Miscellaneous Doo-Dads and Such...

I've been trying to blog for several days... but unfortunately each blog train would derail. I am lacking the ability to stay on topic. At the same time I need to blog... call it blog back-up if you will. So in light of this... here's what I've come up with.... if you continue to read you shall be deluged with random crap  including but not limited to, the weather, cats, chick-fil-a, bearded goats and free-range pigs, the ass-farm next door, and God knows what else.

I took the kids to Chick-Fil-a tonight and it was delicious. Haters gonna hate and owners gonna make- money that is. The sammich was nom the fries were good. The service was good. I did not go to make a statement, I went because it was delicious. And that is that. Politics and crap like that can kiss my proverbial ass. I have always felt apathetic towards politics and politicians and the like. Too many two-faced, closed-minded, back-stabbing people who seem to need hyphenated adjectives to describe them all rolled in to the mix. Even with my husband in and out of the military... still I am apathetic. Basically they all piss me off and this year I find myself less apathetic and more... generally pissed off. Wait, that was sort of redundant. Whatever. At least I admit my redundancy.
Whatever... moving on... while on our way out to the infamous chicken place we drove past our 'neighbor's' house. I use the term neighbor loosely. We live in the country... neighbors are few and far between although I do live next to the ass-farm- hey perhaps they breed politicians there... just a thought. No, no politicians, just donkeys and cows and that damn rooster that thinks it's cool to cock his doodle do at 2 in the morning. wtfreak. Anyway- Where was I? Oh yea... so we were driving down our little podunk country road and I had to slow down because... wth is in the 'rednecks' front yard?? I suppose I should preface this. See- their yard is dotted with crap, random sheds and outbuildings, a dude living in a travel trailer in their side yard, tires, furniture, buckets, boxes, ... well really the list is endless. And don't get me started on their immediate next door neighbor. We've concluded that this woman is attempting to talk to aliens by placing random crap in her yard and changing her display every few days... damn. I wasn't gonna go there... but there it was. Back to the rednecks though. A few months back we noticed the free-range chickens clucking through the yard. And a little while after that the pigs showed up. The pigs where in a pen... with a sign out front that read... pigs for sale. Ok. Cool. I like bacon. Whatever. This place is not a farm... it is a house with maybe a half an acre attached to it. But here's these pigs for sale. Cool. And then one day the pigs where chillin in the front yard next to the 35 mph speed limit sign chewing on the grass and being all like snort and stuff. okayyyy. We've moved from free-range chickens, to free-range hogs, and then tonight. Well tonight I hit the brakes, because what I saw warranted a look-see. A bearded goat with horns.

kinda like this with less water and more mange

There he was, chewing on some grass right next to the road, and I was like what the hell? What the what? Like, couldn't he just walk off and head butt something or someone? Couldn't he get the crazy neighbor's plastic helicopter that she duct-taped to the fence post stuck in his horns. Yea... she did that. A repeat for her really. I liked the rotary phone duct-taped to the hood of her truck soo much better. And yes, it's her. We've seen her out there doing it. Anyway- highlight of my day right there. You take what you can get when your social life has been reduced to visits with your x and his wife while swapping kids.
But this is really my own fault... and I know this. I ooze awkwardness. The other day I posted a lil blurb about Annie Walker from 'Bridesmaids'on my fb page. I do so love her and that movie, because I really felt like- oh my gosh- it's me. Even though Kristen Wigg is much younger and skinnier than me, and the character obviously was not married and didn't have kids. But the awkwardness- the basis of her personality. The whole like- wth am I doing? Lord, I am such a dork. Social gatherings lead me to think a lot of crap to myself like that- like why the hell did I say (fill in the blank)? and why the hell I am wearing these jeans because my muffin-top is hanging out and everyone else's boobs look better than mine, and wow, I'll bet she spends hours on her hair cuz it looks so nice. I feel like a boob. Why am I the tallest person here? Do I have food in my teeth? Did I just drop the f-bomb inappropriately? omgosh... did anyone just see me trip over my own feet? gahh... my palms are sweating. Why must they sweat? Why is that person looking at me like that? Stop judging me okay?... because I am way too busy judging myself.
And speaking of judging... I want to bitch about cat people. I'm not setting out to offend, and if you're a cat person you may want to stop reading here and now. But dammit man. I have a cat. She goes outside and comes in at her leisure. She eats mice and voles and moles and rips the legs off lizards and maims snakes. That's alright. If she drops dead tomorrow, I will find another cat on craigslist or on the side of the road or whatever. Sure we'll miss her, but ya know, they're kind of a dime a dozen. They multiply faster than rabbits. I just read a post on fb today... something to the effect (or affect- I never get that right) of please donate money to me to help pay for my 16 year old cats vet bills. Hello, what? The damn thing is 16, why in the name of Sylvester and Tweety are you going into debt for it? Put it to sleep. Put it out of it's misery. I'm sorry, I really don't understand this. A dog, maybe. But a cat?? Would you also like bereavement leave from work when it does finally kick the bucket. Because it will, you are just prolonging the inevitable. I just wanted to get that off my chest. Didn't make my chest much lighter. Damn boobs.
My wine cup is empty... moving on... Cheers!

Some shtick or some Shtick... or some blog about blogging....

Story of my life....

It is about time for something funny, yes? The big girl panties are firmly in place, and my boot straps have been yanked... theoretically anyway. I can't wait for fall and the actual wearing of boots. Then I can quit painting my toenails (and shaving my legs ha). I am really trying to have a good day. I am playing happy music and trying to get some stuff done around here and making lists for this weekend's tax-free school shopping adventure. That should be fun. Or not. Probably not, but I can try to be positive, for once. It won't kill me, I hope.

So let's talk about 'Shtick'.


No, not that kind of shtick.



Shtick, shtick. More like this:

Some Benny Hill

or some Mr. Bean....

Or even this....

Or how bout this?

Less stick-ish and more Mr. Bean like. More gimmicky less woodsy. You get the point. The blogosphere is full of shtick. I read a lot of blogs with shtick. I enjoy it. And I wonder if I should employ it. But then, that's kinda not my style. I'm not spilling my guts into this computer for world-wide fame and fortune. I'm not looking for ad deals. I did make a facebook page... I'm not entirely sure why I did that. But I did. There are only a handful of folks actually reading my rants. So I don't think I shall bother with shtick. I can't draw my own pics anyway, and I'm not madly in love with a movie star... although I might be in love with John Mayer, but my husband is aware of this and he's okay with it. Besides, shtick seems to require a long-term commitment and some consistency and I frankly I don't have time for either. Some days I'm up and humorous, and some days I think the world sucks and my glass is completely empty (screw the half-empty bit). Some days I will complain about my kids and some days I will not. This is my life in an online diary, and I am choosing to share it because... because why? I guess that's the real point here. Why am I writing a blog and wanting other people to read it? People that I do not know and will never meet. I thought about this for a while and I have come to this conclusion. I'm not a people person. I'm socially awkward and incredibly neurotic and I don't get out much. And I'm lonely. If I can tap out my thoughts into this blog and someone reads them and they're all- hey I know how you feel- and they tell me- heyyy I know how you feel- then I've made some kind of connection with someone else. It makes me feel a tad bit less reclusive, a little less lonely, a little more in touch with reality. And we all need a dose of reality, don't we? Some folks need a dose of reality... with a bat... to the head. Especially some of those real housewives of fancypants land. Really? They're real? I think their bodies have more plastic in them than my kids little people zoo set. That's not real. You want real? Read my blog. Because I am real, and these are my real thoughts and feelings, and I have real boobs too. Just felt like pointing that out. So, thanks for stopping by, and I shall leave you with this....

Cuz I blogged about blogging...

Let me Practice my Happy Face...

Today was long. One of those long days full of temper tantrums and time-outs and tears, and uneaten meals, and fighting with tiny midgets. You know the ones. If you have kids you know. It was long, and tiring, and a bit painful, emotionally. I woke up late after only a few hours of sleep and many hours of tossing and turning. The twins were already awake. What time they woke up, I do not know. The boys are thankfully at their dad's, a sometimes good side-effect of divorce. I am thankful that I did not have to deal with their petty bickering over what cartoon we should all watch. I seriously need a play room. We attempted to have one in the unfinished basement, but for whatever reason the boys insist on playing WWE in the living room and Legos in their too tiny shared bedroom. Anyway... needless to say... there was no shower today for me. I felt like I couldn't keep up. No amount of coffee seemed to suffice. Mini-man was full throttle, and the Princess seemed to be fairly oozing prissiness today. This meant a lot of fighting. It also meant time-outs... which means dragging a child up the stairs and then bringing them back down. I got my workout whether I wanted it or not.

I almost feel like I am suffocating tonight. Suffocating by my own hand holding me down. Granted I am a self-proclaimed pessimist to the nth degree... but the negative thoughts are bearing down on me with such force I feel like I can't shake them. I worry how my negativity will effect my mini-monsters. Will it bring them down into the depression that I fight every day. And I do fight it. I have for many years. When I was in my late teens it started, and through the loss of my first pregnancy, and the emotional abuse of my first husband, and my divorce, and even when I fell in love with my amazing husband... always... I have fought this demon. I have been on and off anti-depressants for a long time. Some worked, some didn't. Sometimes I thought I didn't need them because life was good and I should be happy. Apparently I was wrong. I need them. I take them every morning with my breakfast like a good girl. And still the demon lurks... waiting to pull me under. Today the demon was almost tangible. I can feel it's breath on my neck. I can feel it's arms reaching out towards me. But I'm pushing back desperately. I'm pushing back because my kids need me and I can't succumb to the vegetative state that demon wants to put me in. So suck it demon face. I'm about to punch it in the throat and pull up my big girl panties and put on my combat boots cuz it's on like donkey kong up in here and I am tired of feeling sorry for myself all. the. dang. time. Tomorrow will be a better day... one can hope anyway...

And now the storm is acomin... and we all know I have an unnatural fear of storms... so I shall bid you adieu and get the hell off this pc before the lightening comes thru the socket in the wall and into the computer to electrocute me to death. Nighty night folks!

The earthquake story.....

Yea, I don't know why, but I thought I would share with you.... 'The Earthquake Story'. If you are reading this and you live on the west coast and are used to earthquakes, feel free to laugh at this. I myself had never felt one, in my LIFE. Did I mention we had an aftershock last night? Yea, that was cool. And now if you are a stalker I'm sure you've figured out where I live. I will hurt you. Just sayin LOL

How to send a neurotic paranoid pessimist into a complete panic??

Simple... add an earthquake and sprinkle with hurricane possibilties all while the husband is on the other side of the world. Today has been rough. Everyone has their own stories on this day. Their own worries, thoughts, etc. I don't mean to come off whiney... and I don't want to bore you with my... whining. But wow... yea... panic was not even the word for the feeling that I had today. Living only maybe 20 miles (as the crow flies) from the epicenter of today's insane earthquake and being completely alone with 2 small children in the house asleep... panic is not the world at all. I am not a west-coaster. I know nothing about this ground-shaking business. It startled me. At first I thought perhaps I had something off-kilter in the washing machine... then realized there was nothing in the washing machine. The rumbling got louder. The dog cried and howled and ran to the door. Things fell off the walls... There was this loud bang in the midst of the rumbling... I jumped up and ran... I ran up the stairs and with some herculian strength I did not know I possessed I plucked the twins from their cribs and ran back down the stairs with them both in my arms, hurdling over the baby gate at the bottom like some possessed gold-medal seeking track star, and out the front door with the dog at my heels. Heart pounding... shaking like a leaf... watching trees sway... I tried to tell them it would be ok. Finally it ended after what seemed like an enternity, and I went back into my house and straight to the phone... which did not work. Most of the afternoon was spent in a panic. Answering phone calls, attempting to make phone calls. Texting. Trying to keep small ones happy and tantrum free. And while folks in California sit back and laugh at us... I, myslef, feel acutely aware of the responsibilties I currently have and that I am having to handle on my own. Which led me down another path of thought. God bless our soldiers and all that. But what about my husband and all the other folks like him supporting our soldiers. Where is their support? Where is the support for us... the families sitting here at home harboring the same fears as the soldiers families? Shouldering the responsibilities alone like a soldiers wife without the support of the military or the support of the public in general. It's almost as if people assume that because my husband is a contractor that he is making good money and good money replaces the need for emotional support. Wrong. I am still here being mom and dad, talking long distance to the man that I love on crappy phone connections, worrying about his safety, praying for him, taking the trash to the dump (his job, lol), dealing with vehicle breakdowns, and mother nature and natural disasters... on my own. I do not envy single parents. I do not want to be a single parent. I never intended to be one. And yet here I am. I have excellent friends and family who check on me often but ultimately... my children and my home... my responsibility and it ain't easy bein cheesy... being a grown up stinks. Not sure what my point was here, but I feel better anyway. Craptastic day... The aftershocks aren't helping either. Jeesh. Settle down already.

And that, is the Earthquake Story. *Applause* Thank you, thank you very much. Elvis has left the building....

He walks the line....

I wrote a blog about cake yesterday. Let me rephrase, I attempted to write a blog yesterday in which I began extolling the fantastic-ness of cake, and how I had made some and how half of it was gone already. I wrote one paragraph, came back to it last night and upon further review, deleted the whole thing. I love cake, that is all you need to know. And now that I've covered that let's move on. The wine is flowing freely tonight, as well it should. The music is playing and the cake has been eaten and today was long. My brain feels like mush. I can not seem to string coherent thought together and that was before the second 'glass' of wine. I use the term glass loosely. It is a large plastic cup. I have wine glasses, but why bother. I would just have to refill more often. I may slightly be an alcoholic; I blame my husband's job and my father's genetics.
Ironically I could drink my brother under the table because he is an epic lightweight. I love my father, I do. Truly. I grew up in a fairly normal home or so I thought.  It wasn't until I got much older that I realized how dysfunctional we were and still are. My parents are still married, been married for 42 years actually. That's pretty amazing, huh? Yea. I moved out when I was 19, got married at 21, separated and moved back in with mom and dad when I was 25. I lived with them for another year before I moved back out again. So all in all, twenty years with the parents, and as far back as I can recall, there was not much affection. There was a lot of holding in feelings, and keeping things to myself, and always there was walking on eggshells around my dad. To his credit, he was and always will be a working man. As an adult with a family of my own, I know now what he struggled with, the stress of having to provide for a family when he couldn't find a job. I remember riding down to the unemployment office with him and my brother. He would leave us in the old red F150 with the bondo trim, and go inside to get his check. Funny how times change; people can't leave their kids in the car for a minute anymore. He was stressed, I get that now. But to my mind, I can never remember a time he was affectionate. My mother claims that I was and always will be daddy's little girl. I find this hard to believe. Or maybe I just can't see it. He's always quiet, and reserved. And until recently he was a bit hard of hearing, thank GOD for hearing aids. Seriously. Odd how he pushed for them after I had my twins. Did I mention my twins will never have cousins? That makes me sad.
So yea, quiet, and reserved, and an epic temper that usually resulted in the breaking of glass. He never laid a finger on any of us. He didn't have to. The bellow alone was enough to put the fear of God into us. The threat- wait until your father gets home? It always worked.
It's funny to watch him with his only granddaughter. She smiles her charming little grin, and calls him Pap-pap, and he happily picks her up and she sits with him and kisses his fuzzy cheek- and I'm all wth? I'm jealous of my daughter for the little bit of affection she gets from him. I'm jealous of my oldest son when he sits and plays chess with grandpa. I'm envious of girls that can call their dads and talk about anything, because I was raised by a pissed of John Wayne, whose own father committed suicide when I was only 2. I am certain that affected his view of the world too. I can not fathom that. I'm not mad though. This is the hand I was dealt, this is the family that I was given to. This is my father who paints tiny miniatures, and listens to bagpipe music, and watches food network, and has hair longer than mine. I will always love him,  even though he will always be John Wayne to me. Did I mention he keeps telling me to buy chickens and start raising them on my 'farm'? I don't have a farm. I live next to a farm. Chickens smell and they are crazy mean. I know this for a fact. Ain't happenin Dad!

Spent many years listening to dad tune his guitar and play this song over and over and over....

The second summer of my discontent

I have been down this road before. Solitude. Loneliness. Overwhelmed by life and the basic responsibilities that I have. And they are basic. No rocket science here folks. Open the dishwasher, load it, turn it on, rinse and repeat. Wash the clothes. Dry the clothes. Vacuum the floor. The list goes on. I am tasked to feed, clothe, and clean children, keep a house clean(ish) and pay the bills. Seems simple. So why then does it feel like hellish drudgery? I should be able to finish these thing and put my feet up by noon and eat bon-bons a la Peg Bundy. btw- totally dug her hair back in the day. But that is neither here nor there. As I said, I have been down this road before. I have done this alone while Sgt. Dad is off in another country in another time zone in another century it seems. Last year was the same only with more angst for many undisclosed reasons. This go round has less angst (if you can believe it) but more sadness, more helplessness, more loneliness. I have received many suggestions and invitations throughout all of this, most suggestions unsolicited. I appreciate the invitations. But I am one awkward, socially inept, loner type bird. I don't know why I chose the word bird, but I did, cuz the bird is the word. Suggestions to join mommy groups make my skin crawl. I do not trust easily and I do not suffer fools. Women are catty, gossipy, judgmental bitches. I know this, because I am one. I have no desire to slap a plastic fake smile on my face and sit around and be judged by stepford moms who want to chat about little Johnny's amazingly fast potty-training abilities while they smile and nod apologetically at me. And their kids name prolly wouldn't be Johnny anyway... it would be something more like Diezel or Apple or Rider or Nevaeh or how bout suck it. I'm not a stepford anything. Most social situations make my skin crawl. That is just the way of it. I have a limited circle of peeps, very limited. Once you get stabbed in the back and kicked to the curb for life choices that have no bearing in other folks lives you tend to become wary. That is sad really. When we are young we trust so easy. (I read this recently on another blog- you know who you are- it's just so appropriate to add to my own ponderings.) Now I am leery of most and question all comments and intentions except for those of the blessed few I keep close to me.
Back to my point. I hate this summer, much like I hated last summer, only I hate this one more. The twins are at this strange age. One day they are sweet and kind and behave like angels. Today was one of those, and I was and am thankful for that. Tomorrow they might be evil little heathens. Who knows. I tend not to make plans for that reason. Any clue what it's like to haul 2 screaming toddlers around w/ all their gear and no help? Well, maybe you do. If you do, then you know, it sucks ass. Add up all this bitching and you know what you get? Another summer of discontent. And it's hotter than the devil's teet out there, and I get really rather bitch-tastic in the heat. And while we're talking about heat, let's talk about night sweats, and hot flashes too. Yea, that's happening. I was all wtf and how in the hell could this be happening. And the doc was all, oh it's your antidepressants. But no, it's not. And that sucks too. And I actually love and adore my husband, and I miss him more than I can express in words and that also makes me sad. Weird, right?
I'm out of pretzel M&Ms- this also makes me sad.
*Sad-Face*

This post is NOT funny. It's not.

Apparently someone has been replacing my regular corn flakes in the morning with new and improved angsty bitch flakes for the last few days. In fact, I'm not entirely certain that I should actually be blogging because this could end up just being a post full of obscenities and middle fingers. I seem to have excessive pent up amounts of... aggression. I am angry. Angry about so much. I'm angry that the economy is so shitty that Sgt. Dad felt he had no other option than to take this job that sent him into a war zone 8,000 miles from home. I'm angry that all these household responsibilities fall to me every day all the time. I'm angry about what happened in Colorado. I'm annoyed by political commercials, political comments, and people that are hellbent on blaming the president, or blaming whatever political official is available for the blame. If not this president then I'm sure the next because they do nothing right- at least according to a great majority. Shut up already. The economy sucks. Unemployment sucks. Gun control or not sucks. Abortion sucks or not. Shut up already. And really, if I have to sit through one more commercial of Mitt Romney singing off key I might stab myself in the foot. Shut up.
Did you know that 3 government contractors were killed this weekend in Afghanistan? Bet ya didn't. You know why? Because it was buried on the 10th page of most newspapers behind analyzing and dissecting what happened in Colorado, and the weather. You know what, that really pisses me off. What happened there hit really close to home for me and for my family. Closer than you can imagine. And if I had not talked to Sgt. Dad on Sunday- I would have been a complete basket-case (not that I am not already). I was pissed though. Why didn't those 3 guys get a mention? Did no one care? I care. Their families care. Just like the families in Colorado. I digress.
Where was I? Oh yes, the world is pissing me off. I'm pissed off at myself. I don't know how to swallow my pride and ask for help. And, I need help. I'm having difficulty admitting that I need someone to give a hand with these kids. I'm sorta angry that I quit my job to stay home with them, because now that I'm home, I seem to lack the motivation to get back and go back to work. I am afraid to leave the twins in someone else's care. My mother can't handle them, my MIL is starting to have difficulty handling them, and I feel utter complete guilt when I even think about asking someone else to help. They're my kids right? I mean, I brought them into this world, they're my responsibility. I don't work outside the home, they are my job and yes, right now they feel like a job. One 2yr old is a handful... two 2 yr olds is... several handfuls especially when one seems to be showing the early signs of ADHD. I don't want to 'put that' on anyone else. I don't want to be a burden. I don't want my kids to be a burden. I'm angry, and I'm on my second glass of wine in 20 minutes and I am apparently watching a 'Dead Like Me' marathon on some obscure horror channel that I never watch. But I like this show. If I were her, I would definitely be her. The commentary is great.
There are no funny pics for this post. No pics at all. I am angry. I want to punch a wall, or a douchebag, or my x-husband, or a politician. But instead, I blogged. And now I will paste a plastic smile on my face and refill my wine glass because I am getting redundant.
MORE WINNNNNNEEEEE!!!!!

P.S. I'm thoroughly pissed at E.L. James for writing a crappy book that I can't stop freakin reading! WTH?! It sucks! Are the pages made from crack?!