Into the desert~

Escaping to the desert, feeling the warm dry breeze encircling me—whispers carried with the wind. A lone coyote cry lingers in the night air arousing me; deeply I inhale, feeling the ancestors of my past…

Their souls restless, yet comforting with their familiarity.

Tiptoeing along the crest of a fallen rock I am forced to stare deeply into the gorge beneath me. The deep darkness wants to reach up and grab my toes with skinny fingers, forcing me down.

Down

Down

Down

Down where the earth is warmed from bubbling lava, down to the mysterious darkness…

Down where I am safe from pointed words and stinging expectations. Down where the earth can swallow me whole and digest me with ease.

A persistent passing serpent rattles my mind out of the comatose state of doom.

Bending down I unleash the grasp of skinny strong fingers upon my shoeless feet.

Instinctively I grab a handful of earth and roll the shimmering softness around in the palm of my hand while slowly letting it slip between my fingers. Only to be carried carelessly away. I can’t help but to follow the earth as it dances with the wind before settling on a hill behind a boulder.

Free.

Reluctantly, yet willingly, I lay my head down against the cracked dry earth of the desert floor where I am greeted by a million stars of my ancestors past.

I am free.

Our first leg of this trip is almost over, Chris and I have traveled through nine states and I have accumulated about ten pounds of sweat in-between my boobs. Seriously, these southern state are HOT!

We have been on the road since Tuesday and it is now Saturday. We have only showered once because it's too HOT to shower. We have not eaten anything besides peanuts because it's TOO HOT to eat.

I'm sitting by a river right now in Alabama watching little kids jump into the water in their underwear and I feel like a pervert, but it's TOO HOT for me to get up and move.

After we pick up the kids from the airport we'll spend the next ten days doing really important stuff like water-skiing and white water rafting.
Last year my uncle let me fly his plane, I've already been informed that I am not invited to fly it again this year--but I will be the champion of the potato-gun-shooting competition...

Dear body,

We need to chat.

We have planned this whole road trip thing for a few months and for a few months I went without a period. Which was great besides the pregnancy scare.

Body, your timing stinks. It wasn't very fun to be granted my period while in a petrified forest in Arizona. It also wasn't very fun to sit in a car for a few hours with wadded up fast food napkins in my underwear before finding the nearest store. Which, by the way, ONLY sold pads-- pads which leaked.

Body, the dog was creeping me out when she licked her lips at me because apparently I smelled like a raw steak.

Body, I washed my shorts at a dirty gas station and they are now hanging out of the car window like an angry kite.

I undertand that things happen when they're supposed to, but it would be awesome if this travelers constipation thing would just give in. There's only so much I can blame on the dog.

Love me

Pint Sized Chatter

We had my cute as shit nieces here for the weekend, ages 1 and a half, 4 and 5. I was proud, my brother actually packed diapers this time, he's a real gem. We also had Chris' kids here as well, ages 5 and 7. However, my kids are with their dad for a week.

Nice timing huh?

Anyway, I was in the kitchen cleaning up smeared peanut butter off of the floor when my little nieces came trotting in with their dirty dresses and their hands on their hips.

The 5 year old said, "Um excuse me aunt Mariah, but that little boy showed us his privates."

Then the 4 year old said, "Yeah, it looked like a silly elephant trunk."

Then collectively they told me that they think boy privates are weird.

Good girls.

Am I the only one that feels like this?

I’m sorry… but what is going on with graduations??

This time of year drives me bonkers. I have overheard SO MANY conversations lately…

‘I’m on my way to my kid’s graduation’.
YOUR KID WHO IS IN PRESCHOOL!! Seriously how hard can it be to pass preschool?? You color, you play in the sand and you occasionally cook cookies.

Then I heard ON THE NEWS: ‘My son is graduating Kindergarten today’
PLEASE… Kindergarten is the best YEAR EVER!!! You play with clay, you get to go to recess and then color and maybe plant a pumpkin in the school’s garden. THERE IS NOTHING TO GRADUATE!

Any why are parents handing their kindergarten ‘graduates’ flowers??

And the parties… Oy!
Don’t even get me started on the parties; the parties are ALL for the parents so they can sit around and nibble on snacks while they ‘kiss up’ to the teacher and talk to the other parents about their summer plans and how wonderfully amazing their children are.

Makes me want to throw up.

Today I attended my son’s ‘graduation’ from middle school. Call me a bad mom, but I think all of this graduating stuff is OVER BOARD! It takes away from the more important accomplishments in life. Of course I attended his ‘graduation’ and snapped a few pictures of him up on stage, but inside I was thinking, ‘this is ridiculous’.

What do I and my kids have to look forward to?
We have been to 4 kindergarten graduations
2 middle school graduations and
3 elementary graduations
I’m tired of them, and they just keep on getting more and more out of control.

I’m afraid if these things don’t calm down a bit I’m going to be too burned out to attend my daughter’s high school graduation next year. I think I am going to boycott any graduation from now on, unless it’s from high school or college. Yep, that’s what I’m going to do… burn more bridges in my neighborhood--because I'm wild like that.

Besides, what ever happened to good old fashioned ice cream and pizza parties and then calling it a day…or maybe a year?

I Need Anti-Stress Drugs!!! Or weed...or both. Or maybe I should re-think my summer plans. Or jump off a cliff.

Our road trip keeps changing…

Chris and I are driving from Los Angeles to Atlanta, Georgia on highway 40…

We'll be going through Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Tennessee and into Atlanta where we will hopefully arrive in time to pick up the kids from the airport.

We’ll be traveling with the coolest dog ever, she'll be sporting a ‘Bad to the Bone’ Bandanna…

On the way home it’s a totally different story, because I feel like I need to see Graceland and become 'one' with the Colorado Rockies… and such.

On the way home we’ll be traveling with two love sick teenagers… through Georgia, Birmingham Alabama, Memphis Tennessee, Ft Smith (and little rock) Arkansas, Branson (and Joplin) Missouri, and then into Kansas.

Oy that’s a lot of states.

THEN we’re going to head into the Colorado Rockies on route 70 through Denver, Boulder, Rifle and Grand Junction…

Phew. I’m getting tired just writing this.

Lastly we will travel through Utah where we will spend some time exploring Zion National Park before we end in Mammoth for a few days.

I’m starting to stress. We don’t have reservations ANYWHERE along our route and we will be living out of tents and sleeping bags for the entire trip—and at the end of it all I will meet Chris’ family FOR THE FIRST TIME!!

I’m going to be like… “Hi, I’m Mariah… I don’t usually smell this bad”

Sweet.

ANYWAY… if any of you are along our route we’d love to meet up with you, if you don’t mind love sick teenagers, a shedding dog or stinky travelers. PLUS…if any of you have ideas of things we MUST see or do please let me know….

Can someone throw me a bone?

I’m still standing. Barely.

End of the school year crap is kicking my ass, last night I made my last school lunch of the year and then today Megan said, “Are you mad or something?” I shook my head no as I feverishly signed papers for next year—registrations for school, soccer, rock-climbing, and lacrosse. My hand was getting a cramp when Megan screamed at the top of her lungs, “MOM, did you hear me?”

“yeah yeah yeah…what did you say again?” I groaned as I arranged my vitamins for my trip and doled out money for teachers gifts.

“I SAID ARE YOU MAD OR SOMETHING?”

“Megan hold on a second” I muttered beneath clenched teeth as I attempted to assure Cody that YES I would iron his pants for his graduation—he asked me twenty times for fucks sake. I have a million things to do and ironing his pants is about number 367,256.00, so the sucker is going to have to get in line.

“MOM!!??!” Megan screamed AGAIN.

“WHAT MEGAN?” “What is it that you have to say that canNOT WAIT?” I hollered.

“Nothing, forget it” She whined and then SLAMMED HER BEDROOM DOOR. She is going to be a dream when PMS hits. Seriously, A DREAM!

So….. I will send my kids off to their dad’s house on Saturday after I have proudly watched my son graduate from middle school with honors and successfully gorged my face (and consumed a beer or two) at a celebratory BBQ.

THEN…. I need to hope that their father returns the kids to my mom’s house in time so that she can get them on the plane to Georgia.

I will already be on the road, so if anything goes haywire there is NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT IT!

I have to trust that their father will get them to my mom’s house on time and that she gets them on their flight in time and that I get to Georgia on time to pick them up from the airport. And, if I don’t they’ll be held in the airport kiddy jail until I get there.

I’m stressed.

THEN I realized that we have Chris’ kids here this weekend, which is fine, but it’s a lot easier when my kids are here… PLUS I HAVE A SHITLOAD OF STUFF TO DO!!! So the poor guys will be stuck here at home with Chris as I run a kabillion errands.

Back to Megan…

Later that night as I was tucking her in bed she was still sporting a pretty hefty attitude.

So I said, “Why are you so pissy?“ AND “WHY do you think I’m mad?”
She quietly replied “Because when I opened my lunch at school today all I had was three wilted celery sticks”

I stifled my laughter and said “Dude, it’s called creative-end-of-the-year-lunch-license AND it’s totally acceptable”

Dear Mr President

I'm composing a letter to the White House wherein I explain to the president that if I die of cervical cancer (because my crappy health insurance doesn't cover a freaking preventative pap smear) I am leaving my children and my bird in his care.

I'm definitely decorating the stationary with golden stars and puppy stickers and seriously debating adding glitter... but I suppose glitter could be considered a threat if sent to the White House.

Oh well...

If I get arrested send cupcakes.

Cupcakes or ganja brownies.

P.S. Will I get in trouble if I post the letter here?

Maybe I need a puppy or something

I’m not really sure if it’s a good thing or not, but I have somehow raised very independent and self supporting children. Amanda has been flying solo since she was five! When we lived in Texas she would pack her own little bag, pick out a sweet little dress and I would load her on the plane to visit my mom in California. AT FIVE!!!

At five all my children walked themselves to kindergarten and at seven they were all doing their own laundry—or at least capable of doing it.

At five, my son became a Cub Scout; he is almost an Eagle Scout now, which is the highest rank you can achieve in scouting.

At five Megan started competitive soccer.

Then there is Christie, being the youngest has made her physically strong and mentally sassy. She’s quick witted and a complete daredevil. She has also been asked (and sponsored) to rock-climb competitively.

How did this happen?

I’m not exactly sure I am happy about this. Of course, as a parent, I am proud of their independence, confidence and successes…

But where does that leave me?

I’m not needed to cook for them anymore. I’m not really needed for homework help or for cleaning up after them. I’m not needed for bandaging scraped knees or for wiping runny noses; they just wipe their noses on their sleeves and fix their cuts and scrapes with duct tape.

I feel completely un-needed. It stinks.

If I was to do this all over, I think I would have kept them dependent on me a little longer, because truthfully...I’d give anything to wipe away a salty tear or kiss a scraped up knee.

My fourteen year old son is sick today, and I’m taking advantage of his fever induced weakness.

He actually let me put a cool cloth on his forehead and asked me to make him some soup…

Maybe I’ll have him breathe all over the girls, so I can baby them as well —at least for a day or two...

I rule the world. Not

I love to run, I love the fact that when I run I cannot hold a single thought in my head for more than two seconds, I love how my red and white New Balance shoes sound against the pavement.

I run for the peace of it, I run for the exercise and for the moment of total aloneness. It’s just me, and my huffing and puffing as I run…just one more block. One more minute. One more mile.

One more brutal curb to go up and down—I swear to everything on this earth that the curbs kill me.

Usually I’m fine—I hop the curbs and continue on with my run. Yesterday, that was not the case.

Yesterday I made the ridiculous mistake of trying to keep up with an unknowing race participate.

I spotted him blocks ahead of me with his red bandana messily tied across his forehead like he was stuck in a bad 1980‘s MTV video.

I thought in my head I got this guy, this guy is toast.

I slowly crept up on him, keeping my huffing and puffing in check and I was on his heels in no time.

He was rocking out to some creepy music on his iPod, so he didn’t hear me and my New Balance shoes approach him. I was just about to pass him and proclaim myself the champion, but then the curb jumped out.

I didn’t time myself right and I was singing Eye of The Tiger when I tripped and landed on my nose.

Stupid curb.

The guy looked back at me with a startled expression on his sweaty face and continued on with his daily jog.

Idiot. Clearly he didn’t know we were racing for gold medals, prestige and cash.

Oh Frack, is it Sunday already?

*If you're not here regarding the purse giveaway, scroll down to read about my gynecologist appointment that never happened...

I used Random. Org to pick a winner for the Crystalyn Kae purse, I tried to figure out HOW to put the little widget on here showing that the winner was really chosen by Random, but I’m technically challenged, so you’ll just have to trust me.

The Random number chosen was 5!!

WeeeeHaaaaw….

Congratulations Tami
Contact me at manicmariah@gmail(dot)com so I can ship you that big ‘ole pretty purse.

I’m off to the beach to take a nap while pretending to watch my children surf.

Peace.

Whatever.

I took great pride in preparing myself for my gynecological appointment (that was WAY over due). I spent a little extra time in the shower making sure the nethers were clear of any cobwebs and I actually shaved my legs with shaving cream. Not that the Dr would care either way, but I’m vain and I wanted to look good. I wanted it to look good.

Plus, I don’t do Kegals for nothing. It’s nice to be acknowledged for the shape you are in down there, whether it’s from a Dr, a friend or your lover.

I happily checked in and filled out form after form; I truthfully answered the questionnaire regarding any previous drug use and whether or not mental illness ran in my family.

Seriously, what does mental illness have to do with a gynecological exam? Unless of course you are talking about your bat shit crazy aunt who actually pleased herself with a coke bottle and caused internal injuries. It’s kind of a hush hush topic in my family and is only talked about when my sister and I have clearly had too much to drink.

Anyways…

The nurse took me back and proceeding to weigh me. (115 pounds, I swear…. I’m not crossing my fingers at all). She then took my blood pressure and had me change into a cute little pink gown.

She then laid out all the stuff needed for the exam.

Since when have speculums become plastic? Plus ALL THAT LUBE…. I wondered exactly what the Dr. had in mind and I was once again pleased with myself for taking the extra time in the hygiene department.

I was ready.

Feet in stirrups.

iPod blaring.

When in walked the insurance lady who proceeded to explain that the private insurance that I am prostituting for does NOT HAVE A CONTRACT WITH THEIR LAB COMPANY!!! And in fact the ONLY lab company that I can use with my insurance is based in NEW YORK! I live in California.

*boing*

I cried.

This is the second time in as many weeks that I have had a meltdown over medical / dental issues and it is also the second time (in as many weeks ) that I have turned to greasy tacos to dull my emotional pain.

Chris is a gem and told me I look cute when I cry, I’m thinking he just wants to get lucky and have me drop to my knees …but whatever, a compliment is a compliment right?

The thing that kills me is that I am basically scraping by and paying this private insurance FOR NOTHING (obviously) and some low life loser who is living off of the state can walk right in and get their vagina overhauled and have their lab work done… but I CAN’T!

That makes about as much sense as a boat load of drunken sailors with nail guns.

Giant gargoyles and make-up sex

Chris and I have been planning a cross country trip. We are driving from our house here in Los Angeles ALL THE WAY TO GEORGIA, where we will meet up with my family and celebrate our hill-bille heritage and shoot potatoes at boaters across the lake… as we do each year. Last year Megan crashed the Jet ski into the dock and I flew an airplane and rafted down the Tennessee river with a cooler of beer. Good times.

Amanda and her boyfriend will join us on the way home…there is so much wrong with this scenario--(like are all four of us going to share a hotel room or do they get their own?) I don’t even know where to start, so I won’t.

Did I mention that we are bringing the dog? Yea, we are, because the rest of my lunatic family is bringing their dogs and we are having some weird dock-dog-jumping competition or something like that.

I bought my dog a red bandanna that says ‘bad to the bone’ on it, so I’m pretty sure she’ll win.

I have a matching bandanna that I intend to wear for the entire road trip, especially when we stop in small hick towns and line dance with the locals. Amanda will be mortified.

Did I mention that we are leaving in TEN DAYS!??!

I’m stressed.

The planning is killing me.

So yesterday, Chris and I had this fight about money. It wasn’t really a fight, it was more of an argument, but it warranted make-up sex. We hardly ever fight, so we took advantage of the small argument and spent some horizontal time together.

(I have to go to the gynecologist tomorrow, but that’s a totally different story.)

ANYWAYS….

So I had this dream last night…

Chris went out to the store to buy a few things for our trip, and he returned with a giant cement gargoyle. A big one, a really big one, and it was scary looking, it had pointy teeth and beady, creepy eyes…

Seriously, it was creepy, I’m fine with gargoyles, but this one was really really spooky.

Back to my dream. So I asked how much money the gargoyle cost and Chris was all oh…only $600 while he sat on the couch and rubbed his willie through his old Levis.

I love it when he wears those old Levis…

$600! I screamed and punched him with everything I had, and then I went off. How the fuck can you spend $600 on a creepy gargoyle when we can barely pay our bills? And I punched him again and I think I kicked him in the penis.

He just sat there in his Levis, still rubbing his willie and told me I was over-reacting.

I love those Levis on him.

Over-reacting? I wasn’t over-reacting; it was $600 on a GARGOYLE!! WITH FANGS!!

Then I jumped him on the couch and freed his willie from the Levis.

Apparently some of these things really happened… this morning Chris said I was punching and kicking him all night and screaming like a lunatic.

I asked Chris if owed a pair of old Levis, he looked at me weird and shook his head.

Hmm, I think I need to get to the Levi store… immediately.

PSA

Yeah...

Make-up sex really is all that.

Stepping

Chris’ divorce has been a roller coaster of emotions, however, it is not my story to tell and I realize that now. As with every divorce there is always his story, her story and the truth. It’s never black and white; divorce carries a multitude of colors, so I won’t discuss their divorce here, as it has nothing to do with me.

Being a stepparent to Chris’ kids does involve me though and it involves my children, and truthfully, it's hard. When Chris’ kids are here my children make it a point to spend time with them and make sure that they feel welcome in our house. As I have said before, Amanda gladly gives up her bed so that Chris’ kids can sleep closer to our room. My children have taken the role of siblings to Chris’ kids eloquently and proudly.

My great grandma raised 9 children, some of them were step children and some of them were ‘stray’ neighborhood children. She told the children that the only steps in the house were the ones that lead upstairs. I have used this same saying with my kids and with Chris’ kids—they’re all part of this family unit…there aren’t any ‘steps’. It has worked well, in helping them all realize that they are all equal in this house.

Here’s the pooper…

We were at the park over the weekend having a picnic and letting the kids run rampant while I kicked Chris’ rear end in Scrabble. Chris’ son fell into the duck pond, and when I say fell I mean jumped. Then the other son did the same, and of course so did my daughter.

That duck pond water is pretty nasty…

Anyway…after we dropped them off, Chris got an Email from his Ex asking about what happened at the park. I get this, I’m a mom, ‘nuff said.

The part that makes my skin crawl is that the older son said something completely different than what really happened. He told his mom that the younger son fell into a deep part of the pond and bumped his head on a rock and that Christie, my daughter, had to pull him out.

WTF?

A) There is no deep end of the pond.
B) He didn’t bump his head on a rock.
C) He’s FIVE! Not TWO! He knows how to swim, so NO…we were NOT hovering over his every move.

He came running up to where we sat on our quilt and Chris cuddled him appropriately and sent him off to play again. He was fine… IS fine.

I don’t understand if the older son is trying to make problems and get his mom worked up by embellishing the truth, which would cause visitation issues—that scenario doesn't make any sense though, because he loves coming over here.

Maybe it’s just the mom over reacting to a simple outing at the park, who knows.

Step parenting is hard, trying to appease the birth parents wishes and yet impose your own set of rules...it gets complicated. Poor Chris' kids saw me spin my head around and spit green right before I sent them all to their rooms for jumping on the couch.

I don't think step parents get enough props. I’m not talking about me, because I only step parent twice a month. I’m talking about the ones that do it day in and day out, like Chris does to my hooligans. Those are the good ones.


P.S. My purse give away is here.

14 year old gets accosted in the kitchen

I was having a shit-tastic day, so starting dinner was pretty much doomed from the beginning.

After burning my hand and blowing a fuse I attempted to open a bag of shredded cheese; I got easily frustrated so I took a knife to it and completely tore open the bag and cheese went flying. Everywhere.

I cussed out loud at the cheese mess just as my son walked in, he attempted to do a quick spin on his heels and exit the kitchen when Amanda came bombarding in wearing an interesting little get up which resembled Pocahontas.

Amanda: Cody you’re such an idiot, why did you spill the cheese everywhere?

Cody: I didn’t, mom did it.

Amanda: You’re such a liar…(and then) OH MY GOD…YOU SHAVE YOUR MOUSTACHE?

Cody: NO!

Amanda: (screaming ) MEGAN, CHRISTIE, COME HERE!!! CODY SHAVES HIS MOUSTACHE!!!

Megan and Christie came skipping into the kitchen where Amanda had Cody pinned to the ground so she could properly inspect the growth on his upper lip.

Amanda: Hey Cody have you ever kissed a girl?

Megan: Yea, he kissed Raven.

Christie: And Melanie.

Cody: No I didn’t.

Cody attempted to get out of Amanda’s leg lock, but Amanda enlisted Megan and Christie’s help. There wasn’t anything Cody could do except for fart. Which he did. Loud and proud. Repeatedly.

Cheese was still everywhere.

The kids were still wrestling each other on the dirty kitchen floor and the dogs and bird wandered in to see what all the commotion was about. I was on the floor on the verge of crying, but I was laughing hysterically when our tenants from England walked in to borrow something. They took a quick look at the mayhem that was taking place in the kitchen and promptly said that they would come back later.

Nice.

I’m sure we painted a lovely little picture of what Americans do at dinner time.

I'm so proud.

P.S. The designer purse giveaway is here

I'm too immature to handle a big purse, so I'm giving it away! Plus... I need ideas from YOU!

It has come to my attention that I am VERY immature; sure I knew I was a little ‘off’ with my pranks against the kids and all of the neighboring children. I’m also a teeny tiny bit immature in the grocery store when I casually slip lubricating gel and condoms into old couple’s grocery carts and watch around the corner as they look at each other with quizzical looks at the checkout.

This past week two things happened that confirmed my immaturity.

1) When I was at the bank (withdrawing ones and fives to bribe my children to silence over the weekend) I purposely wrote ‘TITTIES’ on a piece of scrap paper and left it on the counter for the next client to see.

2) I attempted to use a purse, an oversized purse. I used it for approximately five hours and accumulated tons of crap.

Observe:



This is what happens when a disorganized, chaotic, immature, kleptomaniac attempts to use a cute purse.

So I thought, hey…it’s Friday why not give the cute purse away, because I’m sure plenty of you can handle using such a cute big purse. Clearly I am not quite ready to handle such a big purse.

Here’s the deal, it’s a Crystalyn Kae purse(click here for details) which sells for $149.00. Don’t worry, I didn’t waste the money on it, it was given to me. It was only used by me for approximately five hours in which time I went to the dentist and ran a few errands. There are absolutely no spots or anything on it.




It’s practically brand new, actually I could just put the tag back on it and say it’s new, but that would be lying.

I’m a kleptomaniac, but not a liar… plus it smells like my watermelon gum. Just a little.

Anyway, I'm running out of good prank ideas...so...

To enter: Leave me a comment on how to get even with my teenage daughter after she dared me to drink lemon water with cayenne pepper, which left me crying on the toilet (see previous post).

Or...

Leave me a comment with prank ideas for Megan (12) to play on Cody (14), because he has been a real jerk to her.

Or...

Just kidding... those are your only options to win this Crystalyn Kae purse.

Enter as many times as you want, the winner will be randomly chosen.

Contest will run through Friday, June 12th.

I need itching powder, STAT!

Words of advice:

When your teenage daughter hands you a glass of lemon water with cayenne pepper in it and tells you to drink it because it's good for you....

DON'T DO IT!!!

It didn't taste too bad and I may have had 7- 10 glasses of it throughout the day. Which was all good and fine, until I was hit with SEVERE stomach cramps.

I then ran to the bathroom and stayed there for a VERY LONG time, suffering from extreme heat as the cayenne pepper made its way through my body.

Holy fuck cripes I'm going to kill my daughter, and get even...very even.

Payback is a bitch my dear.

Close Call

Reasons I love Twitter.

You can vent your frustrations.
9:06 PM



And within minutes genuine and concerned responses come in.




It really made me feel better to know that people were thinking of me during my time of sorrow and frustration.

Naturaly I responded (at 6:39 in the morning) letting them know that I survived, because there are certain things that should not be left hanging, and losing a vibrating device is a very serious issue.



Within six minutes, Twenty Four responded saying: 'Thank Gawd'. Seems she was up all night worrying about me and my lost device. Bless her heart.




Seriously, thanks for your honest concern, things are good now.

@%@$!%?^!!!

I had a breakdown today, a total breakdown…in the dentist’s office.

I cried like a baby when he told me what my dental needs would cost. I was a blubbering crying mess, letting my tears drip from my eyes with such force that they actually splashed onto the waist high counter that I stood at, creating puddles. Cute huh?

The nice lady asked me if I wanted a Kleenex as I whimpered… snot running freely. Salty tears, smudged make-up and a runny nose. Total sexiness right there.

I excused myself to the restroom in hopes of calming myself down, but it just got worse… I looked at myself in the mirror and I cried even more.

Soon I was slumped down in the corner of the bathroom with my head resting on my bent knees while my hands crumpled up the salty wet Kleenex. I am a barrel of laughs.

I managed to get myself up off of the bathroom floor and made my way back to the lobby where I embarrassingly paid for my visit and left.

I then walked down the street and cried to Chris on the phone about having to sell one of the kids to pay for my dental work.

Then I did hard core drugs met Chris for greasy tacos to ease my pain.

Hey Karma Gods…wanna throw me a bone?? I didn’t mean to break- in to that restaurant when I was thirteen (which set off the silent alarm that called the police...who showed up with POINTED GUNS in the middle of the night) and I didn’t mean to pee on my brother all those times (fine, maybe I meant to, but he deserved it ...most of the time).

Is it happy hour yet?

Teenagers...

Dear Amanda,

Snuggies are great for the outdoors...







For cuddling up with a good book and to keep you warm when you do research on your computer. That is what you do on the computer all day, isn't it?




They are not to be used as a cover up so you and kissy face can grope each other…

IN THE LIVING ROOM!!!

ON THE COUCH!!!

With

YOUR TWELVE YEAR OLD SISTER IN THE ROOM!!

Got it?

Love Mom