Category Archives: Blogging

The title of this post is invisible. Also, nonexistent.

grumpy cat no

What is this? *gasp* I’VE WRITTEN AN ACTUAL BLOG POST?!

Well, kind of. Don’t get too excited.

I’ve been pretty busy lately, and by “busy” I mean “trying new antidepressants, being sick as fuck, and lying in bed staring at the wall.” Also, I’m working on a novel, but shhh, because it likely won’t be done until we all own flying cars and I have a robot brain.

I have been posting sporadically on my Facebook page. Which you should all be following by now. Or, if you thought I’d dropped off the face of the earth, you should go follow this instant. This. Very. Instant.

Okay, so anyway, this morning I decided to poke around here on the blog. To my surprise, there are still about 17 people a day reading old posts. This makes me feel both amazed and ashamed at how I’ve abandoned…myself, I guess. I’ve ignored my own blog. God. Maybe one day I will become an actual person. Or I will get that robot brain and it will work much better than this one. (By the way, I had an MRI done and my brain is actually trying to creep down my spine. It hasn’t gotten very far, which is good, because YOU CAN’T JUST JUMP SHIP, MOTHERFUCKER. We’re all in this together.)

I looked to see what people were searching for that brought them here. Most of them were legit searching for We Don’t Chew Glass! THAT was a very pleasant surprise. Of course, next came the pervs and most of them were some variation of…hahaha, I’m not repeating that shit. But they were gross. Super. Fucking. Gross.

(Just in case you don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, my blog shows me what people type into Google that leads them here. So, when a person types “I’m Not That Mom article” into their Google search bar, my blog pops up. The link to We Don’t Chew Glass apparently also comes up when anyone searches for anything containing the words, “pee, sex, prostitute” which is complete bullshit and taken totally out of context. I’m sure those people are extremely disappointed when they click my link. Great, now even “click my link” sounds dirty.)

Here are the latest Top 10 Search Terms, minus anything too disgusting:

  1.  parenting skills and meth

Math? Did you mean math? I’m going to pretend you meant math.

  1. you wont even notic that im jesus

Probably true. I’m not very observant.

  1. something that is not graceful

This is just…not nice. And even worse, there was another one that said, “things that are not graceful.” LISTEN, GOOGLE, I KNOW, OKAY? I KNOW.

  1. am determine to fuck a mummy for money, who is interested?

Not a mummy, I’m pretty sure.

      5. these motherfucking slugs on this motherfuckin porch

This one actually makes sense. I may have even typed those exact words.

  1. I am a shark

This is just the best. I hope the shark liked my blog and is still hanging around. I want to be friends with this shark. It seems bold and confident.

  1. what would happen if we had no glass?

I feel like I’ve put far too much thought into this question. Maybe not as much as the person who searched the internet for the answer, but still, too much. 

      8. do teenagers have to wear jackets in November

Yes. It’s the law. Be sure to film yourself trying to make this happen, because otherwise no one will ever believe you.

  1. will the cleaner fuck my husband

A LOT of people seem concerned about this. From what little I’ve read about people who have maids and nannies, it’s always the nanny. Always.

     10. that is what i want, a perfect prostitue is even better than you, to me, get the point, you are disturbing

There were many, many prostitute searches. This one though. This is a perfect example of how internet searches DO NOT work.

Anyway, I hope you guys are all doing great. I wish I was reliable enough to say I’m going to blog more often, but that would be a big fat lie. Maybe I’ll be “fixed” soon! Right now I’m trying this thing where you only concentrate on the present moment. At this moment, my ass hurts from sitting in this chair and my coffee is cold. So that means…I own a chair, an ass, and a coffee machine. See? Progress!

xoxo,

Steph

 

 


I’m back and I’m…just like before.

I feel like an explanation is due, since I disappeared for like 500 years. (Sorry.) (HI!)

Well, some pretty awful things happened to some of the people I hold nearest and dearest, and I was very busy trying to be helpful while actually probably making things worse because that is just my nature, as you guys know. I’m pretty sure I have NEVER said the right thing at the right time. Good thing it’s the thought that counts, and that mind readers don’t exist.*

Then there’s this world we are living in and all the people in it who are just breaking my heart and then stomping on it and then maybe it gets picked back up but then it’s broken again and I just can’t understand all the HATE. It makes me feel sad and unfunny and like even trying to be funny is somehow sacrilegious.

Also, I started a new medication that turned me into a zombie, but not the flesh-eating kind. I was a much gentler and kind of a drooling zombie. It wasn’t until I quit taking it for other issues that I realized how much of myself I had lost and that was pretty scary. Especially when people were like, “Oh, but you seemed so much better, happier!” Uh, YEAH, cause LIGHTENING BUGS WERE ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT. Lightening bugs are cool, but no. Not worth it. I’d like to be a person, even if I am a seriously fucked-up one.

So, I think I said a while back that I would ease myself back into blogging by sharing some of my Facebook posts with you. That is obviously not true, because I’m about to do it again. BUT THERE’S ALWAYS HOPE, RIGHT? *waves imaginary pompoms* *wishes I had some actual pompoms*

 

July 20

My husband made dinner last night AND fixed my plate.

I’m sure it had nothing to do with seeing me holding the dish soap over the food, about to liberally douse it.

He’s just really sweet. And probably doesn’t want to eat soap.

 

July 17

I told my 14yo to do the dishes before he went to bed.

He’s been awake since 10 a.m. yesterday.

 

July 7

My 7yo finally found something to keep her busy and semi-quiet.

She’s making her Christmas list.

 

June 21

I’ve reached the point of summer vacation where I’m questioning all my reasons for not sending the kids to summer camp.

I was worried about so many of the horrible things you hear about, and I said no, no, no.

Right now, I’m considering sending them into the woods to live off the land and saying, “See you in August.”

 

June 14

WHOTHAFU–

–What I yelled at the cabinet upon realizing someone had switched a can of carrots with a can of green beans so you couldn’t even SEE the damn corn.

THE CANNED FOOD IN THIS HOUSE GOES IN THE APPROPRIATE ROW GODDAMMIT.

p.s. I know this was done on purpose, and I’ve narrowed my suspects to two.

 

June 10

Me: I can’t believe how stupid this medicine is making me.

Husband: You’re sharp as a tack.

Me:…

Husband: Okay, but you’re not stupid. I’d say… “muddled.”

Me: *laughs forever*

 

June 6

I just walked into the hall closet instead of the bathroom, but caught myself before I peed on the towels.

That means the new meds are working, right?

(I’m not sure if my friend E. meant for her comment to be funny, but I found it hilarious. She said, “We can only hope.” I feel like she was sighing and shaking her head, like omg, that girl. I love it. And her.)

 

May 31

You guys know that I’m a list-maker. I have all these lists of things that I want done, and the things never get done. (Possibly because I don’t do them. Just a guess.)

About once a week I make a NEW list, with all the things from the OLD list that didn’t happen.

Of course, the things like ‘dishes’ and ‘laundry’ are recurring and infuriating, but I usually also find rants and nonsense that I have no memory of writing.

Highlights from last week’s lists:

1. Call fucking insurance.
2. Call fucking insurance AGAIN.
3. Throw up.

(I really hate phone calls.)

4. Yard sale shit.
5. Camping shit.
6. Be calm.
7. Cry.
8. Fucking gnats.
9. Move shit.
10. *something scribbled out with the words “No, fuck that” written next to it.*

 

May 15

I accidentally grabbed a sports bra instead of underwear on my way to the bathroom.

Rather than walk the 10 steps back to get actual underwear, I stared at the bra from different angles, wondering if I could make it work.

It not only worked, but there is a handy strap left free that I’m sure could be utilized for something.

Patent pending.

 

May 6

This morning I caught my cat drinking my coffee. I pushed him off the table and said a not nice thing.

I debated going to get a new cup, but I am lazy and was tired so I decided to risk it.

Also I heard somewhere that a dog’s mouth is cleaner than a human’s. Dogs and cats are both pets. This makes perfect sense.

So I took a sip of the coffee. It tasted okay until I looked over at the cat, who was diligently licking his asshole while staring right at me.

I haven’t come up with a suitable revenge, mainly because I’m not very flexible and I would never lick my asshole, even to prove a point.

 

Guys, this is silly, but I have tears in my eyes. I just basically regurgitated my fb posts into a blog post, but IT FEELS SO GOOD TO BE HERE. Thanks for being here too. xoxox

*If you happen to be a mind reader: There’s nothing to see here. Move along.


Lost in Translation

ae78a-bunnybeepbeep

This picture makes about as much sense as the post itself.

There are some unwritten rules in the blogging/writing world. One that I continually break is not to read the comments left on sites other than my own. I can’t seem to help it. I want to know what people think.

When I Am Not That Mom was first published here, I was amazed at the response. Then Scary Mommy wanted it. Then Huffington Post. Then All4Women. I was blown away by the comments, and I read as many as I could find. Mostly they said “Thank you” or “Me too” or “Now I don’t feel so alone.” How could I just let those beautiful words languish in internet purgatory, never noticed, never acknowledged? The people that left these comments praised me, for being brave, for being vulnerable, and most often, for letting them know that they were NOT alone. But what they didn’t know was that those comments helped me, probably much more than my post helped them.

When Huffington Post shared that piece again last week, I received two emails. One in Italian (which I initially thought was French because I am Very Smart) and one in German. I had to use Google Translate to understand what was happening. I guess U.S. Huffington Post submitted the article to their Italian and German counterparts.

HOW COULD I RESIST?!

I couldn’t. When I clicked on the link, Google asked me if I wanted it translated to English. Sure. Cause I can’t fucking read Italian. Or German. Or French, for that matter.

This is where things started getting HYSTERICAL. Now, I’m no linguist, as surely you’ve realized by now, and I have no idea how accurate Google Translate is, but holy shit, my word babies were torn to pieces and put back together until I didn’t even recognize myself.

I was laughing so hard last night, I almost couldn’t breathe. I ran around the house shoving my phone in any face that would hold still and yelling, “THEY SAID I KISSED AN OX!” “OMG!” and “CHRIST ON A CRUTCH, THE WHOLE WORLD THINKS I’M A FUCKING MORON!”

Seriously, I sound like a lazy, and possibly insane, asshole.

I wonder if an Italian-speaking person read it, would it make more sense and come across the way it was meant?

Anyway. For your reading pleasure, I present to you excerpts from I Am Not That Mom, in English, Italian, and German. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have.

 

ME: I Am Not That Mom

ITALY: I Am Not One of Those Mothers

GERMANY: I’m Not a Mother

Wow, Germany, that’s a little harsh.

 

ME: I am well aware of my failure in this aspect of parenting.

ITALY: I am well aware that you have failed as a parent from this point of view.

Yeah, you fucked up big time. Wait, what?

 

ME: I’m just not that mom.

GERMANY: But as a mom, I am not easy.

I can’t really argue with this.

 

ME: When I first saw you, I knew that you would hold my heart forever.

ITALY: The first time I saw you, my son, I realized that I’d captured her heart forever.

I’m so confused.

 

ME: I can still feel you, so tiny, snuggled on my chest. When I see you asleep now, I still picture you curled up in footie pajamas, all wispy hair and dark lashes against perfect skin.

ITALY:  I can still hear each of you, curled up on my chest. Even today, when I look at you sleep, I imagine squatting in your swimsuit, with thinning hair, dark lashes and face immaculate.

What the…someone, please, explain this before I laugh so hard I pee my pants. Again.

Too late.

 

ME:  I was the mom who kissed boo boos.

ITALY:  I was one of those moms who kissed your ox.

Oh, Italy, you’re killing me here.

 

ME: (safety scissors, my ass.)

ITALY: (scissors with safety, a horn.)

Scissors. Useful in any language. Asses and horns, not so much.

 

ME: But most times I feel like I am also the mom who is failing.

GERMANY: But mostly I feel that I am the mom who refused.

This is hurtful, Germany. Very hurtful.

 

ME: I was that mom who rocked you all night, patting and bouncing and shh, shh, shhing when you cried.

GERMANY: I was the mom that you all night has gently rocked, patted your Po, up on the exercise ball…

I think you and I might bounce babies differently, Translator Person.

 

ME: …although there have been a few notes from the Tooth Fairy instead of cash.

ITALY: …although the Tooth Fairy, instead of giving me some money, I did deliver the message of warning.

THIS TOOTH IS NO GOOD. NEXT TIME LEAVE ONE WITH FILLINGS, OR ELSE.

XOXO,

The Tooth Fairy

 

ME: I’m also the mom who too often hurts too much to cook dinner. I’m the mom who lets you eat an unhealthy amount of macaroni and pizza rolls.

ITALY: They are also the mother who often do not want to make dinner. I am the mother who lets you eat a huge amount and unhealthy pasta and pizza.

Translation: This woman is lazy and wants you to be fat and hungry.

 

So yesterday was a good, good day, because I got to read all these wonderful comments from wonderful moms, dads, grandmas, future moms, people with no intention of having children, just so many amazingly considerate people, and then I got to laugh my ass off at this. I needed a good day.


Half A Post and Other Reasons I’m a Toddler

This has absolutely nothing to do with this post.

This has absolutely nothing to do with this post.

Here’s the thing.

I wrote half a post. I was totally going to finish it yesterday, but then this came out and we all know I’m super lazy busy, so I never did it.

So if you would like to go read my piece on Bluntmoms, called 10 People Who Can’t Adult (hahahaha, I know right?!) then I will be very, very happy and will put on my big girl pants and finish my half-a-post.

Tomorrow.

**Disclaimer: In the event that the author becomes (I’m having word-finding problems. I know ‘illegitimate’ is not what I’m looking for here…) INDISPOSED!

*ahem* In the event that the author becomes indisposed due to unforeseen circumstances, such as finding out she is illegitimate, contracting diarrhea or other STDs, or has to catch up on her shows, the aforementioned “half-a-post” might be (word, word, what’s the fucking word?) DELAYED (for fuck’s sake) and the author takes zero responsibility for this. And anything else, ever in the history of the world, amen.

*** I don’t even know what is happening right now.


More Shit My Family Says

Hi there.

As you can see, I survived the Holiday Season, fraught with human interaction though it was. It has taken me this long to reach some semblance of recovery…you know, back to my normal state of pajamas and pony tails and questionable hygiene.

I’m just going to dip my toes into the blog in this first post, and maybe next time I will plug my nose and jump all the way in.

Here are some of the Most Ridiculous Things my family has said to me during my break.

 

From my 6-year-old.

From my 6-year-old.

 

Thing 1: I slept for like 13 hours!

Me: I know. I thought about waking you guys up, but I knew you’d want me to feed you.

Thing 1: Wow…the maternal instinct is so strong…I can’t even.

 

Husband: *speaks only in puns for a damned hour*

Me: Your puns are not making me happy.

 

Thing 3: Boogycalla.

Me:

Thing 3: A long time ago, ancient people used that word for ‘hello.’

 

Me: I hate everything that’s on my desk.

Husband: You also hate everything that’s not on your desk.

Me: Excellent point.

 

Thing 1: So…food?

Me: It’s one o’clock. I’ll make dinner at dinnertime.

Thing 1:

Me: I can’t feed you twice a day! WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM?

Thing 1:

Me: Anyway, dinner is the most important meal of the day.

Thing 1: We’ve been talking for like 10 minutes and you’ve lied to me three times.

 

*You may have noticed a theme here regarding my children and their near-constant demands for nourishment. I don’t know if all kids are like this, but mine like to eat at least 12 times a day. I personally don’t care how much they eat, it’s how much they expect me to cook that appalls me.

I would like to point out that these kids are 16, 12, and 6.

1.5 of them are fully capable of cooking for themselves without supervision.

**Thing 2 is missing from this post because all he says anymore sounds to me like, “Football, football, yardline, pass, interception, football, that guy, football, some guy, Madden, football, football, football.” It is barely English.


Search Term Tuesday

I know, I know, it’s actually Tuesday and that makes me feel like I’ve let you guys down. But I’m really sick — I think I have bronchitis and pneumonia and maybe strep throat and a sinus infection.

Just kidding. I’m pretty sure it’s just a cold. But it’s a fucker of a cold and I’m not dealing with it well. By that I mean I’m in my blue onesie crying into my coffee and coughing like crazy.

So anyway, Michelle reminded me of Search Term Tuesday so I had to check my search terms and HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS ARE FUCKED UP.

There were SIX searches related to engaging in intercourse with different animals. Yes, I cleaned that up for you guys because they were totally gross. I am obviously never going to live down that ONE story about the Dobermans.

There were way too many searches related to porn. I’m only going to list my favorites because most of them were incredibly disturbing and I don’t even know that I’ve ever TALKED about porn on here. Have I?

1. Daryl Dixon porn. Well. I can’t really blame you for that one. We all know how I feel about Daryl. But I WOULD NEVER SEARCH FOR DARYL DIXON PORN BECAUSE I HAVE MORE RESPECT FOR HIM THAN THAT, YOU PERVERTS!

2. Eating poop and drinking pie sex stories. That’s just really, really wrong. Poo and pie do not go together. AND WHY AM I GETTING ALL THESE MESSED UP SEX SEARCHES?

3. Many variations of “Husbands fucking maid” or HOW husbands do maids” or “maid gets pregnant from husband.” I just don’t get it. I mention a maid ONE TIME and NOT IN A SEXUAL WAY and this is what happens.

4. The other ones are too dirty for me to even type and that ought to tell you something because I’ll talk about almost anything. A lot of them had to do with chewing. Okay, that’s all I’m saying. But don’t chew glass OR BODY PARTS. Jesus. I can’t believe I have to tell you people these things.

disturbing meme

Six people searched for Halloween Is Stupid which makes me happy because that’s something I actually wrote. Two people searched for hooker stories.

This one is my favorite I think: You are not easy to love.

Followed closely by: Only have allergies in my grandma’s house. Obviously you are allergic to your grandma.

That’s gonna have to be it for today because I need to go blow my nose and curl up somewhere warm. Now I’ll probably have gross search terms about boogers.

 


Search Term Tuesday

Yes, I know it’s not Tuesday, but Search Term Tuesday just has a special ring to it.

search

Sometimes I like to look at the searches that lead people to my blog. People go to Google with serious questions, and Google sends them here where there are no answers. It is sometimes sad and always bizarre.  Here are my top ten favorite searches.

1. Grandmother I’ve pissed myself on purpose – I’m trying to decide who peed. Did grandma pee? Are you trying to figure out how to tell grandma you peed? Commas are important, people.

2.Peeing on myself in the store – obviously, I need to stop talking about pee so much.  Google apparently thinks I’ve cornered the market on accidents.

3. How husbands fuck a maid  – I’m guessing the regular way? I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help.

4. Walmart fight I’m next in line – We all know Walmart is a dangerous place.

5. I peed – And we’re back to the pee.

6. Crap my mom says – Now this actually makes a little sense.  If it was one of my children.

7. I pick up hookers tee shirts – I PICKED UP ONE HOOKER!  ONE!

8. Free sex stories of my mom fucked my pet snake – I don’t even.

9. I saw my husband fucking our maid and I did tell them – I feel like my maid story was not helpful to you. Again, my apologies.

10. Why Doberman hump strangers – A question for the ages. Actually, according to my commenters, it’s a dominance thing. You are that dog’s bitch.

What’s the weirdest place Google has led you? Have you ever searched for something just knowing the results were going to be awful? Do you think Grandma peed or what? Let’s not ever speak of the snake one, ever again.


I Forgot Things

I was invited to a blog hop and I got nominated for another Liebster award!  Squee!

But I’m terrible at these things and I forgot to hit send on the email about the hop – I know, right? And the questions for both the hop and the award seem really hard right now. So I’m gonna make up my own questions and nominate EVERYONE I KNOW.  Yes. If you are reading this, I have just nominated you for the Liebster award, you little awesome thing you.  Here are the questions:

1. I have a headache. I’m skipping this question.

2. Who do you miss right now? My dad. I just texted with him and I wish he was here. My grandpa, who passed away last year. My brother, who just moved farther away from me.

3. Who do you wish was in school right now?  Haha. Couple more weeks then blessed SILENCE for HOURS EVERY SINGLE DAY!

4. What’s your favorite video game?  All the God of War games and Balder’s Gate.  I might’ve spelled that wrong, but I have a headache.

5. What’s your most used excuse? I have a headache. Except don’t use that for sex because sex actually helps relieve headaches and I probably shouldn’t get into the how and why but I will tell you it has to do with blood flow. To your lady parts.

So, I’m calling that good! Thanks to Cassandra at The Next Delusion for inviting me to the hop, Jeff and Jill of Jeff and Jill Went Up the Hill for adding me to the hop after my email failure, and Tempest Rose of Nonsense and Shenanigans for the nomination.

 


So, I found this cheeto…

You guys. I found a hobby.  Holy shit.

Have you ever heard of eBay?

OH MY GOD, RIGHT?  IT’S LIKE A WONDERLAND!

Only my five favorites for you today, because I ain’t got time to blog, I’m shopping for…

Only 2 dollars, you guys!!!

Only 2 dollars, you guys!!!

 

Surely these speak for themselves.

Surely these speak for themselves.

New in box - that's important

New in box – that’s important

 

"Made in Scotland. He has horns. He has legs. 5 inches high.” So there’s that.

“Made in Scotland. He has horns. He has legs. 5 inches high.” So there’s that.

 

Okay, first, read the description. Now, what I’m really impressed with here, premedstudent1991, is the photography. The hairbrush with hair in it adds a certain something.

Okay, first, read the description. Now, what I’m really impressed with here, premedstudent1991, is the photography. The hairbrush with hair in it adds a certain something.

Happy shopping everyone!  And don’t bid against me!


10 Tips: How To Be A Person

say-what

I just realized that, according to my search terms, people are coming here for answers.  Answers to the important questions, like what to do about that invisible ball sweat when you’re cracked out.  Where to go for help if you’ve eaten glass.  When to go to the ER for your I.U.D.

I feel like it’s safe to say I’ve let those people down. 

I don’t have any answers — hell, I don’t even know what I should do most of the time.  But I do like to be helpful.

So I’ve composed a list of Things You Should Do If You Want To Be A Person.

1.  Don’t Chew Glass.  I feel like this should be mostly self-explanatory, but I understand that some people do actually eat things that were never intended to be ingested.  So don’t chew glass, guys.  It will hurt really bad and likely not taste that great.

2.  Don’t do meth.  If you have already done it when you found your way here, don’t do it anymore.  Meth will make your teeth fall out and your personal hygiene will go completely by the wayside.  Greasy hair and no teeth is not a good look for anyone.  Plus, you may have to deal with invisible ball sweat, and nobody wants that.

3.  Don’t trust monkeys.  They might look cute, but they are hairy deviants and I know what I’m talking about.

4.  Don’t teach your kids to talk.  They will never stop and half of what they say will be complaints.  The other half will be embarrassing shit said to strangers, like “My mom thinks it’s funny when people fart.”

5.  Don’t believe everything you see on Pinterest.  You might think that I just mess stuff up, but I’ve come to realize that there is an asshole sitting somewhere laughing at all of us attempting his impossibly perfect projects.  Fuck you, perfect asshole.  Beads were never intended to go in the oven and that cake was a goddamned travesty.

6.  Always watch what you’re doing with your head.  One incident with a pancake griddle and I promise you will never live it down.

7.  Carry mace and listen to police officers, but if a police officer tries to mace someone inside a building, run.  Mace is not selective and everybody will go down.

8.  Don’t judge yourself based on your cat’s opinion of you.  Cats can be very cruel, especially if they feel slighted or you’ve brought a new kitten home because you thought they might like a friend. *cries a little*

9.  Collect things, but not things like crabs or the clap.  Be selectively collective. (OH MY GOD THAT’S SO AWESOME!)

10.  Think of righteous sayings and then publicly pat yourself on the back.  *pats back* *nods.* *whispers “selectively collective.”*


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