’t want my crap. The least they could do is flag it for “Best Of” because if I can’t sell my baby crap, I could at least become famous on Craigslist. (That was a hint, people. Go forth and do.)

Aaaannnddd it’s a TOY WITH ME DAY! It’s about smurfy smurfs smurfing. Enjoy!

Why is love and sex for the disabled such a taboo subject?

My kid is so much cuter than your vacation

Do you hate it when the only facebook updates people give are to let you know they’re out having a life and how fun it is?

What the fuck is that?

Like, don’t they have anything else going on in their lives other than vacations and fabulous dinners out with friends?  Don’t these people ever get pissed they have to do the dishes or…or get hemorrhoids?

I wanna see what’s really going on with my “friends,” not what they want everyone to think their life is like.

It ain’t all Margaritas and beaches and the. most. amazing. sushi! all the fucking time.

I want something truly interesting to happen to them because eventually the sushi is gonna give them The Diarrhea and then what will they have to say?

Absolutely nothing because their lives are nothing but awesome all the time, or so they would have us believe.

Like, wouldn’t it be more fun to read about how they got bloody ‘roids on the beach, and how the blood attracted sharks who ate their legs off  but left their assholes (because  sharks know that if you eat hemorrhoids, you get them), and so now they have a spilled Margarita,  hemorrhoids, and no legs.

That’s the story I wanna hear!

I think I’m going to start leaving updates like that in hopes it will inspire the “ahhhh. surf and sand.  It doesn’t get any better that this!” people to cut the shit.

And if you think I’m jealous of those people, you’re totally wrong.  I’ve already done my self-exploration on that one.  They’re just obnoxious and it makes me stabby to think that they think these updates are interesting to anyone other than themselves.

Oh, and those “pics to come later” that they promised?  I’m not exactly sitting on my computer waiting anxiously for them to post,  so they can take their time on that one.  I might look at them once they’re up, but it’s only to check to see if there’s a tampon string hanging out of the bathing suit.

Have any of you Queefies been truly interested in the details of someone else’s vacation?  Be honest.  I can’t be alone here.

PS: It is not lost on me that I post a myriad of updates on the latest happenings of my children, but they are way, way cuter than your umbrella drink vacation.

What’s in *your* lunchbox?

I love these little talks we have because I always sort of assume that everyone had the same kind of childhood and we ALL had lunchboxes and we ALL brought lunch to school.

But some of us were “buyers” as we called it at our school, and ate the provided school lunch. I was always jealous of those kids because my lunchbox was full of crap like whole wheat bread and apples and milk. My mom has always been a vegetarian, and as such, she had no clue how to make any sandwich other than cheese or PB&J. I remember requesting a bologna sandwich like everyone else had, and she made it, but she put butter on it. And my mom doesn’t screw around with butter. When she puts butter on something, she puts some motherlovin’ butter on it. Like, at least 1/4 inch or more.

Butter and bologna on whole wheat is an abomination. Everyone (except my mom) knows that bologna should be eaten on Wonder bread with trailer park mustard and a side of chips(preferably with ruffles) to be washed down with a coke.

Anything else is just stupid.

And in all my years of elementary school, nobody would trade a pack of Ring Dings or a bag of Doritos for a freaking pear. I was always totally stuck with my bullshit healthy lunch. I used to beg my mom to let me buy lunch when they had pizza or tater tots because those things were always kick ass and they came with a nice big spoonful of floppy salad dripping in oily Italian dressing. I loved the floppy salad and the pizza that looked like an old lady’s finger underneath the cheese.

I know I don’t have to say it, but tater tots are The Food of the Gods. I like them medium brown with mayo and a ton of salt because I’m a dirty girl. Slightly undercooked ones have to have ketchup though.

Everyone is totally craving tater tots right now, right?

Sorry.

But for all my complaints about the contents of my lunchbox, I have to thank my mom. Because of her, I have some good eating habits (and a raging butter addiction) and my lunchbox still has many of the same bullshit healthy things in it to this day. It’s a tradition of Torture by Whole Wheat I fully intend to pass down to my daughters. Also, packing lunches is a pain in the ass. It takes forever to pack a healthy lunch and so I have to say thanks for taking the time to do that, mommy!

When I do Girlfriend’s lunches, I’m not buying anything in a convenience package because we have to be green so we can be smug. I spent $26 on 3 little stainless steel lunch containers because I’m better than you. I also have pretty patterned cloth napkins I bought at Saver’s because I’m really, really better than you.

See?

Tradition of smugness.

But just so you don’t have to go kill yourself because your virtue pales so in comparison to mine, just know that right now, Homeslice is eating a box of Nerds that she got for herself out of the bag of candy Mister keeps by the bed for his midnight munchie festivals and managed to open it by herself. I’m too busy blogging to stop her, so there. I’m not that much better than everyone. I let my kids eat Nerds for breakfast (it happened yesterday too).

It’s a TWM day!

I’m Not In The Mood For Sexy Time