Uncastrated

This is the new word of the day for heidi and me. While riding in the car on the way to get some adult beverages we were discussing men of course. She never fails to entertain me with her stories. She was talking about running away with a guy and I told her she isn't allowed to abandon me.

She not so kindly pointed out I'm about to abandon her to move to virginia. Touche my good man. I told her its only for a year and maybe we will move to germany when we get back. I said she could go with us and find herself a nice sensitive man.

She looks at me dead serious and goes "Aren't european guys uncastrated?" I almost died laughing. After a successful cpr attempt revived me, she goes oh wait...uncircumcised is what I meant!

I don't care what she meant. This shit is our vocabulary word for the day. Memorize it, you may be tested later, and I don't mean for STDs. Or STIs, whatever you crazy kids are calling the clap these days.

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Labrodoodles, Morkies...and every other ugly ass combo breed.

Have you people SEEN the ugly ass creatures people are selling for thousands of dollars and calling dogs these days? Seriously. Not only that, but they have some of the absolute dumbest names ever. A morkie? That sounds like something my dog would do. "Look, rori just took a morkie in the backyard."

I concocted a brilliant get rich quick scheme tonight. Kristina and I are going to breed our dogs and create the next biggest fad in puppy fashion. We are breeding her Chihuahua with my Great Dane. We will call it either the Great Chihuahua, or Chihuahua El Grande. Who wouldn't want to buy one? Everybody loved bobble heads right? Ok, picture this...a chihuahua's toothpick legs and body, and a giant wobbly head of a great dane. Pretty intense huh?

Don't go stealing my genius ideas now folks. That's plagiarism and petty theft and all that good shit. Now we just need to get Rori and Buster on board. I'm thinking a lifetime movie about an unlikely romance. The struggle between crossing the breed barriers. All that heartwarming and touching shit that comes with 6 figures.

Anyway, for those of you sitting there going is she serious? I'm as serious as a ho that's tryin to earn money for her next fix. Ok, not really. I wouldn't exploit my dog like that. But you have to admit, what those puppies would look like is a very interesting thought...That's enough late night rambling for now. Merry christmas to all and to all a good night.

"Can't touch this."...who wants to?

I'm walking through walmart earlier, and I see this chick wearing a shirt that says "Can't touch this"...and I looked at Casey, and back to miss fabulously ghetto-fied (probably army wife), and say, "Seriously...who wants to?" This is another thing that makes me shake my head.

We live in a town full of classy bitches. There's miss squeeze-my-500-lb-ass-into-booty-shorts, Mr wear-tall-cowboy-boots-with-even-taller-socks-and-my-slouchy-running-shorts, miss hang-the-top-of-a-pair-of-pajama-bottoms-out-the-top-of-another-pair-of-pajama-buttons-topped-off-with-a-cropped-tee-showing-off-my-road-map-of-stretch marks, and the ever classy chick that is wearing a nice dress, with nice shoes, and has very nice, very greasy hair. Seriously, if you're gonna take the time to get dressed up to go to walmart, you might as well wash your hair while you're at it.

I was talking to my friend carveth about army wives in general not too long ago. Together, we have formed some mighty interesting theories. You may be reading this going, "Bitch ain'tchu an army wife too?" Why yes, yes I am. However, I do not believe in going grocery shopping in my pajamas, no matter how crappy I feel that day. I do not believe in cramming my fat ass into some spandex 6 sizes too small and hitting the club while my husband is deployed. I am a firm believer in being comfortable. My idea of slouching is wearing a baggy t-shirt and jeans, with my hair tied up either in a very sloppy bun, or a ponytail.

There are stereotyped associated with every race, sex, job description, etc. That doesn't mean you have to live as one of them. Not every military wife is a cheating ho-bag. Not every black woman is loud and obnoxious. Not every white man has to dress like white trash when he goes to the local walmart. Not all cops like donuts. Some prefer Kolaches! That's actually casey's thing so I will give credit where credit is due. This is in no way intended to be racist at ALL. I don;t discriminate. I am a sarcastic shit to everyone. Whether you are black, white, yellow, purple, blurple, orange, pink (i might like you more if you'e pink actually), male, female, shemale, he-she, she-it, whatever. All people annoy me equally. I'm all about equality!

Truth is, I hate stereotypes. I hate when people try and peg me as a "type". You will never peg me. Just when you think you got me figured out, I go changin shit. Just ask my husband, I've had him running in circles trying to peg me for going on 3 years now and still no luck.

Oh, I just remembered, this ramble was supposed to be about wooden spoons wasn't it? See, there I go doing the unpredictable once again!!

Fatty cakes fatty cakes bakers man...where's my f*cking donut?

I totally thought I was gonna go to sleep but it looks like you guys are in for another late night treat! That almost rhymes if you read it slow. Anywho, I have no problem admitting that I am a tad touched in the head. When I read something and make a whatthefuck face, there's a problem. I won't go in to details, but let's just say I needed to utilize uncle joe's 1-800-choke-dat-ho hotline.

If you don't know who uncle joe is, you suck at life and need to stop hiding under rocks. I'm talking MA to tha damn D-E-A. I adore any tyler perry movie with madea in it. That is who I aspire to be when I get old and senile. I will bitch slap anyone that annoys me. Or stick to the original plan, and piss on them...literally.

Speaking of madea and bitch slapping, she's also pretty darn good at getting kids in check. I am so sick of people saying "what's wrong with kids these days?" You know what's wrong with them? Lack of ass whoopins. Back in my day, you got your ass whipped in public and people everywhere applauded your parents for not raising a little shit. These days, you get dirty looks for so much as telling your kid you are gonna whip them!

If you are one of those crunchy hippie granola parents that just audibly gasped at how atrocious that paragraph was...wait for it...wait for it....I'm not apologizing! Ha! This is another moment where I find neener neener neener appropriate. My blog, my opinions. My kids, my choices. Get over it and don't tell me you pity me for my ignorance.

I was about to say my parents spanked me and I turned out fine, but we all know that's not quite true. Truth is, I was an abused kid. There was a difference in a spanking as a form of discipline and being slapped, punched, kicked, thrown into walls and furniture. For the record, it was by a step father we don't talk about, not my mother. Otherwise my opinion of her would be a tad tainted with bitterness.

I bet you're sitting there going...when do we get to the part about the donut? Why is the title talking about donuts when its so irrelevant? Where's the freaking DONUT?

Its at krispy kreme and I'll be eating it for breakfast tomorrow. Mmmm mmmm good. This concludes my nightly ramble! Tune in next time for "The wooden spoon: it's not just for cooking."

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Strawberry milkshake oreo does not equal vagina.

Inside every fat girl, there is a skinny bitch being silenced with cookies. Mine prefers strawberry milkshake oreos. Though after reading a blog that compares them to a vagina, I don't know if I can ever look at them the same.

This is what I was thinking about at one am when I couldn't sleep. Cookies. Why? Because even if I weighed 120 lbs I would still be a fat kid at heart. I like my food guys. Food does not like me though. I remember when my sister hated me because I never gained weight. This is no longer the case.

Shitney told me recently she's lost 15 lbs! My ass found it. Literally. Id like to thank my kids for the giant boobs they gave me. I would also like to smack them for stealing my sanity and my waistline.

Triple J, I hope that one day you each have 3 children just like you. Ha! I just have you the fucking voodoo and you can't give it back!! Neener neener neener.

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there's nothing proper about this shit.

I've decided that rambling about the random aspects of my life is so much easier than having to write about a given topic. I'm trying to work on my pre-test for psychology and it is so killing me. I have to write paragraphs, real paragraphs, not the rambling illogical ones I write on here, about what psychology is to me. How will it help me lead a better life? How will it help me better understand myself?

Dude. For real? I have myself figured out. I am batshit crazy and it is a product of my childhood. Ask my mom, she'll vouch for me. I have to write a paragraph answer for each of those sentences. How do i answer it? I use smart people words for starters. And i kinda need to use proper sentence structure and capitalization (thanks mom for jinxing me, asshole).

If you read my ramblings obviously you realize that there isn't a damn thing that is proper about my paragraph and sentence structure. Not because I don't know how to form proper paragraphs, but more because I just don't give a shit. This is my blog. I will start my sentences with lowercase letters. I will refuse to use proper punctuation. who really cares? I think it's part of the appeal of this blog. It's called Hailz rambles for a reason. I am so used to rambling after being out of school so long, and this is a hard habit to break dammit.

Also, I can't put swear words in my writing. If you break it down and subtract every F bomb, and other 4 letter words, my blog would be....well, not mine for sure. If I wanna say ass I will. Ass. Neener neener neener. I have answered exactly one question on this test. Along with 2/3 of question 2. instead of typing my proper sentences I am sitting here rambling about my disdain for propriety in any form! No more little white gloves and all that good shit.

See, there I go, changing subjects in one paragraph again! Call the literary po po ho. I have a feeling that my charming way with words is either going to get me an A+ in my classes, or kicked out of community college, the place that doesn't even require high school transcripts. Oh how the mighty have fallen. Tune in again in about 30 minutes for writers block part 2.

There's a special kind of crazy in this world.

I decided I'm going to be hot shit and get ahead of the game by starting on reading my psych book tonight (class starts monday). I am not even a full page in and I had to stop and just say, I am totally in love with this so far. Chapter one page one of the book is the intro, what psychology really is. Not the pop psych shit that everyone is hopping all over these days. I swear to God the paragraphs could have been written by me the way they are phrased.

Not that I am trying to say that I think I am smart enough to write an intro to psych book, but it's just funny how they start off by telling you that what psychology is, is not what popular belief thinks it is. I giggle all the time because people tell me I should read X book on how to manage this and X book on how to do that...I am not much for self help books. I think the majority of them are just loads of hot garbage waiting to be put in the land fill of literature.

I'm not dogging on those of you who firmly believe that they hold all the secrets to life. It's pop psych...popular psychology...so of obviously plenty of people buy the books on why your life sucks and what you can do about it.

I've always been interested in psychology. Probably because I am more than a little demented myself and like to know the possible causes. I have a really good friend who is a psychologist. I've known him for 10 years, and I figure if he hasn't figured it out by now, my secrets are safe from the rest of the universe. I think that he secretly knows, and is writing a book about the new kind of crazy he has discovered inside my mind in the past decade.

I couldn't leave my loyal followers without a blog today. A blog a day whether I think I have anything to talk about or not. That is my goal. I'm giving all you wonderful people a glimpse into this twisted mind and life of mine. If you truly enjoy reading all this rambling, maybe you should ask yourself...what kind of crazy am I? the answer my friends is quite clear. You my friends, are batshit crazy, and that's just the way I like ya!

I don't skinny dip, I chunky dunk.

I was texting with our nanny Kristina this morning about her trip to Austin. Apparently Victoria's Secret has messed some shit up for her and she needed to make some exchanges that can only be done in Austin. For those of you who don't know, Kristina JUST got her license and she wont even drive on the highway in Killeen (not that I blame her) so there is no way in hell she is going to drive to Austin. She hitches rides with whoever is going.

So we're talking about all that this morning as she is on her way and she tells me she is so not thrilled about having to make this trip at all because she had to take time off from work, plus its just an annoyance that the VS people can't get their shit together. She makes the comment to me that "I'm not enthused about today in any way due to making a trip to Austin so my boobs better look fucking fabulous in this bikini." All I could do is giggle. If you knew what Kristina looked like, you'd know why.

She doesn't need help making her big bouncy chesticles look fabulous. Most people are worried about their husband trying to sleep with the baby sitter. With our family, it's the opposite. Plus, she's sexually deprived for our freedom so I just might have a shot. ; ) Just kidding! or am I? The world may never know.

I really think that Victoria's Secret needs a new name. After all, with the cutout bras that flash your nips, crotchless panties, thongs, sheer material...what's really secret about anything? You put on some of that shit and everyone is gonna know what flavor your kool-aid is. Bikinis are nothing more than glorified underwear, so you would think that if it's VS brand, it's gonna be flashing everything. not entirely true, I bought a VS bikini last year and some of my secrets stayed secret.

Now if you're one of those people that have afros down under, you might not want to purchase one of these bikinis. or any bikini at all, unless you wanna wax it or shave. No one wants to see your fro peeing out the side of your bikini bottoms. This is also why men shouldn't wear speedos. If you're bushy from your chest hair to your ball fro, no one really wants to see all that mess. Also, consider investing in a roll of quarters, because everyone knows that cold water makes it play hide and seek. If you see girls pointing your way and giggling, 9 times out of 10 they are not impressed with what they see. They are laughing at the lack of things to see.

Also, to all you chunky dunkers in bikinis, Kudos to you for not letting society wreck your image of yourself! You have more balls than I would. However, just because they make it in your size does not mean you should wear it. If you've seen the movie norbit you will totally get what i'm about to say. if not, you should watch said movie. No one wants to be a rasputia. For real y'all. If you can't tell you're wearing bottoms, you should not be wearing a bikini. And this is not the rambling of a skinny bitch either. My pants hit the double digits and there is plenty of junk in this trunk. I'm saying this as a fellow chunky chick...either skip the ho hos or skip the bikini. That is all. You may return to your regularly scheduled life.

The College debacle: Part II

Today, I am just going to include an excerpt of my conversation with my friend Regina. She's the one that has been holding my hand through all of this college crap and stayed on my ass about not having a hissy fit and giving up. This has been a pain in my ass for over a month (omg like such a long time right?) and I will finally be starting my college education a week from today. Don't break out the kazoos yet folks, let's make sure fedex brings me my books first. So here's the conversation between Regine and myself. Anything marked like this *hi* is my side note and not an actual part of the conversation.

hailey: hey

Regina: Hola Chicka

hailey: my admissions counselor for ASU called
hailey: eye roll smiley.

Regina: and??? did htey piss you off? LoL

hailey: She informed me that my app was denied

Regina : Did you say, "thanks captain obvious"

hailey: but i should file an appeal
hailey: and call so and so and plead my case
hailey: and tell them my story
hailey: blah blah blah
hailey: ok, I'll call them and tell them "Hey, I pissed my life away in high school, because I didn't see myself wanting to go to a 4 year university. I thought I already knew what the world was all about and could conquer it all without a proper education. I hated my teachers and i hated my school but most of all i was just a lazy fuck. But not now. Now I want to learn!"

Regina: add in "amen."
Regina: Jeez
Regina: are you thinking of doing it though

hailey: ominus dominus-*mentally do the sign of the cross* you're an idiot
hailey: as casey would say^^
hailey: um that;s a big fat ten negative

Regina: well I didn't want to assume LOL

hailey: Pfffffft. Why would I bother with all that mess? I mean I am a determined little shit but even I know when I'm headbutting a brick fucking wall dude.

Regina: True dat true dat

hailey: I seriously think that my admissions counselor was either smoking crack all the time, or just seriously stupid.
hailey: Do you have to have a degree to be an admissions counselor?

Regina: LoL
Regina: Sadly yes
Regina: which is why I am not 'qualified' to be a admissions counselor or advisor
hailey: lame
hailey: you knew more about my shit than she did all the damn time

Regina: which is a whole different high blood pressure inducer

hailey: am I going to get you in trouble if I blog our conversation?
hailey: should I give you a code name?

Regina: nah
Regina: go for it

hailey: you can be fluffy bunny
hailey: or

Regina: I a fluffly

hailey: pickle

Regina: ooo

hailey: Your code name can be spicy pickle. there you go

Regina: Pickles!
Regina: hahaha
Regina: I love spicy pickles

Yeah, these are about the caliber of the conversations I have had with this chick on an almost daily basis. I have complained about my counselor more to her than I have to anyone else. If the moron that was my admissions counselor got a job, they should definitely give the job to Reggie. At least she is on top of shit! And I'm not just talking about being on top of a half priced jar of spicy pickles. This chick has her shit together, and she kind of forced me to get mine there too. Spank you very much my little spicy pickle. =)

Who says you can't pick your family?

I've made reference to an ex husband before and that's probably the most you'll read of him. I got married when I was 17 and knew everything about the real world. Ha! 17 year old me wasn't much brighter than 16 year old me.

I got two sets of in laws when I married my ex. That's normal these days. I never really took to my official first mother in law. We won't go into why but the short version is she didn't much like me because I married her son.

I have always loved my father in law. I didn't get along great with his wife and her daughter back then. We'll say my view was warped by someone.

Anyway, since divorcing my ex, I have realized, I love all of them. And so does my husband. I have a far better relationship with them now than I ever thought I would. My husband has such a high opinion of my father in law. Honestly I was really surprised and there are moments when I still am. Not because I don't think highly of them, but because to me its a little unusual for the second husband to genuinely like and cate about the first husbands family. If you had told me when I was 17 that this is how things would turn out I would have told you that you had been taking too many hits off the peace pipe.

I guess this is another sentimental blog. I need to quit. I may have a new husband and a new set of in laws, but I'll always keep this part of my first set. So whoever says you can't pick your family is very very wrong.

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I'm a mean little shit.

Its the night before easter, and mommy realized a few hours ago...shit! The easter bunny forgot to visit walmart when we got to town. So I put on my imaginary bunny ears and grabbed mimi and hauled ass to walmart. I picked the perfect stuff to build the easter baskets. Then my husband almost fucked it all up by not hiding things in the closet well.

You'd think he would have figured it out after the same shit happened TWICE at christmas and we spent triple what we should have to replace santa presents. No such luck. I'm betting my 5 year old already has a sneaking suspicion that there's a reason we put out mommys favorite cookies for santa and mommys favorite jelly beans to feed the easter bunny.

If he's as smart as I was, I'm screwed. I can only hope he will be nicer than I was. I have a sister that is 3 years older than me. I'm pretty sure she didn't try to get rid of me for no good reason over the years. When I came home from the hospital, I ran off her imaginary friend. When I was probably not much older than my son is now, I ratted my mom out for being the easter bunny, santa, and the tooth fairy. Like the title says, I'm a mean little shit.

If jon has the secrets of the 5 year old world figured out, I can only hope he doesn't decide to rat me out at the breakfast table like I did to my mom. Sorry mom!

A special congratulations to my mom. She finally married a decent man, and I'm happy to call him my dad. Mom, I would normally crack a joke on you at this point but tonight I will be nice since it is after all your wedding night.

I wish you all the happiness in the world and many bananas for your new gorrirra. Also, if he doesn't behave, you know I can whip his ass, and I will. My husband is looking mighty fine tonight, even though he basically called me trailer trash earlier, and I think since I'm done being the easter bunny, I'll go be a playboy bunny. ; )

Night y'all!

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Tea in a bucket.

Today is the day of the bachelor party! We are of course doing it redneck style. Having a pasture party in the middle of nowhere with a huge fire...possibly during a burn ban.

Someone please tell me why the fuck we need a fire when its 90 degrees outside! My dad is smoking fucking crack. I went with him to get a rick of firewood. He said since I'm the son he never had I can help him load it. No problem, anything a man can do I can do too. Except piss in a urinal standing up.

Do you KNOW how much fucking wood a rick is? I didn't. Its. A. Lot. I have splinters and dirt in places I wasn't sure it could get. Apparently its fucking expensive too. $90 and we had to load it ourselves. Fun right? Piss on that dude. Or his firewood anyway. Steve might have. I can't say.

Fast forward 2.5 hours. Mom, darci and I got sent on a mission to get pizza. So we drive to the nearest city and as we are driving I see a chicken express. I demand for mom to stop and get me tea. I NEEDED their tea. I asked for the biggest one they have of course.

I didn't know they served that shit in a bucket. Go figure. I may have peed a little from excitement. I am armed with 64oz of tea which will soon become my margarita bucket. Go big or go home bitches.

On a more somber note, I would like to take a moment to say that I appreciate my right to freely express myself the way I do. I would like to thank every military member that is serving or has served, and a special thank you to those who have made the ultimate sacrifice. It has been 3 years since my cousin was KIA in iraq. Thank you matt, and every other person who has made the ultimate sacrifice for this country.

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conserve water, shower together.

I don't know who came up with that but really, are you smoking crack? I don't know what it is those people are doing but its obviously not the same thing that happens when normal people shower together. You didn't think I'd skip blogging today did you? I can't disappoint those of you who depend on my daily giggle.

In other news my insurance company found a way to make me not hate them. I am now a proud owner of a galaxy tab. Yay me! No lack of technology for this chick.

Today starts my husbands pre deployment leave. Two whole weeks of solid husband time. We will either be really fucking bonded or we will be driving each other crazy. Maybe a combination of both. I can live with that. He steals my deodorant, I steal his razor. It all evens out in the end. He always uses the last of my deodorant though. I guess he likes smelling like a woman. If you could see my husband you would know why this is amusing. In his own words, he is 200 lbs of twisted steel and sex appeal. He's also a tad touched in the head. I love him anyway.

I also got the great idea today to bathe the dog. Have you ever tried to bathe a great dane? It is not fucking easy dammit. I wound up looking like a drowned rat and she thought it was funny. Funny until I got her ass back in the tub anyway. Ha. I win! For now anyway. She'll be bigger than me soon so I have to make her understand I am the head bitch in charge around here and she will never be the alpha fucking female. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Anyway the husband wants to hijack my shit now so I'm going to have to get off here and harass him back. Have a lovely evening, and remember ladies, just because they make it in your size doesn't mean you should buy it.

Jesus deserves capitalization.

This is what my mom tells me after reading my blog yesterday. For real mom, I'm not a hooker, I'm not dealing drugs to first graders, and I'm not living in sin with my boyfriend *cough cough YOU cough*, I think jesus will forgive me if I don't hit the shift key at the beginning of his name.

So that's totally not what my whole blog is going to be about today. You only get one paragraph this time mom. Better luck next week.

Have you ever had one of those days, that by mid morning, you are already wanting to drown it in the toilet and move on to tomorrow? I am having one of those days today. I feel like butting my head against a brick fucking wall would make it less painful than it already is. For real y'all. Why is it a bad day you ask? A few weeks ago I decided my one year break between high school and college was finally over and I think I have all the practical life lessons I need at the moment, so I might as well dust the cobwebs off my brain and try this school shit again.

Did I say a year? I guess I did. Well, that's what everyone says. "I'm going to take a year off and backpack through europe and sell my body in amsterdam and experiment with drugs and alcohol!" Ok so mine was more like taking a year off to change diapers, wipe runny noses and do the mom thing. And my one year turned into two. Then it slowly faded into three...then four...then five...as of may of this year, It's been six years since I graduated. I've got 3 kids, multiple minimum wage jobs, an ex husband and a fabulous new husband to show for it. Time flies when you're trying to survive.

I finally applied to a University. I was SO excited. Then the waiting game began and the excitement turned into annoyance, which turned into frustration, then hit anxiety, and gave me indigestion. Alright alright, I can't blame that totally on college. Taco bell did not help. Anyway, back to the point. I pissed off during high school. I didn't think I was going to want to go to college. Who really wants to be stuck sitting in a classroom for FOUR MORE YEARS?? This is one of those times when I want to throttle 16 year old me for dropping down to the bare minimum plan and half assing my way through school. I am smart. I'm not saying that to be arrogant, I'm saying it because it is very, very true. I am an intelligent person, and I am a prime example of someone wasting their potential.

When you're in school, realistically, you don't know what you want to do or who you want to be. I am almost 24 years old and I JUST settled on what I wanna be when I "grow up". Given my history I suppose it is the logical choice for me. I wanna beat the bad guys. I don't want to be a lawyer. That shit takes too long. I want to be the one that chases down the bad guys. I don't want to be a small town cop, or a big town cop. I have a specific goal in mind. I am not revealing what it is though. You'll just have to stay tuned if you want to find out. Neener neener neener!

Anyway, today is annoying me because my 16 year old self set my 24 year old self up for failure. My SAT scores are SO close, but not quite there. My 3.0 GPA is good, but not where it needs to be for this school. So my admissions counselor tells me to start with their community college and I can transfer in as soon as I get 24 credit hours! I was so excited! i picked out the coolest most interesting looking classes and was about to hit enroll, and then Reggie tells me, don't do it. Apparently the asshat they assigned to me as an admissions counselor is garbage. None of the classes I had selected would transfer over. I'm debating on whether I want to leave her a tacky message and show my redneck side, or should I use my intelligence to so subtly insult her that she won't even realize it until tomorrow morning. Decisions, decisions....

If you sat here and read through all this mumbo jumbo and maybe even got mad for me, give yourself a pat on the back and a cookie. You're a winner in my book. Not to be confused with a wiener, which I'm sure some of you probably are. There's no shame in that though! Everyone has their wiener moments.

Bless your heart.

Down here that phrase can mean anything from "you poor thing" to "your ass is going straight to hell". Southern women are some of the trickiest creatures to dissect. Some are genuinely good hearted women who want to feed you and bring jesus in your life, and some just want to be friends to get the dirty on you for next weeks bible study so they have some good gossip.

How do you tell the difference? Normally a dash of holy water will show which one is a good hearted woman and which one is satan in a skirt. My mimi is a prime example of southern hospitality mixed with a dash of don't fuck with my family. I think the biggest percent of southern women are just like that. When I was growing up, my mimi was the rock of the family. Still is, don't get me wrong. She fixed us pancakes for breakfast before school, drove us to school every morning and picked us up every afternoon. She took our butts to sunday school and church and every sunday afternoon lunch was at mimis. You didn't cancel on the don.

My poppa was the male rock of the family. He was always making mischief for my mimi and tried his best to drive her crazy. I think he succeeded but she never loved him any less. You would never catch my poppa in church. He'd rather be fishing. He was never one for religion but that didn't stop my mimi from bringing jesus into their house. You don't step between a baptist woman and God.
I inherited my personality from my poppa. Sermons bore me but I do love God. I prefer to be the joker of the family and I find peace out on a pond with a fishing pole in my hand. That's when I have my best talks with him.

What brought this on today? Why am I babbling about my grandparents and the ways of southern people? My 5 year old brought this on today. I was fixing breakfast this morning when I got blindsided. Out of nowhere jon turns to me and goes, "momma, I really miss my poppa. Will you tell me more about him?" My poppa left this world one week before my son was born, and some days I think he put a big piece of himself in jon. How else could the kid remember playing with him(when he never got the chance) and be born with a love of fishing? Its been over 5 years and it never has gotten easier.

This is one of those rare semi sentimental blogs you won't see much of. My poppa was a good man. He was difficult though, like me. It took a special woman to love him and stand by him no matter what though. You want to see a good southern woman who wants nothing more than to keep her family happy and make sure we all have jesus and wind up on the same place when we leave this world, look at my mimi. She had her way in the end. My poppa accepted jesus into his heart not long before he left this world.

When my mimi says bless your heart you bet your ass she means it. She is still on a mission to make sure none of us go to hell, and she is still the best cook in the family, though I give her a run for her money.

I think I've rambled enough for now though. So in the words of my great poppa, Neeeeeexxxxxxttttt!!

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I make no apologies for being me.

Have you ever had someone try and make you feel bad for the way you are? Or how about for your views on things? Or to make you feel bad for feeling the way you do about something?

I've had that happen to me plenty of times in my life, and honestly, it's even more obnoxious than boys that wear skinny jeans. If you're my friend, you chose to be my friend. You know how demented I can be, how little I care for certain aspects of life, and you know that I am not going to apologize for my opinions. Why should I? At least I'm real. I stand by what I say and I don't try to pretend to be something I'm not.

I am a pain in the ass. I'm not a fair fighter. I don't like 75% of the people my husband works with that I have met, and some that I haven't. I'm not going to kiss your ass because you wear a higher rank than my husband. You don't have a higher rank than me. Kthanks. Given the choice of spending the day with my husband, or spending the day with a friend, 90% of the time I am going to pick my husband. Given the choice of going out and partying and staying home with my husband, 99% of the time I will choose to stay home. The other 1% of the time, Casey kicks me out. So sue me. I married a man I not only love, but actually like this time.

I'm consistent. If I don't like you, I am not going to go out of my way to pretend that I do. I won't wave back when you wave at me, I will generally shoot you a dirty look. If you ask me if I don't like you, I am not going to lie. I don't sugar coat the truth and act like everything is hunky-fucking-dory just because you have more stripes than my husband. You can get the middle finger just as easily as anyone else in life. Sometimes it'll be more readily available to you than anyone else. And for some, I reserve a very special middle finger that comes with a "F*ck you asshole". I don't generally judge by appearance but if you look like a slut don't be mad if I call you one.

I'm not going to apologize for not liking you. Normally if I don't, you've done something to cause that. Can I be a bitch? You bet your left fucking nut I can. Sometimes I'm even a bitch first. If you're my friend and you make a snide or snippy comment to me, I am not going to roll over and play dead. I will snipe you right back. Mature? No. Fun? Yes.

I don't get down with "well I'm under a lot of stress, I expect you to understand and not be mean to me." Now say what you really mean. "I just want to be able to be a bitch to whoever I want and I expect for you to roll over and play dead and maybe lick my toes and pacify me and tell me it's ok for me to be this way because I'm having a shit day." Now then, don't you feel better? Everyone is naturally more high strung when they are having a stressful day. But it is NEVER ok to tell your friends that basically you expect them to not criticize you for it and that you expect them to tolerate you verbally abusing them.

If I think you're doing something stupid, I'm going to tell you. Don't like it? Don't broach the subject with me. If I'm friends with you I will at least try to handle it delicately. However, don't fucking lie to me. I have the uncanny ability to tell when someone is being dishonest with me, even if I barely know them. My bullshit detector has been fooled a couple of times, but it's normally dead on. I will call you on it. Or sometimes I will just sit back and watch you trip yourself up in your lies and munch on popcorn and giggle.

This has turned out to be quite long. It wasn't inspired by any certain event, but more like a series of them especially over the last year. I do my best not to judge my friends. I have no right because my hands are so fucking far from clean they might as well have been buried in a pigs ass for a few years. I am me. I make no apologies. Love me for it, or don't. That is your choice. I am who I am and that is one thing that will never change again. I don't even expect to mellow out in my old age. I'm just going to use that as an excuse to be even more blunt, and possibly to piss on the people who annoy me. I think I already mentioned that plan though.

Like a good neighbor, state farm is there.

I wish I would've kept my state farm car insurance when I married my husband. But he already had insurance with USAA and raved about how great they are. Ok, I'll bite. Let's try this out. Last summer, I backed into a guy's harley...in our driveway. Remember folks, always check behind you for a gnome's harley before you back out of your own fucking driveway. USAA was super duper quick. We filed the claim, they called me, got the incident report in my words, got him a real nice rental car while his bike was in the shop, fixed it up good as new. Jacked my insurance up $30 a month. Totally understand, that was my bad yo.

Finally got to talk to a rep today about my "options" for my insurance claim since my truck was vandalized. Apparently I have to pay my $500 deductible even though it was not my fault. As far as my cousin's purse, they won't replace jack shit for that one. As far as my iPad goes...after I pay my $500 deductible, they will cover up to a whopping $250 of my iPad replacement. Gives you the warm fuzzies right? for my 6 month premium I am paying $111 on just my truck. $123 on the other truck JUST for comprehensive coverage. For fucking WHAT?!?!?!?! Oh and if I file these claims, I may have my rates go up.

WHY?!?! For the love of all that is fucking holy in this world, what is WRONG with these people?! State Farm is where it's at. When my car got vandalized when I had them and the lil fuckers stole my GPS, they had me pay a $50 deductible, and provide proof of ownership of my GPS, and they mailed me a brand new one within a week. There was no "well you have to pay your $500 deductible and then maybe we will pay $250 toward helping you replace your shit"...My car was broken into. My shit was stolen. I am a fucking victim of a CRIME, and my insurance rates may go up because of it. Why? because America is fucking broke. People are desperate for a quick fix to their cash problems so they have taken up a life of crime, and you and I my friend, the honest ones that work for what we want and need and don't break things and steal, we are the ones that are paying for it.

My window is going to cost $202 to replace. That leaves me with having to pay $298 toward my iPad before they give me a check for $250. My iPad was $800. So I pay 650, they pay 250. What is the fucking point? Why should I continue with this claim and risk my rates going up? For that $650, I can get a new laptop instead. USAA, you may be good for some things, but for making a person feel better when they have been violated, you fucking suck. We will most likely be switching our insurance back to State farm. In all the time I had them, they never let me down. They never punished me for someone else's desire to be stupid.

Fuck your couch USAA, fuck your couch.

That's gooooood toilet water.

This goes back to why do I have kids. I cooked a damn good dinner tonight, and my heathen children are thoroughly enjoying it. Mostly my boys. I'm still wondering what possessed me to have children though. I mean, look at me. I have about as much class as a white trash whore getting passed around the room. How the hell am I supposed to teach my kids manners? Boarding school in switzerland?

Don't get me wrong, I didn't count them out before they had a chance. But put me in boy form and make me just a tad disgusting, and you have my kids. As I'm fixing jake his second plate of food in the kitchen he comes up to me and says dang mom that's some good stuff, followed by a massive fart. Classy right? Don't fart in the kitchen I tell him. Jon says yeah jake you're supposed to fart in the living room. Jake proceeds to go pass gas right by his daddy's chair. Better than the kitchen I suppose.

Last week my nanny caught jake giving himself a swirly, complete with flushing. Why? Who knows. Then again, if you'd ever met his biological father you would probably understand. Between me, his father, and his daddy, the kid is doomed to be a redneck smartass. He's gonna make a mighty fine husband one day.

Back to dinner tonight. The boys always get water with dinner. As I'm finally feeding the dog her dinner I hear jon slurp down the last of his water and go, that's some mighty good toilet water right there, can I have some more mom? Toilet water? Really? Where does this kid come up with this shit?

I'm pretty sure my kids are going to turn out just like me. Scared? I am.

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The misadventures of hailz, shitney, hoe david, and tylacking.

tonight has been so fucking full of madness I hardly know where to begin. Maybe by saying that omg, did you know that the man with the largest known penis is packing 13 inches of scary in his pants? Or that when you sneeze your heart stops? Yeah everyone learned that one in first grade but apparently tyler was a tad behind the curve.

I apologize for any random misspelled words in this post. See I'm having to write it from my phone because tonight while celebrating my moms bachelorette party my window on my truck was smashed and some douche nugget stole my ipad and whitneys purse. Yeah yeah yeah, we shouldn't have left that shit in there. If you want to lecture us, piss of we have already thoroughly beaten ourselves up about it. kthanksbye.

After the initial pissed off feeling calmed down we decided that we needed to fix my window. Big cousin to the rescue! He took my truck and sent me and shitney in his truck with tyler. Whitney was piss fucking drunk y'all. Tyler entertained us with stories of his wrecks and we decided that he is the reason that insurance rates are so high. Thanks a lot jackass. Shitney is also the reason that there are hot check fees. You two are fucking up life for the rest of us.

We finally get to walmart and go in to locate some duct tape. That shit fixes anything and if you can't fix it with duct tape you might as well give up and buy a new whatever it is. joe david decided someone needed to guard the truck, though I'm not sure what else he thought they were gonna take. I voted tyler should not be left in charge Because he'd find a way to wreck the two trucks while they were parked. I HAD to have hot pink fucking duct tape. Who can resist something that's named funky flamingo? Not this chick.

Duct tape was purchased and our true journey began. Off to the car wash where all the cool kids hang out. By cool kids, I mean just us. While picking the glass out of the truck tyler decided to amuse us with even more stories of how he's lacking in the common sense department. I got to watch joe david go hulk on some saran wrap. There were alot of inappropriate jokes about surprise sex, the man with a leg for a penis, the gene pool for me and joe david being polluted and possibly some references to whether or not we looked enough like drug dealers to fit in on the hard streets of bonham.

apparently whitney has a schlong she tucks up in her boots, and if she tries to kick you in the stomach, her penis will slap you in the face. I don't know about you, but I'm thoroughly impressed. After we finally got the 5 tons of fucking glass out of my truck and the window taped up, we stood around in the fucking cold for god only knows why talking about giant penises. Who does that? We do. I was plotting a blog title for all the madness, leaning more toward "did I just get slapped in the face with a penis" but shitney decided it should be what it is. So became the misadventures of hailz, shitney, hoe david...and...tyler. How gay. Tyler decided his nickname is tylacking. I'm gonna go with tyler is lacking in the common sense department.

My next blog will be full of quotes from our fabulously disgusting conversation. Be warned, it is going to far exceed the inappropriate level of my normal language. I'd do it now, but I'm kinda sick of typing on this fucking phone. Thanks again dickwad for taking my ipad!

Rori the Amazing Sock Hurler.

If you read my past blogs you will know that Aurora = our great dane puppy. Rori is her nickname cause the kids can't say Aurora. Well, I think that when she joins the circus soon the title of this post is how they are going to introduce her.

This stupid dog (that I really really love btw) has an absolutely disgusting bad habit. I think it's safe to say I'd rather catch her drinking out of the toilet every morning than what I actually do wake up to. Every other morning (at least) this freaking idiot wakes me up between 5 and 6 am...puking.

Is your dog sick? Why no, not unless you count sick in the freaking head. That much, I am sure she is. Every other day (the days she doesnt wake me up puking) she eats at least one sock. Then she hurls it up the next morning. When I say she eats a sock, I do not mean she chews it to pieces and swallows a few. No sir. Not my dysfunctional dog. She mows down the whole fucking sock. I still haven't found out WHEN she does this shit either. If she isnt up my ass (or more accurately, laying on my feet) she is outside, or she is sleeping in any sunny spot in the house she can find.

This dog was destined to be mine. You wanna know how I know that? She's fucking strange. And she is constantly trying to outdo herself. She totally fucking nailed it this morning. I fix her bowl of food just like I do every morning at too fucking early AM, turned around to give it to her, and instead of being greeted by the feed me face, I see her heaving. Lucky for me we were already downstairs and conveniently right by the back door. She runs outside just to hurl up a hulking ball of sock.

"That's TWO fucking socks this time! That's a record" I think to myself. I had to chase her ass back inside so she didn't try and eat them again. Gross, I know. Unfortunately for me, even though it was outside, I still have to pick up the socks and throw them away to keep from repeating the process the next morning. As I go to clean them up, I notice that's most definitely more than one sock. Two socks. No, wait, three socks. Hold on, WHAT. THE. FUCK. She hurled up FOUR fucking socks this morning. All at the same time. Like seriously? Where is she finding these fucking socks?? and HOW does she swallow them whole?!

Some of you may be reading this giggling. Good, you're just as demented as I am because I was giggling as I cleaned it up. Some of you are reading this going "oh gross"...well, obviously if you've gotten this far it wasnt THAT fucking gross. So anyway, I think when the kids have driven us to our breaking point, we are going to run away to the circus and become "Rori the Amazing Sock Hurler, and her human"

This is Rori at 4.5 months old, 50 lbs.

What did the 5 fingers say to the face?

I started writing a book two years ago about my life. I figured that I could change the names and put it all out there. Life was a mess. A hot mess on a bad day. I've changed computers so many times in the past couple years that I didn't know where the hell my book was. I so did not want to start over, even though i only wrote 4 pages. That's alot for a lazy fuck like me! I figure it'll be done sometime in 2015. Maybe. Anyway, I know I already mentioned that my best friend Kati is more random and off the wall than I am, so here is an excerpt from my book to prove it. Everything that is in here is a real conversation and written almost word for word. Enjoy.

“So if he starts paying child support again, then he will be even more broke. So you know what she will be driving? A moped. Not even a cool one, more like one from 1995 that is painted 3 different colors. I bet it doesn’t even have real wheels, just donuts. It’ll have a little bell or an air horn because they cant afford one with a real horn. Its gonna be messed up. Maybe she can get one with an umbrella holder, so then she can pretend she’s cruising along in a convertible, you know? It’ll go 15, maybe 20mph on a good day. Do you know what im gonna do? Im going to break her kickstand so when she goes to park her bike, BAM, its going to fall flat on the ground and she’ll sit down and cry. What would be even better is if she is cruising down the highway and one of her donuts pop and she falls and gets hit by a bus. Make that a short bus, that’s even better, but it wont kill her, that wouldn't be funny.”

I think Kati has a slight sadistic streak. I’m laughing so hard at all this that I cant even respond. I knew she would come up with something good, but this really exceeds expectations.

“Just imagining her driving on her moped cracks me up. She pisses me off. I just want to slap her. Im buying a moped that puts hers to shame and I’m going to run over her. After I run her over I’ll ask her where’d you get yours, the 99 cent store? I bet I could get a motorized wheelchair and run her over with it.”

“You’re stupid Kati. Seriously. Doesn’t grandma have a motorized wheel chair?”

“Yeah and that bitch goes fast. And it has a seatbelt. Its pretty sweet.”

“I had to tell you all this. I knew you would come up with something super funny to say. You never disappoint me in that area.”

“I bet her expedition is a piece of shit that she bought off a hooker in the ghetto. It’s gonna be funny they do it in the back seat and get herpes or some other STD. Ew, I bet it’s just nasty. Especially if it looks anything like that house he lived in.”

You’ve got to love Kati's creative side. When this girl gets on a roll, there is little to do to stop her, and at this point, I don’t even want to try.

“Oh! I bet a roach crawls across her head while she’s driving. WAIT! Can she even see over the steering wheel? Is she even tall enough? She seriously needs to get slapped. Do you ever watch Kat Williams?”

“No, I cant say that I do”

“He’s a comedian on comedy central—“

Now its my turn to interrupt her for a change. “I know who he is.”

“Well I’m going to go up to her and ask her what the 5 fingers said to the face. And when she’s all like, ‘what?’, I’m going to just slap her. And then she can jump in her herpes mobile and run away crying like the little baby she is.”


It always both amuses me, and makes me sad to remember how horrible things were between "my side" and "their side" for the longest time after we divorced. Sometimes I feel kind of guilty for the things Kati and I have said when we were pissed off, but then I realize, who the fuck really cares? This is honest and real. This is how we dealt with things, and obviously how we still do. I never have and probably never will be a person that handles situations the "appropriate way" and really, why should I? Where is the fucking fun in that shit?

Why did I have kids?

Babies are so cute at first. They are all snuggly and have that new baby smell. Who wouldn't want one?? What we forget about when we get that baby fever...they all grow into holy fucking terrors eventually. Of course there is the rare baby that comes out evil. Ask my mom, I was one. I was born with my eyes open and stayed awake for 5 solid hours. The doctor warned my mother I would be hell on wheels, and I definitely didn't disappoint her. She was smart, she stopped after having me.

Everyone in my family sticks with having one or two babies. Me being me, I decided to outdo everyone yet again. We have 4 kids, and a dog. Plus my husband, I'm raising 6 kids. There also is a "3 year apart" rule. Yeah, overachiever that I am, I blew that one out of the water as well. Go me! I never got my fucking cookie for that one.

I did stick to the tradition set by my mother and aunt. I popped the first one out at 18. Don't worry folks, I got married to the father before he was born, but that's another story for another time, that honestly probably will never be told. Anyway, this kid, whew. He was so sweet and adorable right after I had him. Then we came home from the hospital. He's been making me crazy ever since. As if one wasn't enough for a teen mom, I decided to have another at 19. Another bouncing baby boy, who, if you can believe it, was even worse than the first. The boys are 15 months apart and people mistake them for twins every day. They are twins. Twins of destruction. Combining their powers they can wreck a 2200 sq ft house in one fell swoop.

One messy divorce and a new husband later, we decided to embark upon the journey of parenting again. I inherited a step son that has as much age difference between me and him as there is me and his daddy (which is 11 years for those of you wondering). This time, we got a girl. Woo! Finally! A little more estrogen in this testosterone filled house! Can I get an Amen? Wait. Not so fast. While she was the perfect infant...she has turned into something I was NOT prepared for at all. She is a combination of a diva and a tomboy. She has the attitude of a 16 year old girl, and throws mud at her brothers. She terrorizes everyone in this house.

When you add all 3 of them together, you get a recipe for disaster. Jon (who is 5) is the brains of the operation. He thinks up all the bad ideas and cons Jake (4 years old) into carrying out his evil plot. Jessalyn (age 1.5) is always trying to overthrow her brother as the brains. I apparently also have another 2 kids that I never see and can't put in time out or whip. Their names are "It wasn't me" and "He did it". They have been terrorizing my house for 3 years.

What spurred this blog today you might be wondering. Well, I was sitting here in my office, which is really just a glorified corner of my bedroom, minding my own business and singing praises that my blog was finally unlocked, when I heard a huge thud against the wall outside my bedroom door. I opened it cautiously, you never know what is going to come flying around corners in this house. There stood Aurora, our great dane, who is probably the only member of this family that almost always listens to me and isn't trying to make me crazy...soaking wet.

We have been fighting the "leave the water hose alone" battle for a solid month now, and the kids rarely listen. Ok, they never listen. They don't normally torment our dog though. Ok, yes they do, but not like this. So now I have a room that smells like wet dog, two little boys who will be joining their sister for daily nap time, and a strong desire to duct tape my kids to the wall, redneck fashion. However, CPS says that's illegal. Obviously though, I am not the first, nor will I be the last person to have this idea. I love my children, I really do. But there are days when I wondered if it is legal to sell them on Ebay.

Do not ever be surprised if you come in my house and happen to notice some new artwork like this on the wall:

Let me tell you about my best friend.

First of all, let me start by saying, I absolutely love this bitch. But sometimes i am tempted to drag her ass to marriage counseling. We've been friends since my senior year in high school, when I went down to the jr high and threatened to beat her up for talking shit on a friend of mine. Friendships start in the funniest ways huh? We have tried to drown each other in the lake, dared each other to skinny dip, and then stolen each others suits. We've made asses out of ourselves in front of boys, and been each others shoulders to cry on.

Now down to business. She is obnoxious. I hate her techno music. Anytime we are around each other for more than an hour, I kind of want to kill her. And I mean that in the nicest most christian way possible. 90% of our bad ideas come from that demented little head of hers. She sexually harasses me at random moments when we are together, and makes inappropriate comments about my mother's ass. Mom locks her bedroom door when Kati comes over to drink.

We've been pissing each other off since '05, and probably will continue until we are old and wrinkled. Or until I am anyway, because if one of us is gonna be a plastic surgery queen, I'd put money on it being her. She's the only person that can drunk dial me at 4am and not get killed, and believe me, she abuses that privilege.

We don't fight fair, and we fight over the stupidest things. Radio, who's driving, whose phone plan is better, and who has the cuter puppy. We take low blows at each other, press each others buttons, and generally try and see who can be the most immature during a fight. She normally wins. probably because in reality she is 4 years younger than me. We don't have your average friendship, most likely caused by the abnormal best friendship of my mother and aunt krin. They taught us well.

I am about to do the most dangerous thing with her in the history of our friendship. In a few short weeks we will be taking off on our first real road trip together. We are already fighting over the radio, whether or not we will be getting drunk in other states, and whether pot and cocaine would be a violation of the no drugs rule. To all the people I've offended with my tackiness, stay tuned. You ain't seen nothin yet.

Hi, my name is Hailey and I have Jesus.

This is probably one of the absolute dumbest questions I have ever been asked. "You know everything you put on the internet your kids will probably read later?" Yeah, and? Oh that's right. The kids aren't supposed to know that mommy swears and likes to drink sometimes. They shouldn't be exposed to my God awful sense of humor.

First of all, this is normally what I get from the bible thumping holy rollers who think I need Jesus. Hi, my name is Hailey, and I have Jesus. I don't shove my beliefs down anyone's throat nor do I like having it shoved down mine. I don't need a flier stuck to my door or a man on a street corner begging for change while holding a sign saying God will smite me for turning my back on my fellow man. Get a new sign. PS, when you're trying to pretend you are homeless, at least dress the part. Leave the khakis and the gold watch at home bro, whichever bridge that's under.

Back to the "legacy" I am leaving my children. Do I want them to read this shit? Hell yes I do. I plan on printing it for them and handing it to them as soon as they learn how to read. Ok, maybe not THAT soon, but soon enough. They can use it as a guide to tormenting their children, and then of course for the obvious life lessons that are in this blog. Why should I pretend to be something I'm not for them? They deserve to know me, the real me, not the way it was back in the 50s. Back then kids weren't supposed to know about that rose tattoo on mommy's ass.

Think about this seriously, by the time my kids are actually navigating the interwebz, and master the art of googling their parents, I'm pretty sure this would all be way outdated and they would never stumble across it anyway. I mean look how far technology has come just since I was born. My husband frequently entertains me with his old geezer stories. I always giggle when he starts a story "when I was your age"...yeah, when you were my age...you looked like Mclovin. But you turned into a sexy beast.

If you don't like what I write, or don't think my sense of humor is funny, don't read it! I'm gonna cuss. I'm gonna say tacky things, and make jokes about inappropriate things. If you don't chew big red, well then F*** you.

History repeats itself.

So I'm gearing up for my mom's bachelorette party this weekend. Of course friday night I plan to have a few too many, who doesn't? I'm popular for wedding parties this year. I'm my dad's best man in two weeks (yeah, I get to throw the bachelor party) and I'll be a bridesmaid for my cousin's fiancee in December. Must be my charming sense of humor and witty conversation skills that make me such an asset at weddings.

How is history repeating itself you ask? Miss Whitney picked this coming saturday as the day to take me to David's Bridal to try on dresses.

You see, 3 years ago I was my sister's MOH. (that's a maid of honor for you people who don't speak wedding). 3 years ago in April she decided to take me dress shopping at the fancy pants bridal place. Now, some of you might not know, but I am not exactly fancy friendly. The night before we went dress shopping I decided to tie one on in a big way. There was a lot of beer, some WII bowling, and I may or may not have passed out beside the toilet at home...another story for another time. I spent the next day so hungover I couldn't see straight, much less shower or try to make myself look semi presentable to the public.

History gets to repeat itself this weekend. I plan to show up the same way I did 3 years ago, and smirk at the clerk while she sneers at my appearance. Now, to make it truly a repeat, I need to go dig through some boxes and find the same attire I wore that day. What says fancy better than showing up to the bridal shop wearing ripped jeans and a t-shirt that says "it's not easy being easy"? My mom is so proud of the little lady she raised.

Apparently crazy people have something in common.

Have you ever been to therapy? For the sake of this ramble, we will assume that you haven't. As I'm sitting there in that stuffy little office, in that uncomfortable chair, pouring my heart out to the little old lady who looks bored, I cry about how my daddy (not my current dad, but the piece o shit that raised me) didnt love me and all the other issues you grow up with raised in hellhole texas. I get done crying, dry my eyes, and continue to fiddle with the tissue and confuse the hell out of my therapist for the remaining 48 minutes of my therapy.

I take my nervousness and frustration out on my tissue. Ramble on about my past life, the one that belongs to a totally different Hailey, not the one that is sitting here in the office trying not to trip down memory lane. I fold and unfold that poor tissue. squeeze it between my fingers, roll it into a little ball, and then roll and roll and roll again until I realize it's flaking off onto my pants. Rest in peace poor tissue, you were the easiest target for my hands at the moment.

As I toss it into the wastebasket and give it a good send off with a moment of silence, I realize, it is most definitely not alone. As a matter of fact, I cannot even pick out which tissue is mine anymore. Dozens of little tiny tissues are all wadded into poor little pitiful looking ragged balls. Whoever said no two crazy people are alike missed the mark a little. Apparently we all like to torture our tissues when we are done using them.

I bet you're sitting there reading this going, Oh Emmm Geeeeeee I SO roll my tissue into a little ball! And now, you're stopping and thinking...wait a minute...she said crazy people..but..I'm....oh hell. Yeah, you're probably a little bit nuts. I mean really, who else is going to sit here and read my 3 paragraph ramble about a tissue? You're probably either a roller or a shredder. Either way, you're a little bit nuts, and a tissue torturer.

Because I said so.

Every kid at some point hears that right? I remember when I was a kid and I wanted life MY way. Right then and right then dammit! For me there was no greater irritation than asking why I couldn't do something and being told "because I said so". Ohhh how I couldn't wait to grow up!

Welllll, now I am all grown up and it is MY turn to use those words. Today my 5 year old has decided to be 25, and think he can debate with me and boss me around. Oh how I want to smack the me right out of him. When your mother looks at you and says "One day you will pay for your raising", she isnt lying. She is putting the fucking voodoo on you. It isn't a mild prediction or a warning, it is a CURSE!

Don't believe in curses? Have some kids, you'll see!

Back to the point, if there even is one anyway. I can see just how much it makes this little boy crazy when I tell him "because I said so"...and the 5 year old in me when he tries to debate wants to just say "I'm the adult and you're the kid so take that. Neener Neener Neener." Perhaps followed by me sticking out my tongue.

I never claimed to be mature, or sane. Don't judge me monkey.

In short, if you want to torture your child, tell him no. When he asks why, just say those dirty little words. But be mature. Don't stick your tongue out for real, just do it in your head.

Sometimes I'm just tacky.

Were you a planned baby?
Ha. No, I was about as unplanned as they come. But props to my mom for not selling me to the couple at braums who felt her bastard child deserved a two parent home.

Were you the first?
No but I was definitely the best.

Who was present at your birth?
Well you see, I'm not quite sure, couldnt put a name to the faces i saw as i popped out.

Were your parents married when you were born?
If they were, I doubt the holy rollers at the local hangout woulda tried to save my poor soul

What is your birth date?
July 2 1987

How would you describe your family?
dysfunctional as f***, but hey, we're fun.

Are your parents married? Divorced? Seperated?
They're living in sin.

Siblings or an only child?
4 sisters, poor teve, it's ok though. I'm like the son he never had.

If you have siblings are you oldest, middle, or youngest?
I'm the favorite.

Which parent do you get along with best?
it depends on which one is on their cycle at the time.

What do you fight about?
Surprisingly, nothing anymore. I've mellowed out in my husband's old age. Sometimes.

Do you have step parents?
My mom divorced those losers. I tried to tell 'em, I outlast everyone in the end.

Do you have more than one best friend?
Yeah. But no one will ever be better than Kati. Bitch drives me crazy but I kinda like her.

Do you share the same interests?
honestly, not so much. She keeps me young though, so she can stay.

How high/low is your self esteem?
Mile high.

Do you get depressed about things easily?
Real gangstas don't get depressed

Are you an extrovert or an introvert?
Piss me off and you'll find out.

Are you happy?
Happy as a 35 year old virgin in a whorehouse on buy one get one free night.

Do you live life to the fullest?
Who thinks this shit up?

Are you comfortable with the way you look?
Have you seen my boobs? Of course I am.

Do you have any piercings?
not anymore, they dont let you keep them in in jail.

Describe your hair?
it keeps my head warm

How do you dress?
I dress according to which personality wakes up in the morning.

Were you a strange child?
I was a mean child. I needed Jesus.

What did you use to love that you no longer do?
my hometown

Was there anything in your past that was traumatizing?
Pick a number from 6-17. Got it? Ok, that whole section of my life was traumatizing.

Do you have the same friends from when u were a kid?
See, there's something about high school in my town that chews up childhood friendships and spits them back out. The only person i talk to now that I talked to then is Amber. And most of the time, we were insulting each other.

Are you scared of growing old?
Absolutely not. When I get old, I can claim I'm senile and use it as an excuse to piss on people who annoy me.

Do you want to get married?
again? no thanks. I'll keep the husband I've got.

Do you like walking in the rain?
Only when I'm trying to get stuck by lightning.

Are you a vegetarian?
Do I look like a rabbit?

What is your favorite food?
anything I cook

What food makes you want to gag?
mushrooms. tried eating them to get high when I was 5. All i got was a trip to the ER an some ipecac.


Are you single or taken?
Taken. All the time, not just when he's home. Unlike 3/4 of the women in this God forsaken town, I do not need a bumper sticker that says "Half my heart is in afghanistan...my ass is at the club"

Do you believe in love at first sight?
I believe in lovetoscrewyou at first sight.

Have you ever thought you were going to die?
That goes back to the whole traumatic experience shit. Yeah, I thought I was going to be killed a couple of times.

Who was the president when you were born?
Well gee, you know I was so busy cutting my own umbilical cord and terrorizing my mother that i forgot to ask.

Who is the 1st president you voted for?
Myself.

What I learned in 2010

1. Never trust a gnome. They are dirty and lie a lot. They are also completely useless creatures.

2. When driving cross country just you and your same sex soulmate, sleep when you can. Otherwise you will wind up hopped up on energy drinks and when it is your turn to drive, at night no less, you will see very strange things.

3. When you see the grim reaper chasing his dog across the road, it's time to pull over and get some sleep, before you meet him for real.

4. Flying chinchilla bird squirrels eat peanuts.

5. Don't use expired eggs to bake cupcakes unless you feel like experiencing them a second time.

6. When waxing your own eyebrows for the first time always remember: don't apply the wax unless you're sure it's straight, and never wax the same spot twice trying to get the hairs you missed.

7. In the event that your mom has to have surgery, be careful of cracking jokes as she will request random objects to be thrown at you. Behave yourself, and you get to be the one throwing them.

8. If you must spend the night in the hospital with your mother, first check to see if she is experiencing the change... If she is, buy warm socks and an electric blanket. Also don't forget to sweep the dead penguins and polar bears out of the room in the morning.

9. If your husband starts to snore, gently shake him. If he doesn't stop, kicking him will normally get the job done.

10. Keep a bag of twizzlers in your car at all times. If someone rides your ass, use them as ammo. Make sure you lick them first though, it helps them stick.

11. If you find random ants in your bathtub, don't assume it's a fluke, rinse them out and get in anyway. Odds are, they are coming in through the overflow drain. They will attack you, possibly bite you on the ass, and prove to be a real annoyance.

12. You cannot drown ants. Nor can you just flush them out of the drain with water. You will need raid and duct tape. Spray the raid, tape off the drain, enjoy your bath. Repeat as needed.

13. Do not call or text your mom while drunk in another state and try to convince her that you are high. She will smack you for it when she sees you again.

14. Real pimps have food fights in their hotel room.

15. In Texas, even the homeless cart pushers are not safe from the popo. Dallas police will pull you and your cart over as quick as they will if you're in a car. So, a word to the wise, don't hop in that buggie and speed.

16. Exes are exes for a reason, it is not a good idea to try and be friends with them. It most likely will not end well.

17. A twizzard is what you get when wizards and twizzlers have a baby. Also, a horse and a bat make a borse, or a hat, whichever you prefer to call it.

18. And finally, I learned that I am stronger than I thought I was, and I have my mother and Mimi to thank for that. I will always keep my head up, no matter what the world throws at me. That's how we roll, yo. Word.

What do you do?

What is it you're supposed to do when life hands you choices, and all of them are basically just shit? Pick the lesser of the evils and hope it works out the best?

I never thought that I would find myself even facing these choices. I never would have thought that I would wind up having to make the decisions I have had to make in the past three years. While those were hard enough, the latest and greatest is even worse.

What if I want to say screw it and just do what I wanna do? I wish it was so easy.

No one will ever understand the pain that I have felt every day since new years of  '10. I use sarcasm to deflect anyone from getting close enough to know how much I hurt, as I am sure you will see in later posts (assuming anyone ever reads this).

No matter the choices I make today in this situation, they will all affect my son tomorrow. Maybe not tomorrow per se, but they will affect him at some point in the future. I know that it is inevitable for some hurt feelings to come of any decision I make, but which decision will be worth the hurt? How do you decide that one?

First rambling post has been successful. I enjoy getting my thoughts down, and kudos to anyone who reads this.