Kids make you look bad.

Just watched the DVD from the 2005 World Series. (And wow, what a dominate team). But mostly, it reminded me of all the ridiculous things child 2 used to say. She still says ridiculous things, only now they're preteen things, and they don't make me laugh, anymore. I mostly squint the hell out of her. She was 2 when the Sox (the white kind) won. And she watched, and she knew who they all were. Her imaginary husband was Paul Uh-erko. Some kids have an imaginary friend, she had an imaginary family. Husband, 3 kids, a dog. Her kids were Lola, Noonee, and Sam. Fluffy was the dog. The kids were always in trouble. Most of the time, they were in trouble for doing whatever got her in trouble earlier in the day. And they got in BIG trouble. Noonee is in jail, she'd say, as she sat down at the table, rolling her eyes, looking utterly disgusted. What happened?? She took candy out of the drawer without asking. Then she'd rest her cheek in her hand, and shake her head. Her kids were always getting hit by trees or falling out of windows. A lot of things she said made me examine my parenting skills. We don't know a single person who has been hit by a tree. Or fell out of a window. Or in jail, even. Where is this child coming up with this?? She had these markers with pictures of princesses on them, and she was walking them around her desk, and they're having some kind of crisis. She makes one fall off the desk, and is hanging there. She says-mommy, help me, I'm falling! Here comes mom marker...no, you shut up! I'll spit on you!  What the fuck?! She's the meanest mom ever! 

One time, she did her sitting at the table sighing thing, and told me Pauwee was in jail. Great, now her husband is a criminal. I asked why. She said-he punched me in the face. Why??!! He doesn't like my boyfriend, she says. Probably took me 5 minutes to spit out-why do you have a boyfriend if you have a husband?? She looked at me like that was the dumbest question she'd ever heard. Are some Kids predisposed to grown up stuff?? I sheltered those two. Only little kid tv and movies, only kid music. Except for the Beatles and oldies. Maybe that's a subliminal

Lesson in strawberry fields...grown up stuff. 

I'm not nearly as surprised when kid 3 plays cars, and makes a traffic jam. On purpose. Then picks one car who sits there and yells at everyone. My 5 year old has already learned the inherent danger of Asian drivers. My feeling is a mix between pride and shame. Someone pulled out in front of us once, and I had a rare moment of watching my mouth. Dang that dude! Kid 3 could obviously sense something was missing. Whys that guy being such a fucking dick? Little kid voice, big words. What?! -I say, I don't know, but don't say that! 

If you're wondering where to send my parent of the year award, you're SOL. Youll have to keep that one in the trophy case, cuz my Anonymity cannot be compromised.  

Self portraits with cats.

Why in the hell do people take professional portraits with their pets?? I can understand if it's a family with 6 kids, and the dog is included. It's the family dog. But like, a single person, and their pet? That's a straight up advertisement about how you're perfectly content with nothing but your chihuahua. Or gerbil. Whatever. If you're single, why would you schedule a photo session for just you? So you can have yearly documentation of how you've aged? Then they just believe they're young, and in turn inspire the entire advertising of just for men. Tom Thibodeau looks like the goblin banker in Harry potter. That's the Bulls coach, just in case you suck by not being from

Chicago. Anyway. Professional portraits are glamour shots for ugly people who can't be glamorized. Not everyone can pull off a peacock boa. Glamour shots at least did your makeup. Whoever does these  portraits I speak of, is living in their great aunts basement. They have two different backgrounds to choose from. And an awesome Mac computer, with photoshop version .001.  

And really, the only acceptable pet to have your picture taken with if you're single, is a dog. If you're blind, you should have your dog in the picture. How else would you know where to look? 

You can't take a picture with a cat. Cats are assholes. They will find someway to ruin the pic. Unless you're in Cosby sweater and trying to make a disenchanted like face.  Then it's ruined before the camera even has film. People take pictures with their lizards. For fucks sake. A lizard? A snake? Well, ok, a snake could be ok. If you're making a poster for you're circus performance. And you're wearing a leopard print thong unitard. Then a snake is ok. Maybe the worst are with birds. Fuck birds. ALL birds are assholes. Either because they're stupid or they're just fucking assholes. We had birds. Two cockatiels. One was nice, and obviously mildly retarded. The other was a dick. He sucked. Of course, the dog had to kill the nice bird. Probably because it was like-hey, buddy. You wanna play fetch with me? Cool. 

Anyway birds are gross. And they have lice. Which make me remember...we had some barn swallows make a nest by the front door. It was so cute. They had babies. Awww. Then the bucket loads of bird shit came, and I thought, hmmmm. Gross. Then I noticed all these super tiny moving dots on the storm door. Weird bugs, I thought. Then I decided to clean the storm door, and I itched and felt my skin crawling for the rest of the day. If I were an albino, it would've been obvious. But I have lots of chocolate spots, so it provides good camouflage. J had the same thing happen, and then we figured it out. Mother fucking bird lice. The internet basically told us to burn our house down. But it turns out, that's only if you own a shit ton of birds. 

Here it is.

Her poor mouth hole has been clogged with dried paint for years. Poor starving baby. 

Dolls these days...

My mom cursed me when I was young, that I would have a daughter who makes me as crazy as I made her. And it worked. That child. We will fight. Many times. 

I Was just about to watch Shaun of the dead, and there was a preview for son of chuckie. Good gravy. I'm wildly amused, yet terrified at the same time. I had a doll that kinda looked like chuckie, but I called it my Tina turner doll. It was always naked, because it was too big for all my doll clothes. And it's eyes closed when you laid it down. Then one eye would get stuck half way open. And now that I think about it, that was a terrible children's toy! Right along with the anatomically correct baby dolls and the ones that shit. I also had an anatomically correct doll. Jo-Ann. Why I gave a baby a name that should belong to a 40 year old sassy southern lady, I don't know. My girl cabbage patch doll I named Julie Walter, so clearly, naming things is not my specialty. Anyway-joann was amazingly detailed in her anatomic correctness. Her butthole had wrinkles, And different color plastic. She's still at my moms, I think. Now she has sharpie on her head, and is missing two fingers from a run in with the dog. 

We bought the girl kid a crapping doll, hoping it would help with potty training. We'd feed it, and wait. 3 minutes later, green pudding oozes out of its ass. Oh, what fun! I get to wipe an ass! What a stupid fucking toy! It's like they're trying to mold little girls to find excitement in the most mundane thing in life. Vacuuming, yes please! A toy kitchen where I can slave for hours, only to be told they don't like it? My dream! A baby that really cries for hours? Heaven! There is even a Barbie that comes with a cat. Ok, Barbie and her pussy. Good toy. BUT it also includes a cat box, and the cat fills with water so you can make it pee. And then the super fun part, scooping the cat box!! Yes!  Exposing myself to trichinosis is a blast! People who make those toys are assholes. That stupid pooping doll grew mold in her GI tract, and smelled like an old moldy washcloth. So many fun bacteria were probably building skyscrapers in there. But I couldn't throw it away, because she loved that damn doll. I thought it disappeared, but then it resurfaced a couple years ago. I pulled it out from under kids bed, and it had been attacked by a vicious gang of amateur graffiti artists. It's head head been painted every color imaginable, and there was fur, dingle balls, cut Barbie hair glued all over it, and playdoh dried in her eye sockets. I'll post a pic, if I can figure out how. It looks a little different now. All the fur and dingle balls fell off. It's been in a box for awhile. 

Ball hair

I just spent five minutes groping the wall for the light switch. Then realized the switch was on the other side of the wall, in the room I was trying to go in to. Then I thought, what a dumbass. But then I realized that while I was trying to find the fucking switch, I was getting mad at J. Who designed this house? What moron wouldn't put a light switch RIGHT HERE!? A switch should be where ever my hand happens to be touching the wall. A wall of switches. 

Like I said, I'm a dumbass. 

A wall of switches. I still always turn on the garbage disposal when I'm trying to turn the light on. That's only 2 switches!! A whole wall?? Someone would lose a hand, because I was trying to  turn on the bathroom light. 

Ahhhhh. Thanksgiving tomorrow. My least favorite holiday. Mostly because of the food. Sweet potatoes, stuffing, pumpkin anything. Gag. Me. It's gotta be a texture thing. I don't trust food that I can't chew. I eat a sliver of turkey, and a shit ton of rolls. And cranberry sauce?? Blech!!! My grandma would always put out a plate of it, and it was still perfectly shaped like the can, ridges and all. And it just tasted bad. She ordered me pizza. Now I have to eat turkey, and force my kids to eat it, because it's my Devine right as a parent to force my kids to do all the horrible things I had to do. Like reverse revenge. Like how I cut kid 2's hair. Because my mom cut my hair. With at least one ending badly. That's how kid 2 ended up with the bowl cut, which she called her "ball hair". Which I just now realize is about the worst thing she could've called it. 

Douchey Spider-Man

J was kind enough to inform me that the editor of a movie is the person who puts all the scenes together. Not the person who watches the movie and tells the writers/directors or whoever that doesn't make any sense, or why is that guy wearing a wrist watch in the 10th century, or this is embarrassingly horrible. THAT'S the job I want. Because I could be so good at it. There are parts to even my favorite movies that I can't even watch. Tombstone. Love it. That scene where Wyatt goes into the creek to fight curly bill, but they slo-mo it, and he says NO!! Way too many times!? I hate that part!! It's embarrassing. Braveheart and Mel gibson's patented crazy face? Love  the movie. Hate when he makes that face. My point is, someone really should've informed the makers of Spider-Man 3 that douchey Spidey was going to make everyone hate Spider-Man. If they would've make him a dick, knocking old people off the sidewalk, littering, asking girls for their numbers then dropping them on the ground. A dick. But he was a douche. Z was all about Spider-Man. And he was embarrassed. And he was 3 years old. Strutting Peter Parker was just bad. Could've been a great movie, but no one told them that douchebag Spidey, even tho it was really the venom suit, was going to make everyone root for sandman. Regular dorky Spider-Man was ok. We could handle that. 

Really. The job of telling movie makers and commercial makers their product is crap , should be MINE. 

Being a woman is not awesome most of the time.

I discovered I had a UTI this morning. As did everyone else in the house when I was yelping from the bathroom. Meds on the way! Then kid 2 informs me that it burns when she pees. And I'm like-huh. So after I take her to urgent care for a UA,  and the doc leaves the room to get her prescription, I start telling kid 2 about all the various aspects of a gynecological exam, because she wanted to know what that big lamp on a telescoping pole was. I told her-that's the navigator eye. Told her first, they make you get naked, except your socks. If you're not wearing socks, I does feel like your more naked, oddly. Then they give you a bounty paper towel to cover up with. Not a problem if you're thumbalina. So you'll try to decide which part to cover, for about 20 minutes. That's standard procedure waiting time for OB/GYN doctors. When they grace you with their presence, they grope your chest, then pull out the stirrups. If you're lucky, they'll have little pads on them, advertising some wonder drug. If not, foot on metal. The doc will tell you to scoot farther down, several times, until you're about to fall off the table. They'll talk casual while they ram their fingers up your front butt and press on your stomach with all the power of Thor. Then......out comes the speculum! It's like a cold steel seagull. After squirting a tube and a half of KY on that sucker, it's time to turn your vag into a wind tunnel. Instinct tells you to push it out on the floor, but they frown upon that. You'll feel the heat from the glare of the navigator eye. Then she'll stab you with a giant pipe cleaner. All done! Now you figure out the bounty paper towel is for cleaning the 16 ounces of lube off your crotch. All for naught, too, cuz you'll still feel like the selected recipient in a circle jerk for the rest of the day. 

Scary, right?

She says-it sucks to be a girl. Why don't guys have to do that stuff?

Good question. They do, I tell her. When they're 40, doctors have to stick their fingers up guys butts. 

That's it?? 

When dad had his vasectomy, he had to use the stirrups. 

Vasectomy?

Yes, vasectomy. 

Oh! You mean when they cut Dad's ball off?

Don't say balls! And they didn't cut them off! 

She asked me why I didn't get "spayed", and first I explained to her that I wasn't a dog. Then I said, what if something happened to dad, and I met this wonderful guy who wanted to have more kids? She said she wouldn't want me to marry anyone else...........unless he was rich. 

Girls learn young, don't they?!

No better way to cover up your personality flaws than with hundred dollar bills! 

I'm kidding, of course. That would be deplorable and vile. 

A credit card can go so much farther. 

Anywhooooo she eventually asked when you have to start going to that doctor. I told her-when you have sex. You have to go every week. 

I think I made my point. Kid is scared into celibacy.