Archive for December 2010
Married in a Tattoo Parlor
My husband and I eloped in the tattoo parlor (Barking Dog Tattoo, Springfield, MO — to be specific ). We never had a big wedding, or even a small one. We didn’t exchange traditional vows, nobody wore white (you know… since I was four months pregnant ) and we didn’t invite anyone except the two witnesses who signed the license and the mohawked tattoo artist who was ordained to perform weddings. It was glorious. No stress, no expense, no jumping through nightmarish hoops; just Novak and I getting married with our kids (granted, one was still in my belly) and… { read more }
I Wish No One Had Ever Said to Me…
1. You’re only five centimeters dilated. 2. It could be cancerous (it wasn’t). 3. Moooom… my head itches (insert three weeks of fighting head lice here). 4. We need to talk (It’s never good. Otherwise it would be I have great news!). 5. You look great… for having had two kids. 6. Your account is overdrawn. 7. That was really good. Was it good for you? I mean… did you…? (If you don’t know, then the answer is probably no.) 8. Yeah, the car is totaled and you still owe four grand on it. 9. Welcome to boarding school. 10…. { read more }
Convicted Felon
If you don’t hear anything from me in the next few days, will you please send me letters in prison? I will have surely been hauled off to the loony bin at least, when I run screaming down the street, They’re everywhere! They’re crawling all over me! I can’t get away from them! Someone will mistake it for a hallucination, instead of a desperate plea for reprieve from the constant presence of a family that I love more than life, but am completely and totally sick of. I am so over this whole Christmas break thing—my kids, my husband, the… { read more }
Fishy Pussy
Long and wide is the list of nights made all the better by a little pussy, a black pussy, even with a hint of fish. Well, I am here to tell you that it completely ruined my life last night. My husband’s damn cat; that pussy bastard. I gave him a full can of tuna for Christmas, because he loves it. I figured if I got to drink wine, eat pastry with cream and sit on my ass like a complete fatty, then the cat should have some damn tuna. How wrong was I? For TWO NIGHTS that fur-balled piece… { read more }
I Set My Pants on Fire
You know those super-sexy, hot, bikini-sporting fire dancers who dance around lookin’ like Disney’s Jasmine? Okay, well I looked nothing like that the other day, but we’ll start with that image and edge ourselves ever closer to reality as this story continues. We all know I have a complicated relationship with my fireplace. This was enough to make me consider seeing other people, but now–after having seen my life and my pride flash before my eyes–I’ve decided that I think we need a full-on break up. I was standing too close to my fireplace while wearing polar fleece pajamas pants…. { read more }
Not a Day After Christmas Post: Sunday Stream of Consciousness
I usually write something schmoopy about my husband on his birthday or our anniversary, but no one told me that watching him be a dad at Christmas would be the penultimate schmoop-attack. He is the most awesome, put-it-together-in-the-middle-of-the-kitchen-floor-night-before-Christmas dad ever. Even though everything I had to do in order to be done with night-before-Christmas prep had to be done in the kitchen, and even though he decided to put Hudson’s giant slide together IN the kitchen, and even though this meant that I was doing night-before-Christmas shit until eleven at night while he was drinking beer and watching TV… this… { read more }
Dirty Home Videos
I’ve been a strictly written-word blogger since I stumbled into this little venture in online soul-baring a little over six months ago. Turns out, there’s this whole other facet to blogging called vlogging. That’s right, another made-up word, fashioned from the mashing together of two words that we’re too lazy to say one at a time. Vlogging=video logging, as in logging your experience on video… a second cousin to web logging (blogging). Alright, now that we’re all up to speed on the lingo, let me tell you that I hate cameras of all kinds. I am the single most camera… { read more }
Shake Your Groove Thang
Something you might not know about me is that in my much, much younger days I took years of dance lessons. Momma can shake her groove thang, and when I say Momma I mean me and when I say her I mean my. ‘Cause talking about myself in the third person can be funny and annoying at the same time and it’s the conflicting emotions that keep life interesting. So, anyway, when Hudson was a bitty baby she had to be held… and bounced… constantly. That shit gets old and can give a girl some serious shin splints if you’re… { read more }
Whore Training
I’m just gonna come right out and say it: I fear the slut-ification of young girls. Period. I’m not going to say these days, or today’s media or any of that bullshit that I hear all the time, because the truth is that it’s not a new phenomenon. Every generation has had their slutty female role model who made parents cringe as their daughters doodled on their school notebooks and tore pages out of magazines to put together the perfect whore ensemble. It’s nothing new. The mini-skirted vixens of Motown, the swingin’ 70’s (need I say more?), Madonna, Britney, and… { read more }
A Plague on Both My Houses
If my kids were houses, we would be very Shakespearean today. Hudson woke up ablaze with fever at two in the morning and was up for an hour before she would go back to bed. She’s still burning up and cuddly this morning–like some adorable, plague-ridden, Trojan horse, small-pox-infested Gizmo from the Gremlins. She hasn’t hit the worst of it yet and is coloring right now, but damn’t… Christmas week, really?! Frick. It’s against the law to cancel Christmas, right? What if I just postpone it? What if I just tell Makaio it isn’t until next week and he would… { read more }
