Yes, I Really DID Just Say That

The Kiddos Sledding For the First Time: AKA: Even The Griswolds Would Disown Me

2012-12-27T19:24:00.001-08:00

I have a confession to make. When it comes to planning family outings/holidays/events I always end up feeling like Clark Griswold and I must be related. Hell, who am I kidding? Even my family dinners would be an utter embarrassment to Clark! But, much like the delusional dreamer he is, I keep trying for that "perfect" (read: non-dysfunctional) family bonding memory. Yet, against my better judgment, I keep trying.

A while back I wrote a post about how I took the kiddos rollerskating for the first time. It was Hell on Wheels, literally. So bad, in fact, that I was given free tickets just on the off chance that I'd be stupid enough to try again. (FYI: Those free tickets have never left my purse. They are coated in melted candy gooeyliciousness, I'm sure) because THAT is a memory that I refuse to relive and am trying to bury deep enough into my psyche that even the world's most ~~court appointed~~ famous hypnotherapist won't be able to make me pull that little tidbit of my past out of my head. But I digress.

As much as I keep failing to make those Norman Rockwell memories as a single mom with 4 young kiddos, I sometimes find myself hoping I can give them a single memory that they can happily share with their own kids, instead of a psychiatrist, someday. Last night, we had our first major snowfall since we moved up North. And, coincidentally enough, Santa brought them their very first sleds for Christmas! (That giant elf's a psychic genius, I tell you!) So I told them that I'd take them sledding (for the very fist time) when I got home from work today. Oh, the ~~fantasies~~ delusions I had of our little family giggling as we sped down the same snow covered hill that I so fondly remember my brother and I ~~pushing~~ racing each other down!

All day at work, I kept watching the clock. Waiting to get home and fulfill my sledding fantasy.

Then. It. Happened. The scenario of family bliss that I had played repeatedly in my head was upon us. ~~An hour~~ right after I got home, we headed out to the local hot spot of sledding. We got lucky. There were only a few ~~targets~~ kids left for the kiddos to collide with! WooHoo!!! So I grabbed our new sleds, told them the basics (In all honesty, I might have been "Griswolding" too much to actually explain anything. Whatever. This was MY fantasy. So we'll just assume that I did.), and carted our asses up the hill.

The first ones to head down were myself and the Baby. Because I'm overprotective like that. It had absolutely NOTHING to do with me not being the first one down the hill. DUH!!! Anywho....about 3 feet into our epic ride, the sled broke. And we skidded down the hill. Head over heels and asses. Way to go me for making sure she was sledding safely!! smdh

Next up was the Princess. EPIC ride!!! Right up until Boy2 broke the rules I may or may not have explained and flew down the hill. Slamming her straight in the kidney with his sled.

I let the Baby take her next few rides down the hill alone. Because I wanted her to experience the freedom of flying down a snow covered hill on her own. I assure you it had NOTHING to do with me fearing that the weight of my fat ass caused the first sled to break. Although.....had I actually risked the cheapo $5 sled and sledded down the hill with her, I could have saved myself about 20 semi-impossible walks DOWN the hill. Just to walk back UP the hill. Carrying both a sled and a toddler who couldn't seem to keep her boots on to save her life. come to think of it, if I'd tried the sled after all those trips up and down the hill, my ass might not have broken another sled. Hindsight is a bitch.

It went on like this for a solid ~~20 minutes~~ hour before I decided to call it quits and remove any and all links I might have to the Griswold family on Ancestry.com. And demanded that we go home. Flash forward to the Princess "accidentally" letting go of her sled and watching it scoot down the hill 30 times, Boy1 "conveniently" losing his balance and sledding down another 10 times, and Boy2 flashing me the ~~bird~~ peace sign while he hit the ramp he was told to stay away from.

I finally got them ready to leave. We were headed to the van. Then the Baby saw the snow drift that I, in my infinite wisdom, told her to avoid in the parking lot. Nothing sucks off snow boots like a 5 foot snow drift, folks. And nothing makes your ears bleed faster than a 3 yr old walking through snow in nothing but stocking feet.

All said and done...We. Did. It. Once again, the kiddos and I made it home. Safe and sound. (Minus a few bruises and a possible kidney issue for the Princess. And frostbite for the Baby.) And, while it might not be the most "perfect" memory.....it's still a memory. And one that I'm only slightly ashamed for them to bring up to their future and inevitable therapist.

The Story of ME!! AKA- Me Putting It All Out There In The Hopes That It Will Help Someone Else

2012-11-04T19:47:00.001-08:00

DISCLAIMER: This is me being raw. And honest. If you are expecting something lighthearted, just close the tab now because you aren't going to get it.

It's been a long time since I wrote anything more than a status update. And I haven't even been able do that for a while. (You're welcome for being spared from my often random and typically chaotic thoughts, by the way.) I'm writing this without second guessing myself. Without worrying about what the hell everyone else is going to think. Without editing (so if you point out a typo, you really need to find a better use of your time), without finding funny pics to post with it, or worrying about how the format looks. This is me putting my story out there. In the hopes that I can help at least ONE person who has been through what I've been through. And helping myself the best way I know how. By just writing about it.

Here goes:

My name is Cindy. I'm 37 years old. And I have 4 AMAZING young kiddos. And earlier this week I had 4 cops show up at my door in the middle of the night because they got a call that I might kill myself. (How's that for "raw"?!)

About 20 years ago, I tried to kill myself. Yep. You read that right. I did what everyone, including myself, considers the unspeakable. I was only 18 years old. High School Valedictorian, Best Athlete, Class President, all of it. Just starting my life. But I wanted to die. And I didn't want to die peacefully, either. I painstakingly slit at my wrists with my fingernails until I hit a vein. I never even felt it because I was so emotionally numb at the time. (In hindsight, that's probably why I bite my fingernails now. You know, as a "just in case" measure.) Obviously, I didn't succeed. If I had, I wouldn't have 4 little kiddos to drive me nuts on a daily basis. (I DO know my small victories when I see them.)

It didn't end there. Or start there even, if I'm being honest. I have suffered from eating disorders (multiple, depending on the time.) over the years. And, yes, judge me if you will, but, even though I had a LOT of medical issues throughout my pregnancies that mimicked bulimia (which weren't. I want to be perfectly clear about that!), I continued to go back to that every time. As sick (no pun intended) as it is, I still do. (And, yes, I've done the group therapy/personal counseling/OMG WTF are you doing?!?!? therapy. This post isn't about me failing.) I've suffered/found solice in that since I was in my early teens. Do I know it's horrible? Yes. Have I tried to stop? ABSOLUTELY!!! Unless you've been there, you have no clue.

Anyway, I want to get back to what this is about. Not that the eating disorders are irrelevant, just that I feel they are merely a symptom of something larger.

Back to the present. This week I almost did the unspeakable again. The last year has been hell. I've had more demons from the past creep up than I ever thought possible. So, yes, I went back to "that place". And wound up with 4 cops at my door ready to haul my ass off to the loony bin. And had to convince them that I wasn't in any immediate danger. You know what, though? I lied to them. For the first time in ages. I lied. I might not have been in "immediate" danger, but, rather, "imminent" danger. So I lied to get them out of my house. I couldn't bear to put my kids through that embarrassment. I'm still not happy about that.

But you know what? I realized that, even if I've done everything else wrong, I've done ONE thing right. In my darkest hour, I reached out to someone who was actually willing to put our friendship on the line and think about me first. I learned to trust people. People that I don't even know really well. To look out for me. The people I least suspected to call the cops and make sure I was OK (even though they thought I'd hate them for it), called them. To make sure that, when I'm incapable of taking care of myself, someone will look out for my well being. Because, guess what? If I hadn't reached out. To people I've never even met in real life. Those cops never would have showed up at my door. And I might not be writing this.

Yes, I'm looking out for my own well-being now. Well, in all all honesty, the best I can do right now is say that I'll try to do that. Yes, I know I need help. And, yes, I know how lucky I am and what a near miss I had.

I just hope this reaches someone in the same place I was a few weeks ago before it's too late. And that they realize they aren't alone.

Horny Little Devils

2012-09-01T15:49:00.000-07:00

I'm one of those people who just happens to be ~~cursed~~ blessed with a kick ass memory. Except when it it involves anything pertaining to doctor's appointments, what I need at the grocery store, feeding the kiddos, or any other thing that should be important. Or if I've been drinking, in which case all bets are off that I'll even remember which day of the week it is was. The details of random conversations and seemingly mundane shit, however, just seem to stick in my head for whatever reason. Just ask my ex. Or the kids. Or that bitch in grade school who one time made fun of my sparkly pink sneakers that I was so proud of then had the nerve to send me a friend request 30 years later. SHEEESH! The nerve of some people!

Now where was I? I said my memory is outstanding. Not my focus. Pay attention, folks. Oh, yea. My semi photographic memory. It really is. My first memory is from when I was 2ish. I randomly decided that my new word for milk was "Lupe". No one could figure out what I wanted. And let me tell you, that shit. Pissed. Me. Off. I still, to this day, get a little pissy just thinking about it.

Every now and then, though, someone reminds me of some utterly useless information that I actually DID ~~block out~~ forget in my life. Case in point, a friend posted something about a local legend that I had completely forgotten. And it was a gifuckingnormous part of my childhood.

HORNED. HUMAN. SKULLS.

That's not a typo. You read that right. I said "horned", not "horny". Get your mind out of the gutter for a minute. Human skulls with horns were supposedly found here back in the 1800's. The short version of the legend, because I'm just going to assume that the actual story about giants with horns strutting around the neighborhood I grew up in over a thousand years before my fabulous ass got spanked into this world is much less interesting than what I have to say about it, is this:

Over a century ago, some really boring people found many human skulls that some even more boring scientists with nothing better to do determined lived here about 1000 years ago. And the skulls had horns.2 horns to be exact. Oh, and the horny people were giants. The remains got stolen from the museum a few years later.....blah, blah, blah.

(You can read the full story here, but, trust me, my version's better: http://www.viewzone.com/hornedskull.html)

Back to me. How do I, of all people, block something like that out?!?! Fuck it. I left decades ago and developed "Mom Brain" along the way. Anyway, I had totally forgotten that ~~folklore~~ piece of local history that my father used to incessantly beat into our brains growing up. In all fairness, though, he never actually told us the whole story. Just the part where they found Devil Skulls about a mile from where we lived. And "legend had it" that those giant freaks were going to hunt down and sacrifice ~~whiny little brats~~ naughty kids who didn't behave.

Thanks for the memories, Dad!!!

Anyway, upon being reminded of this piece of personal nostalgia, I did what any nontraditional parent would do. I tried to use it to my advantage. ~~Make the kiddos suffer the same nightmares.~~ Teach the kiddos about local history. But with one fatal flaw.

I forgot the minor detail about how those warnings Never. Worked. On. Me. You see, I have ALWAYS loved all things ~~crazy~~ ~~twisted~~ ~~psycho~~ abnormal. And the kiddos are more obsessed than their momma ever was at that age!! The way my kiddos await the Zombie Apocalypse, scary shit, and all the things I ~~look forward to~~ take with a grain of salt, I should have known that they would embrace the idea of Devil Skulled People secretly watching from the hilltop. Hell, they even considered it a challenge to FIND them. Hunt them down and go all Ghostbusters Proton Pack on their asses. (I have to admit, their plan was probably fool proof, but, alas, I'd probably get in trouble for letting young children camp out alone in the middle of the woods.)

So now I can only hope that whatever memory-y parts of my DNA that make me remember random stuff failed to get passed on, and they will soon forget about the one time I ~~threatened them with~~ told them this story. Because, as much as I've tried to backtrack and tell them that, as much as I tried, the Devil Skulled People never came to take me away....they are determined to pull off what I was never able to do. And I'm not really patient enough to wait for their own "Parent-Brain-Memory-Loss" to occur.

Dear Child

2012-08-12T20:42:00.000-07:00

Dear Child,

I'm sorry that life dealt you a hand that no one should ever have to play. I hate that the only one around to wipe your tears is the one who is crying alongside you. I want you to know that my life's goal is to NEVER be the one who lets you down and makes you cry. I'm sorry that I can't erase the past. Trust me, if I could, I would.

I hate that my decisions caused you this pain, and that it will be decades before you ever understand why I did it. I'm sorry that I'm the only one who wanted our family to be whole, but I hope someday you will understand that we can't force others to feel the same way we do, no matter how desperately we want it.

I sometimes wish you could have seen the trauma I suffered just so you'd understand why I did what I did, but I'm thankful that I was successful in never letting you see it. That may very well be my proudest Mommy moment ever. Even though I can't save you from this pain now, I saved you from it then.

Watching someone else break your heart is the toughest thing I've ever had to do. Except for listening to you say how you think I broke it first. I want you to know that my heart breaks twofold for every crack you feel in yours. I will endure that pain forever. Gladly. If it means protecting you from a hurt that I know is worse, then so be it.

While I may never be able to stop all of your pain, I will always try my hardest to make sure that you understand that real love comes with respect. Words are hollow. Actions are solid. I promise to always make sure my actions hold up to my words.

I hate that you are the one suffering most. You deserve to suffer the least. You did NOTHING wrong. You were one of the four reasons we stayed a family as long as we did!!! You are PERFECT. Just as you are.

I promise you this: You WILL grow up without the tirades and abuse I endured. You WILL know how much your mother is grateful for every moment she has with you. You WILL know that every tear you shed will be shed by me as well. And things WILL get better......so help me God, I WILL make them better for you.

Always,
Your Mom

Internet Trolls, Liars Versus Those of us Who Just Want Laugh

2012-08-06T20:32:00.001-07:00

Every now and then, some ~~holier than thou perfect parent~~ asshole finds the need to tell me about how terrible of a parent I am. You know what? I. Fucking. Am. And so are you. And you over there. And, well, maybe not her over there, but she's a douchenozzle, and her kids remind me of those creepy little shits in the "Stepford Children"--we all know how that will turn out in the end. But I digress.

We all are in some respect. You know why? Because we're all human. Well, maybe not Boy1. His place on the Evolutionary Chart is still up for debate. But he's not a parent, so my point is still valid for several years. If you want to come back 20 years from now when he has his own child (yes, I'm completely dismissing any and all possibility that I will ever be a grandparent before the eldest turns 28. Because. I. Can.) and argue about how utterly wrong I am about all parents being human, then be my guest. And, while you're at it, get a fucking life.

Now, back to my point. If I can remember what that was.

Ok, I remember it.

THIS is exactly what you see when you go to my page on Facebook. See that little "about" section? The part where it says that I make stuff up just to amuse myself? Phheeeww! *wipes brow knowing I'm not the only one who sees it*

"This page is 100% my crazy life. Except when it's not, and I need to embellish it or flat out make shit up just to amuse myself."

I consider that little section to be fair warning to everyone that *gasp* I often embellish stuff that happens in my life, or I just flat out make shit up to keep myself laughing when things get rough. It's my ~~cover my ass in court~~ get out of jail free card, if you will. Guess what.? And I know you'll all be surprised by this, but Facebook. Isn't. Real. At least, it's not, for me. It's an outlet. A way to introduce everyone to how MY mind works. Maybe not everyone (remember douchenozzle, Stepford Mom in the corner? BTW, someone needs to pass that bitch a paper bag because I'm pretty sure she's hyperventilating by now). But people who are able to actually separate the real world from the internet.

Don't get me wrong. Lying. Is. Bad. Really fucking bad. I despise liars. In fact, the thing my kiddos fear the most is getting caught in a lie. (Except for boys hitting girls, but they're still young and already know that that shit isn't gonna fly.) Because they know how much that punishment is going to suck compared to anything else they could do. And, trust me, I know how to spot a lie. Just to clarify. Jokes. Good. Sarcasm. Better. Lies. Get ready for Mommy to ruin your damn day.

I guess this is the point where I feel that I need to clarify WTF this post is actually about. Hell, I'm not even sure what it's about now because I'm too damn lazy to scroll back and look at what I actually wrote, but I'll just assume it's this: Stop judging everyone else. Stop thinking that every post by every person/page it "true". Learn to laugh. Make fun of your own life. And think about how fucking funny your own "real life" stuff could be if you just took a moment to step back and wonder "What if life's chaos had happened THIS way, instead?".

Everyone needs a place to ~~stop short of murdering innocent bystanders~~ vent/laugh/make fun of themselves. For me, that place is the internet. I don't judge anyone on any random post they make. I know what's real and what's not. Just ignore me while I choose to laugh instead of being a little bitch about it.

Random Thoughts to Save the World

2012-05-10T20:11:00.001-07:00

Have you ever looked at the world and thought that there is no hope for humanity? If you haven't then you must be a ~~fucking clueless bastard~~ real optimist.

This is an honest conversation that several admins and I had about how to save the world. And some who wanted to destroy our genius plan.

SIDENOTE: Names have been changed to protect the innocent. Also the guilty who obviously want to see the world in ruins.

STFU:

HH and I just figured out how to create world peace and solve the economic crisis. It may involve sporking birds, jamaican jerk vulture, big boobed shrines in our honor, and mass amounts of plastic surgery, and Ryan Reynolds. Just thought you should know.

· · · Yesterday at 5:21pm

- HH: it's a foolproof plan
  
  Yesterday at 5:24pm ·
- STFU: Impossible to fail.
  
  Yesterday at 5:24pm ·
- PAUSE: How can I help
  
  Yesterday at 5:25pm via mobile ·
- HH: the first step is to spork all birds on the planet. fuckers.
  
  Yesterday at 5:25pm · · 1
- STFU: So we need lots of sporks.
  
  Yesterday at 5:25pm ·
- NSM: I can get knorks, or do you want to stick with sporks?
  
  Yesterday at 5:26pm · · 1
- HH: spork per bird. unless you get the metal ones. those
  might be a better investment
  
  Yesterday at 5:26pm · · 2
- STFU: knorks could work
  
  Yesterday at 5:26pm · · 2
- HH: they are pretty sturdy
  
  Yesterday at 5:27pm ·
- HH: really all we need to do is go to fast food restaurants
  and swipe them.
  
  Yesterday at 5:27pm ·
- HH: and then begin to spork away
  
  Yesterday at 5:27pm ·
- STFU: But set the vultures aside on ice until we find a really
  good jamaican jerk recipe.
  
  Yesterday at 5:28pm ·
- HH: that is where we will make our millions and receive praise
  for ridding the world of vermin in a delicious way
  
  Yesterday at 5:30pm · · 1
- STFU: I think they bailed on our plan. Too bad, too, because
  we were just going to tell them about the Nobel Peace Prize
  and shrines. sheesh
  
  Yesterday at 5:31pm ·
- HH: and the resurgence of economies all over the world. tsk
  
  Yesterday at 5:32pm · · 1
- STFU: They have no vision. Dammit. The world is screwed.
  
  Yesterday at 5:32pm · · 1
- HH: It's just you and me
  
  Yesterday at 5:32pm · · 1
- HH: against the world.
  
  Yesterday at 5:33pm ·
- STFU: ‎^I'm fine with that.
  
  Yesterday at 5:33pm ·
- PAUSE: I'm still here, I'm collecting supplies
  
  Yesterday at 5:34pm via mobile · · 2
- HH: excellent
  
  Yesterday at 5:39pm · · 1
- F4F: We're all doomed!!! ;-)
  
  Yesterday at 5:45pm via mobile ·
- HH: YOU are, while we will flourish
  
  Yesterday at 5:47pm · · 2
- STFU: ‎^that. They won't be allowed in the Cultured Vulture,
  and since that's all anyone will ever eat, they'll starve.
  
  Yesterday at 5:48pm · · 2
- HH: ‎^bazinga!
  
  Yesterday at 5:48pm · · 1
- F4F: I saw what happened to STFU's hotel... Nuff said. :)
  
  Yesterday at 5:50pm via mobile · · 1
- HH: haters gonna hate
  
  Yesterday at 5:51pm · · 1
- STFU: Can we banish F4F to the moon?
  
  Yesterday at 5:51pm · · 2
- F4F: Thanks "Alice." :)
  
  Yesterday at 5:53pm via mobile · · 1
- HH: POW!
  
  Yesterday at 5:55pm · · 1
- Diary: Did you all get high without me?!?!
  
  Yesterday at 5:56pm · · 1
- F4F: Haha.
  
  Yesterday at 5:57pm via mobile ·
- STFU: Nope. Just trying to better the world.
  
  Yesterday at 5:57pm ·
- Diary: Oh okay...just making sure! Thought there might have
  been a little puff puff pass action going on! O.o
  
  Yesterday at 5:58pm ·
- F4F: I think STFU and HH bought some "magic" beans...
  
  Yesterday at 5:59pm via mobile · · 2
- HH: No, we're just geniuses
  
  Yesterday at 5:59pm via mobile · · 1
- HH: Using our powers for good
  
  Yesterday at 6:00pm via mobile · · 1
- STFU: This is actually one of our more mild plans. You
  should hear the story about the tooth fairy, boob fairy, and
  laundry fairy.
  
  Yesterday at 6:00pm · · 1
- NASAIL: Just so you all know, as soon as I read this 39
  minutes ago, I acquired the rights to all sporks, knorks, and
  jerk seasoning. So, for your plan to work you will have to
  pay me a hefty sum. Or do all of my laundry forever.
  
  Yesterday at 6:01pm · · 1
- F4F: Which one turns into water and which one turns in to a
  big fluffy pink Mammoth again?
  
  Yesterday at 6:02pm via mobile ·
- STFU: Can we get back to the part where we've now ridden
  the world of those vile creatures and ended world hunger at
  the same time so they award us the Nobel Prize?
  
  Yesterday at 6:02pm · · 1
- STFU: ‎NASAIL, once we follow through with our plan, you
  will be paid a hefty sum.
  
  Yesterday at 6:04pm ·
- STFU: And why are you trying to stop worldwide happiness?
  You're supposed to be the nice one.
  
  Yesterday at 6:07pm ·
- NASAIL: I'll need some money up front or a goodly amount
  of laundry done before I release the merch.
  
  Yesterday at 6:07pm ·
- NASAIL: No STFU I'm not the nice one. Remember;
  "Not As Sweet As I Look".
  
  Yesterday at 6:07pm · · 1
- STFU: Fine. I've got PAUSE making knew knorks as we
  speak. We'll work around your evil genius.
  
  Yesterday at 6:08pm · · 1
- NASAIL: I shall sue you, I own all the copyrights. Besides,
  you cannot have worldwide happiness unless you plan to kill
  the dissenters.
  
  Yesterday at 6:09pm · · 1
- STFU: And I'll make my own jerk seasoning.
  
  Yesterday at 6:09pm ·
- NASAIL: Can't no seasoning available to do it. Oh, I also
  had vultures declared endangered, so you cannot kill them.
  
  Yesterday at 6:10pm · · 1
- STFU: There will be no dissenters. And they'll drop all
  charges after we save the world and realize we had to do it
  for the betterment of all humankind.
  
  Yesterday at 6:12pm ·
- NASAIL: Can't save the world from jail. There are always
  dissenters. I mean, F4F is already one.
  
  Yesterday at 6:13pm ·
- NASAIL: I'll lead a revolution.
  
  Yesterday at 6:13pm ·
- STFU: So you WANT to live in a world with vultures
  pooping on your head and no big boob shrines? That's just
  sad.
  
  Yesterday at 6:14pm ·
- NASAIL: I have big boobs, I'm like my own shrine and
  I don't think it was a vulture that pooped on HH and I
  have never been pooped on by one. I don't
  even know anyone that has ever been pooped on by one.
  Really, should we punish all vultures for the alleged
  sins of the few?
  
  Yesterday at 6:16pm · · 1
- STFU: Fine. The first vulture lives. I'll make him my pet.
  (His name is George. Say hi to George). I'll train him to
  take out the leader of the revolution first. Since he's a
  vulture, all evidence is destroyed.
  
  Yesterday at 6:16pm · · 1
- NASAIL: Pssh, not all evidence. They really are not
  very effective at destroying a corpse.
  
  Yesterday at 6:18pm ·
- STFU: Either way. A vulture did it. Not us. When
  was the last time you saw someone convicted of
  murder via training a vulture named George? Ok,
  now that the revolution has been eaten...errr...
  taken care of...
  
  Yesterday at 6:20pm ·
- STFU: Oh yeah, back to the Nobel Prize. We
  win it. (Go us!!!) and everyone is so grateful
  that their world is now awesome, so they build
  shrines in our honor. Lots of them.
  And the really pretty ones. The boobs will be
  perky and bigger than our real ones,
  but only because no one wants to make us sad.
  
  Yesterday at 6:26pm · · 1
- HH: NASAIL just doesn't want to see us succeed.
  
  Yesterday at 6:32pm · · 1
- HH: and she likes anarchy an chaos
  
  Yesterday at 6:32pm · · 2
- HH: plus i'm going to need proof of this paperwork that I do
  not believe exists.
  mhmmm that's right, calling your bluff evil woman
  
  Yesterday at 6:33pm · · 2
- STFU: While NASAIL is gathering nonexistent paperwork
  in the off chance that George didn't get her, I'll continue.
  So, since everyone now adores us, they all need to get plastic
  surgery to emulate the new "big boobed" us, and plastic
  surgeons around the world are suddenly busier than
  they've ever been before.
  
  Yesterday at 6:36pm ·
- HH: this will pump much needed money back into the
  economy, since it will then be a buyers market.
  Jerk vulture and tattis all around
  
  Yesterday at 6:37pm · · 1
- STFU: ‎^right? So all the little kiddos who grow up
  worshiping our shrines, see this, and go to college
  to become plastic surgeons and earn the newest,
  most popular degree in tattoo artistry.
  Education. Fixed.
  
  Yesterday at 6:41pm · · 2
- HH: Thus ending world hunger with the jerk chicken
  AND encouraging children to get higher education.
  It will also encourage people to start their own businesses.
  BA DA BING- the american dream has been restored
  and spread throughout the world
  
  Yesterday at 6:42pm · · 1
- HH: ‎*jerk VULTURE
  
  Yesterday at 6:43pm · · 1
- HH: sheesh.
  
  Yesterday at 6:43pm ·
- STFU: We get elected as the first ever co-Presidents, but
  we decline because we are too busy travelling the world to
  satisfy our worshipers and relax on beaches while we harass
  cabana boys.
  
  Yesterday at 6:44pm · · 1
- HH: sexually harass :)
  
  Yesterday at 6:45pm · · 2
- HH: Oh, and Ryan Reynolds will BEG to work for us.
  He likes the touching
  
  Yesterday at 6:46pm · · 1
- STFU: ‎^right. My bad. Then Ryan Reynolds
  (who's been in awe of us this whole time)
  begs to be our full time cabana boy.
  
  Yesterday at 6:46pm · · 1
- STFU: JINX!!
  
  Yesterday at 6:46pm ·
- HH: piss
  
  Yesterday at 6:46pm ·
- STFU: ‎^^and THAT's how we save the world.
  
  Yesterday at 6:47pm · · 1
- HH: anyone who doesn't agree wants to see the world implode!
  
  Yesterday at 6:47pm · · 1
- STFU: We are a beacon of hope in a sea of darkness.
  
  Yesterday at 6:47pm ·
- HH: I read that as a sea of diarrhea. same diff
  
  Yesterday at 6:48pm · · 1
- STFU: We should contact the giant rat. This deserves to be
  a movie. I'm dying over here!!!
  
  Yesterday at 6:49pm ·
- PAUSE: I'm holding ryan reynolds hostage
  
  Yesterday at 6:49pm via mobile ·
- HH: hell no you won't. we have ULTIMATE POWER!
  
  Yesterday at 6:49pm · · 2
- HH: and to think this all started with my boob getting shit
  on by a bird AGAIN
  
  Yesterday at 6:49pm · · 3
- HH: I'm not sure disney would go for the sexual harassment
  part heh
  
  Yesterday at 6:50pm · · 1
- HH: OR the slaughter of all the birds thanks to doodoo.
  but it's for the best. wtf do they do for us anyway??
  
  Yesterday at 6:50pm · · 1
- STFU: They can censor it. It's at the end, anyway. After
  the credits?
  
  Yesterday at 6:50pm · · 1
- HH: hahaha it will look like bloopers. if only they knew
  
  Yesterday at 6:53pm · · 2
- STFU: ‎^perfect!!
  
  Yesterday at 6:54pm ·
- HH: print this shit out. it's screenplay sellin' time
  
  Yesterday at 6:54pm · · 2
- The players:
  STFU- That's me! Fucking DUUHHH!!!
  
  HH- Holdin Holden https://www.facebook.com/holdinholden
  
  PAUSE: Life on PAUSE https://www.facebook.com/lifeonpause
  
  Diary: Diary of a Not So Wimpy Mom https://www.facebook.com/pages/Diary-of-a-not-so-wimpy-mom/124108407688508
  
  NASAIL: Not As Sweet As I Look:https://www.facebook.com/pages/Not-As-Sweet-As-I-Look/183695428372725
  
  F4F: Fodder 4 Fathers https://www.facebook.com/fodder4fathers
  
  I you don't find that funny, then you obviously don't know me. I'm still laughing a day later about it!!! The question is, which one of you is going to submit this as a screenplay to a major movie studio for us?!?!?

Science Is Fun(ny)!!

2012-04-11T17:35:00.001-07:00

You know those moments when someone opens your eyes to the most random, crazy shit that some people do on a daily basis? Well, since I ~~don't pay a whole lot of attention to other people~~ tend to mind my own business, this rarely happens to me. Today it did. And not in your normal, "Wow! That's fucked up!" kind of way. OK, I'll admit, at first I was wondering why in the fuck someone would just admit something like that to me, but then I had time to truly absorb the impact of how this new bit of knowledge could impact my life.

What I'm talking about is some (he described it as Voodoo) tradition of holding something against your chest, paying attention to how your body moves-leaning forward or backward (Yes, my mind immediately went to the fucking gutter with that visual, too.)-to decide whether or not to continue. Forward= good for you. Backward=don't do that shit!

While I originally thought this idea was bat shit crazy, I couldn't get it out of my mind because he insisted it actually worked! I mean, really?!?! I'm always looking for ways to make my decisions in the ~~laziest~~ most efficient way possible. The more I thought about it, the more brilliant it actually sounded. So I did what any semi-sane, bad-decision-making person would do. I Googled the shit out of it! Voodoo-nothing. Superstitions-nope. Old wives tales (because the person practicing this was, in fact, an old wife)-zilch. Witchcraft, Scientology, Alien DNA?-not a fucking thing. I'm now convinced that Google doesn't know me at all.

At this point, I was out of search ideas and just assumed that this parlor trick was either a hoax or special Top Secret info only available to those people at Area 51 who get to run creepy experiments on the little, bug-eyed, green freaks. I knew that there is no way I'll ever gain Top Secret clearance (curse my addiction to the internet and putting my whole twisted life online!), so I would have to test it myself just to see if someone was playing a cruel joke on me. In all honesty, I was already ~~drunk~~ sleepy and had to find out if this shit could come in handy. Or, at the very least, creep the hell out of all my friends. Because, let's face it. That's. Just. Fucking. Fun.

EXPERIMENT 1: Grab the first thing I see. Ooooh! Look, a beer!! That'll work just fine, thank you. I held it to my chest. Leaned forward. Good. To. Fucking. Go!!! So far, I'm liking this idea!

EXPERIMENT 2: The baby is, yet again, begging for me to pick her up for no apparent reason. How convenient! I pick her up, and I lean backward. This is not looking good. Either the universe is trying to tell me that my kiddos are bad for me, or this whole thing is bullshit. Speaking of shit...guess which little human decided to fill her diaper at that exact moment? Maybe there's some truth to this, after all. I'll consider that a win.

Now I'm 2 for 2. I'm not a scientist, but my odds are looking pretty damn good at this point. Who knows, maybe I'll win the next Nobel Prize for my ~~random attempt to amuse myself~~ dedication?

EXPERIMENT 3: I picked up the laundry basket full of dirty clothes. I held it against my chest. Go figure. I fell backward. Granted, it could have been because of the multiple beers I'd already had or the fact that my back chose that exact moment to freeze up, but if it gets me out of doing laundry on the off chance that I could die in some freak washing machine explosion, I'm still going to count it.

EXPERIMENT 4: Another beer. This one is, clearly, going to be the deciding factor as to whether or not this concept could change my life forever. I held that beer close to my chest. Concentrated as well as I could. That's when I fell the fuck over sideways.

I'll assume that means that I'm better off using my Magic fucking 8-ball, and I should "try again later".

What "quirky" superstitions do you firmly believe in?

My Car Is Trying to Kill Me

2012-04-04T19:03:00.001-07:00

FACT: My ~~soccer mom minivan~~ car is possessed.

If you ever get to read my obituary, I'm 100% certain that it will include details about how my evil ass car was the ultimate culprit of my demise.

I'm not exaggerating. It hates me. With a fucking passion. And will settle for no less than making sure that I suffer it's evil wrath for countless amounts of lollipops, candy bars, and juice boxes permanently cemented to her interior.

I have proof. Not just any proof. I'm talking about all out, if I could legally sue an inanimate object in court for attempts on my life, I. Fucking.Would. Proof.

Case in point. (oooh, look, now I get to go all Tom Cruise in "A Few Good Men"!) It. Tried. To. Set. Me. On. FIRE!

Yes,my car, did, in fact, attempt to burn my ass alive a few weeks ago. Not in any sort of, "I'll give you a fucking warning" kind of way, either.

I knew that the brake pads I bought 2 months ago suddenly failed. I knew that the "check engine" light that, coincidentally enough, NEVER registered a code when I had it checked. How.Fucking.Ever. I NEVER expected to have a meeting with the chief of police, drive 1/2 mile down the road, and find out that my car was, in fact, Stephen King's CHRISTINE!

I left work. It's a simple 4 mile drive home. Sure I smelled smoke, but I assumed that was because I'd shoved so many cigarette butts into the empty Coke can that they didn't burn out.

I pulled up to a stop sign, and all Hell broke loose. And by that, I, of course mean, that Satan Van unleashed her evil fury on me. The wipers went crazy. The lights started flashing on and off like a hooker who wasn't sure if she'd actually be paid. The stereo started sounding like I was playing a Beatles' album fucking backwards just to hear the satanic messages.

3 1/2 miles. That's all I needed to make it. So I continued. Famous last words, I know. That's when it happened. The evil bitch that she is. The car. Caught. On. Fucking. Fire. Yep. You read that right. Smoke started billowing out of the vents. Flames (albeit mini) were visible. And I started to panic.

Roll down the windows? Nope. Not working. So I did what any normal person would do. I pulled over and tried to run for my fucking life. I'll consider it a learning experience that, when your door locks keep popping up and down, you will NOT be able to actually open your fucking door when you need to escape! (Come to find out, it's a timing issue, but, seriously, when you're in the situation, you have no time to deal with those semantics!)

So I called 911.(Fuck. If I'm going to go down in a blaze of glory, I, at the very least, want there to be a record of it!) I couldn't escape. While my van was filling up with smoke, I. Could. Not. Get. Out!

Flash forward 5 minutes...

The fire department and police all showed up.(Yes, I know the perks of working with them.)

I managed to figure out the auto-lock timing and escape unharmed. The van, of course, has managed to kill all fucking evidence of it's attempt to kill me, and I am left wondering how the FUCK I am going to explain this all to my nonexistent insurance company!!! (SIDENOTE: This happened during a 3 day insurance lapse)

So I did what any normal, "has no fucking money to fix their car" person would do. I decided to fix it myself. Yep. That's right. Myself, a quick Google search an ordered part, and a screwdriver.

Two weeks later, I'm back on the road! Granted, I had parts left over and my car now shows an extra 40 fucking thousand extra miles on it, but shit happens.

My Norman Rockwell Moment

2012-03-24T16:38:00.001-07:00

As you may or may not know, about 3 weeks ago, my car tried to kill me. Truth. It caught on fire while I was driving, and, since it was electrical, I couldn't unlock the doors or roll down the windows to get out and had to call 911. But I'll save that blog for another day. I'm still slightly traumatized by the whole thing and still don't completely trust that the demon-possessed thing won't try it again.

Well, 3 weeks without a car later, I'm finally ~~forced~~ able to take the kiddos with me to run some much needed errands.

First on the list. Walmart. It's a Saturday, and I have all four ~~social deviants~~ with me. Alone. I know what you're all thinking. What could I possibly need so desperately from that fucking hell hole that couldn't wait until 2AM on a Monday. In September. Twenty years from now? Well, I needed a bunch of random stuff, and there was no way in Hell that I was going to tempt fate by dragging everyone in and out of the car all day. But mainly, I needed the strongest fucking eye drops I could get without a prescription. Ever since the car's ~~failed attempt on my life~~ malfunction, my eyes have hurt so badly that I want to pluck them right out of my pretty little head. See? Demon car. But I digress.

I have to admit, and I'll deny every fucking word if you say I admitted it, Walmart really wasn't that bad. The freaks were behaving, the "people of Walmart" were, too, and the gossiping old bats actually got out of my way with just one swift bump from my cart.

I was having a bit of a "Leave it to Beaver" meets the "Twilight Zone" kind of experience so I decided to reward ~~myself~~ the kids by eating lunch out. And candy. Never forget the candy.

At this point I'm feeling pretty ~~cocky~~ good about myself and wonder if being locked up for the last 3 weeks actually taught the little ones how to behave in public.

Off to the grocery store! When we got to the store, a sweet, elderly couple was right behind us. Giggling as the baby would pick up an item, ask to buy it, and shrug it off and put it back in exactly the right place when I told her "No, not today". Smiling when the Princess walked up to her brothers, kissed them on the cheek, and they thanked her. Mind you, I am not really a fan of old people. It's not that I don't like them. It's more that I can't fucking stand being around the majority of them. I blame my grandmother. She was a mean old bitch, and I think she scarred me from a young age. But this couple, in my blissfully ignorant state, was so cute that I could only imagine that their whole life had been one Norman Rockwell painting after another.

About halfway through the store, the Rockwellesque couple turns to me and says, "It's so refreshing to see such well behaved children for a change! You are obviously a wonderful mother." I'm serious when I tell you that I was in absolute ~~fucking shock~~ bliss! Finally. My Norman Fucking Rockwell Moment had arrived!

Then.I.Saw.It.

The look on the kids' faces. I'm not sure if they were insulted? Offended? Confused? Angered? Or dared. That's right. These little con artists looked like they had just morphed into mini Gary fucking Colemans shocked at the fact that someone. A perfect stranger. Actually had the nerve to accuse them of being anything less than raging lunatics who scammed their way out of the nearest ~~juvenile detention center~~ padded room!

I instantly knew that this deceptive fucking couple (Understand why I don't like old people, now?) had just started the fucking apocalypse. The baby starts throwing stuff. The Princess tries to jump out of the cart. Gets her foot stuck. And falls on her fucking ass. And, suddenly, the boys think its the perfect time for a WWE Royal Rumble (do they still have those anymore?!?) in the middle of aisle fucking 6. I'll bet you didn't know that a 2 yr. old is the perfect size to climb under a grocery shelf but require emergency assistance to get back out. WTF?!?!? Do they have tire spikes under those damn things?!?

In a desperate attempt to ~~hold on to my fucking sanity~~ maintain my positive attitude for the day, I had to find something good about the old bastards unwittingly ruining my first and (more than likely only) Rockwell fucking moment.

They should praise me for my parenting skills! I deserve it. Sally fucking Field worshiping, old bat can stop shelling out her Social Security checks for Boniva once a month because her back straightened right the fuck up for the first time in twenty years! Dirty old bastard? Well, let's just say, that I'd be really shocked if he doesn't send me a Christmas card this year because he ran away in such a big ass hurry that that cane never hit the ground. Not. Fucking. Once.

When was the last time someone unknowingly ruined your Norman Rockwell Moment?

Leave Me Alone!!!!

2012-02-27T17:38:00.000-08:00

Boy2 has always had a bit of a loner streak in him. He's a cuddler, hardcore, and is the life of the party whenever he's around other kids, but ever since he was born, he also needs his "alone time" more than any of the other kiddos. I'll find him backing away from the rest of the kids, playing in his own world, and, hell, he's the only one who will actually close the damn door when he uses the bathroom!

This weekend, however, he said that he wants to be left alone. Totally. Alone. For a whole day. He wants his brother and sisters AND me (WTF?!?!?! Seriously?!?!?) to go somewhere and leave him alone for 24 hours. He was adamant about it. No kids. No Mommy. No anyone. For 24 fucking hours. He's only 6, obviously, there was no way in Hell, that that was going to happen. After I came to my senses and realized that I'd still have the other 3 tagging along, I cancelled my ticket to Getthefuckawayistan, and did what I do best.

I enlightened him as to ~~how fucking easy his lazy little ass really has it~~ how much he really needs and wants his Mommy around. Unfortunately, he's just as much of a smartass as I am (yes, I'm secretly proud), so it took a little time to convince him just how lucky *cough* he is to have me around.

Who's going to make your breakfast? You'll starve. (Translation: You eat more than any other child on the fucking planet! How the hell do you think you'll survive?!?)
I'll fix my own breakfast. Pancakes come in a mix. How tough can it really be?!?

You're not allowed to use the stove. (Translation: We have a gas stove. You'll burn the fucking house down, dumbass.)
OK. I'll have cereal. You bought the good cereal this week, anyway.

You can't seem to figure out how to turn the shower on. (Translation: You're too fucking lazy to figure out how to keep from scalding yourself BEFORE stepping into the water.)
That's OK. I won't play outside, so I can skip a day of showering.

When was the last time you were able to pick out clothes that match without calling for me? (Translation: Alright, you little shit. Game.Fucking.On.)
It's the weekend. No school. I can't drive anywhere so why do I need matching clothes?

What happens when you can't find Blue Bear to go to sleep? (Translation: If you can't keep that stank ass bear in one place for 10 minutes, then how are you ever going to find it on your own?!?)
I'll just carry him around all day. He'll have fun.

You're grounded from your Nintendo DS, and you're not allowed to watch TV unless I approve the show first. (Translation: If you think you're going to be able to veg out and be lazy all fucking day while I run around with 3 little kiddos, you are sorely mistaken!)
I'll play games on your laptop. Cartoonnetwork.com. I have codes to Bottlepop.com that I haven't used yet, too.

I'd take my laptop with me. (No translation. That shit just isn't going to happen.)
OK, you can stay, Mommy. Can we send the other kids to camp or something?

Game.Set.Match.I like that idea. Maybe we should.

When was the last time your kiddo tried to outsmart you, and you took pride in the fact that he never stood a chance?

I Said What?!?!?

2012-02-16T20:48:00.000-08:00

Growing up, I was the "good girl" who never got in trouble. I never said a bad word, never ratted out my brothers and sister, never spoke back to my parents or teachers. (I'll pause now while you clean the spit off of your computer screen.)

Honestly, though, I really was! I never ~~caused trouble~~ got caught, and never got grounded from anything until I was 16 years old. (That drunken incident is on public record so do yourself a favor and Google it.) Maybe my mother was a better parent than I am, and just knew how to raise "good kids". And, by that, I mean that if any of you ever say that I said that publicly I will spork you.

Grounding kids from "being outside" is, sadly, not effective for me. Not when I live in the Northeast, anyway. Hell, if there isn't any snow on the ground, there's no fucking way my kids want to go out and "brave the elements"!

So, I've resorted to grounding them from "stuff". My kiddos have been grounded from everything under the sun for being little punks. TV, electronics, Barbie dolls, the dog (Wait, what?!?!)you name it...they've suffered through the withdrawal.

Tonight, however, I made, what is quite possibly, the biggest "grounding" mistake of my parenting career.

I grounded them from speaking to each other. At. Fucking. All.

Maybe my mother was right, and realized that grounding kids, at such a young age, would come back to haunt me. Or maybe she was just clueless about the shit I pulled off. Or maybe I was a genius who knew how to get away with it. I'll assume it's the last one...but I digress.

One day for every nasty word they spoke to each other. As it turns out, that just means that they have to whine to ME rather than each other! That, and the fact that they will never speak to each other again until they are mourning/celebrating my death, just means that I'm stuck hearing about every little whiny thing. For. Fucking. Ever!!!

Bad decisions. They happen. What's your worst disciplinary decision ever?

2012-02-14T18:42:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Day: That one day of the year that you either get to gush about how fabulous your love life is or tell everyone you know how you think it's an overly commercialized, "created by Hallmark holiday" just so lazy people can ignore their "Honey Bunches of fucking Oats" the other ~~364 days of the year.~~ 365 days of the year. (Thanks for the added day of misery, Leap Year!)

For me, this year, I wasn't sure which group I would fall into. It's the first Valentine's Day that I've been single in well over 15 fucking years. I wanted to think that I'd embrace my inner bitch and celebrate "Single Appreciation Day", but I wasn't really sure how I'd react when the actual day got here.

The Ex and I always celebrated. Not in your normal, "buy random shit with no special meaning" kind of way. We went all artsy-fartsy creative, or we did random and crazy, goofball type of stuff. So, I wasn't sure if I'd feel depressed and lonely, drowning my sorrows in a bottle of wine, or partying my ass off, running around the streets naked, celebrating the fact that I didn't need to do a damn thing this year. Yes, I realize that both extremes involve excessive amounts of alcohol. It is still a holiday, and the best part of any holiday is that it makes excessive alcohol consumption socially acceptable. But I digress.

I woke up confused. I didn't really feel like I fell into either stereotype. (Except for knowing that, either way, I'd be visiting the liquor store. Like I said. Holidays make it mandatory.) I got stuff for the kiddos, went to work, and went on about my fucking day as if this "holiday" didn't exist. Hell, denial has always worked for me in the past, so I'll take the odds that it will work today!

That's when it hit me. Just what DO single people do on V Day when they aren't whining about how much they hate it?!?! So, I decided to embrace all of the good things I can enjoy about being single on Valentine's Day.

For the first time in 15 years,Valentine's Day didn't make me:

1. Shave my legs. I live in a drafty as fuck house, and shaving in the middle of winter just causes razor burn!

2. Worry about bribing the kids to actually sleep in their own beds. (That one always winded up biting me in the ass...and not in a good way...at about 3AM, anyway)

3. Avoid my "comfy clothes" for more than10 minutes after walking in the door.

4. Stand at the liquor store, worrying about what kind of alcohol ~~we'd both like~~ I like but could pretend that I didn't know he hated.

5. Clean the fucking house. I'm sorry, preach all you want about "I'll do it anywhere and everywhere", but NOTHING kills the mood better than being thrown down, ready to do the deed, only to find a Lego stuck up your ass!

That's my take on this holiday. I hope you have all had a wonderful VDay, whether or not you are celebrating or running through town naked. If you're running around naked....pics or it never happened!

How did your VD (heheheee) turn out?

Hell on Wheels

2012-02-11T14:38:00.000-08:00

Being a single mom for the past year, there is one part of the change that I fully believe I will never adjust to--at least not for the next 8 years or so until the kiddos become somewhat self-sufficient. That one thing that really makes me want to become a hermit, hide under the covers, and never show my face in public again? Taking 4 kiddos out to do things.By.My.Self.No backup to bail me out.

Now, before you get your panties in an uproar, I'm not talking about grocery shopping, doctor's visits, church (HA! Yeah, right.), or even going to a restaurant (as if most single mothers really get the luxury of someone else cooking food that the kids will refuse to eat!). I'd like to believe that I mastered doing all of those years ago. Hell, what SAHM wasn't forced to manage doing all of those things alone?!?!?

I'm talking about FAMILY OUTINGS. You know, the fun stuff. The outings where you laugh, take pics, make fun of each other, and frame those pics, set them on the mantle, and fool the world into thinking your kids are anything less than perfect. Our "outings" are not very often anymore. Time, money, and my utter fear that these memories will be the ones coming to mind when they are picking out my nursing home/insane asylum one day all make it more of a commitment than I am willing to make most weekends. But I know, that every family needs a chance to make memories outside of the house.

Today, I chose to make some memories. Roller skating, here we come!! A family first for us! I'm going to get so many pics and make so many damn memories that I'll be picking up my Mommy of the Year award with the kiddos rolling up beside me!

I grew up spending every weekend at the rink. I honestly don't remember ever not being able to skate. Granted, it's been over 25 years since I've been on skates, and I'm cheap, so there was no way in hell that I was skating! Kids are bouncy and they have health insurance! Momma, not so much.

Errr....I mean, for the safety of the children, I decided not to skate so I could better take care of them.

So all 5 us us headed to the rink. I paid for the boys and the Princess to skate. It didn't even dawn on me that the baby would want to skate. She's 2 and barely coordinated enough to walk without busting her head open on counters and tripping over thin air. (She may have health insurance, but it's not that damn good!)

Screaming baby, aside, I manage to get skates on the boys and "training skates" on the Princess. Turns out, those stripper boots that Santa brought her don't exactly fit well with training skates. Back to the counter. New skates on.

And they're off! And, by "off", I really mean, "down". Repeatedly. And horribly. Hell, I don't even think they really got "up" for the first 15 minutes.

OK, they aren't hurt. Time to appease the baby who won't stop screaming. Back to the counter. Training skates for the baby on. Holy crap! She's actually more coordinated on 8 wheels than she is on two feet! Go, baby, go!!! That's when she insisted on leaving the sitting area and hitting the actual rink. I'm still not sure how that poor child managed to keep the same number of fingers she started with! All I can say is, thank goodness I was too lazy to change her wet diaper before getting there, because I'm sure her ass appreciated the added protection.

By now, I'm exhausted, and I need a break from the 4 of them hanging onto me for dear life, so we hit the popcorn stand. No fewer than 18 people cut in front of me while I was too distracted by preventing skull fractures and broken bones from causing us (and by us, I mean me) from sitting in the ER all night. We finally get our popcorn and can relax. Of course, the baby tries to throw it once she realizes she has to share. (Great save, Boy1, btw!) Two seconds later, Boy1 spills it all on the floor. I'm. So. Done. One more trip around the track, and we are leaving! Boy2, however, can't even let us do that, because, of course, he now hates Boy1 for dumping the popcorn!!

Now I have 4 screaming kids, a 1/2 hour of my life that I'll never get back, and skate wheels hitting me in the face as I rip them off their feet.

As for those "memory pictures"? Really?!?! How dare you even ask!

We go to leave, and the guy at the counter stops us. "Someone" told the owner about what a hard time I was having managing all 4 first time skaters alone, and what a wonderful (WTF?!?!?) job I was doing with them, so they offered me free passes "just in case" I ever wanted to try it again.

What's your opinion? Would you try again, since it's free, or save your sanity and leave the engraved roller skating picture frame blank and give the free passes to a frenemy?

Rules for Facebook Stalkers

2012-01-10T00:05:00.000-08:00

We all know him, or her (it's the internet, so gender is "iffy", regardless, because that sexy person you've been chatting with could be a ginormous person that you'd never have interest in, anyway)

If you don't have a Facebook stalker, then you really need to update your profile.
We ALL do it! To At.Least.ONE.Person.
If you're not that person, well, get a life, steal some updates off of "Status Shuffle" and hope someone notices you.

I, myself, will openly admit that I I Facebook stalk people. Do I stalk you? Hmmmm....You will probably never know, because I consider myself a PRO at it! There is some "etiquette", if you will, about being a Facebook stalker.

Number One reason for the "etiquette"?

You.Won't.Get.Caught.
That's the bottom line, anyway, right?!?!

So, here are my "tips" for becoming a successful, yet hidden, FB stalker:

1. If it's been more than 2 hours since the last comment, do NOT comment or "like" the post! It's an "iffy" situation at that point, and you don't want to seem needy.

2. Do NOT "like" several pics or comments in a row that were posted MONTHS ago!! Honestly, doing that shit just WARNS people that you're thinking about standing outside of their house with binoculars and, possibly, a handgun.

3. NEVER, and I'll repeat, NEVER comment about any changes to their profile. If you do that, then consider it Game.Fucking.Over. They INSTANTLY know that you are checking them out, drooling over their pics, and probably wondering why every status update seems to pertain to them!

That being said, continue to FB stalk, creep on those who don't know you secretly do it, and, for the sake of humanity, Be.Fucking.Smart.About it!!