Misfits

Monster eating a helpless teddy bear.  He's looking at you saying you're next.

As I was chatting with a friend over coffee this morning, something occurred to me.  The world needs more misfits like us.  We both were equally describing ourselves as people who feel its tremendously taxing to keep up with the social demands of normal people and their conversations.  It's exhausting trying to pretend that I know the right thing to say and when to say it, how to be poised when I just want to blurt out something, or how to speak and listen effectively.  Quite honestly, I usually operate on a consistent level of being "out there", "different", darkly sarcastic and offering too much information (leaving people in a stun gun type of stance while I am dumping my verbal diarrhea).  Trying to be normal at a social gathering is like trying to tread water for 2 hours.  It's depleting for me.  As you can imagine, other people don't generally gel with my type of personality without significant effort on their part.  I'm more likely to strike up a relationship with your nanny and coordinate play dates with them than strike up a friendship with you.  Not because I don't like friends... but I can be really difficult to "get".  More than I would like, I am met with the jerking head back, blinking eyes, astonished look when I speak.  Needless to say, I don't get out much anymore and my social interactions are usually at my house or the random conversation with the grocery store cashier (by choice).  By using the word "conversation", I actually mean just answering them as to whether or not I want cash back from my transaction.  The way I see it, the more I interact with people the higher the probability that I will embarrass myself, my kid, or just insult someone without realizing it (see Foot in Mouth Disease post).  I am just too damn old now to be stressing about what I said to whom, and about what, and how it came across... becoming agoraphobic seems like such a better option.  I'm already a hermit.  It goes right along with the territory.

Where was I going with this?  Oh yeah, what I was saying before is that the world needs more hermits, weirdos (in the non-harmful sense), misfits, unique people and overall difference.  I love meeting people that fit this description, especially since I include myself within that category as well.  Can you introduce me to some?  I need more like minded individuals!  :)

Calling all weirdo's, misfits, Emo's, withdrawn people, hermits, agoraphobics, other phobics, anxiety ridden people, whomever.  You have found a home here.  Take your butt and park it with me for a while.  I'd like to shoot some crazy talk with you, and discuss how weird it feels to be around normal people.
Let's enjoy being from another planet together.
 
Now where did I park my spaceship...?

Strapless Bras

Can we please find a strapless bra that doesn't immediately accelerate my body's age from 35 to 85?  I swear, either I have been living under a rock for the last 10 years, or someone still hasn't invented a strapless bra for small chested women that will actually look good and not flatten the little we have, even more so.  Where this item should be accentuating by lifting and compressing, it's pressing down on the natural lift, and separating in a scissor like maneuver.  Ooooh... SEXY.  I'll be the belle of the ball at the retirement home.

If you're really going to tell me, oh universe, that this material based augmentation and support has not been invented yet -- well, that's just crap. What does that mean for the rest of us?  Those of us that are not comfortable without a little extra oomph? 

Am I resorting to a lifetime of strapped dresses due to my inability to find this wardrobe holy grail thereby rendering strapless dresses to die and fossilize along with the dinosaurs? 
Am I looking at a breast augmentation just because I can't find the right bra?
Shall I just start dressing like a Unik with no real distinguishable female characteristics?
What does a Unik dress like?
Am I a Unik?

Anyways, I'm seriously ticked off about this.  I have this perfectly cute Target sun dress, which happens to have a super cute navy blue lacy trim to it... but alas, it's visual is less than appealing due to the sagging ta-ta factor.  All because of an ill equipped and ill fitted strapless bra.  Sigh.

Pumpkin Bread that is like Satan in your mouth

I have had several requests for this recipe of vegan pumpkin bread, so I decided to finally post it for others to enjoy and spread the word.  Honestly, I can not take ANY credit for it outside of my changes, although I have made my own tweaks quite a bit to change it ever so slightly.  PostPunkKitchen.com™ gave me the foundation and I tweaked it to my own version.  Some changes were suggestions from others who posted in the the original link's comments section, but most of the different elements I added on my own.  Either way, it's Satan in your mouth good, and you will want to keep this recipe in your brain for later.  Somehow I don't feel so bad cooking and pecking at-um-eating this as opposed to chocolate chip cookies sitting on the counter.  I'm getting my full 100% dosage of daily Vitamin A with each slice, right?

http://www.theppk.com/2008/10/super-moist-pumpkin-bread/

Below is the original recipe link I found on line, the owner is Isa Chandra Moskowitz, and the website is: "The Post Punk Kitchen™" (www.theppk.com, twitter @IsaChandra).  I adore her, and have proven that she has AMAZING vegan recipes... go check the website out and bake some sinfully good recipes today!  Don't wait!  Go RIGHT NOW.

http://www.theppk.com/2008/10/super-moist-pumpkin-bread/

My version of this above recipe link is as follows:

Hardware: 

(2) 8″ x 4″ loaf pans (or)

(1) 8' x 4" loaf pan & (1) regular sized muffin pan

Ingredients
2 1/2 cups of organic whole wheat flower

1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup packed organic dark brown sugar
1/3 cup organic white sugar
2 teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon of baking powder (aluminum free)
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons organic ground nutmeg
3 teaspoons organic ground cinnamon

1 Tablespoon organic powdered ginger

1 teaspoon organic allspice
1 15oz. can of organic pumpkin puree
1/2 cup organic vegetable oil
1/2 cup of organic unflavored apple sauce
2/3 cup silk light coconut milk (original flavor)
2 tablespoons of organic vanilla extract
1/4 cup of organic agave nectar (or sub w/ organic raw honey)

**Note: if you want to get "SASSY" you can add 1/4 cup of teeny chunks of crystallized candied ginger into the mix.  YUM.  

But, ONLY if you can take the hot spice kicking your taste-buds into submission.

Directions
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease two 8″ x 4″ loaf pans, or grease one 8" x 4" loaf pan and one reg. sized muffin pan (or line with cupcake paper cups).
2. In a large bowl, stir together all the dry ingredients until they are blended very well: the flours, dark brown sugar, white sugar, baking soda, baking powder, salt, nutmeg, cinnamon, ginger and allspice. *Mix all the dry stuff.*
3. Add the pumpkin puree, oil, apple sauce, vanilla extract, agave nectar and coconut milk, and mix until all of the flour is absorbed. Divide the batter evenly between the prepared pans.  *Throw all the rest of the crap together.*

FOR LOAVES ONLY: Bake for 45 minutes - 1 hour in the preheated oven or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Remove from oven, and set aside to cool. 

FOR MUFFINS ONLY: Spoon out even batter filling to 3/4 full in each muffin tin.  Usually I bake these about 16-22 minutes *or until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean, depending on your stove abilities (I have convection so it cooks more evenly and in less time... and, um, my stove is also awesome sauce).

For muffins & cupcakes:
The muffins (when made just right to ensure moistness level) make excellent substitutes for cupcakes for just about any occasion.  I have had many, many people exclaim how amazingly delectable they are and that they had no idea they were reduced sugar, whole wheat and packed with vitamin A (pumpkin).  I also would recommend that if you are making cupcakes out of them, once cool enough to touch the pan - place in the refrigerator to really reduce heat quickly.  The frosting I use in a pinch is: Betty Crocker Cake Decorating Icing™ in a can.  It even comes with decorating tips.  :)

Go ahead, get your VEGAN on.  I dare you. 

Top 10 reasons why I am AWESOME and you should follow me

Will you please, if it's not any trouble, kindly stalk me for a while?

Follow me, FOLLOW me, follow ME...
Please, please, please, please, please, please, pretty please with a cherry on top?
Um, for clarification, I do not really mean in the stalker sense but rather in the online sense.  I'm ho-ing myself out for followers.  Yeeeaaaah.  It's gotten to THAT level.  I figured I'm already an organ donor... so...?

I'd offer you my first born alien baby in exchange for your following, but that first born is already spoken for.  Not to mention... the baby moon rock package has already been ordered and sent (Holla Annie West!) and can not be returned for a full refund.  So unless I get a little more friendly with the aliens, then you will have to be alien baby-less for now. 

OK, so here are 10 reasons why I'm uber awesome, and why you should follow me (AND share the awesomeness that is me to your friends).

1. I have a large network of friends.  Seriously, they are all really close with me and would open their arms to you at a moments notice.  Just ask any of them, I have all their emails you can contact them directly: hotels.com™, Groupon.com™, Naartjie.com™, OvernightPrints.com™, Peapod.com™, RedEnvelope.com™, GoDaddy.com™, Shutterfly.com™, SkinIt.com™, Twitter.com™, WorldMarket.com™, Zulily.com™, Amazon.com™, Apple.com™ and Pandora.com™.  We're tight, yo.

2. I'm really humble.

3. I'm really just a perfectly normal person who you would enjoy being around and introduce to your family.  That is, if your family were the Munsters™, and your sister is a sociopath.  Oh, and the "normal" I am is just slightly abnormal.  Like, I'd rather watch a slasher movie alone in the dark with no one home than go out and socialize with people.  Like I said, totally Pottery Barn™ normal.

4. I'm filled with tons of random information that is so tremendously helpful for every day life.  Such as: how to manage your own lawn care schedule, what the greek god of the sea's name is, what the name is of the movement a penny makes while it's spinning out, what Palindrome means and how to manage your horrible gas problem.  I'm so useful!

5. I'm whacked in the head to a degree that's interesting, but not creepy.  Sort of.

6. I'm a mom, an IT professional, crazy person, gifted, I speak quickly and appreciate horror movies, gourmet cooking, excellent Martini's, aliens, paranormal, and I like little miniature bunnies.  I fit into just about everyone's palette of interest.

7. I'm awesome.

8. I don't have hair in my ears (at least not yet), and I have two eyebrows.

9. If you stand next to me, I'll make you look better and more sophisticated - mainly because every time I open my mouth I sound like a jackass.

10. I know what Stalactites and Stalagmites are, and can tell you what Quantum Physics is.  Just let me Google it first.

That is only the tip of the iceberg.  There is a whole glacier of bull-shavicky under that tip, and another one under that one (kind of like a baby tooth being pushed out by the larger adult tooth). 

Red rover, red rover, send anyone on over!  Come over to my crazy utopia, hang out for a while and bask in all the tweaked psycho verbiage.  I DARE you. 

iPhone's don't like bathtubs

I found this out the hard way, after a rigorous and death defying duel with a dirty soap water filled bathtub. 

I was bathing big kid, trying to wrangle her into the stream of water in order for the hair washing to commence - when I hear a thud.  It takes me at least 2 seconds to register that there WAS a thud, and then... AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! 
The back of my iPhone is white, so I didn't immediately see it sitting at the bottom of the white lined tub (it conveniently fell face down exposing the white backing).  Dang it why does the back have to be so frigging smooth?  I'm flailing around in the water - like a baby seal escaping a great white attack - trying to reach the phone, when I finally grasp it after 6 seconds into full water submersion.  O.M.G.  PANIC.  HYSTERIA.  ARMAGEDDON.  How am I going to survive without this phone?!?!?!?  I do literally EVERYTHING through it.  %$#@!

Big kid doesn't understand the absolute look of horror on my face as I fish out the dripping cell phone from its watery grave.  Visions of terror flash in front of my eyes like moments of my life... calendar appointments, children's pictures, emails, iPhone apps, iTunes songs, endless things... now lost forever.  NO, I haven't backed it up.  Why would I do THAT?  *THAT* would make SENSE.  She eyes me from the side of her face, laughs, and says, "what's wrong with your face?"  I am trying to hold back the overflow tears.  As I say this out loud, I realize how incredibly sad I must be to even verbalize that.  During my *flipping out on the inside* imploding episode, I instantly think: *maybe I can make enough air pressure from my mouth to mimic an air pressure can and blow the majority of the water out?*.  After 5 minutes of this random thought inspired activity and a downward spiral feeling of incredible dizziness escalating, I decide this is not a long term plan.  Plus having my iPhone spitting back at me just wasn't cool.  A "This device is not supported" message keeps popping up every time I blow hurricane force wind from my mouth into the power charging area of the phone.  No &^% Sherlock, maybe it's because it's my MOUTH and not a stupid plug.  A news flash scrolls across my brain: I'm literally giving mouth to mouth to my iPhone.  This could actually be the saddest day of my existence.  I'm THAT person.

I get on the web long enough to realize I should A) shut off the phone like 20 minutes ago, and B) implant it into a bed of rice.  All I had was a tub of Basmati from six plus years ago.  Good enough.  Lie with the rice and be still my little friend.  Of course (what makes things especially crappy) tonight would be the ONE TIME I decide to actually go out with friends and have a nice time.  Now, in the wake of this electronic homicide, I'm leaving my sitter no way to reach me in the event of an emergency other than the name of the restaurant we are at, and my friends cell phone number.  Sigh.  Fine, I convince myself things will be just fine.  Millions of people did this before they had cell phones.  People went out without this instant access, right?!?

Fast forward: My cell phone is still messed three ways from Sunday (flickering between the Apple sign with the spinning wheel of death, and main screen with battery dead signals, to nothing with a strange red light I have never seen before highlighted and pulsing like Satan's eye mocking my stupidity). 
Overall, the night would have been a tremendous success (considering my iPhone disaster) had it not been for the hidden dairy product I unknowingly consumed in tonight's appetizer.  Rendering me flushed in a scary shade of white at the table, pass out worthy dizzy spells, and an overwhelming feeling of nausea that overcame me like a whopping sledge hammer to the stomach.  Instantly I had to rush to the bathroom and ended up hurling everything.  Ugh.  I hate severe lactose intolerance.  That was a definite cue that it's time to go home. 

Ooh, Yey. 

This is what happens when I decide to get out of my house.  I swear, sometimes it really does feel like someone up there is punishing me for actually trying to have fun. 
Boo. 
Where are the Rolaids?

Sugar Plum Fairies Dancing in My Mouth

Had a full on awesome time last week celebrating husband's birthday.  I took him out for a night on the town, and *oh boy* was it a night on the town.  Actually, I'm quite impressed with my scheduling and organizational abilities to pull this shite off.  First on the list was an uber awesome manly gift of grilling tools that Bobby Flay would be jealous of.  The "Always Perfect™ Chef's Fork is a digital meat thermometer with a color-changing backlit display. There is a built-in thermometer which measures food temperature and done-ness based on USDA-approved temperatures for nine popular types of food."  Dood.  Then as if that wasn't grilling awesomeness enough for him, yup, I got him an LED grill light that attaches to the handle of the grill.  *Sucks teeth* - yup, it's weather proof.  Eh-em, I rule.

After that was dinner at a semi-highfaluting restaurant.  It. Was. Awesome.  We were greeted with glasses of champagne, followed by incredible appetizers and a fantastically mouth-inspiring-orgasmic dinner... followed by an even more indelible double chocolate molten cake, dashed with hazelnuts, and topped with caramel dressing drizzled over hazelnut chocolate ice cream.  Um, yeah.  At one point I swear I looked up and there was a heavenly light shining down upon our table (and fairies sparkling over my shoulders).  Or maybe that was just my champagne induced psychosis that believed it was fairies or quite possibly a paparazzi camera light on my Chanel™-esque dress.  Oh, yeah, I worked it.  Ok, no paparazzi or fairies, but it sure as heck felt like it. I mean, the maitre d'hotel actually made mention of how much he loved my dress.  *I'm glowing*.

After dinner, we decided to follow through with our reservations to a certain well renowned speak easy.  Lots have been said about this place, and... well, they are all true.  I ordered "The Start of a Beautiful Life" - oh-ho-ho-ho!  Oh, no you di-in't!

Indeed, it was the start of a beautiful life, and in my own personal opinion, my new religion.  O.M.G.  Ginger extract, Manushka honey infused vodka, a million other ingredients, a little fairy dust and a sprinkle of goddess like magic... VOILA.  Holy effing crap.  My first drink of this unearthly libation was like the sugar plum fairies dancing their nutcracker sequence on my tongue and continuing down my esophagus.  An unearthly experience for each and every single one of my taste buds.  No joke.

 

As I visually absorbed the line of elixir syrups at the bar, and the complex working of hands, arms, body and soul into these drinks it came to me... the reason why this place is so coveted.  It's like you have stumbled upon Beelzebub's lair, his own true secret hidden cove to lay back and chill, and with the luck of an online reservation - you have a special invitation.  I can't wait to go back again, and order something else that will knock the proverbial socks off my feet.

I officially claim today "Tazmanian Devil Day"

In the name of all that is holy... today was a crap storm from hell.  I mean, when you feel like you just ran a marathon by 12 pm, that's a friggin' problem right? 

It probably didn't help that I was up until 12 am with husband last night, or that the youngest one was up at the a** crack of dawn with a nightmare screaming (poor kiddo).  We were gallivanting around our hood in celebration of his birthday all night last night.  Ok, ok, so it was fun, *delightful* in fact.  Here comes the ever present "but"... BUT, it just so happens that this was the fourth day consecutively of little to no sleep (insert stress dreams here) and my level of utter and show stopping exhaustion hit me like a ton of bricks slamming down on the concrete sidewalk from the top of the empire state building.  You know you're in trouble when the second iced quattro espresso shot soy latte isn't even opening your eyes.  OH YEAH.  That's commonly referred to in my world as Dante's eighth level of hell.  COMPLETELY unbearable, and especially so with a two and a half year old that has a store of energy at 6:30 am of which only bouncing in a bouncy house at an amusement park would satisfy.  At 9:30 am my eyes would not even remotely open, that's when I knew I needed to pull out the big guns.  I half sleepy eyed jokingly asked my toddler to go fetch me a HUGE Redbull from the fridge... when hubby (to my surprise *actually* heard me, meaning he was LISTENING - HOLY WOW) brings me a 12 ounce Redbull.  Thank you dear god.  I love this man right now. 

So, fast forward, and it's 10:30 am.  I have now cleaned the entire house (4,300 sq ft+) in the last hour (our home is on the market and at any second a potential buyer could request a "showing"), fed said toddler, and packed us to go on our errand run... 1st stop: CVS.  Top priority is to get mommy some anti aging crap so I don't look like a skeleton walking in daylight or worse - Joan Rivers.  Mainly because the stress of this life is stripping away any youth I ever had, and then some.  Second stop: post office to pick up mail (because if I don't, I'll destroy my credit from all the late bills I will have to pay out of sheer neglect), third stop: grocery shopping (I'm so bare bones with food right now, I don't even have OJ and am getting creative with school lunches [read: fruit gummy bears and soy cheese with ritz crackers]), fourth errand: picking up big kid from school (which was also half-assed and late because little one decided to take a monster crap in her pants one minute before I needed to leave to pick up big kid).  It was a melange of psycho paced activity from 10:30 am until 2:30 pm.  I won't bother you with the in between of meltdowns, screaming at the highest octave whilst shopping, and she's trying to jump out of carts or dart out into street... nah, that's not worth typing.  Basically it felt like a race to run through as many activities as you could within 4 hours for a million dollar prize.  Except the million dollars is a facade, and I'm borderline hallucinating from sleep loss.

It all ended with kids eating the fresh dinner I made while I proceeded to do a massive spraying of widow spiders on my property with the most lethal spray I could get my hands on.  This stuff is AWESOME.  I watched as the little eight legged heathen devil Brown Widow spiders writhed in agony drenched in the spray.  I'm sorry, I really do love nature, but I love my children more... and the thought of a property drenched in Brown Widow Spiders is not my idea of a safe abode for my kids.  They stood no chance in the wake of mommy inspired, exhaustion fueled hatred.  I got a HUGE honking one that was connected to my favorite chair on the deck - ACK!  No doubt this was the culprit "mommy" spider giving heathen birth to all these little devils basking out on my deck.  *F---!*

After the kids bath time, cleaning of the ears, hair brushing, and all the other brainless activity I do on a daily basis (all while chasing children screaming in laughter at EVERY turn - absolutely no seriousness toward ritual activity whatsoever) I'm ready for a HUGE dirty martini.  Like an 8 ounce-er.

In summation, after the crap storm today, I feel like a half dead jelly fish, ripped apart by a torturous yacht-y propeller, and left for dead on the beach at the highest heat point of the day and picked at by hungry seagulls, then stepped on by a passer by.  Someone stick a fork in me, and throw me in the dump - I'm sooooooo done.

Chicken in a can?

OMG, is there...? That can't be... What is THAT?  Is that really...?  I can't believe it!?!  WHAT?!?

Tonight I saw something that made me scream "holy barf-factor batman!" out loud on my couch.  I was watching my favorite gastronomy network when they showed a god awful image on the screen that will continue to haunt me for years to come.  If this network's main goal was to completely destroy any pleasant memories of my mother's "straight from the farm" Sunday chicken dinner - mission accomplished.  I immediately regretted my decision to continue watching.  In my defense though, my body's physical response to this visual repulsiveness was equal parts of gag-reflex and astonished awe blended together.  It was impossible NOT to keep watching.  Visually, this was (hands down) a "roux" of the grotesque and macabre.

As the next few seconds unfolded (before my open-jaw-dropped-mouth-deer-in-headlights look ensued), I soaked in the image of an opaque slime drenched chicken slopping its carcass and "juice" in one hard thump out of a can and into a pan. 

*Shiver*

I thought, that CAN'T be real?!?  Wait... is it real? 
'O mighty Google, please will thou answer me this riddle?

So far, no dice.  I still can't find serious information that actually proves this awful thing is real and not just a joke.  Seriously?  This thing looked like Carol Ann reincarnated as a chicken returning from the "other side" and slopped with a healthy portion of poultry ectoplasm. It didn't come out of the wall or the television, but instead a huge honking can. 

Actually, on second thought, this is a lovely idea.  Just GRAND.  What a perfect way for you to really stretch out your store bought chicken.  Forget about home cooking from fresh ingredients.  Pish tosh!  All the kids will be screaming, "I'll have more ectoplasm chicken in a can, please!".  Why do I foresee an appetizer of canned Swedish meatballs pairing perfectly with this? 

I have to stop typing, and take a Tums.  My stomach is about to purge.

Motherhood

“Mother is the word for God on the hearts and lips of all little children.”
- William Makepeace Thackeray

Motherhood is such a strange and beautiful phenomenon, and with it comes an even stranger feeling of unknowing and confusion.   While I had wanted to write something inspiring for Mother’s Day, I found myself completely at a loss for describing all the elements I have come to know motherhood to actually be, at least in my life.  What I came up with was a myriad of thoughts and feelings which individually have significance, and when you add them all up, they are a beautiful complex mess. 

So, without further ado, here is my way of explaining motherhood:

It’s sleepless weeks, and months on end with a newborn rocking them to sleep and feeding them through the night.  It’s enduring the shrill sound of screaming back to back with no real way to help for 12 hours because your child has GERD and you don’t know that yet.  Those fear filled worry ridden nights where your child has a fever of 102 or above, and the alternating medicines isn’t working.  The time when they learn to lift their head and hold it there without falling.  It’s the first infectious giggle of laughter from their tiny little mouths.  The smell of their baby shampoo in their hair while they are curled up on your tummy.  Their super soft baby skin that feels like satin and smells like lavender.   The “hurt” cry for mommy when they have an unseen boo-boo that only your kiss can make it all better.  It’s finding a way to laugh when you’re so furious your eyes are literally red.  It’s the sheer exhaustion overtaking every cell in your body, but you still get up every morning because that little person needs you to be their rock.  Feeling helpless to whatever random virus they have caught, and just doing whatever you can to make them feel better while they are vomiting everywhere and all over everything.  It’s the strength to smile when you just want to break out in tears from the sheer stress of it all.   It’s patiently reminding your child to take each bite of food at every meal, because her oral motor delay makes chewing feel so exhausting and she just won’t eat on her own.  It’s having hope that someday she’ll raise above the fifth percentile and not struggle with being underweight.  It’s knowing that you can’t tickle too long because then the hiccups come, and after that their reflux will trigger vomiting.  It’s the unconditional love you feel for this human being who is a little piece of you mixed with a lot of magic.  It’s nights spent alone, in complete silence because the kids are finally in bed and you are too emotionally and physically drained from the day to actually even hear another sound.  It’s the excitement you feel when they finally learn how to read.  The absolute joy you feel when they finally have a day where they are not swinging at you, or screaming that you’re talking too much when you only asked how their day was.  The pride you feel when they draw their first picture of a happy family.  It’s the feeling of understanding when you see something in your child that you also struggle with.  It’s the moment when they look at you and say, “I love you so much, Mommy.” 

It’s all these moments, and many, many more that add up to being a mother.  There are hard times, easy times and in between times… but I wouldn’t trade any of it.  I have a deep and exuberant love for my children that has invaded every cell in my body, and I only hope that someday they may recognize me for the mother I am, the sacrifices I have made for their well being and what I have done to enrich their lives and help them grow into wonderful human beings.

Things I learned this month

1) How to successfully be a hermit in a neighborhood full of friendly people.

2) That walking your kids to school doesn't compensate for being antisocial.  Nor does it equal BEING social.  You actually have to TALK to people, and look them in the eye.  Dang.   Must remember that.

3) Boring people to death with your incessant self involved dribble of woes everyday is really not as intriguing (or interesting) as you think it is.  The glazed over look really IS a sign of disinterest.  No it's not just my imagination.

4) The more I pluck, the more I have to pluck.

5) I hate plucking.

6) Spiders suck.  No, really.  I hate those little blood sucking demons.  If I'm so convinced that I can eradicate all the spiders on my property, while I am at it, I might as well take on Global Warming. 

7) Children's birthday parties scare me.

8) Vinegar is amazing.  I can literally do everything with it... wash floors, clean windows, sanitize toothbrushes...  I can make intricate patterned lace doilies of snowflakes out of vinegar, man... that stuff is crazy whack!  Just kidding.  Sort of.

9) There is a benefit to sleep loss, you end up REALLY chill.  You just can't give a crap anymore because your body is literally shutting down.  So I have that going for me... which is nice.

10) WTH is the point of the "Do not call" list if they call you anyway?  Even after you're on the list, they STILL call you... and you call them back selecting the option not to be called back.  Then they still call you.  Then you get a friggin auto dialer voice with some computer chuckling at your enraged response to the auto dialer ignoring your request to stop calling.  This happens 4 times.  Seriously.

11) I want to know how to make an auto dialer virus.  They're going down, baby.

12) I have internalized anger issues.

13) I actually like "Bubble Guppies".  I know.  I am shamed.

Whatever

Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Stop cramping my style man.
So, I took like a two month hiatus.
BIG whoop.

Don't you know I'm loco?

I'm kind of like the DMV online service... I make you love the idea of me, but then make you wait forever for some sort of sign of life, then lose all communication for a while to tease you and keep you guessing.  *Just* when you are about to give up and come to the brick and mortar with enraged hatred and a death wish, I pop back up again as if some lightening strike has sparked my motherboard back to life, and say some asinine poo that makes you gasp for more...
At least that's how it goes down in my head... dreams mostly, as I'm lying in my Target pajama pants and typing like a friendless loser.

Yup, (sucks teeth) that's me.  People are knocking down my door to be friends with someone like me, I tell ya.

Well, not really.
In fact I literally just had my kids crossing guard ask me if I was a hermit.
Um, no... nope.  I'm not joking.  She did that.
Sadly, my answer was, "Well... yeah.  I thought you knew that?"

Dang.  I need a fricking life.
I'm sorry, waiter!!!  Waiter?, can you please pass the boring self involved melodrama please?  MY table didn't seem to have enough...
Thanks.