Pardon My Blog

Technology Robbed Me of This Passive Aggressive Move

2012-05-22T09:45:00.001-05:00

Ya know what I miss? I miss phones with receivers that you can slam down to emphasize that you believe the person on the other end to be a complete asshole. Somehow pushing 'End' real hard doesn't quite send that message home with the same gusto.

Jillian Michaels Is Being Mean To me

2012-03-16T22:50:00.000-05:00

I started Jillian Michaels 30 Day Shred again and holy hell, I truly believe that woman to be evil through and through. She has moved from sadistic bitch to full on monster in my book. Monster, I tell ya!

Level one was rough but I conquered. After I regained the ability to walk without appearing to be in a full on epileptic seizure, of course. Thursday was my first day at level two. I've been here once before, probably a year ago. Once. That's all I could take. But today was Day 2 at Level 2 so Yay me!

Level two, in my opinion, was designed specifically to make me look as ridiculous as possible. Walkout push-ups, jumping oblique twists, plank jacks? Fuuuuck yooooouuuu, Jillian! I pity the fool who walks in on me during those critical minutes. Some things you just can't un-see, kwim?

Ask Me Again, I Wish You Would

2012-03-13T21:55:00.000-05:00

"What are you gonna do with yourself once Asher goes to Kindergarten in the Fall?"

Here's what I'm gonna start saying... Ya know, rather than grocery shopping or laundry or cleaning house or exercising or volunteering more, all of which I do now with Asher in tow, I think I'm probably gonna nap more. Ya fuckin' jack-wagon!

Where Have I Been, You Ask?

2012-03-09T14:41:00.003-06:00

Three posts in February? Wow. That might be a new low. Why the lull in blog banter? How do I put this gently?

*light bulb* No, that sounds mean.

*light bulb* No, that's just not true.

*light bulb* Mean and also not true.

*light bulb* I just didn't want to. That's the truth. Plus it was February and February is dumb for me.

If I had written here I would have told you about how one day, without forethought, I went to a salon and got my hair chopped off. The hair I had been growing out for months. Which really only brought it to my shoulders because my hair grows at roughly the rate of a Canadian White Cedar. Happy Valentines Day, Sexy Beast!

I may also have written about going from a faded brunette to a fiery redhead to goth black with purple chunks in the span of 6 days. The Sexy Beast wisely smiled and said 'looks good, honey'. Each time. Good boy!

I could have written about the temporary insanity that overcame me when I decided to take the Fearsome Foursome to the movie theater to see Beauty and the Beast, Journey 2 The Mysterious Island, Alvin and the Chipmunks - Chipwrecked, and The Lorax. Seriously, even going in fully armed with contraband in the form of snacks and drinks that don't cost $9 per ounce and a healthy dose of my anti-depressant, it's a traumatic experience. However, when Belle and the Beast kiss and all four of the boys cover their eyes and scream "Eeeewwww!!!" at the top of their lungs? That's just funny.

I should have written about the first time I drove the Sexy Beast's new truck. How after specific instructions as to how to properly enter the vehicle and stern warnings about making careful turns, etc... he texted me no less than three times asking if the truck (not I, mind you) was okay. I finally responded something like this - Do you want me to answer you or concentrate on driving the truck? I haven't been in the driver's seat since.

So that's where I've been. Here, just not writing. No worries, I continued to rant and rave via Facebook the whole time so those lucky folks got to hear/read it.

Perhaps My Nephews Need Their Own BS Series?

2012-02-25T13:22:00.000-06:00

Lest you think Aidan and Asher are the only little bad-asses in my family, trust me, my nephews can hold their own. Bad-ass is kind of in their blood. As children of me and my sister, the four of them really didn't stand a chance... I mean I was bad but I looked like the freakin' golden child compared to Kid Sister. Granted that was because I didn't get caught. Much. Somehow my mother believed that the screen on my bedroom window was the only screen on the whole house that just wouldn't stay put. Hmmm. Kid Sister would do shit like go joy riding in my mom's truck and then lock the keys inside. Julyan is very much his other's son. He's got a nasty habit of purging his feelings onto paper. And he doesn't hold back. Problem is, he signs his name to everything so there's no question as to who the culprit might be. This is what I found in a notebook after an afternoon he spent time in the corner. I believe he meant that I was a 'mutha fuckin' bitch' but that's just a guess...

This is what he wrote for his brother's birthday

This is what he wrote about Asher

Kid Sister recently had to password protect her laptop because of his creative google searches. I'd say she's payin' for her raisin'.

He Needs Jesus

2012-02-22T20:34:00.000-06:00

Aidan decided he wanted to go to church with Skinny Bitch this evening. I asked him why he wanted to go to church all of a sudden and this is what he said...

"I don't know, I need Jesus. And also we get to play while everyone else reads the bible."

Because I Said So

2012-02-07T10:24:00.001-06:00

Okay, children, you seem to have trouble remembering the things you are not allowed to do and the words you are not allowed to say. So let me give you a comprehensive list for future reference.

You may not hit, punch, thump, whack, elbow, smack or slap one another. I really should just be able to say Don't hit but then you guys hit and say I didn't hit him, I slapped him. I'm just covering all the bases. Also, no kicking. And it's still kicking if you're laying down.

You may not choke one another. Choking - whether it be in a head-lock situation or with clothes, blankets, scarves, tree branches or bare hands around the neck - is unacceptable. Yes, there has been an incident that requires me to specifically include 'no choking with tree branches'. Feel sorry for me yet?

You may not scratch, pinch, poke, stab or snake bite one another. Not with your fingers, your toes, sticks, eating utensils, toys, the edges of books, or gardening tools.

You may not pull hair. First, because girls pull hair and second, because... just don't pull hair.

You may not push, pull, shove, shoulder or hip-check one another. Not down hills or stairs, not onto grass, carpet or asphalt, and not off beds or couches.

You may not bite one another. Not anywhere - and by 'anywhere' I mean anywhere on the body as well anywhere such as at home or in public. Not for any reason. It doesn't matter what he did to you first.

You may not throw things. More specifically, you may not throw things at one another's heads or faces. You may not throw soft things or hard things or wet things or stinky things or sticky things or slimy things. I do not care if what you threw was yours or if he deserved it or if that's what he gets.

Now for the words you are not allowed to say: Shut-up, shut your stupid face, stupid, dummy, idiot, moron, retard, sucks, screwed, fatty, fat butt, butt-hole, jerk, and I hate you/him/her/them. Also, any cuss words. And saying You're an A word counts as saying a cuss word. Same goes for spelling-out-in-lieu-of-actually-saying any of the forbidden words.

It's possible I forgot some of the words I do not like to hear come out of your mouth but both of you know which words are likely to set me off. So don't say them.

Just for clarification, I am an adult and I can say or do what I want to. I'm the mom and you're the kid, I'm big and you're small, I pay the bills with your daddy's money and you do not, that's why! Ever hear of 'do as I say, not as I do'? Live it.

Quote This - Bridesmaids

2012-01-22T22:38:00.004-06:00

I've glimpsed my future while watching Bridesmaids last weekend. I am Rita.

"The other night I'm slaving away making a beautiful dinner for my family, my youngest boy comes in and says he wants to order a pizza. I said no, we're not ordering pizza tonight. He goes, mom why don't you go and fuck yourself! He's nine!" -Rita, Bridesmaids

How 'bout I Do What?

2012-01-20T18:19:00.000-06:00

Aidan's said some dumb shit in his seven years on Earth. He's still alive so ya know, I'm like Mother of the Year, right? Just minutes ago he upped the ante on the Um, what did you just say to me? scale. I am folding laundry - freshly out of the dryer, I might add - when he asks if he can help. He folds exactly one towel, one washcloth and paired up some socks. When we were all done I hand him his stack of clothes to put away and he gives me attitude. So when he was done I handed him the kitchen towels to put away and he gives me more attitude. So when he finished that I handed him the pile of towels and washcloths for the downstairs bathroom and he temporarily loses his sanity, stomps away and snarls...

Why do I have to put everything away?!?! How about you do some work, hu?

And then he ran. Because he knew. And I didn't raise a complete fool.

Inny Minny Miney Moe

2012-01-18T11:51:00.000-06:00

We bought the Altima in mid-December. It's mid-January, the payment is due in 10 days and we still don't have a statement to pay it. So yesterday I call the bank the dealership financed us through and they have no damn idea who we are - no paperwork, no loan, nada. This morning I call the dealership. Here goes that conversation...

I started out perfectly calm and reasonable. We bought a car last month, financed through XX Bank but they don't have our loan or any paperwork on us.

Immediately comes the 'tude from Dealership Douche. Who told you you were financed through XX Bank?

And then my 'tude rears it's head. Um, YOU did. Also, the paperwork from YOU says XX Bank.

Dealership Douche adds defensive to the 'tude. Well, we don't benefit from telling you that you're financed through one bank and then financing you through another.

And in my head I'm thinking You're about to be in way over your head, tiger. But instead I say I'm just telling you what we were told and what our paperwork says.

Then Dealership Douche adds to the 'car salesmen are full of shit' stereotype by saying Just because it's on the paperwork doesn't mean anything. We can put anything randomly on that.

After giving him ample time to retract that statement I retort Really. I'm not sure what to do with that information. It's not exactly comforting. Do you think you could tell me who you randomly financed us through so I can make the damn payment?

For crying out loud! I mean this is all well and good for blog material but really... My whole life is a series of shit that happens to most people like twice in their lifetimes.

Planning Ahead

2012-01-14T18:19:00.001-06:00

"Be polite, be professional, but have a plan to kill everyone you meet."

L Is For Loyalty

2012-01-11T04:00:00.000-06:00

Last year when I was all pissed that Asher didn't get into preschool I was text-ranting to my friend, Krista, about Asher seriously needing preschool The kid only knows one letter, E, and about 49% of the time he calls out B when he sees it. Meanwhile Skinny Bitch's boys are pointing to the magnet letters on my fridge saying 'G is for Grey, C is for Cat, M is for Mom'... They're 2! Krista responds Yeah well S is for Show-off. He'll get in next year. And that, friends, is why I heart Krista. She's always on my side.

Probably Not What He Had In Mind

2012-01-10T04:00:00.000-06:00

I figure the Sexy Beast, like every other man on the planet, has the menage a trois fantasy. And me, being the best wife in the universe, am about to make that fantasy a reality. You see, I have what can only be described as another person developing just under the skin on my forehead. Certainly by the time we get busy again it will in fact qualify as another entity, therefore deeming that encounter a threesome. Bam! Best wife ever! Now to convince the Sexy Beast that this scenario and the one percolating in his head since he was 13 are one and the same. I'll let you know how that goes...

I've Really Got It Rough

2012-01-08T04:00:00.000-06:00

The Sexy Beast kicked me out of my Jeep. Something about a Hemi, my lead foot, and $200 a week in gas... Whatever, I was just keeping up with the other traffic on the road. It was determined that since there is no chance in hell that we will add more children to our clan, I do not require a vehicle that seats eight to drive two small heathens to and from school, sporting events, and meetings with probation officers. Okay, we're not scheduled with a probation officer yet but it's not out of the realm of possibility. So now the Sexy Beast is driving my beloved Jeep and me? I got this.

A Nissan Altima. I love her! And she loves me. Yes, my car tells me she loves me, I heard her. The best thing though? I got her a week before Christmas and I've gotten gas ONCE. Granted, we were out of town for a week and she was left all alone in the cold, dark garage and therefore not driven but still! Once. $40. Okay, so maybe kicking me out of the Jeep was a sound financial decision. Maybe.

They Started It

2012-01-06T04:00:00.000-06:00

I got a letter from the School Attendance Nazi's right before Christmas break. It said...

Dear Parent,
Aidan has missed two days of school and left early two times. Keep in mind our attendance policy. After five absences a meeting will be scheduled with the principal to discuss the issue. After seven absences we will notify the prosecuting attorney who will order your public execution in the city square.
Sincerely,
School Attendance Nazis

Or some such shit. As I look at this letter I am thinking about how in the month of January alone a total of six potential school days will be missed due to the school closing for one reason or another. So I plan on sending them a letter on February 1 that will say something like this.

Dear School Attendance Nazis,
Aidan and the rest of the student body have missed six days of school this semester. Note: We are merely 30 days into said semester. Please keep in mind your performance relating to your attendance policy the next time you find yourself typing up a shame-on-you letter to me because my kid was sick for two days and was checked out a half an hour before dismissal twice in one semester. You're not the only ones keeping track.
Sincerely,
Amanda

I'll Make Your Resolutions For You

2012-01-05T00:28:00.001-06:00

I've decided that my kids, the dog, and my husband for that matter, need some direction in making their New Year's Resolutions.

First on the list? Asher and Aidan. Boys, in 2012 you will learn to pee INTO the toilet rather than ONTO it. I swear on my laptop I will let that bathroom morph into the hazardous material dumping ground it teeters on the edge of becoming on every day except the days I take it upon myself to don a gas mask and go in with no regard for my own well-being. Next time I see this?

I will... You will... It will be... Just don't piss all over the toilet anymore, okay?

Now, Sexy Beast, I actually had to look for something to create a resolution for you about because, well, you get off pretty easy here on the ol' blog and frankly it's your turn. Also, you're darn near perfect. So, sweetie, in 2012 I resolve for you to clear your mind of the delusion that the space between your bedside table and the wall is a closet. It also is not a clothes hamper.

And no, I do to wish to discuss the various places in which my randomly discarded clothing ends up. This is neither the time nor the place for that nonsense.

And finally, Brody. Oh Brody. I could understand if you believed yourself to be a Chihuahua based on how you try to crawl up into the laps of little old ladies and small children. I could even understand if you were under the impression that you were a human considering how you flop your big, black ass on the couch like you own this joint. What I am confused by is where you got the idea that you were a cat. Why do I think that you might think that you are a cat? Well, it's the only reason I can come up with as to why you try to cover up your shit with grass and two inches of soil from the yard. The yard that we pay a service an uncomfortable fee to keep looking respectable. Covering up your shit is a cat thing. I would think being a cat would be the very thing a dog would not want to be. So stop being a cat, will ya?

I Truly Don't Know What I'm Doing

2012-01-03T08:36:00.001-06:00

I'm here, I'm moving to a new place, I'm back here, I'm quitting all together... I can't even keep up with myself. All this shit started when I got fed up with certain people checking up on me here allthefuckingtime but otherwise staying absent in my life. It's such a huge, incredibly fucked up yet infantile story full of misunderstandings and realizations and hurt feelings and stubbornness that even here, where I will pretty much say anything regardless of it's appropriateness, I'm just not going to get into. I just wanted completely away from them because I loathe the very thought of them. But now it's 2012 and I'm gonna try that whole forgive and forget thing. However, in my forgive and forget, I forgive them and forget they exist. I'm not even mad anymore, I just don't give a shit and I'm not changing how I write or what I write or where I write because of those jackasses.

So now that I said all that, I don't have to move but I still kinda want to. The issue is for all the simplicity at my new place - no ads, no fancy designs, etc... it may be too simple. For instance, no comments. Which at first I was all for because Whew, away with one more way of measuring my bloggy shortcomings. You guys though? You're all WTF, Amanda, why can't I comment? What is this bullshit? And I'm all Oh, NOW you wanna comment, hu? Where were your comments the past few months? You have yet to respond so that ends that convo.

Yeah, I don't know what I'm doing but I'm here now and there now and where I'll end up? I don't know. If I do move and you want to know where and you leave a comment here asking where I am and you don't have an email address for me to tell you where I am how would you like me to proceed? Posting the new place here will kind of defeat the purpose of hiding from stalkers, yes? I'm pretty awesome but a mind reader I am not.

2011-12-16T10:31:00.000-06:00

*blows dust off* You guys still there?

This really has been the longest I've not blogged in about four years. That's like eternity in blog-time.

I've got some posts in my head but they'll likely go to my new home. Because I moved elsewhere in the internet. If you want to visit me there and if I want you to visit me there, we'll be in touch. If you're the few people I'm trying to purge from my life, well, neener neener neener!

Secrets To Hosting Thanksgiving Dinner

2011-11-23T23:09:00.001-06:00

You might think a girl who was hosting Thanksgiving dinner for eleven in 17 hours with not a pie, casserole, or pan of rolls prepared would be up late getting on that but if that girl is me, well, you'd be dead wrong. My house is a wreck, the laundry is piled up, a quarter of the dishes in the whole kitchen are dirty but I needed a new mix cd so I chose to get on that. And now here I sit blasting my new tunes in my ears and blogging, still not getting anything done. Except for blogging.

Domesticity is not a great talent of mine but you can bet your candy ass I'll pull tomorrow off brilliantly because what I am good at is performing well under pressure. Also, faking it.

Truth be told, I'm really not responsible for much tomorrow. The Sexy Beast is in charge of the turkey - we fry our birds 'round here - so he'll be hiding in the garage with Opa "monitoring" the turkey for roughly four hours... which is odd because it only takes an hour to cook. Wonder what that's all about? *snicker* Kid sister is making the obligatory green bean casserole and mashed potatoes and gravy. I offered to take care of the potatoes but apparently instant mashed potatoes aren't good enough for some people. Snobs! My mom is making something like thirteen pies, a sweet potato casserole, stuffing, and no doubt three different salads. Can we say 'show off', boys and girls? I'm really not sure the person responsible for the ham has been appointed to his/her duty as of yet but here's hoping it's not me because what I know about baking a ham is a non-measurable amount.

What I am responsible for is my mom's famous refrigerator potato rolls. Wait, their official name is "my mom's famous refrigerator rolls' so why, pray tell, am I making them? True story - I got our Kitchen Aid mixer out to make the dough earlier this week and I swear on my laptop Asher scolded me saying "Hey! Why you messin' with Daddy's tools?!?!" Clearly I don't do much cooking/baking, little punk ass!

Okay, back on topic: I also will be whipping up two pumpkin pies, a corn casserole, and a batch of dumplin's. Throughout all of this I will be guided by the infamous mother-in-law recipes. You know, the kind of recipes with instructions such as 'two pinches of ginger', 'a sprinkle of cinnamon', 'a dab of sour scream' pretty much assuring that I will royally fuck something up? Yeah, those. Fun times.

My Grandma is coming and I told her dinner was at 5pm. If you tell my Grandmother she is eating at 5pm and there is no food ready to eat at 5pm... There better damn well be food ready at 5pm. She may be a sweet old gal who works tirelessly to abolish the death penalty but she's got no problem doling out a good whack with her cane to get shit back on track.

Who Trains Wal-Mart Cashiers?

2011-11-15T04:00:00.000-06:00

Dear Idiot Wal-Mart Cashier,

Something to keep in mind if I come through your check out line next time. Cut the small talk, mkay? For real, I won’t be offended if we just complete this process without polite, or in this case – impolite, conversation.

You asked the question, Do you have kids?

And I replied - What tipped you off – the dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets and Danimals or the fucking preschooler in the cart? Um, yes, yes I do have children.

Then you asked - Are any of them still at home?

And after a moment to see if you were joking - Good God, woman! You mean besides the preschooler that should have tipped you off to the fact that I had children in the first damn place? Yeah, I still have kids at home. How fucking old do you think I am? Are you trying to get jack-slapped?

Next came this gem from you - Microwave French fries? Don’t you like homemade?

And it was all I could do not to throttle you so I replied - Oh for fuck sake! Did you miss the part where we established that I have kids? Yeah, I do like homemade but the kids prefer quick as opposed to made with love by Mama so them’s the breaks, Little Miss I’m 17 So I Think I Know Everything About Everything But Somehow I Don’t Know I’ve Insulted My Customer 16 Times During This Conversation?

Seriously, stop talking to me before you really screw up and ask me when I'm due and whether I'm having a boy or a girl. Before you inquire as to when I had my sex change. Before you r e a l l y go too far.

Sincerely,

The Woman Who Had Every Right To Wring Your Scrawny Neck

That's Gross

2011-11-14T03:30:00.000-06:00

We have a small Jack Vettriano print in our kitchen. This one, in fact...

My nephew Jayden looked at it this weekend and said Aunt Amanda, is that real?

Me - What? The picture?

Jayden - Yeah. Those people *scrunched up nose* kissing.

Me - Well, it's just a painting.

Jayden - So that's not you and Uncle X?

Me - No, it's not us.

Jayden - Oh good cuz that's really pretty gross.

If I Was The Complete Package

2011-11-13T04:00:00.000-06:00

Skinny Bitch and I were smack talking the other day about how incredibly unfair it is that some people get to be Trump-style rich, Skinny Bitch skinny, Heidi Klum beautiful, Tina Fey funny and *insert famous genius* smart. We are both of the opinion that it's a total crock of shit for one person to get to be all of those things when most of us are lucky to get a two-fer combo. Upon further consideration I think in my case, God knew better than to bestow too many blessings on me and here's why I feel that way. I can be a little... um, how should I put this... much. I can be a little much. Hell, I bow up and get all cocky after a good run. If I were rich AND beautiful AND skinny AND funny I would be impossible to be around. I would be absolutely, unbearably obnoxious. You wouldn't be able to tell me a damn thing, I would be terrible! I know this with every fiber of my Amanda-ness. Hey, at least I'm honest. And God, if at any point you'd like to throw one or two more of those pesky attributes my way, well, who am I do question You?

Phobia Runs In The Family

2011-11-10T03:00:00.000-06:00

I think I've written before about my odd phobias. Balloons - the rubber ones - China, Oprah Winfrey, trees growing out of water... There are a few. My mother can't really talk about the vastness of the universe without at some point putting her hands over her ears and humming so as to drown out the taunting from her beloved daughters, Kid Sister and myself. We're truly a blessing in her life, I tell ya.

Speaking of Kid Sister... she's afraid of escalators and split level homes. I know! It's absurd. You go to a multi-level mall or airport or store and get ready to take the stairs because that brat cannot make herself ride an escalator. We've only just discovered this split-level home phobia. The neighborhood Asher's school is in is full of 1980's split levels like this

And she cannot stand to be near them! Something about half in the ground, half out and creeping her out. It's hysterical! So, being the supportive big sister I am, every time I take Asher to school I snap a picture of one of them and send it to her phone. I truly am a blessing in her life. Hee hee hee.

Wordless Wednesday - Halloween

2011-11-09T03:00:00.000-06:00

Me and The Three SB's

2011-11-08T21:40:00.000-06:00

Me, the Sexy Beast, Skinny Bitch and Skinny Bastard ran the Beer & Bagel 4 Mile Trail Run this past Suday. And survived. Well, it was always expected that the Skinny B's would survive because they're both freak running people but the Sexy Beast and I? Not so much. I had run 425 miles this year when I crossed the starting line, the Sexy Beast - oh, about 22 miles. The son of a bitch crossed the finish line one second before me. Men suck!

Brag time - this year that course was absolutely designed by terrorists. I know for damn sure it was longer - by at least a 1/2 mile. And the hills - oh my God, what did I ever do to those people? Also, three creek crossings? In November? Nice. Still, I came in twelve minutes faster than last year. So I pretty much kicked it's ass. And today I pretty much can't walk.