Category Archives: random bullshit

Because Good Decisions Are My Specialty

Well, the new perspective lasted for about two days.  Friday I was feeling especially useless, so of course I got into some things I shouldn’t have, and now I feel like microwaved death.

Things I Accomplished on Friday, otherwise known as Didn’t I Used to be Smarter Than This?

  • Drank 3 cups of coffee and topped it off with an extra-strength 5-hour energy drink.  I was shaking so badly that when my neighbor came over, she used an app on her phone to check my heart rate.  Also, I accused her of taking pictures of my feet without asking.  I was just a little wound up.  I’m not sure she’ll ever come back.

 

Bing Images

Bing Images

                                                                                   

  • Attempted to weed around my rose bush.  Forgot that roses have thorns.  (Of course I know that every rose has its thorn.  Just like every night has its dawn.)

 

  • Took a bath to calm down and meditate, but took a non-fiction medical textbook and highlighter with me.  Did not bathe, meditate, or relax, but did drop blue highlighter in bath water.  A blue tint is not a good look for me.

 

mysmurfvillage.com

mysmurfvillage.com

  • Cleaned off the porch and picked up the yard.  This was only stupid because I had plans Saturday and I was supposed to be taking it easy.  Husband:  I thought I specifically told you not to do that.  Me:  See what happens?

 

  • Husband called and asked me a question.  I responded with, “What day is it?”  He said, “Friday, why?”  Me: “I have no idea.   But thanks.”  From now on, I’m just going to answer all questions with “what day is it” because it confuses people while making me briefly sound as if I have a plan and/or know the answer to their question.

 

  • Told my oldest child that he could dye his hair black and build a meth lab in his room.  These people around here are always giving me a hard time, and one of the things they say is that I “stifle their creativity.”  This is usually said after I’ve vetoed the purchase of a mobile waffle wagon or asked someone to stop singing and playing guitar at 3 am.  So when he said he was going to build a lab in his room (thank you, Walter White) I said, “Well, you do need to make some money.”  I maybe should’ve just asked what day it was.  Thing 3:  You really need to work on your parenting skills.  Maybe take a class…something.

 

Since I obviously know all about making good decisions, parenting, and general success at life, this week I am going to:

  1. Attempt to finish a blog post that I’ve been putting off and off and off.  (Yes, Aussa, that one.)
  2. Write the 17 articles that I should have started working on last week.
  3.  Attend one parent teacher conference.
  4.  Try to survive a field trip to a drive-through safari with approximately 20 children under five years old.

I also intend to:

  1. Shower at least three times twice.  (No need to go overboard here.)
  2. Wear clothes that match when I leave the house.
  3. Pet my cat and hopefully a kangaroo.
  4. Drink more water and zero energy drinks.
  5. Sit on my porch.
  6. Color.

I’m all about attainable goals these days and, I hate to brag, but I’m pretty sure I can do at least 3 of those things.

 

 

 


Deep Thoughts, Brought to You by the Easter Bunny

Have you ever heard of Behavioral Therapy?  Well, in a nutshell, it’s supposed to teach you to think happier so you will be happier.

However, I am an asshole, and as such, I usually think not-nice comments in my head when people suggest that I should “think happy thoughts.”

But.

source:  sodahead.com

source: sodahead.com

I just had something of a breakthrough here, sitting on my couch in my second day of the same pajamas, eating leftover Easter candy, and hurting so badly that I curse at myself when the phone rings or I have to pee because then I have to hobble around and that hurts even worse than typing, which is really quite painful since my hands, wrists, elbows, and shoulders are all screaming.

Makes me wonder why I’ve spent so much money on therapy, if I can just come up with this shit on my own and not have to shower or drive.  Anyway, I presume you are on the edge of your seat?  Dying to know what I’ve discovered?

Okay, okay, calm down.

I was sitting here, as mentioned above, and I was feeling really, really shitty about not getting anything accomplished today.  By that I mean I’ve done a load of laundry and made a couple business calls and that’s it.  Oh, and I closed the dishwasher so the kitchen would look cleaner.

So I was basically giving myself a silent talking to and just, you know, berating myself because I’m not able to do all the things that I could do before.  I was thinking about all the time that is just gone, disappeared, because of the chronic migraines.  All the time that I will never get back, spent recovering from an allergic reaction or a migraine or from a trip to the store.  And I was thinking about all the time lost, spent just staring at the wall because I was so depressed that doing anything but that was just impossible.  And about all the time I’ve wasted crying, and how feeling so bad today (physically) makes me want to cry more because it makes me feel worthless and like a failure when I’m not able, either physically or mentally, to do what I’ve decided needs to be done.

Then today I thought, hey, at least I’m not in bed with a migraine.  If I had a migraine right now, or an allergic reaction, I’d be throwing up and maybe even have to go to the emergency room.  I wouldn’t be able to talk to the kids when they get home, or see my husband, or write anything, or watch t.v. or anything except throw up, try to breathe, hold my head, and cry.

So, really, today is not so bad.  I mean, I’m still in a lot of pain and I’m not going to get any housework done, make dinner, or do anything that means I have to get out of this heated chair, but…at least I’m able to be in this heated chair.  My kids can come snuggle me here and their voices won’t make my head explode.  I’m writing this, and although it’s no masterpiece, I’m pretty sure I’m making sentences, which is more than I’m capable of some days.

So that was my breakthrough.  On days like today when I’m feeling bad and feeling guilty for feeling bad and for what I’m not doing, maybe I should instead think about what I can do.

This is weird and I kind of feel like smacking myself.  I think I just gave myself permission to relax.  Or, maybe I’m high on sugar and chocolate.  I don’t know, and I don’t know how long this strange phenomenon is going to last, but I am glad it’s here for now.


I Won’t Run From a Six-Year-Old. (Cause they are fast as hell.)

Confession time:  Little kids freak me out.

Not my own kids!  My kids are not freaky at all.  But scary kids, like in movies?  I can’t stand them.  I don’t know why, but a creepy little person is 100 times scarier to me than a zombie, a serial killer, a ghost, or even a snake.

It might be the whole can’t-defend-yourself-because-you-don’t-want-to-hurt-a-kid thing.  I’m not sure.  (Also, I could totally kick a kid’s ass if I had to.  Don’t test me.)

Anyway, it’s rainy and yucky outside and some little shits have been prank calling me all day.

I’ve tried to laugh it off.  Ha ha!  Little bastards.

Me:  Hello?

Them:  What do you call a scary dream about a horse?

Me:  *confused*  What?

Them:  A NIGHTMARE!  HAhahahaha, heehehehehe, hahahaha.  (Maniacal child laughter.  There had to be at least 10 of them.)

Me:  *still a bit confused*  WHAT??

Them:  *Click.*

Me:  *shakes head*  Ha, silly kids, just having fun, ha ha ha.

*staring at phone*  OH MY GOD THEY SAID NIGHTMARE. 

*still staring at phone*  Don’t be silly, just kids, ha-ha. 

 *looking for weapon*  ARE THE DOORS LOCKED?  OH, SHIT.  I hate kids.*

A little later…

*ring, ring*

Me:  H…hello?

THEM:  *In a freakishly terrifying and childish voice*  Can I sing you a song?

Me:  What?  No.  NO.  Who. Is. This?!

Them:  We just want to make your day!  Wanna hear a song?

Me:  *CLICK*

So there you have it.  I have barricaded us in the house and no one is allowed to answer the phone.  The only way this could get worse is if they called and asked if I was in the house alone.  WHICH I’M NOT.

And now I’ve scared myself.  Awesome.


Life is Mean and My Cat is a Vampire. Apparently.

Lately things have been yucky and stinky and vomity (this is my blog and I say vomity is a word) and snowy and for fuck’s sake I can’t take it anymore!

Okay, that’s probably an exaggeration.  The ‘can’t take it anymore part’ anyway, because really, my options are limited.

Let me fill you in.  So, of course there was the unfortunate gynecological incident.  Then we all got this terrible, no good stomach flu that almost killed us.  I’m exaggerating again.   No one was near death.  But it was gross.  Very, very disgusting.

Then we all got colds.  Bad ones.  With snot.  Lots of it.  Then we got the stomach virus AGAIN.

During these bouts of sickness I was, of course, having migraines because as you all know, my body hates me.

So, now we are finally, finally all feeling at least half-human and all the things I haven’t accomplished in the past month have grown into this gigantic pile of Things Stephanie Has Fucked Up and I’m really afraid it’s going to topple and bury me beneath it.

Now I’m going to leave you with a random sampling of Shit My Family Says to Me and hopefully I’ll be more coherent and less whiny next week.

***********************************************************

Thing 3:  The cat has a hole in her butt.  I just saw it.

Husband:  Uh…

Me:  Um…

Thing 3:  Don’t worry, I didn’t put anything in it.

grumpy cat no

*************************************************************************

Thing 2:  (Loudly, at dinner with extended family) I don’t even know why we celebrate Easter.

Me:  *puts head in hands*  Oh.  Dear.  God.

*shocked silence*

Thing 2:  *Very quietly*  I mean, I know why it’s a holiday, Jesus and stuff, but I just don’t get the rabbit.

Who does, really?

Who does, really?

**********************************************************************

Me:  Don’t be ridiculous, I’m awesome.

Thing 1:  Yes.  If by “awesome” you mean hard to love.

************************************************************************

Husband:  I’m not here to judge.

Me:  *reflects silently*  I think I am.

Husband:  Oh, I know.  I think you’re judging for the both of us.

Me:  Haha!  Right?  I’ll handle this, don’t worry.

Husband:  You should tell people that.  Say “I’m judging for two.” and rub your belly.  Then when they say, “Oh, are you expecting?” you can say, “Yeah, I’m expecting you to fuck up.”

*******************************************************

Thing 1 to Husband:  How did we wind up with this version?  We need an upgrade.

Me:  *Sputters*  What?! You’re think you can just trade me in for a new model?

Husband:  Mom two-point-whoa.

*Both nod.*

***************************************************************

Thing 3:  Mom!  Momma!  Leeloo is a vampire!

Me:  Leeloo is not a vampire.  Leeloo is a cat.

Thing 3:  Then why does she have pointy teeth and sneak around at night?

Me:  …

Thing 3:  *Triumphant*  Because she’s a vampire.


And This Is Why I’m A Cat Person

I’ve been trying to come up with a delicate way to introduce this topic, but I have come to the conclusion that there just isn’t one.

So.

I once suffered attempted ear-rape by two large Doberman Pinschers.  Simultaneously.

There.  I said it.  My name is Stephanie and I am scared of large dogs, specifically ones who look like they might try to hump my face.

Like this, only two, and on my face.

Like this, only two, and on my face.

I got myself into this unfortunate situation by going to a party with a couple of girlfriends.  It was a friend-of-a-friend kind of thing, and I only knew about four people there.  So, since we all know how great I am at chatting up strangers, I had too many a few drinks.

At one point during the night we were all gathered in the living room.  I was sitting on the floor towards the front of the room, just minding my own business, when I felt a weight on my right shoulder.  I was turning my head to investigate when I felt pressure on my left shoulder.

That’s right.  Whichever way I turned, all I could see was furiously pumping Doberman crotch.

I couldn't see their faces, but I suspect they looked just like this.

I couldn’t see their faces, but I suspect they looked just like this.

I remember screaming and trying to scramble awkwardly away, but they were pretty heavy, and there was the added obstacle of trying desperately not to be touched by a dog penis.

I also remember a LOT of laughter.  You’re welcome, assholes.

The dogs’ owner finally got the beasts contained, but it was too late.  I was scarred for life.  To this day I try to keep away from large dogs, especially males.  Apparently, my animal magnetism is just out of this world.

Please, share your story of humiliation at the hands (ha) of man’s best friend.  Surely we’ve all been leg-humped a time or three.  What else have these furry, four-legged perverts been up to that I should watch out for?