Monthly Archives: October 2013

October 15, 2013

She got that class from her mother.

By Steph

So my daughter is 4.  She occasionally does stuff and I’m like, What The Fuck?  Where did that come from?

Because, although you couldn’t tell it by my blog, we’re actually pretty strict parents.  Anyway.

She’s started doing this thing where she wiggles her butt and sings “shake it, baby.”  It’s a little disconcerting.  I could not think where she might have seen this.

Then I turned on my cleaning music today, and started shaking it.  Yep.

I think knowing all the words to California Love at just four years old shows great memorization and lyrical skills.  Not to mention all the exercise she gets “shakin it.”

For anyone unfortunate enough to not be hip to the 90s rap, here you are, and you’re welcome.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eDZ961xhNEo

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October 15, 2013

Limit four.

By Steph

It turns out that the number of humans I am capable of keeping in some semblance of order is four.  That’s unfortunate, because after my three children and my husband, I make five.

This means that while my daughter went to school freshly bathed and brushed and wearing matching clothes, I worked in my pjs until about 15 minutes before I had to leave the house.

That was when I realized that although I had showered within the last week, I could not remember the last time I had attempted to brush my hair.  Which is long.  And thick.  And now partially in dreads.  Actually, that should be singular.  A dread.  I have one nappy snarled twisted mess right smack-ass in the middle of my hair.

My husband is now referring to me as Marley.  I’m not sure what the next step should be here, other than maybe hiding all his socks.  (Oh, wait, I already did that.  Ha.)

But seriously, I was under the impression that people cultivated dreadlocks, not that they just appeared if you maybe slacked off on personal hygiene for a few minutes months.

Clearly it is time for a new goal.   Actually, goals, while I’m at it.

1.  Stop eating so much damn pity pie.  Pity pie is NOT your friend.
2.  Brush your goddamn hair, you dirty hippie.
3.  Fuck it, that’s enough.  Those are pretty lofty goals; I’m worn out and a little hungry already.

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October 12, 2013

Voicemail blows and I just realized I’m not sure what century it is.

By Steph

I am starting a movement, and I expect my readers to get behind me on this (all 12 of you).

We are living in the 21st century (I think.  21st?  Does that sound right?  Whatever.)  Voicemails are old fucking news.  Effective immediately, we should all start completely ignoring them.  I’m a little ahead of the rest of you on this, but that’s because I got a pretty good head start (about 5 years).

Seriously.  No one ever leaves a chipper voicemail.  It’s all cranky bullshit, like “Call me back.  Click.” or “Please return my call.”  Fuck that.  I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life.   Occasionally my husband will just leave fart noises, but that’s really as good as it gets.

If you call me and I don’t answer, I can pretty much guarantee that there is a reason.  Maybe I don’t feel like talking.  Maybe I don’t have cell service.  Maybe a purse monster ate my phone.  Maybe I’m in the bathroom.  Maybe I don’t like you, or I’m having one of those days where I hate everyone, including myself.  The possibilities are endless, really.

Anyway, leaving me 15 voicemails, each pissier (how can that not be a word?) than the last is NOT going to make me return your call.

I have caller ID.  We all do. 

For fuck’s sake, if it’s that important send me a text.  Or a pigeon.  I would totally reply by messenger bird.

Okay, enough ranting.  Now planning.

So, I hope you will all join me in my crusade to rid the world of this great evil, this guilt-inducing, joy-sucking government plot, this heinous OUTRAGE, The Voicemail.  (It even sounds bad.  Like blackmail.  Voicemail. Blackmail.  See?  I’m doing this for all of us.)

4 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , | posted in random bullshit

October 7, 2013

I need to borrow a mongoose. Immediately.

By Steph

Initially, I thought honey badger, because as we all know, honey badgers don’t give a fuck.

But apparently they are illegal in the U.S. or some shit; although, whoever is in charge of stopping me from smuggling in non-fuck-giving animals is probably out of a job right now, so I bet I could pull it off.

I’m kind of scared though.  After thinking about it (you’re welcome, Gus) I decided that a honey badger in the house might be more scary than a snake.  Or snakes.  Which is what we currently have.

Goddammit!  I live in the country because I don’t like people.  I did NOT issue an open invitation to anything poisonous, scaly, creepy, slithery, or slimy.  Basically, unless you are a dragon or a cat, you are not welcome here.

And the cat is fast wearing out her welcome.  I’d like to know just what the FUCK she is doing when she’s dashing all about the house like she’s got super important shit to do, when I’m on the couch and a snake can just blatantly slither up to me.  Where was LeeLoo The Vicious Moth Killer and Protector of the Realm then, huh?  Sitting on her ASS.  Much like when a lizard got in my bedroom, and she PURPOSELY ignored my cries for help.

I don’t know.  I’m being overrun by nature’s most disgusting creatures right now.  I need some tips, or to borrow a mongoose.

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October 2, 2013

There’s an app for that….

By Steph

As you know, assuming you’ve been reading this blog religiously, as you should be, I have been going through some dietary changes.  I’m going to refer to this as the Foodpocalypse.  Because it fucking sucks and, also, because I can.

Anyway.  I’ve been looking at apps on my phone to help me determine just what the fuck is in the food I eat, in an effort to stay alive and not be so damn hungry.

In my app search I have NOT found anything useful.  I have found some very disturbing apps which I am going to list here, because I am bored good at sharing.

1.  Massager.  By Hooha.  I don’t think I need to explain this one.

2.  How To Get Pregnant (Here’s a tip, if you’re using your phone on your hooha, you’re doing it wrong.)

3.  Am I Fat?  Seriously?  You need an app for that?

4.  App of Death “The test performed does not indicate that you’ll die…it’s just a prediction….stay calm.”  O-kay.

5.  How to Grow Taller  This one is by the same person who also knows How to French Kiss, How to be a Hipster, and also How to Call in Sick.  A certifiable very knowledgeable person, this one.

Gotta run.  App of Death just finished downloading, so I may or may not be back later.

Leave a comment   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor