Not all baristas are created equal

On the occasions that I make a stop at starbucks, I always get one of 2 things. More like 1 thing now, because the baristas of Killeen have proven incompetent for the most part when it comes to making a pumpkin spice steamer instead of a pumpkin spice latte. So I go for the salted caramel mocha frap. Easy, right? Apparently not.

Don't they have a universal recipe that everyone is supposed to follow for the proper way to make something? I dont want anything extra, I like it the way it comes. So why is it that some days, it is the most delicious thing ever, and other days it is so bitter I cant even think about finishing 1/4 of it much less the whole thing? Then sometimes it is right in the middle...not quite as good as it should be, but good enough I can drink it.

I have noticed the guys usually make it better than the women. Maybe it's because I have boobs, but they don't know that until I make it to the drive thru window. Either way, I got my sbux fix today, and now I am pretty sure I can see noises. I drank every drop of a venti frap, at 5pm no less, and now I am pretty sure I will never sleep again.

I have exhausted Etsy and Foodgawker in the past couple of hours. Hardly blinking, just taking everything in deciding what I just CANT live without, and what foods I want to make. My mom thinks I have gone batshitcrazy but HELLO, I was already there. The coffee just made it more obvious, I think.

If you have gotten this far in the blog, you will realize, it is pretty freakin pointless. Thus the title of "Hailz Rambles". PS, I made some bomb ass pumpkin cupcakes thursday night. I would marry myself if I could, just for my cooking. Speaking of which...this baby NEEDS some damn alfredo, so I shall oblige. Hasta la vista, bitches.

Lies your mother told you.

Obviously I don't know what lies your mother really told you. This one is more for my kids. Yes, that's right! Mommies preach and preach about "how wrong it is to lie"...yet we are totally liars. Oh you don't lie to your kids? Santa Claus. That's what I thought.

1. Bell peppers are not really a key ingredient to Pizza Hut's sauce. I just want you to eat your veggies, dammit. If that means I have to blend them into your pizza sauce, spaghetti sauce, and random other foods to get you to eat them, I will. I will also lie through my teeth to get you to eat it. But honey, it's for your own good! You're welcome.

2. "I'm going to sell you on ebay!"...Obviously by now (if you are reading this), you know this is a lie. It's illegal! I don't want to spend my days in Martha Stewart's old jail cell defending my virginity....again.

3. There are not hidden cameras placed everywhere in our house, cars, outside, at the neighbor's house, at your Gigi's, Mimi's...or anywhere else really with the exception of restaurants and department stores. I know you're lying because it is written all over your guilty little faces. Never underestimate a mother's knowledge of her child.

Those are the main ones I can think of that I have told you in the past 48 hours. I'm sure there will be a need for part 2 eventually, but you wont be reading this anytime soon, so maybe I will wait until you hit the teen years. I'm betting there will be a whole new set of lies I have to come up with for that precious time in your life.

Oh, by the way...that wasn't lettuce. It was spinach. HA!

B****es love pickles!

So, the pickles actually turned out pretty delicious! I sent a jar home with my bestie friday, and she just took her 2nd jar. Since last night...I have eaten a whole jar. I blame the fact that I am pregnant! They go really well with cheetos, and with grilled cheese. or buffalo chicken sandwiches. the possibilities are ENDLESS! I also managed to make these without making anything explode, catch fire, or giving myself serious burns.

 My mom and mimi are mildly surprised that I took up canning. But hey, its cheaper than buying enough pickles to satisfy my pregnant cravings! Now I want a damn garden. I told them they can be surprised when my sister starts doing shit like this. THAT will be reason for celebration! ;)

 It actually has been quite relaxing doing this stuff. I have been chopping up fruits and veggies and freezing them to go in the kids lunches or just keep them good longer, so this was the obvious next step. I like being a cheap ass in this regard! ;) Why pay $4 at the store for something I can make for less than $2 here?

Just call me Susie.

Susie freakin homemaker, that is. That's right, I'm back. Miss me? I know you did. If you didn't...why are you reading this? That's what I thought. So, since my husband has been home (which is why I haven't blogged in however many months), I've been kinda busy baking...a baby. Recently I decided to take on yet another crazy task...healthy food! Woo! So I decided, hey, why don't I start canning my own stuff? Then I can make a garden! How hard can it be? Well, I am about to find out. So far, I am so fucking confused. I figured I would start easy. I have some...ok, a lot, of extra peaches from our bountiful basket we got. I have read so many ways to preserve these, my head is swimming. So I'm going to do what I do best and wing it. I can do this, right? Right. Challenge accepted. Then Im going to make pickles! And speaking of making pickles...what the HELL is the difference between a regular cucumber and a pickling cucumber? Why do we need special fruits and veggies now? I wanna do something with the shit I have on hand...not go buy 50 pickling cucumbers! So eff the pickling cucumbers. How bad could this possibly turn out? And why do I need all these special tools? A pressure canner? Why can't I put the damn things in my massive pasta pot? Special jar grabbers? Hello, I have tongs! Never fear guys, I am going at this armed with a fire extinguisher and a lot of aloe vera lotion, just in case the peaches and pickles get the best of me. Peace out girl scout!

It's really almost over.

I've been screaming for this day to come since before the day he left. I want my life back in tact. I want to wipe out the last year and pretend it never happened...but sadly, it did, and I can't undo it. Would I, if I could? Honestly I must say...probably not. There's a reason for everything, even if we don't understand it at the time.

I've packed my first suitcase to leave. I have the keys to my new house. I have part of my furniture delivered...I have a 47 inch tv and a damn dvd player waiting on me for fuck's sake...and yet here I sit, trying to figure out what I'm feeling. While it's probably just indigestion from eating real food for the first time in 3 days, I like to think it's more than that. For once in my life I might have finally formed a bond with this town.

Don't get me wrong, there are PLENTY of reasons for me to go and I could spend all night listing them. For example, this town is overrun with cocky assholes and bitches. You have to drive 30 miles to buy a bottle of liquor, yet I can walk down my street and get served until I cant stand straight anymore. dubya tee eff F--- county? What is THAT shit all about? I will not miss all the crackheads or running into my exes at walmart.

I will however miss running into my family at walmart...most of them anyway. I'll miss my sunshine yellow room...but who says I can't recreate this feeling in another room in another house? But then we will just move again, so Im starting to fail to see the point in making anything "mine"...each place I go is just a temporary home. I was born to leave, this lifestyle suits me. Doesn't mean I can't cry like a little bitch as I sort my clothes into what to take and what to give to mom piles.

My room looks like it got hit by a hurricane, and it did. My mom says I came into this world a whirlwind, and I'm not ready to quit yet. It's a weird feeling, needing to be free but grounded at the same time so I don't get lost in this world. Not many people understand that, and even fewer can give me that space but hold me so tightly all at once.

Random rambling anyone? Looks like you're in for it tonight. Bear with me, this mother fucker doesn't have fucking spell check and I am typing in a hurry. I can't sleep, no surprise there. Sometimes I feel like I will never really sleep again...then I remember how close I am to having my life back in control.

The only thing you can do for a reckless soul...is love it. My husband does a pretty good job of that one, and we both know how reckless I tend to get. I like to push my limits on a daily basis. I like to test my boundaries and the boundaries of others. Within reason of course, well most of the time anyway. Sometimes I can be pretty unreasonable.

To be completely honest, I can't even fucking remember how I started this blog, and I'm not sure how it will end. Maybe on a serious note...maybe on a sad note...maybe on A minor. Who knows? Who cares? Go with the flow in life. It's ok to fly by the seat of your pants sometimes (that one is directed at you mom). Everyone needs a sense of adventure. We are given new opportunities to test ourselves and find out who we are every single day, even if we think we already have it all figured out. Try something new, dance in the rain, be bold, be daring...be you. Don't let someone else put out your fire or build walls around your heart, and don't do it to yourself either.

Live, learn, and let go when it's time to let go. You'll never live a happy and whole life if you shelter yourself from experiences based on a few mistakes. So live, laugh, learn, and then get Luvs...or Depends...whichever is more age appropriate. The point of the matter is...well, there is no point. Don't take life so seriously. There isn't always a plot or a plan, sometimes you have to follow the music, and if you can't find it, make your own!

While this post might be more rambly than usual and suggest the possible use of drugs, I deny any allegations! Anywho, I guess it's back to packing up my closet and shiz...but I swear the first fuckin spider to jump out at me is getting blow torched hailey style.

For those of you still awake to read this, goodnight, and for those of you who will read this in the morning, good morning! grab your day by the balls and MAKE it be great dammit. You owe it to yourself!

I didn't sign up for this...but I'm not going anywhere.

Something that you never understand until you have to do it...raise a child with any kind of special needs. Whether it's from birth or something that develops later on, this is no cake walk. I have no doubt that some things are harder than others. The term special needs encompasses a multitude of needs. Physical, emotional, mental...all of these are draining for a parent.

No one prepared me for feeling helpless. I thought I was blessed and lucky because I gave birth to 3 "normal" children. No one told me that could change. I don't love my kid any less, anyone who thinks I do can kiss my ass. It's a sucker punch to the gut that my child that was most loving as an infant and toddler is the one that has turned into a kid I barely recognize.

Every week I tote him to therapy, we work on trying to find methods to keep his "good brain" present and his "bad brain" under control. This is not easy. As a matter of fact it's really freaking hard. It's emotionally draining and sometimes I would love nothing more than to bury my head in the sand and let someone else deal with it...but I don't. I can't. I feel fiercely protective of this kid, more so of him than his siblings at the moment, but I'm working on that.

It's a hard pill to swallow, and it would be easier if we weren't living it up military style with my husband gone. My family helps, but no one else really understands. When I look at this kid I see a reflection of myself, but I didn't go through this until my teen years. I think of how hard life is going to be on him as he grows...if it's already this hard now, what is he facing in the future? I buried my head in the sand when my drs first told me 10 years ago that I have this same problem. It was easier then. I don't have that option now. I can't pretend everything is peachy. I have to face his demons...and mine too, for setting a good example is the only way. Denying my demons would be the same as denying his, and it can't happen. It won't happen.

My husband didn't sign up for this. Last night I gave him the option to walk. There's a lot of hard times coming, probably harder than anything we have faced together. I calmly pointed this out, all the while hoping he couldn't tell that I was dying inside from fear that he would take the out I offered him. A lesser man would have jumped at the chance to run. Casey calmly responded to my offer. He told me, "We have already made it through so much. When I looked at you in your room at your mom's house before I married you and told you I'm not going anywhere, I meant it. For better or worse, I'm here. I am not going to leave you."

It isnt every day you find a man brave (or maybe crazy) enough to take on you, your kids from another man, and your crazy ass family. It's even more rare to find a man who gladly takes the role of father to said kids and tolerates attacks from said family. In almost 4 years of being together we have had more things hurled at us than your average couple. Yet here we are, still together, still in love, and still holding on tight through all the storms. How did I get so lucky? To me, this is proof that God does answer prayers after all.

So little man, maybe one day you will read this, and I hope that things are easier for you then. Just always know your dad and I are here for you. For better, for worse, forever.

Wack-a-doodle is the new sane.

Today I came across the following paragraph and I thought to myself, "Self...I could be best friends with this guy. He has a valid point." I think similar things to this every day.

"Okay, I'm just gonna say it out loud. There are times when going crazy looks attractive. And I'm not talking about becoming charmingly eccentric. I've already got that covered nine ways to Sunday. No, I'm talking about purposely emigrating to the land of lunacy. That special psychological zip code where The Ancient Laws of Behave Yourself no longer apply. My "reasoning" is simple. It takes a great deal of effort to sustain a conservative, trustworthy persona. Surrendering that effort would involve, from a Freudian perspective, a conscious dismantling of the super ego - that part of the psyche entrusted with enforcing parental and socially approved actions. And therein lies the allure of going full frontal wack-a-doodle. The constant energy required to pass as normal would suddenly become available for doing and saying whatever pleases me in the moment. Imagine it. The id and libido completely unbound by any and all moral or cultural restrictions. Hmm... Probably won't need the shrink anymore... might need a lawyer."

Thank you Chuck Lorre. However, I would never eliminate my need for a shrink. He's my best friend...literally. I didn't even get billed an hourly rate when he came over to put my elliptical together for me. I think that's a win.

ohhhh shit...the bitch is back

Holy shit balls. Did you miss me? No? Then quit reading. If you did however, read on. It's been an eventful 3 months. I dont even know where to start. We could start with the big ugly C word, and no I don't mean cunt, but cancer talk is depressing and I'd rather move on to bigger and better things. These doctors are trying to turn me into Frankenstein. I think I would make a pretty fuckin hot frankenstein though. Also kudos to my thyroid for trying to kill me (and I know some of you hope it succeeds and you're going to helllllllll for that one), but I've lost 35 lbs now and damn do I look hot.

I know, conceited much? No, just confident. Thus the reason I let my friend talk me into buying this amazing bikini.

Anyway there are so many topics I could ramble on and on about, but I need to sit back and sort them out before I go off on a tangent. And for those of you hater freaks who like to leave nasty comments, they are being screened and I will never see them. ;) Sucks to know you're wasting your time huh?

You know what amuses me? People who like to twist things for their own retarded ass benefit. Pardon me for not being politically correct but i find it is highly overrated. Don't like what someone has to say? Don't fucking read the shit. Seriously, there is a little red ex on the top right of the screen, click it. Im not just referring to you douche nuggets that leave bullshit stuff on my page either.

Something else that annoys me, is that men and women that are fighting for your right to be a complete dick don't even have freedom of speech on their own fucking blogs or anything. And that's without the fuckin govt involved, just friends and family. What is wrong with you people? let your son, daughter, brother, sister, whatever in the hell they are to you express how they feel. beats the shit out of shooting something (or someone) that they shouldn't right?

All you e-thugs out there that think you're hot shit...you're nothing but a pathetic piece of garbage. Real life bullies too. Get some self esteem and stop picking on people you think aren't as good as you. No one is perfect. Do you know how many suicides result from bullying each year? Probably not because you can't remove your head from your ass long enough to see the pain you put someone through. it isnt just them that suffer either. it's their friends and families too. So think before you open your hateful mouth. What you say could just be the straw that breaks the camels back. Do you want that on your conscience?

On a lighter note, here's your food for thought today:
Nobody will ever win the battle of the sexes...
There's too much fraternizing with the enemy.

I miss you.

I visited your grave today. I know the only thing there is your body and your soul is somewhere else, but I always feel like you are right there when I go. No matter how much time passes I don't see the hurt ever healing. There are so many regrets there. So many things we both should have done to stay closer. I also know thinking about the what ifs is like rocking in a rocking chair...it gives you something to do but never gets you anywhere.

I dusted away the leaves that were piling up on your headstone and the wreaths and decorations that are there. I know it doesn't do much good since they will blow right back over but it made me feel better at the time. I made something to add to the collection today too.

I heard a song that makes me think of you. Barely in your 50s, you left too soon. I listen to it and it makes me sad, but then i remember that at least you aren't in pain anymore. Knowing that doesn't heal my hurt but it takes the edge off the pain when I think about it.

You always called me Angel, and now you are mine. I know you have been looking out for me since you left us two years ago. This is my song for you:

It's been a long year...

A year ago yesterday started off like any normal day. We tried to treat it as any normal day even though there was a dark cloud hanging over it. I did my best to busy myself and not watch the clock tick away the seconds until my mother would call. Today would be the day we got the news. I prayed and prayed for good news and hoped that everything would turn out alright.

I remember clearly when my phone finally rang. I was driving on post (though I cannot for the life of me remember why now, probably taking food to some MPs or something), I answered and was greeted by my mother, sister, and grandmother on a conference call. This couldn't be good. I ignored the no cell phone use on post rule. This call was worth a $75 ticket.

What my mother had to say shocked me to my core. You never think it can happen to you or people you love. It happens to strangers, it happens to acquaintances. The grocer, the pharmacist, the guy down the street. My bubble world I lived in shattered that day.

The words were simple, yet scary. "I got my results today. I have cancer." My mother. Mine. Not someone else's, but mine. The "good" news was there was only a 10% chance it would kill her. That's how the doctor put it. She would have to have a complete thydroidectomy and radiation treatment to be sure it hadn't spread. I held it together fairly well for the phone call but as soon as I hung up I burst into tears. Cancer is scary, regardless of the chance of survival.

Regardless of what some other people may think, I was my mother's rock through it all. The day she went into surgery i sat by her side until they took her away cracking jokes and being highly inappropriate. I wouldn't let her see my smile falter despite the fact that I was shaking with terror inside. They were slitting her throat for the surgery. How could I not be terrified? I held myself together until they wheeled her away and that's when I lost it.

I cried and cried. I paced, I worried, I walked into the men's bathroom because I was so distracted. I cracked jokes to my mimi and step father. I pestered the nurses. When my mom finally came into recovery then was taken to the room where we could see her, I sat by her side, not wanting to leave at all in case she woke up and I missed it.

When she did wake up and start moving around we could tell she felt better when she threw a brush and a bed pan at steve for making her laugh. I poked fun of her Frankenstein scar and still do to this day. It's our reminder that we made it through the dark time together. I stuck by her side and visited her daily in the hospital (for the whole 3 days she was there and even spent one night with her during which time 3 polar bears froze to death and the penguins migrated to south america).

I did it because I wanted to. Not because I felt some obligation to her. I did what I did for the right reasons, not the wrong ones. I knew my mother would not go through this alone because I knew I would be there no matter what. I wish some other people had realized that and not made choices that put my mother through hell again later. You know who you are, if you even read this.

It's been a year and mom and I have both been to hell in back, in different ways and in similar ones and we are still going strong.

Did you know?

Every time you click on my blog, you're making me money. =)

Moms the word.

Sometimes I see peoples statuses online about their moms, or hear them complain about them in person. It always makes me glad that my mom is my mom. I got pretty lucky as far as moms go. Sure, she made her mistakes raising me, but every mother does. I can share anything with her, I can go to her with any problem and I know she will always be there to help me any way she can.

We may fight, and the bitch may steal my clothes from time to time, but I fucking love her. She has never turned her back on me and never would. Even though the kids and I drive her batty sometimes living here with her she is (usually) never really mean or anything like that. She is going through the change though, so she has a tendency to be a little moody. Even on her worst day though, she's still not that bad.

She makes up for the fact that I grew up calling a complete douche "dad". He recently tried to come back into our lives again but true to his usual form, he disappeared before he even physically came around. Goodbye and good riddance!

I am a part of a very large and diverse family. Many names, many bloodlines, all brought together by love. I consider my first father in law, mother in law, and sister in law to still be my family. Jacob's father and his wife are a part of our family as well. Birthday parties for all of our kids are always interesting! It takes a village to raise a child, and we have a pretty good village here. My children and I are surrounded by love and support here. We have a good church family that truly cares as well.

For once in my life, I'm glad to call this place home.

I'm more of a sinner than a saint.

Aren't we all? It happens. I had to go for a bridal fitting to order my dress for whit and jd's wedding tonight. 9 of us went to the Dallas area to get tuxes and dresses then go have dinner together. There were some highly inappropriate jokes made (are you surprised? No? I didn't think you would be) and a lot of laughs had. Even though we had a lot of fun, there was still an underlying sadness there for me.

Some days are harder than others. I miss him more. I can be surrounded by people and still feel so completely alone. Tonight was like that. All day really. The next several months wont go by fast enough for me. I had plenty of snarky and witty things to say for this blog, but once I sat down, sentimental seemed to suit better tonight. For now anyway, I make no promises as to what the next few paragraphs will hold.

Last night is another night I wish that Case had been home. It was time to bathe the dog. For those of you who don't know, I have a great dane. She isn't even full grown yet. I decided to bathe her in the bath tub but she had other plans for me. One paw was all it took, down came my shower curtain rod, which hit the towel holder and knocked it down, which bounced over into the shower and knocked all my soap and shampoos over. The best part of it all? My dog gets the runs when she's nervous...she shat on my foot. Nothing major, just a little bit. I started to smell something funky and I looked down and saw the stuff on my ankle and was like "WTF?" And then it dawned on me...bitch shit, on my foot. ON. MY. FOOT.

Some of you may read this and laugh because you think I deserve it. I laughed when it happened and I still giggle when I think about it now. Laugh away, that's the intention I had when I decided to share this story. I guess I couldn't stick to sentimental. I have no acid tinged barbs to hurl in this blog. No one has really pissed me off lately, I let stupid people and their ignorant acts roll off my back a lot better now. If you had any idea what I went through this summer, you would know why I decided to let go of everything that happened between May and August.

My best memories of this summer were made with Jamie in Virginia. Sure I've had fun since then, but she was my saving grace for a month of it. I don't know what I would have done without all those nights on the deck with the captain and jose. I miss her, James and the kids like crazy and I wish circumstances were different, but I was needed here in Texas. Life threw me a curve ball but I still managed to smack it out of the park. Im making it just fine, contrary to what some might think. Life will be perfect as soon as he is back home with me.

Your advice for the day:
The key to a nice-looking lawn is a good mower. I recommend one who is muscular and shirtless.

f*ck.

I really want to blog. I could make it a really funny one. However, Im fucking exhausted. So I'm going to bed. Disappointed? It happens. Want a quick pick me up? I wore a ball cap to work today to cover my hair and keep it out of my face and my boss not only called me a lesbian, she said I was the butch in the relationship. She wants me.

Well...

I started working again today, and it felt amazing. I kind of stole my sister's job, but it's all good because she would have hated it anyway. Right now I'm basically my boss's personal bitch, and I'm ok with that. I enjoyed working my ass off. The physical labor helped with my restlessness. My boss is batshit crazy, but that's ok because it helps us get along great.

Today is one of those days when I just really wish that Casey was here. Telling him about my day over webcam just isnt the same. I want to be able to relax in the tub with him and have him wash my back and rub my shoulders while we discuss the crazy things that happened today. I want to hear his laugh and see his face when i tell him about mighty mouse leaping out at me and running across my shoe. I want to see him cringe when I tell him about the jumping spider that battled me and the vacuum (and won). He should be here to tuck his princess in tonight and see her and the boys off to school tomorrow. He should be here to talk to our boys and tell them how proud he is every day they do well at school.

Enough mushy crap. Whether some people like it or not, he is my husband and I am his wife. No one else is changing that. We are HAPPY and we are still very much in love and very capable of being honest with ourselves and each other. No one else matters. If you don't like us being together, you will just have to get over it. No one has the power to tear our marriage apart but God, and he wouldn't.

Have I mentioned that my boss is a total trip? She is awesome. She doesnt care about my tattoos or my lip ring and she regales me with stories of her misspent youth. She keeps me laughing and I keep her laughing as well. This job is a welcome distraction and will help time pass by quickly. Sadly, it's only a temp job but I have a feeling this will be a fall I never forget.

As for those of you who keep on creeping, checking religiously to see if I'm blogging again, time to move on. I do this for me. Not for drama. Sic your lame friends on me (who have never met me and dont know a thing about me really) all you want to. It makes you look pathetic. Stop trying to start drama where there is none. Im allowed to say whatever the fuck I want. Don't like it? Don't read it.

Oh shit, she's back.

After a 24 day sabbatical I have decided to rejoin the blogging world. Don't like it, fuck your couch. No, I didn't get any new lines while I was away. Ask me if I give a shit! That's a big ten-no asshole. Yeah, I'm still vulgar. I taught Sunday School for the first time in years yesterday. It was interesting, especially when I had to sing and dance and then stick my hand up a puppet's ass. I suppose this blog is going to erase any brownie points I earned for doing that. Oh well, sorry I don't care. Oh wait, no I'm not! Ha.

This morning my dog decided she had enough of this super hard spoiled country life and took up smoking. As I yelled out the back door for my mother to get over her bitchy ass attitude, she yelled at me to step onto the back porch. Rori devoured my pack of cigarettes and my mother almost died laughing. Karma I suppose. My reaction went something like this..."Bitch, you just ate six dollars!" I guess she wants me to quit so I can actually run with her. Not fuckin happening. The running, not the quitting.

Friday night I went out with my best friend of 10 years. We get to the bar and have a good time. Go to leave, and someone had backed into his brand new challenger. being the far more sober of the two of us, he had me drive home. Friday night was not the challenger's night. Walking down the highway were 3 massive fucking dogs, roughly the size of small ponies. I thought ok, they will move, I'll go around. Uh no. I ran over not one, but two of them, and I'm pretty sure I clipped the 3rd. I have never hit an animal and let me tell you it was horrible. The worst part was Carveth and I couldnt stop laughing. Am I going to hell for that? Maybe. I didn't do it on purpose though, and I didnt kill them. Maybe that will redeem me. I doubt it though. There's 3 more punches in my train ticket to hades.

Hmmm...what else has happened? Oh, I forgot to tell you about george! We have a pet opossum named george now. He eats rori's food and tries to be a statue when we walk out on the deck and he's visiting. He seems real friendly, sucks for him he's gonna be opossum soup eventually.

If you're ever looking for a real good giggle, just go read the man 4 man craigslist classifieds! bahahahahaha. it inspired a new word in my vocabulary. Homoneck. it's a homosexual redneck. you're welcome for the vocabulary lesson. Now if you will excuse me, I have a facebook conversation about mushroom stamps, 250 mile dicks, and wooly women to return to.

Thought for the day:
if your face looks like a cow's ass, don't use it for your profile picture!

Oooohh, burn. Not.

I decided to blog today, but I have some writers block going on. I couldnt decide if I wanted to dignify someone's obvious insanity with a response, or blog about my wild ass life. So I'll settle for this and be done with it: Fuck your couch. Ha.

Middle age is when you choose your cereal for the fiber, not the
toy.

Hammer time.

This is actually probably going to be a semi-serious blog. I took my butt to church on sunday for the first time in a while. I realized I've missed it. Our preacher has been around for a really long time and he's a genuinely good guy and good preacher. Sunday's sermon made a point I've been trying to make for months. The moral: Just because you sit your rear in church on sundays, just because you make donations to this church fund and that, and just because you say a 30 second generic hallmark prayer over your meals every day doesn't mean you're being a christian.

I make no claim to be living my life in a perfectly christian way, but for those of you who are, and I'm sure you know who you are, why don't you take a step back and look at yourselves. For the record, the only person that stands between you and all heaven has to offer you is...you. Not your family, not your friends. Just you. As a parent, you raise your kids, and you let them go forth into the world and make their own way. You instill morals and values in them, and then you have to step back. You can't make all their decisions for them, and you certainly can't accuse them of standing between you and the pearly gates.

As a friend, your job is to be there for your friends and tell them about the joys of God, but refrain from cramming it down their throats every time they turn around if they choose not to believe. You can't force or bully anyone into being a christian. Stop trying. Just because you THINK someone you know doesn't know how great God is, doesn't make that true. You have no way of knowing what someone else's relationship with God is unless they tell you that they don't believe or don't know about God.

The only person that has room to pass judgement is...you guessed it...GOD! Good job. Give yourself a pat on the back. That's pure awesomeness right there. You don't get to decide who goes to heaven and who goes to hell. You don't get to choose which marriages stay together and which get torn apart, and you certainly have no room to TRY and tear one apart. That's regardless of how christian you are or what your relationship with the person is. Don't try and ruin someone else's life just because it doesn't fit into your cookie cutter mold for the perfect marriage, especially if you've been married more than once yourself. You know divorce is a sinful thing right? Right. Good talk.

That's my rant for today. If you want to rave about what a good christian you are, then try acting like it all the time, not just when it's convenient for you. Hypocrisy is not endearing.

If it looks like a duck, and it quacks like a duck, it might be a chicken playing dress up.

Is that a boob? Maybe a penis...

Today I have been married to my schexy husband for a whopping two years and 8 months. We also still like each other! Yay us! Maybe he'll get lucky and I'll flash him my vagina on webcam later....look mom! There's another hole punch in my ticket to hell! Yay me! OK, Im not really going to flash him my do-lolly as he likes to call it. I'll keep that in my pants and wait for him to come home before he gets to see it again. I know, I'm mean. Whatever, hopefully this isnt fresh news to you.

My lava lamp is trying to sprout either a penis or a tit. I can't figure out which. The lava at the top hardened a little droopy last night, so it kind of looks like either a tiny little penis or a rather large nipple. Either way, it is definitely interesting. I wonder if I could turn that in as a study on anatomy....hmmmmm....Possible, very possible.

Insomnia has ahold of me yet again tonight, go fuckin figure. At least you silly little shits are getting good reading material out of it from me. Well, some of you think it's good, others think its garbage. I think I'm fucking amazing and if you dont like it you can suck my non-existent left nut. I'll grow one special for ya! =)

I started reading that book "The Help" tonight. So far so good. It sucked me in and the one maid, Minny, really reminds me of...well, me. Because she just doesn't give a shit if she offends someone or not! How refreshing in a world full of ass licking douche nuggets. If you are one of said ass licking douche nuggets, well, at least clean it with a wet wipe before you toss that salad. Don't be nasty about it.

I really need to sleep now because odds are Jessalyn and I will begin our epic battle over my bed in about 2 hours as usual. Moving that munchkin to a toddler bed was a horrible choice! Unlike Jon at her age, she actually realizes she can climg out of it. Damn the luck!

Anywho, here's your advice for the night:
A person is only as big as the things that make them angry. This is why I don't sweat the petty things, and don't pet the sweaty things...except my husband of course.

I'm back bitches!

So after two blissful weeks with my husband, I am now back in the blogging world. Two weeks of sleeping next to my husband, waking up next to him, and of course, having crazy sex with said husband. Jealous? You should be. He's a sexy mother fucker. Literally, seeing as how I have popped out children and all that good shit. OMG, there I go being vulgar and shit. Ask me my dear if I give a damn!

It's absolutely no secret that Case and I hit some serious rocks on the river of marital bliss...but for those of you who were rooting for us to not make it...well...I hate to disappoint you...oh, wait, no I don't! Ha. Fuck your couch. Not only are we staying together, but we are stronger than we were before. Dont like it? Tough shit. I'm pretty sure you will get over it eventually. That goes for anyone. Friends, family (on either side), stranger danger...you lose.

I had to take him back to the airport today so he can go finish playing G.I. Joe half a world away. We played our usual airport game and it was nothing less than abso-fucking-lutely stellar. It's the "guess what kind of underwear people are wearing" game, and we kind of rock at it. We get detailed with this shit, and pretty sure there was at least one chastity belt running around there today. Simply Amazing.

I know people joke about the "fashion police" a lot but seriously, they need to fucking exist. Women, regardless of your size, no one wants to have to stare at your ass crack hanging out of your fucking pants. Also, muffin tops are so last year. I only say this because I care...ok I'm lying again. I say it because it looks like shit. Men, seriously...what the fuck is up with men having mountain man beards and walking around in fucking hawaiian print button down t-shirts with what appears to be indiana jones hats on? I mean really? Give me a fucking break. Ditch the hat, buy a razor, burn the shirt. That is all.

Insomnia is kicking my ass again, surprise surprise. Oh well, my creativity hits me most when Im delirious from lack of sleepy time. My eyes are starting to droop though, so I think it's time for me to give my sheets some ass and my pillow some head. Have a fabulously fantastic friday y'all!

Something you should never say to your wife when she is in labor: "You don't have the guts to pull that trigger."