Pilates

I've been working out a lot lately; doing a lot of cardio. And I was thinking I should maybe mix things up a bit, and from what I've read it's important to "strengthen the core," as it were; and I don't mean kegels. (I don't just mean kegels, anyway. AAAAAAAAAAAAnd release).

So what's good core strengthening exercise? Yoga, right? And pilates? I guess. But I'm kind of afraid to take one of those classes because the chances of me doing something stupid and looking like a complete fool are pretty high. I mean, the chances of those things happening are pretty high on a regular day, but get me on a big pilates ball? In front of people? There's just no way that can turn out well for me.

So I've decided to do the next best thing and just draw me doing pilates.

Boom. Core strengthened.


(Apparently I already had a tag labeled "this one is kind of dumb." Who knew?)

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So, I hear blogging is dead now

I read an article recently, and my pals have been chatting, that blogging is dead. People don't blog anymore, apparently. I don't really know why, because I when I say I "read" an article, really what I mean is I saw the headline in my Facebook feed. Because I'm an American. But I guess comments are down and traffic is down and the conclusion is that blogging is dead?

I'd just like to point out that THIS blog has been dead for a while, so if the topic is about how blogging is dead, the only natural conclusion is that I've created this Dead Blogging thing. Because I'm a trendsetter. I set trends. Particularly if said trends involve not doing something, or doing something wrong, or looking like an idiot while doing something, or perhaps falling down and hurting yourself in the process of doing something. Because I'm trendy.

So, if anybody was wondering Whatever Happened to Jill's Blog? The blog is dead because blogging is dead.

And trends.

Also irony.

Huh?

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On the subject of red asses

Disclaimer: This post is not actually about red asses.

Today I'm walking from my car to my client's office, and I pass a man on the corner who asks me if I have a quarter for the bus. I respond with "sorry," because I only had my keys and my phone on me; I didn't even have any pockets! and he says "I don't accept 'sorry,' you red-assed bitch."

I respond with "ooooohhhhhhhkkkkkaaaaayyyyyyy......" and I run away as fast as I possibly can, because I figure if he's unstable enough to yell that kind of poetry at me he probably would also hit me or attack me if I say anything else he doesn't like.

I escape into my client's office and while I'm telling her about it (because of course) I'm thinking of all the other fun stuff I could have said in response, which I never would actually say, because I'm only a partial and not a total dumbass and I'm able to recognize that my smart mouth might actually get me killed one day. 

And I thought "man, if only I had some kind of outlet for these theoretically creative thoughts that I might like to be able to speak out loud if I wasn't about to experience imminent death and/or dismemberment. Oh, well, I guess I can always put it on the blog."

And so here I am. Hey, by the way, did you know that apparently there's some little-known Blogger algorithm that kicks in after you've satisfied a number of conditions, one of them being serious neglect, and when you hit that "New Post" button Google plays a pre-recorded voice that says "reposting old stuff doesn't count." ???? I, too, was not aware of this until today!!!!!1

Anyway, here are some things I would have liked to say to Crazy Quarter Guy:

CQG: I don't accept 'sorry,' you red-assed bitch.

Me: Well, actually it appears that you do. Enjoy your walk, Skippy!

CQG: I don't accept 'sorry,' you red-assed bitch.

Me: EXCUSE ME??? This ass is clearly white.

CQG: I don't accept 'sorry,' you red-assed bitch.

Me: OMG thank you so much for not calling me fat.

CQG: I don't accept 'sorry,' you red-assed bitch.

Me: How about an interpretive dance? Do you accept those?

Okay, I guess there are only four; I'm not actually that creative. I'm sure I'll find the algorithm for that after I hit "Publish."

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How you can tell it's hot here right now

Y'know..... other than the ... fact....  that.....  it's really hot here right now...

NORMAL CAT

HOT CAT

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Let's talk about the number 42

42? Why are we talking about that number, you ask? Well, no reason, actually. I just thought I'd take a moment, on this day of the year that has absolutely no significance whatsoever, to randomly talk about a number that has no meaning to me. Hey, I'm a Bookkeeper! I like numbers! 42 is totally NOT a prime number, you know; in fact it is not only divisible by another number other than itself and 1, it is divisible by FIVE MORE THAN THAT. It's really a great number, when you think about it. But you probably should try not to think about it too much. That's my plan for the day, anyway.

Here are some interesting facts about the number 42. I don't feel like citing my source, so just trust me that I know what I'm talking about and/or I know how to google and then copy and paste:

1. In Mathematics, number 42 is called an abundant number. For what reason? Let’s say, it is equivalent to one semester in college to find out why it’s called an abundant number.
2. In Chemistry, number 42 is the atomic number of molybdenum.
3. The angle of rainbow is 42 degrees.
4. A 3×3x3 magic cube has a sum of 42.
5. In the Ancient Egyptian religion, there are 42 gods and goddesses to represent the principles of Ma’at.
6. In the bible, there are 42 generations in the Genealogy of Jesus according to the Gospel of Matthew.
7. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland has 42 illustrations
8. 42 is a magic number for programmers. In the TIFF image file format, it is the second 16-bit word of every file.
9. Tiling a plane using regular hexagons occupy all in all 42 squares.
10. In the Book of Revelations, it is mentioned that the Beast will hold dominion over the Earth for 42 days

Wow, that's actually kind of weird. In a search of interesting facts about the number 42, I come up with 10 results and none of them mention Douglas Adams. Isn't that weird? You would think that would be #1 in the list. I mean, fuck math... who the hell cares about MATH? You know who fucking hates math? Child 1. And whatever Child 1 hates, we all should hate. Because he's an angel child who has psychic abilities and we should all trust whatever he says about anything. That actually makes my profession kind of awkward, but it's okay because I'm in therapy and eventually I'll work that one out.

And now, please enjoy this video by the 1980's band Level 42. OH, I bet you thought this was going to be Something About You, but NO! As a child of the 1980's I had the privilege of actually listening to all this crap on the radio when it was new, and I like this Level 42 song better than the one they're famous for (One Hit Wonder. Thank you, SongPop for that reminder). Apparently there is no actual MTV (when they used to play music) video of this song, so this was the best I could do. I could have found you a live version, but apparently this dude fucking sucked live. And by "apparently" I mean "OH MY GOD."

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'kay... BYE!

We're taking a vacation!!

No, I'm serious. We're all getting in the car and we're leaving town.

For a whole day.

I know. You need a moment. That's okay, you can have one. Here's a story while you compose yourself:

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COMPOSURE STORY INTERLUDE

This morning, I'm in my car and I'm driving to work, when suddenly I look to my right and there's this.... strange woman .... who I've never in my life ever seen before. And she's giving me the weird kind of eyeball thing, as if to say "Yo. See my eyeball? Nice, right?"  (Which, in her defense, is true. It was a very nice eyeball.) She rolls down her window, and I naturally do the same, because what else am I going to do when some strange eyeball chick pulls up next to me? And she says "You're Jill, right?" And I said "uhhhhhhhhhhhh." No, actually I said "YES!" And she turned out to be my friend XLMIC who blogs here and tweets here. And I said "how did you know??" and then said her real name, because I didn't know how to pronounce XLMIC, and she said "because we have the same car, but yours has an autism sticker on it." I think we've had that conversation before. HEE HEE! That was fun.  Shit, I forgot to follow her down the street and find out where she lives. SHIT!

END OF COMPOSURE STORY INTERLUDE

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So, hubs is on vacation this week, and the kids are out of camp, and I somehow managed to not schedule any clients, so we're all gettin in the car and heading to Monterey to visit the aquarium.

We've been there before, but at the time, Child 2 wasn't even walking yet, and my memory of the trip is pretty much just this:

A toddler Child 2 expressing an opinion

This time, Child 1 doesn't have any sensory issues, really, and Child 2 not only walks, but talks (um. a LOT) and asks questions and knows science 'n shit, so I'm guessing we're going to have some good, wholesome family fun this time!

I'll take pictures. But you don't get to see them. Oh, that's unfortunate for you.

I just made this awkward. I apologize.

Anyway, I'm sure I'll still be tweeting, because I'm pretty sure I'm physically incapable of not doing that, but in the meantime... BYE! 

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Things I Find in my House: What is that... I don't even....

So, it's the 4th of July, the fireworks are done and the kids have gone to bed, and suddenly I look and I see this thing lying in the doorway of my TV room, right? And I squeal "OH MY GOD THAT STICK LOOKS LIKE A PENIS..... hee hee hee hee hee!!!!" and I run to find my phone to take a picture, because I knew you guys would want to see this penis stick thing that's lying in my doorway.

Except, while I'm bending over awkwardly taking said picture, behind me Hubs says to my ass "You realize you're a 41 year old woman, right?" So I say "HEY, FUCK YOU!" and then I fucking tackled him from the side, military style, and we rolled around on the floor fighting like they do in Buffy, and eventually I shanked him in the leg with a phillips screwdriver I found underneath the coffee table and then ran off into the night screaming about the wolves that were chasing me.

At some point in the story above I may have slightly strayed from the truth, but the specifics don't really matter, because OMG LOOK! IT'S A STICK THAT LOOKS LIKE A PENIS!!!!!!!

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Field journal

In the late 29th Century, archeologists unearthed a miraculous find: this field journal, written some time in the early 21st Century. It was an amazing look inside the mind of what scientists call "Cellphonicus Addicticum" and historians have dubbed "Insane Suburban Mother." This priceless discovery is now on display at the Global Chinese Museum of National History, and we're showing a bit of it to you now.....

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Field Journal

Monday

5:28pm: I dropped my cell phone into a glass of water. Oh, god.... it doesn't work anymore. I don't know what I'm going to do...

5:41pm: I put it in a bag of rice but then when I checked it 4 minutes later it still didn't work. I'm so scared.

5:45pm: I'm somehow managing to continue making dinner for the kids, even though my hands are now shaking and I'm starting to sweat. At least they'll be able to go on... after I'm gone.

5:59pm: OH MY GOD. What if somebody needs to text me? I called hubs and broke the news to him. He hadn't tried to text me. At least I have the house phone. Oh, god... at least there's still the house phone.

6:14pm: The shakes are pretty bad now, I spilled Child 2's glass of milk and he whined about that for a while. There's nothing I can do at this point except try to hold on, and hope that things get better.

6:29pm: I need to make a shopping list. How am I supposed to make a shopping list without my phone??? I need bread and cheese!! I'll never remember that on my own!!!

6:42pm: Hubs is home now and he told me about something called paayyyyyyyy-perrrrr that people used to use in the olden days to make things like lists. He said we actually had some in the house, too, and a "pon" that you use to write things. I will try this strange technology, after all... my family needs their bread and cheese.

7:28pm: I finally figured out how to make the pon and pipper work and have made a shopping list, which I'll tape in the empty space below after I've gone shopping. I'm so tired now. So, so tired.

8:14pm: I tried my phone again but it doesn't turn on. I'm feeling hopeless and full of despair at this point. Luckily hubs is here to take care of the children in my hour of need. I'm forced to check my email with my computer like some kind of cave woman. I feel awful.

9:32pm: I have no calendar! My appointments! I don't know where I'm supposed to go tomorrow! Do I have a client? I have absolutely no way of finding these things out without my phone!!!

9:45pm: Hubs suggested I think about it and try to remember who my client is tomorrow, and it worked. He's a rock.

10:14pm: The exhaustion of the past few hours have overwhelmed me and I must lie down. Hopefully sleep will come easily.

Tuesday

2:46am: I woke with a start, in tears. I was having a dream that all of my clients came to my door and wanted to know why I hadn't shown up, but I had no idea who any of them were without my phone.

8:45am: I made it through the rest of the night. I can't do anything except cling to the hope that the rice will have done its job and my phone turns on this morning.

8:49am: OH GOD, IT STILL DOESN'T WORK. IT STILL DOESN'T WORK. WHAT AM I GOING TO DO? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO??????

9:14am: Heavily medicated, I have no choice but to leave for the client I'm pretty sure I have today.

10:00am: Luckily my memory actually worked this one time and I went to the right place. I made it through my work as painfully as possible. I only cried about 7 times.

12:00pm: Done with work, I go shopping. Do my credit cards still work if I have no phone? Does anything still work if I have no phone?

12:16pm: I'm at Costco. Unable to tweet the experience, I'm forced to stop people in the aisles and say sarcastic things to them in 140 character increments.

12:34pm: There's a Verizon booth in this Costco. I wonder if I'm eligible for a free upgrade yet?

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The field journal abruptly ends there, but we are still left to wonder: Did this Insane Suburban Mother find the solution to her problem? Was she able to replace her broken phone; saving her family and therefore the world? Historians can only guess, and marvel at the strength and courage of this brave, brave woman.

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I am so, so sorry

In the last few weeks I have seen numerous tweets that have attempted to direct me to blog posts. They were drawings that people have done, or awards that have been given out... and I think that I've pretty much ignored them all.

So, I wanted to apologize to all of you guys who have tried to get me to go somewhere and then I didn't. It's not because I don't care, and it's certainly not because I don't have the time (seriously. I've got nothing going on right now). It's just because I'm stupid. I have a bad memory and these things go by my timeline and then I forget. Because I'm dumb. No, really. That's why.

It's important to me that you all know that I'm not one of those people who thinks she's too cool to pay any attention to anybody who doesn't have at least 2,000 twitter followers. I am so not that person; in fact, I fucking hate people like that. I think it's rude, it's uncool, it's bad fucking karma. I am not cooler than anybody, and if you have tried to get me to look at something and I didn't look at it, PLEASE tell me again. I saw your tweet, I did, but then 2 seconds went by and I forgot to hit "favorite" and then it was all gone. And I hope that, in the future, when I am a dumbass again and I forget to do things again, you guys will read this again and please don't take it personally.

In other words.. it's not you, it's me. Wait. That sounded wrong. IT'S ME. I SWEAR IT IS. But in the bad way.

And on that note, here is my new self portrait, just like I told Jennifer and Lisa I would do.

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The thin line beyond which you really can't fake

EDIT: Link to purchase Grateful Dead snuggie

Drunk blogging is fun. Also? I AM VERY EMPHATIC SOMETIMES AND I USE ALL CAPS TO EXPRESS THAT.

Okay, so, I was thinking... you know what I haven't done in a while? Gotten drunk and just started typing. Why haven't I done that? Probably because... okay, I don't know. But surely there's a reason. Anyway, here we are. I'll be typing this post in stages this evening. At this point it's relatively early and I'm being very conscious about my spelling and grammar and making sure there are no extra punctuation marks in the middle of my words. But, I dig;ress....

There are a number of very interesting things I would like to share with you fine people on this fine evening. Is it really "fine," though? What does "fine" mean, anyway? What does it mean to be "fine," exactly? Also? Uh, oh what I want to know..... oh oh, is are you.... well, you know the rest. Or you don't. If you do, though, you're cool. If not... just move on.

Speaking of which, today I was wearing my Jerry Day t-shirt, and I was walking into a store on Solano Ave in Berkeley to buy a present for my Secret Santa giftee (by the way, Secret Santa? I see you here. Did you know I made this for you? That's the problem with being downvoted into oblivion, if you make a post specifically for one person they will probably never see it. So look at that post. LOOK AT IT!) and this random dude stopped me and said "hey, is that Jerry? I'm really into trivia and I was the only person at the bar the other night who got this question right: What was the original name of the Grateful Dead?" I answered it right and he was pleased and walked away. Do you know the answer? Tell me the answer and win a prize. No, really.

OH, and speaking of THAT.... OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. Okay, almost exactly a year ago, I posted this. THIS. CLICK ON THE FUCKING THING. And now? Almost a year later?  LOOK WHAT I GOT TODAY. LOOK. LOOOOOK AAAAAT IIIIIITTTT:

That's me, bitches. THAT'S FUCKING ME. Wearing a motherfucking Grateful Dead snuggie!!!! By the way, that's the closest you'll ever get to seeing what I look like. ENJOY THE BOOB, MOTHERFUCKERS.

Anyhoozle-ini, do you guys ever think about friends you used to have but don't anymore? I have this person who used to be my friend, a really good friend, actually, and we're not friends anymore, for various complicated reasons, and the other night she popped up in my dream and said to me "hey let's be friends again!" and in my dream I was really happy about that and then I woke up and knew that this would never happen, because of those complicated reasons I mentioned earlier, even though I still see her practically every day at this point I have no idea how to even make it happen again and she hates me, anyway, so even so we'll never be friends again besides there's too much baggage going on there, but still, it was nice to be friends with her again in my dream. Does that ever happen to you? No? Huh. Okay! Let's move on....

Hey you know what's a cool word? Spigot. Doesn't it kind of seem like a racial slur? You fucking spigot! I hate that fucking spigot! Yeah, but it's not. It's just a cool word. And when hubs comes here and reads this, maybe he'll explain it to you. Then again maybe he won't. When he leaves a comment, though, his name will be thesmos. LOOK FOR HIM.

And now I will end this awesome post with the following song that I think you should listen to because this song fucking kicks more ass than most songs that have ever been made into songs.

Jackie Greene, Gone Wanderin'





Okay, so!

Any questions?

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Who's phoning it in? I AM!!

Yesterday I displayed some of my awesome artwork for you fine folks. Oh, stop. Please. There's no need for applause. Oh, my. A standing ovation? Really? That's so not necessary. I'm flattered, though, thank you. Okay, okay. I think that's enough. Okay, you can stop now. No I'm serious. Stop. Stop now. FUCKING STOP CLAPPING NOW, GODDAMIT, I'M TRYING TO TALK HERE!!

Okay! So. Anyway, part of my awesome artwork of yesterday was the greatest picture of a bear that's ever been drawn; I'm pretty sure that was the general and unanimous consensus about The Popsicle Bear Thing^©, and in the comments section, my friend Jennie B, who blogs at Anybody Want a Peanut? suggested that my awesome bear should become a new award, with "I'm just phoning it in today" as the title of said award.

WOW.

Jennie actually had no idea how much of an awesome idea this was, since just a few weeks ago I made a quiz and promised a prize to the winners, and then never actually gave them a prize. This isn't such a big deal, really, except that I have something in mind for what I'm going to post on my birthday (OMG coming up!!!) and I can't offer a prize for that if I never gave a prize to the last people who were offered prizes, right? I've been trying to think of something to give the winners of that contest but have thus far been unable to come up with something.

Until today.

I'll just create a new award and give them THAT! And I'll call it "Phoning it In." Because that's exactly what I'm doing!!!

IT'S FUCKING BRILLIANT!!!! JENNIE! YOU'RE FUCKING BRILLIANT!!!!!!

AND SO.... I hereby present this, the newest, awesomest honor of today's internet.........

.... to the following lucky recipients.....

• Jennie at Anybody Want a Peanut? (well, it was her idea, I don't really have a choice here)
• Sarcasm Goddess at For the Love of Writing
• Stacey at Tangerine Monday
• Dana K at Really, What Were We Thinking?
• Elise, at Things That Are Not Bagels, because she coined the term The Popsicle Bear Thing^© and it amuses me.

There are no rules for winning this award, because that would require a whole other level of effort that I'm just not willing to make at this time, so you guys should just do with it what you want.

CONGRATULATIONS EVERYBODY!!!!!!!!!!

Damn, I feel like I really dodged a bullet here. Thanks Jennie!!

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An old shoe

So... the other day I posted this song that I like and I said that I really really liked the first few lines. Those lines are: "I don't have anything to write about anymore, my words have become boring" because, well... that's how I was feeling at the time.

And then my friend Karen, who blogs at Solodialogue wrote in the comments "You could write about an old shoe and it would be funny..."

Oh yeah, Karen? Well.....

I thought I'd get us started with some poetry! First, a limerick:

An old shoe sat by the door
Its grey laces sagged to the floor
It once used to run
and have oh so much fun
now feet in it happens no more.

Okay, that wasn't very funny, but I'm just getting started! Give me a break. How about a haiku?

The old shoe was white
Dr. Scholl tried very hard
Alas, it still smelled

And now, iambic pentameter

The shoe is old it sits upon the floor
He's sad because no one wears him these days
One time he rode upon the feet of kings
But now he smells and no feet will wear him


Hubs just walked by and asked me what I was doing. "I'm writing poetry about an old shoe," I said. I shit you not, he gave me this look:

Did you know that the world's oldest shoe is 5,500 years old, was created from a piece of cow hide and was a size 4? It's true. It was found in a cave by archeologists in Armenia, "with three pots, each containing a child's skull, along with containers of barley, wheat and apricot." Okay, well.... this guy here wrote about an old shoe and was funny. I don't seem to be doing a very good job.

HA HA Karen!! See? You were totally wrong! I can't write about an old shoe and be funny, after all!!! So there! AHA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!!

Wait.

Shoe image courtesy of stockimages / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

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Sometimes I say the stupid things that I think

But SOMETIMES I think first!

No really!!

I had this experience today where I thought about it before I said it and I'm so proud of myself I thought you guys might like to celebrate this minor victory with me.

(First of all, you know that's a line from a song, right? I put the video below so you can listen while you read)

So you know how I'm always talking about how I need to learn how to think first and then talk? Well! Today I was in Target (of all places) and I had bought these crappy one dollar bubble blowy thingy whatevers with these long handles; the handles kept falling off and the cashier was trying to put them back on but they kept falling again. So, I took over and figured it out. Here is the conversation that took place

STAR WIPE

Cashier: These handles keep falling off

Me: Well, they're only a dollar, I can't really expect high quality here. Lemme try....

Shove handle back on

Me: Got it!

Cashier: Good job, what did you do?

Me: I just had to give it a really good shove.


What immediately went through my head after I said that was "hey, just like my kids!" and normally I would have just busted out with that gem, and the cashier would have done one of those nervous not-sure-if-you're-actually-kidding kind of laughs with the sideways glance and shoved me out the door as fast as possible because even if I was kidding I'm still definitely crazy. THIS time, however, I thought about it first and decided NOT to say that and instead we ended our monetary exchange in a very pleasant manner.

See what I did there? I'm learning! I'm almost becoming a kind of grown up! I thought you guys would be proud of me. YAYY ME!!!!

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Promises were made of a vacational nature

Ha ha, no. No vacation-related promises were made. I just like to rip off the Simpsons whenever I can. YAY!

HOWEVER.... I did promise the other day that if you put your hate in the comments of my post, I would pick the best one and that person would win a prize. And since I am a woman of my word, or at least, I'm trying to convince you all right now that I'm a woman of my word, I have chosen a comment. I mean... I pinky swore! And you can't pinky swear and then not follow through.... that's just bad karma.

AND SO AS SUCH I have chosen a triumpher (I may have just made that word up) and will bestow a prize, accordingly. *clear throat* ... My winner is Heather! Who blogs at Expect This. She can also be found on Twitter as Rogue Toddler. Heather wins for 2 reasons:

1. She called Curious George a "dirty fucking monkey;" and

2. She referred to Tuck from the Wonder Pets as "the pussy turtle."

That kind of profanity and/or awesomeness should be rewarded, in my opinion. However, before I bestow the greatest prize ever given, can we please take a moment to appreciate this gem, which I found on Heather's blog just now?

Are you kidding me?? THAT'S PURE GOLD RIGHT THERE. Okay, so... Heather! Here is your prize, which I swear is the greatest prize ever given. I SWEAR IT IS.


Nice work, Heather. Nice fucking work.

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I may never blog again

Seriously, guys, lately I've had nothing to write about. Not kidding around here. No.Th.Ing. There's only so many times I can write about how much I fucking hate cats before that shit gets really old. And yet... that seems to be the only thing happening in my brain these days. The things I've posted the past week or so have been things that were hanging around my drafts folder for days and weeks that I just said "fuck it, good enough" and hit publish on.

Although, I don't think Zombie Garbage Disposal got enough love. Can I get a wut-wut for Zombie Garbage Disposal? Also: what the fuck is a "wut-wut"? Did I just make that up?

This one other time I had nothing to write about so I just got in front of the computer and started typing, just to see what would happen, so I'm gonna try that again. Although, I'm not sure I can top the story about me wearing my sweatpants inside out and looking like I had giant elephant ears hanging off my hips. That shit was comedy gold, man. GOLD!

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So, this afternoon I go to pick up The Children from school and I get to the Kindergarten yard and see a couple of parents of C2's buddies standing around having a hushed conversation and looking nervous. So, naturally, I butt in and ask what's going on (yeah, I'm that mom). Apparently the little boys had been showing each other their little penises back behind the shed on the K yard. The moms looked totally horrified, even the one whose kid actually peed inside the metal car on the yard a few weeks ago. I said "Did C2 show his?" They didn't know. Clearly further research is indicated.

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Remember how I posted that video of me singing? I was thinking about making that a weekly thing. What do you guys think? Would that just be way too much vanity for one blog to handle? Or, isn't that kind of the purpose of a blog in the first place? To be a sanctuary of vanity? (Look at me, I used the fancy words, just for you guys!) Anyway, is that even something anybody is interested in? It's okay if it's not, you can tell me. Really! I prefer honesty over trying to spare my feelings. Fuck my feelings, I want the truth! You can tell me anonymously if you want....

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Okay, I just asked the Child about the penis thing. Man, that's kind of a hard subject to broach I'm now realizing. "So, son... did you show the ladies your willy today?" Apparently he did, along with his friends; they showed the 2 little girls they were playing with. So, um.... yay! My 2nd born has friends!! HA HA HA!! Oy. Any suggestions on how to deal with this one? We've already had the "private parts are private" discussion (to which he responded "but it was part of our GAME"); I'm so not used to having to deal with neurotypical social issues! They're so fucking complicated!! And now he just showed me exactly HOW he showed the kids his penis. "This is what I did," he says, pulling his pants down. I'm thinking of sending an email to the other parents involved (who are all friends of mine) with the subject line: Penises. Thoughts?

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You know who I hate with the white hot heat of a thousand suns? Jake and the Neverland Pirates. Who do YOU hate with the white hot heat of a thousand suns? I'm apparently going to be encouraging discussion in this useless post of mine today. Please put your hate in the comments and whoever has the best hate will win a prize. Promise! Pinky swears!! It will be the best prize ever.

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Earlier this evening Child 2 and I were playing with blocks and I built The Greatest Fort Ever Built. I'm serious, this thing was amazing. So I say "Dude, check out my fort! It's awesome!" and he says "That fort is awesome! If I didn't call that fort awesome I would have to be in a time out."

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The Child just asked me if mermaids really existed and I seriously had to think about it before I answered. Do mermaids really exist? Sometimes, I just don't know....

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What do you want on your Tombstone?

Please tell me I'm not terribly dating myself by making that reference. That couldn't have been THAT long ago, right? RIGHT?

So, anyway... this morning, I'm digging through my underwear drawer (what? Doesn't every truly great blog post start with "I'm digging through my underwear drawer" ??) trying to find the stuff in the back because, let's face it, it was slim pickins in there. And I say out loud, to nobody in particular "God, I really need to do laundry."

And hubs, who was in the room at the time, chuckles this evil little snarly laugh thing and says "That will be your epitaph!"

I guess I say that a lot.

And I loudly proclaim "You, sir, are a magnificent bastard and that is a BRILLIANT idea!" Or something. I may have just snorted at him, I don't remember, it was first thing in the morning and I had Ace of Bass stuck in my head (seriously, brain? I mean... Ace of Bass? WTF???)

But then, as these things often go, I thought that might make a funny blog post! And surely I could easily find something online that would create a custom made tombstone for me?

Well, sure enough, not 2 clicks later I had found tombstonebuilder.com and went to work!

Or perhaps...

HEE HEE!!! This is fun! Imma make some more....

And then I asked The Twitter for some suggestions! Oddly, most of what I got was snarky people just fucking with me. Can you imagine? On TWITTER??? I did get a few good ones, though (and a shoutout to my friend CrunchyNavyWife whom I love and adore but, sadly, whose submission did not make the final cut.)

From TheNextMartha:

From Handflapper

From HuntersLyonesse

From jillybeanerz

From my sister from another mister, Dawn

From CMarieGo (this is a reference to the very fascinating discussion we were having on The Twit about the Nursery Rhyme It's Raining, It's Pouring

From PrincessMuffintop (this one actually had a hashtag in it but there wasn't enough room)

Seriously, though, this is the epitaph I've always wanted. Somebody make a note!

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The real brains behind the blog (like we didn't already know) & other stuff

Friday morning early, the first words out of my mouth are "It's Friday!" Hubs says "Okay, that's it....." and goes to YouTube and plays for me that godawful Rebecca Black song that he's been threatening me with for days now. If you don't know what I'm talking about, just be happy, and whatever you do, for the love of god don't Google it. It's the worst song ever written and will end up in your head for all eternity. I'd heard about it from Twitter and reddit but I had refused to actually listen to it because I knew I would be cursed. Apparently Hubs had decided it was time. Thanks.

You've been warned

Anyway, he plays this god awful song which turns out to be, in fact, god awful, and then he starts singing along "It's Friiii-day, it's Friiii-day" and Child 2, who happens to be eating hash browns at the time, sings along with "Because I'm eating friiiiiied food, friiiiiied food."

I start laughing and I tell him "I'm sorry, I'm going to have to blog that."

Child 2 is very excited at the idea of me blogging something that he said, which surprised me because I didn't realize he knew what it meant, so I ask him "Do you know what blogging means?"

"Yes," he says "because you show me all the time" (I do? Okay). "You type in something that happens in real life and send it to somebody else's computer."

And hubs says: "Mama types funny stuff and everybody likes to read her stories."

To which Child 2 responds "yeah, but they come from me."

True story. They do come from him.

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Do you think Child 2 is funny? If so, please vote for him!

Right now he's #12 in the Top 25 Funny Mom Bloggers at Circle of Moms. Voting ends Monday so please don't let him down. He's only 5 and would be crushed if he didn't end up in the top 25. How do you explain that kind of thing to a child?? So, please take a moment to click on the pink circle thingy and then click on the orange thumbs up dealie. THANKS!

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I woke up this morning after a night of drinking and having an uncomfortable dinner with my husband and his divorced parents (where I drunkenly chatted on and on about god knows what in order to fill the awkward silences) and I found an untitled new post in my drafts folder. This is all it contained:



What do you think I was trying to say here? I should ask Child 2.

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I am very disappointed

I'd like to call your attention to the number underneath the juggling chick's boobs over there

<---------------- that way

Do you see that number?

That's the number 4.

That is not the number 2. Or even the number 3.

No. That's a 4.

And do you know why that's a 4 and not the 2 that it once was?

Do you?

Huh?

Do you ???

It's because you people don't click enough.

There. I said it. I'm sorry it had to come to this but it's time I was finally honest with you.

This is your fault.

See, I'm watching you, in my site stats; and I see you ... those of you who come here every day, expecting the free funny. Yeah, that's right, you just suck up all the funny and you give me nothing in return.  

Not one single click.  

And I know who you are, you know.

Oh, yes, I know who each of you are (uh... for the most part) and I SEE YOU when you read and don't click.

And.... I'm remembering. I'm like a fucking elephant with the remembering. I will remember these acts that you have perpetrated against me. You with your "I want the free funny!" and "I don't want to have to click on anything while I'm here!!" and "WAAAAAHHHH MY FINGER IS TOO TIRED"  YOU SOUND LIKE MY 5 YEAR OLD! 

Even if you don't actually say these things... you sound like my 5 year old ... in my head.

I'm going to give you people the weekend to make it up to me by clicking here. Until then, I will be in my bedroom ... under the covers ... pouting. My lower lip will actually be sticking out the entire time. AND POSSIBLY QUIVERING. At some point I may emerge so that I can go to the bathroom and quietly cry to myself, but then I'll go straight back to bed and pout some more.

So, think about that, people. Think about me, this weekend, doing that. Do you feel guilty? Do you feel responsible?

And if you don't make it up to me by the end of the weekend? If you don't? When I resume blogging on Monday, or on whatever day I forget I'm supposed to be pouting, from that point forward I'm going to blog about nothing but kittens. Kittens.... and rainbows.

Is that what you want?

Is that what you want?? 

Because that's what you'll get if you don't make this up to me.

Think about it.

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It's so uncanny it's ACTUALLY FRIGHTENING

Check out the picture Child 1 drew of him and me:

And now compare it to the picture I drew of myself:

I KNOW, RIGHT???????

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I've been a bad bloggy friend

I've met all these cool new people who have visiting and commenting (and clicking!!) here, and I haven't been following you guys back and commenting in YOUR houses.

Well, now that's changed, because I've spent the last hour(?) arranging and rearranging my Google reader thingybob and NOW you guys are SCREWED because I'm going to be commenting over at your places ALL THE TIME. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!! *cough*

Oh, yeah, I really need some sleep......

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