The Emancipation of a Drama Queen

I'm SOOOO over Blogger

2007-08-04T08:21:00.000-06:00

I am officially a WordPress resident. If you have subscribed to this blog please make sure you change the link so that you don't miss any of my fabulous tales. There is plenty of stalking room over at the WordPress blog!

My new home is:

http://thequeenofdrama.wordpress.com

I won't be updating this site anymore. All of my content is over at the new WordPress site and I'm staying. It is just too cool for words.

My template is boring over there, and I hate leaving this one but it has to be done. I'm trying to get a hold of the designer to see what she can do to help me. But for now, I kind of like the simple look over here http://thequeenofdrama.wordpress.com

So, please, make note of the new URL and come see me at my new home! I do accept housewarming gifts graciously, too. I mean geez, it's like I have moved from a trailer to a colonial-style house! That is reason to celebrate and shower me with gifts!

I'm moving...

2007-08-03T16:26:00.001-06:00

...to WordPress.

Hopefully.

My blog is up and ready to go over there and all of my posts and, I assume, all of the comments were imported yesterday. Go here.

Now, if you are a WordPress genius then help me. Please. I need a new template. I'm soooo not sticking with the generic one I have now. I would like to take some elements of this one over to WP but I do not know CSS and I would like it redesigned a bit. I have been playing with WP for a couple of days now but I'm not sure I know all there is to know yet.

If you have a moment of free time and would be willing to assist me I would be forever greatful!

My email is angelh28 (at) sbcglobal (dot) com. (he he, that is the first time I ever got to do that). My new blog link is http (colon backslash backslash) thequeenofdrama (dot) wordpress (dot) come. (Why not take it a step further, eh?)

This site will still be updated and running until the switch is complete.

Some of the questions answered...Final Update!

2007-08-01T11:54:00.000-06:00

Karly of Wiping Up Snot asks:

1. Whats your favorite sex position?
Bow wow chicka bow wow.... get it? I like it doggie-style. LOVE IT!

2. Do you poop with the door open?
Yep, if I'm home alone. Why the hell wouldn't I?

3. Do you agree that Scrubs is the best TV show in the entire world?
Oh. Muh. Gawd. YES!!! It is the best comedy show EVER. I revel in the ingeniousness of the writing and format every time I watch it.

Bill of Radioactive Jam asks:

Two trains are traveling in opposite directions along a single track. The first train, filled with space aliens who look amazingly like little bagels with arms and legs, is moving eastward at 80 miles per hour. The second train is westbound, going 60 miles an hour, and filled with radioactive monkeys.
If the trains were 120 miles apart when they started, how much time will pass before the monkeys are treated to a flying bagel breakfast?
Well, Bill, first of all, I totally do not believe in radioactive monkeys. Bagels with arms and legs, however, are completely logical. Secondly, they are never going to meet. Ever. Unless, of course, the train track circumvents the entire planet and meets at the other side. If that is the case, then consider the tracks being at the equator where the circumference is 24,901 miles. If one train is traveling at 80mph and 120 miles in the opposite direction of the other train and the other train is traveling at 60mph then the two trains would meet somewhere on the other side of the damn world after at least 174 hours of traveling each. After all the math I just did, my brain is fried and probably rendered totally useless for at least the next 72 hours. Thanks.

And finally, for now, Anonymous asks:

1. If the plural of goose is geese, why isn't the plural of moose meese?
Excellent question even though you might have mistaken me for a grammar tutorial of which I am not. However, considering I am a lover of all things moose, meese IS the plural, in my world. And it should be universal.

Keep the questions coming... they are pretty fun!

******Update: New questions added...

I have another question from Anonymous... Gawsh, he/she is so nice!! Just awesome. Their blog is so easy to read and keep up with... and he/she is so gorgeous too! I'm just sayin'.

So they asked "Do I ever wish I was single and without kids?"
If I knew then, what I know now, I would have never given birth.

Alright, alright... that was the DraMa Blogger response.

Mama Angel's response is a bit different... OMG! NO! NEVER! I LOVE MY KIDS! I WOULD DIE FOR MY KIDS! MY LIFE IS SO FULL OF FUCKING ROSES AND TEDDY BEARS THAT I HAVE A PERMA GRIN EAR TO EAR 24/7!!!! I shit Crayola colors and breathe in the smell of lavender and baby powder every day! My kids are perfect and are as sweet as the gummy fruit snacks that they eat!

Now, since I AM both of those people, DraMa and Angel.... I will say this. Honestly, no, I never wish that I was single without kids. This doesn't mean that I don't sometimes miss my freedom. I mean, being able to just jump in the car whenever I want to go meet friends or go out to dinner is something that does not happen, anymore. But, my kids are the reason I exist. My life has a real purpose now. Instead of just existing to work, pay bills, party and date, now my purpose is to raise proper boys, teach them to be good men and good husbands, take care of my own husband, pay BIGGER bills and break up boy fights and clean up food from the floor after every meal. And, in doing all of that, I never EVER wish that I didn't have my family. They are why I breathe.

Lindsay, sweet, hawt and awesome Lindsay of Suburban Turmoil asked:

Do you think the person we saw at the airport was actually Mirna from The Amazing Race All-Stars?
Well, first let us examine the little people of this world. Since there are only 5 of them in existence; Amy, Matt and Zach Roloff of "Little People Big World", Mirna from the Amazing Race and that freakish little guy with the beard that pops up on television shows every week whenever the script calls for a ~~midget~~ little person. So, by using our process of elimination skillz we can pretty much assume that the mystery midget you saw at the airport was NOT Matt or Zach Roloff, nor the freaky guy with the beard. That would mean you could have either seen Amy Roloff or Mirna. Since Amy Roloff is awesome and way better looking than Mirna and it is not possible to mistake her for ~~the troll~~ Mirna, then yes, I do believe you saw Mirna at Midway Airport last Thursday.

******Update: Final Questions

Lori of These are the Days asks:

If you were on death row, what would you request as your last meal?
Hmmm, great question! I love food. Chances are pretty good that the entire reason I was on death row was because I killed someone in the midst of extreme hunger, probably an hour or so between meals. Don't mess with mama when she's hungry. Everyone knows that rule around here. So, while I was ~~praising myself for~~commiserating my actions I would have visions of large, greasy New York-style pizza slices dancing in my head. Then they would be accompanied by chocolate pudding with cool whip on top. Then of course I would dream of lobster tail dripping with butter, garlic mashed potatoes and those tender, juicy beef medallions that I adore so much at that restaurant in the city. (pay no attention to that grumbling sound... it's just my tummy.) Since I love food, I mean literally and passionately love food I would probably ask for a little bit of everything for my last meal. I would need the pizza, the beef medallions, the lobster, the mashed taters, probably a nice bed of sauteed baby green beans in garlic and butter sauce and then, dessert. Oh the dessert. This is where simple is best. I would request the tiramisu from the Italian place behind my house. The whole thing instead of just a slice. Oh and of course I would request 2 bottles of a good Riesling. Excuse my while I go gnaw off my arm before answering the next questions.

What is your proudest moment in life or the thing you are most proud of? (besides the kiddo's - that one is a given!)
Wow, TOUGH question. Very tough. I don't have many things I'm proud, but rather the opposite. This is totally going to suck, but I honestly don't have an answer for that. My life was pretty mundane with very few accomplishments. I am only now in college and have a long way to go before graduating. God, I'm depressed just writing this answer! GAH!!

Sweet, sweet Terri of The Ruddell Times asks:

Once you finish your degree will you buy yourself something nice to commemorate the occasion or will you do or buy something nice for Augs for being so nice, helpful and wonderfully supportive during the time it took for you to finish you degree? :o)

Oh lawdy Terri, you are a sweetie. Honestly, I don't see me doing anything for myself, nor him. How's that? That is a long long way off anyway. However, a great way to celebrate would be taking a solo vacation without the kids. He and I could take off to some tropical paradise and relax in the sand for a week, or seven. That is how I would MUCH prefer to celebrate a college graduation.

Alrighty, that's it. Q and A is closed. Don't cry. I'm a little sad too. I was hoping to get more questions, but maybe I'll revisit this later on. Thanks for all the questions from everyone though! They really are fun to answer. You should all do this on your blogs too!

DOH! One last submission! Ok..

Jamie asks:

Do you think you are a good friend?
Helluva question chica. Okay DEEEEEEP breathe...here goes.
Honestly, no I don't. I could be A LOT better. Life is hard and sometimes I can't always be the friend that I want to be. I do try to be a good friend but fail miserably at times. So, I wish I were a better friend more so than I think I am a good one. I put my heart out there a lot and sometimes try too hard and sacrifice others in the meantime. That isn't always good. I have always had a difficult time balancing loyalty to friends and loyalty to family. I guess this question would be better directed at my own friends... but I'm skeered to hear their answers, so lets just keep it on the down low. Pretend with me... "Angel is the best in the whole world!"

Is this immoral?

2007-07-31T14:35:00.000-06:00

I am totally ripping off a fellow blogger. I just read her blog and loved the idea she came up with. So, what better way to show her love than to steal her idea and make it my very own. It's not stealing. It's a sign of respect and commradery. In my world it is, anyway.

And, if you don't believe that, try this one on for size. This is NOT a ploy to get comments! Really! It's not!

I swear it isn't!

I just really like the idea and think it's cool... seriously. And it's a way for any readers I have to ask me any questions that have been burning a hole in their souls all this time.

So, I now present to you, the completely unoriginal, ripped off idea from Blonde Chick -

Ask DraMa Anything!

You, my adoring readers (ya'll are awesome, you know that right?), now have the chance to ask me anything your heart desires. I will answer any and every question thrown at me. Your questions along with my ~~blatant lies~~ answers will be posted on this blog and a link to your site will be provided.

Go ahead. Shoot. Whudduhyawannaknow?

Oh and bonus points for creativity.

The Underworld of Toddlers - What THEY don't tell you

2007-07-30T12:09:00.000-06:00

If you are thinking of having children, or on the verge of giving birth, you might want to take note of this post. Consider this my way of preparing you for the real world of children.

Your baby showers will be filled with giddy women, exuberant and unwanted belly rubs, silly games, cute little booties and maybe even a giant stuffed teddy bear. Regardless, of what elements you have at your showers, it's all a big giant lie. All of it. The cute, jovial and head in the clouds feeling lasts for 24-36 hours after you give birth. Once you leave the hospital, the "It's a Boy/Girl" flowers die, the balloons deflate and you look down at the sagging remnants of your belly, the uber-sweet elation dies.

Replacing the feelings of elation are breastfeeding woes and feeling like someone is sucking needles out of your nipples. This will cause you to become more familiar with your nippular region than you ever wanted. Then, of course, there is that black tar-looking newborn poop that you have never seen the likes of before and, if unprepared, could cause serious chest pains. Soon that stuff is replaced with nasty runny orange poop and you will actually sigh in relief. Then there are the newborn screams that rattle your nerves and cause feelings of confusion and then you might call yourself a horrible mother and at some point exclaim "THIS BABY HATES ME!". Then, everyone tells you "It's just gas" and you dream of dismembering their bodies and storing them in your chest freezer.

These are all things they don't tell you in BABY101 class. It is a conspiracy to keep it from the parents-to-be because they just might reconsider having kids. Then, who would buy all the pink booties, and blue baby bonnets? Hmmm? Exactly. Only the freaks with odd fetishes.

So, now that I have enlightened you on the first month of rearing a child, allow me to go into further detail and take you into the toddler years. And know this, babies, ages 0-12 months (depending on when they start walking), are MUCH EASIER THAN TODDLERS! Trust me.

And now for my,

Toddler Years, A Pictorial Evolution of Sorts

You will end up buying more batteries in 2 months than you ever have in your entire life. My advice, keep a bunch on hand, in EVERY size, in an easily accessible drawer.

Diaper boxes will soon replace furniture, double as furniture and work great for storing old kids clothes that no longer fit them. If left unmonitored they could take over your home.

If you have a dog, check him daily for food stuck in the fur. If he has long hair this might be a lengthy process. My advice is to either buy a short-haired dog, shave the dog or don't own a dog.

Doorways will no longer be free passages from one room to another. Instead they will become nothing more than toll gates in your own home. You will trip over them. You will bruise your shins repeatedly on them and you will loathe them, soon after installation.

Your guest room will turn into this.

You will need to keep these tools at the ready at ALL TIMES! My advice is to keep a full range of screwdrivers in every room. Blame it on the thousands of children's toys you'll have in your home.

These....

...will soon be replaced with these.

Potty training for boys. Enough said.

I will leave you with these thoughts.

HTPH 101 - 10 steps on how to piss of your husband.

2007-07-28T16:11:00.000-06:00

The following is a paid advertisement for the revolutionary HTPH101 program! This program promises to perfect any marriage in as little as one minute!

•Are you and your husband perfect?

•Do you find yourselves sitting alone at night cuddling instead of bickering?

•Do your friends find you boring because all you do is kiss and laugh together?

Well, then this program is for you! HTPH101 will ensure that your marriage is transformed from disgustingly happy to completely, 100% normal within minutes! Why waste money on expensive vacations and extravagant gifts for one another! HTPH101 is the wave of tomorrow. Order now, supplies are limited!

Here's How the 10-step Process Works

Step 1 - Answer the phone when he calls.

Step 2 - Listen to him rant about how your son broke the door on his truck and now it won't shut.

Step 3 - Ask him where he is.

Step 4 - Say "I'll be right out" when he responds "in the driveway!"

Step 5 - Go outside and pry your husband's angry, screw-driver wielding hand from the door.

Step 6 - Quickly assess door and the panel and find the lever causing the door to not shut.

Step 7 - Run around to the other side of the truck to assess that door panel and see where the lever should be.

Step 8 - Discover the problem and the solution. Say, AH-HA! quietly.

Step 9 - Run back around to the broken door, lift the door handle while simultaneously pushing the lever back into place.

Step 10 - Shut door and watch it close properly. (Continue with step 11 only if necessary.)

Step 11* - Run away quickly.

If you follow these 10 steps correctly the result will be that your husband glares at you with discontent while hiding a sigh of a relief that his door is fixed, and he might even utter the words "you suck". The screw driver he was holding will promptly be thrown into the garage. Husband will drive away yelling "I don't need you... I don't!" and you will finally win the respect of friends and family and no longer make others puke at the sight of you as a couple.

*Not applicable in all areas or for all relationships. If step 11 is needed, caution is advised.

Results may very depending on the individual.

Money back guarantee if not fully satisfied.

Why my children hate me.

2007-07-27T09:19:00.000-06:00

I have a bad back. This is a result of one car accident, one skiing accident and two big falls from a horse. It does not take much to injure my back. Generally, it is not the obvious things that cause me to hurt my back like moving furniture or lifting heavy boxes but rather the sneaky, less likely causes such as turning my head or giving someone the finger.

Today is one of those days where the pain comes out of nowhere and incapacitates me for a spell. Today, I stood up. That is what did it. That is what I get for sitting at my computer checking emails and then getting up to go check on my children. That'll teach me to be a semi-attentive mother!

So, case in point number one. The children made me stand up. It's their fault.

Case in point number two. As I'm laying on the couch, in pain and somewhat immobile, Monster is beating me in the head with a rubber duck and saying "oink oink". (note to self, teach Monster AGAIN that ducks quack, not oink).

Case in point number three. As I confiscate the duck from Monster and contemplate throwing the rubber fuck, ehem, I mean duck, into the oven, I begin dialing my chiropractor. This is when he begins using his head as a deadly weapon by slamming it into my torso -(read, my ribs, boobs and tummy flab) and then laughing. Have you ladies ever been laying on your back, braless, and felt an 8lb skull slam into your unprotected boob dead on? Well, I have. So, I close my eyes in pain and try to protect myself like a nerdy boy in his 8th grade locker room while still trying to hold the phone.

Case in point number four. As I am speaking to the receptionist, I begin grunting and moaning from pain and from a 33lb child yclimbing onto me so he can sit on me and watch t.v. He needs to sit on me because apparently the leather sofa is too cold on his bare ass. (Remember, we are potty training. No pants work for him better than pull-ups or underwear.)

Case in point number five. Monster then climbs onto my helpless body knowing my defenses are in a weakened state and proceeds to stand on my abdomen and pelvic area. He is 27lbs but feels more like 30. I'm not exactly a conglomeration of muscle tone and definition so this is painful for me. I know for a fact that I muttered the words "You guys suck" at one point.

Case in point number six. I begin feeling some relief after icing my back, then replacing the ice with heat and taking a 800mg Ibuprofen. I make my way off the couch to get Monster some more juice because apparently the 32oz combination of water and apple juice he has already had in the last 2 hours isn't enough and he needs more. (This child is going to be a beer-bong champ in college. Watch.) Anyway, as I'm pouring his drink I hear cries of help coming from the living room. I walk in to find that DramaBoy has completely wedged his entire body, head to toe, between the couch and the wall. This space is about 6-8 inches wide. Now, with the severe but somewhat lessened pain in my back, I have to try and pull a toddler out of a small hole. He won't budge. This means I have to move the couch. Sweet. That's going to feel just dandy. I move it with minimal pain and free the boy.

My pain is lessening as I type, the boys are playing nicely for now and if I didn't have so much work to do for school I would be taking a nap with them in an hour to sleep off the rest of the pain.

And that is why my children hate me.

Alright, listen ya'll...

2007-07-26T12:43:00.000-06:00

This place needs to come alive again. I realize I have been a blog snob as of late and I am deeply sorry. Making the rounds like I used to just isn't possible anymore. When I do get some time I just go to some random blogs in my blogroll. I try to touch base and leave comments but I don't always get to and I just hope ya'll see me in your stats so that you know I was there, at the very least.

I love comments. I need comments like I need air. I am not like my husband and don't care if people read or not. I will not tell a lie. I DO CARE!! I AM DRAMA, remember?? It is a little hard to forget that people. Needless to say, I have been kind of sad lately.... but it's my own fault. I have to get around to everyone else more. It is sad but that is just how the blog world works.

My stats do show that I have over 50 visitors a day. Granted, 48 of them could be the same person coming back 47 times but thankfully I don't verify that fact. I just like seeing the number. However, it used to be a lot higher. I have lost my peeps. Blame it on school and that shit they make you do called homework. Those bastards of higher education.

Anyway, in a shameless attempt to make myself more visible and cooler, maybe this will help:

Today, July 26, 2007 I picked up two famous (on the internets and in Nashville) ladies from the airport. I had the pleasure, the luck and the gift of escorting Ms. Lindsay Ferrier of Suburban Turmoil and her equally famous companion Elizabeth of Busy Mom from the airport in Chicago to their hotel in the city while they attend the BlogHer 2007 conference. If that doesn't make ya'll want to be my friend again, then I don't know what will.

Hello, I TOUCHED LINSDAY FERRIER! Not in a dirty way or anything, even though she is way hawt. I even, (gasp) got my picture taken with her! She rode shotgun in Mr. SUV while sweet Elizabeth took the back seat and kept Linsday's sweet baby boy happy. I was mortified at the condition Mr. SUV was in and that I had not properly prepared him for such a high class event. I totally forgot to mount the diplomatic blog flags to the front corners of my hood, too, so they would know that I was carrying two very important bloggers in my vehicle.

After I picked them up I had to try and play it cool and um, be myself and all that crap. That was scary. Lets see, I slammed on the breaks several times (stoopid Chicago traffic) and practically crashed, I had trouble finding their hotel, I made an ass of myself more than once, I didn't snort while laughing THANK GOD, I locked Elizabeth in the car while I jumped out to tell the bellman to grab the girls bags and then I probably giggled like a schoolgirl idiot on several occasions.

Overall I think it went well.

Truthfully, Elizabeth and Linsday are two of the sweetest girls! They are beautiful and funny and it was truly my pleasure picking them up. I will see them again on Sunday when I pick them up and take them back to the airport. I cain't wait. I only hope I can actually spend a bit of time with them before their flight.

So, how do ya'll feel about me now? Am I cooler at all? More desirable? Anything? No? Not even a little bit?

I tried.

I guess I'll just stick to trying to leave more comments in order to get more love. I suppose writing posts that actually have some importance, substance or humor might work too. Maybe I'm just lacking in that department lately.

Either way... HOLLA! I have noticed I have had a few new people leave comments lately and I'm so excited... so I'll go and visit them right now. Right this very second, in a minute. Everyone else... speak up, holla back, show the love, make me feel worthy, lie to me, whatever. Just say something. Even if it's "zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz".

Do I need to have a contest? A giveaway? Do I really need to resort to bribery? Shit, it works for other bloggers...

*Footnote*
While this may appear to be a horribly lame attempt at begging for readership, it's not. I have simply fooled you into thinking that. This is actually an ingenious ploy on my part to try and get accepted into the famous bloggers club so that I can somehow reach a minimum of 20 comments per post. Yeah, I am THAT good. Ya'll thought I was just a pathetic loser, didn't you?

Oh and one more thing... I am a mommyblogger and I am in the deep trenches of potty training and I have not said one word about it! NOT ONE! That alone deserves something... I could have completely laid out all the messy truths about DramaBoy pooping on my floor, shitting in the front yard and peeing on our cherry tree and aiming for fruit loops in the toilet bowl, but I didn't. No, I spared you the gory guts of the potty training stories. You can thank me by commenting. That is all.

One Super Duper Awesome Blossom Stupendous Weekend

2007-07-23T15:39:00.000-06:00

I'm guessing that the family and I only spent about 20 hours inside all weekend... and that was after dark, sleeping. The rest of the 60 hour weekend (I calculate 60 hours because we are considering today (which is not over yet), Monday, part of our weekend since hubs played hookie from work. Those damn migraines) was spent outside.

Well, maybe we didn't really spend 40 hours outside but it sure as hell felt like we did. On Saturday we sat outside at my SIL's house all day long and watched the boys drive the John Deere Gator all over the 5-acre yard. DramaBoy drove, Monster road shotgun while he held onto the oh-shit handle and sucked his thumb. Then on Sunday, we were back at my SIL's house for a large party. We ate good food and watched the boys run all over the 5-acre yard, visit with the chickens and feed the horses grass.

Today, on the day of our fraudulently extended weekend, we spent our time at the beach. We have never taken the kids to the beach and we really wanted to enjoy the gorgeous day ahead of us. So, we decided to head over to the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore - West Beach for some swimming and sand. This beach is actually only 45 minutes from our house. It is at the bottom tip of Lake Michigan in Indiana. I cannot believe that I have lived here 5 1/2 years and have never been to this beach before.

Anyway, this beach happens to be really nice (and it's actually not one of the nicer Lake Michigan beaches I guess) and I was really excited to take the boys on their first beach excursion. The water temp was only 69 but once you got in it felt just fine. This surprised me, because anything less than 90-degree water is just criminal to me. I like my pools and lakes to be like bathwater. So, the boys shivered the whole time but, they didn't want to come out of the water! I was amazed at DramaBoy's bravery on the shore with the waves coming in. Normally he is a big sissy with new things. Especially scary things like water and sand and fun. Today, he surprised me though. Through his chattering teeth and gyrating shoulders he tried to mutter the words "I want to go back in the water..." every time we tried to head back to our little beach camp. Granted, even though his bravery astonished his daddy and I, he still would not let go of our hands while in the water. No way. He had the grip of death. To anyone unfamiliar with him, it would appear as though he was frightened, suffering from hypothermia and just miserable. But as his parents, we knew better. He was just enjoying the water too much to care that his lips were blue and that he couldn't form a single sentence.

I'm a tad sunburned, the boys had fun and were exhausted and passed out within a minute of driving away, and my feet just had the best pedicure ever. That is what you would call a highly successful day. Of course I'm not counting the 10 pounds of sand we brought home with us that was stashed neatly in my ass and under my boobs and in other insane places. Despite my sandy ass-crack, it was a highly successful weekend.

Now, what post about a fun weekend would be complete without pictures?

The real Beach Boys

The Beach Boys burying 'da Mama.

Future Abercrombie model. Someday Abercrombie will appreciate short, fat, pasty white boys with farmer tans. They will. Watch.

It wouldn't be a real beach day without cheese popcorn. That stuff makes me vomit but the men of the house love it.

The Tractor Boys... on Saturday. Taking a break to eat an apple or two.
DramaBoy popped his tail gate and took in the scenery. I think hubs got teary-eyed.

DramaBoy letting Monster take the wheel.

Monster, with a little "captain" in him.

That is all... hubs has been left alone with the boys and things aren't going well at the moment.

The post-drunkness post and other nonesense.

2007-07-18T09:05:00.000-06:00

No hangover on Sunday. None what-so-ever. Instead, we got up, got the kids dressed and headed out to my sister-in-laws house. My BIL needed help splitting and stacking wood so hubs was going out to help him. I decided we should all go so the kids could run around and play. They live on 5 acres so we like taking DramaBoy's John Deere Gator out there so he can ride it all over the place.

I ended up helping stack wood for about a half an hour. Just enough time to sweat in the hot sun and get dizzy enough to sit down. Then I decided it was time for food. A girl's gotta eat.... a lot. So we packed everyone up and headed into town for some yummy food.

After we ~~devoured our food like animals on the savanna after a fresh kill~~ ate, Monster decided to walk right into a bench with his head. This was the type of injury that makes a bruise and a lump appear instantly. It was ugly.

Then we headed back to finish up with the wood. Well, the guys worked on the wood while the children and I laid around in the cool house. A girl's gotta rest after all that hard work and big meal.

On a completely different subject, gigantic, midnight black, flying hornet-bees-waspy looking things have invaded my back door, AGAIN this year. There was only one, and I insisted that he die a horribly painful and gruesome death at the party Saturday. My wishes were carried out. However, the fucker had family and they have come to avenge his death. Stoopid bastards.

I firmly believe that one of these gigantic, midnight black, flying hornet-bees-waspy looking things are responsible for DramaBoy's ear quadrupling in size a couple of years ago. His ear became a large, rubbery and clownish looking appendage. It was horrifying.

I hate these things. Karly, I'll trade you the ear wigs for these gigantic, midnight black, hornet-bees-waspy looking things. Yeah?

Oh, and yesterday, I was making our bed and there was a huge daddy-longed legged spider crawling ON MY PILLOW! Oh HAAAAAIIILL NO!! Now I'm creeped out about bugs in my bed again. I couldn't even go to bed early last night, alone, like I wanted to. I had to wait for the damn Cubs game to be over so hub's could come with me.

Karly, why is the bug world against us? Do they smell our fear? Do they want to avenge all of the family members we have killed? Are the bugs forming their own little Cosa Nostra against poor innocent souls like us?

Ah salama lakum

There is zero reason for this post

2007-07-14T22:42:00.000-06:00

Just consxider this the ubiquitous drunk post. It's i-don't-know-what-the-fuck-time-it-is and I'm happy. That is all that matters.

Howevef, I think my neighbors may try to have us forcefully removed from the niehgborhood. Tomorrow. I'm correcting my typos as I go but I'm missing some and in case you chaven't guessed, I really don't give a rats ass.

The reason for the eviction from out neighborhood will be as follows.... I become a trash talking jackass bitch when I'm drunk. Tonight the words "your a pussy", "fuck off jackass" and "steven segal is a stupid ass knee-knockerd werid mother fucker" have flown out of my mouth.

DraMa drinks liquor, DraMa gets mouthy. Nice. I even called my hubby's best friend a plaid shorted nancy because he was wearing plaid shorts and then I called him a pussy. He told me a few choice things as well and then we started laughing till one of us farted. It wasn't me. Or maybe it was. I'm not sure at the moment.

I think drinking is awesome. I think cocunut rum is the best invention ever, next to the internet. I think i'm tired. I have to check in with school before going to bed, that should beu really cool.

I'm hungry.

Ashalamalakum

A post about the kids. All you mommyblogger haters out there are sufficiently forewarned and can kiss my big mama ass

2007-07-11T13:46:00.000-06:00

A DramaBoy-ism from last night.

DB - "Mama, I need to go to the doctors."

Me - "Why buddy?"

DB - (doesn't understand the question "Why" yet) "I need to go to the doctors."

Me - "I know you said you need to go buddy but why? Are you sick? Do you have an owie?"

DB - "No, I need a haircut."

Me - (uncontrollable laughter)

There are two reasons that this was so hysterically funny that it almost caused a lack of bladder function.

Reason #1 - I'm his mother and he could say "Hi mama" and I would laugh.

Reason #2 - The wine.

If I was a gambling woman I would bet it was the wine. However, it is still damn funny today and I am sober.

Now, onto Monster.

Does anyone know a good doctor whom is experienced in removing 22-month old, whiney boys from their mothers asses? I already gave birth to the boy and it's as if he has been put back in. My ass is already big enough, I don't need an extra 27 pounds hanging off of it, every minute of every hour of every motha-freakin' day.

And lastly, do not forget to read this and help a girl out. I am already getting some great replies but I'm greedy and want more. A lot more. I know some of you are all like "pshaw, she doesn't visit my blog and comment so, like, why would I leave her a comment!" and then I would be all like "oh grow up! this is so not junior high!" and then you would be all "chill bitch! it's totally true! if you want to be in our clique you have to commit!" and then I would be all "well, I'm totally a busy diva! It's not personal and, like, I try to visit my peeps!" and then you would be like "well, try harder bitch!" and then I would be all "well, if it means that I would get to be friends with the popular peeps, then yeah, I'm totally down with it. My bad."

Ah salama lakum

DraMa needs help from YOU! Yes, you... in the argyle sweater and doc martens.

2007-07-10T10:22:00.000-06:00

This post is a call for some assistance. I'm writing my next college paper on the environment and the cost of changing policy to benefit the planet versus the cost of doing nothing. I am going to be analyzing companies to see which ones have implemented strategies to recycle and conserve energy and determine if they are less or more profitable or if they have noticed a benefit from the new strategies or if the companies have seen negative impacts. My point is to prove that implementing simple things like recycling programs, energy conservation and getting the employees involved in volunteer efforts in their region will not only help the planet but will create knowledge and initiative within the employees to implement their own practices at home. Soon, this attitude will spread worldwide and future generations have a better chance of living on a healthier planet. The idea is that conservation efforts do not have to be expensive... they just have to be expansive.

Take a breath.....

Therefore, I need some input. Since I am not sure which companies in the U.S. or abroad have started implementing changes in the way they conduct business in order to be more eco-friendly I am wondering if any of you have some examples you could provide me. Examples will then give me a better direction in my research. At this point I am henpecking prominent companies to see if their websites have an sections on environmentally friendly practices.

1. Do any of you work for large companies that have or have not created
eco-friendly strategies?

a. If not, is the company in denial or are they worried about the economic
impact it will have on their bottom line?
b. If you work for a company that has made changes have you seen positive
impacts?

1. Has the company become less or more profitable?

2. Would you believe that this sets a great example for the employees and neighboring companies to make their own changes?

Consider this a mass interview for the blog world. I need any and ALL input from people in order to get some facts and data for my paper. I am not sure how I can repay all of you for your help, but I'll come up with something. This means lurkers, first-timers, old-timers, regulars... EVERYONE! Speak up... help a struggling college student out!

Ah salama lakum

Things that are like crack to DramaBoy

2007-07-06T13:16:00.000-06:00

The following list contains things around our house that are DramaBoy's crack. Without them, you might find him on a street corner turning tricks in order to get them. You might even see him in the fetal position in the alley behind our house going through the pains of withdrawl.

SpongeBob. Stoopid yellow bastard.
Anything relating to Cars (the movie) or Thomas the Train.
My bed, in the middle of the night.
His twig and berries. Good gawd leave them alone boy!
Trains. Short trains, long trains, high trains, low trains, night trains, day trains, they all evoke "MAMA! A TRAIN! SEE DA TRAIN!"
His daddy.
Water. In the sink, in the dog dish, pouring out of the washer hose and in puddles.
Bubbles in the sinks. Seriously, his desire to touch them rivals Paris Hilton's desire for flashbulbs. Freak.
Fruit snacks.
Screaming, out of the blue, as if he has tourette's syndrome. Startles the shit out of me every damn time. It's like a sick addiction of his.

Confessions of a Modern Mama

2007-07-05T12:39:00.000-06:00

Just pretend I'm sitting on a metal chair, in a dingy gray room with one bright light over my head while the mother police interrogate me by banging fists on the table, throwing things and speaking a 1/2 inch from my face with gritted teeth and a few flecks of spit hitting my cheek until I confess my sins.

In all actuality confessions would spill out of me with some fondue and a glass of wine.... or, just having a blog. There really isn't a need for Law and Order confessionary tactics.

That is neither here nor there, though. Mothers all have things that we like to keep secret for fear of looking unfit and ruining their perfect image. I mean, lets face it, motherhood IS a competitive sport. Goals are scored on the playgrounds, supermarkets and shopping malls.

When a mother sits on the playground bench chatting with her other mother friends. Another mother is sliding down the slide with her kid and playing in the sandbox... SCORE! The sliding mama - 1, chatty bench mamas - 0.

A mother walks into the store and her child immediately throws a fit because he can't ride in the special video cart. Another mother walks in with a child the same age and he passes those evil money hungry machines without so much as a glance... SCORE! Tantrum mama - 0, Non-tantrum mama - 1.

Everyday is a competition for moms. Who found the greatest deal on Gap and Carter's clothes? Who has the cutest diaper bag? Whose stroller is the best? (Oh lord, don't EVEN get me started on stroller envy. That is an entirely different post.) Who packed the healthiest snacks for her kids? Who has the cleanest house and still manages her kids well? Who came up with the best theme for her kids party? Honestly, if poker can be an Olympic sport, so can motherhood.

The competition is so great that sometimes mothers are reduced to bumbling sacks of tears who spew nonsense to their husbands while they simply nod and smile. Some moms even have to medicate themselves... pharmaceutically or with alcohol. Either way, it's fun.

Since I'm on a crusade to change the world I figured I would make a small contribution to the motherhood sports league (MSL) by confessing some of my motherly sins.

______________________________________________

My son had Goldfish® for lunch today.

I drove 100 yards from Lowe's to the Target right next door without buckling my kids into their seats.

I have left Monster in his crib for an hour after his nap because I'm not ready to deal with him. I have also put him to bed for the same reason.

I took a Thomas the Train away from DramaBoy that I found out was recalled because of potential lead in the paint, but gave it back to him because I didn't know what else to do with it.

My 3 year old is still not potty trained. It's a work in progress. Ok, I'm lazy, too.

Television. Enough said.

I yell too much.

I still let swear words slip in front of the boys.

If we aren't leaving the house, I usually don't even bother dressing the boys, they just stay in their jammies or t-shirts all day.

I passed Monster to his daddy on the train the other day and said "Take him or I'm dropping him off at the next stop" (after enduring 45 minutes of being kicked, slapped and pinched).

Toenails sometimes get very long because the battle isn't worth the victory.

Cereal for dinner... enough said, again.

______________________________________________

If you need more confessions, wait a week, I'm sure I'll have more.

Mommy confessions are like poop... we all have it, we all hold it in sometimes and we all feel better when we let it out.

I am well aware that my confessions make me sound like trailer trash, but that is only one side of me. I just haven't made the list of things that would make other mommies jealous! MUWAHAHAHAHAHA!

Ok, in honor of my first decent post (it is decent, right???) in like, forevah, speak up. Confess something in your comments. Tell me your sins. Daddies too! Share your dark side with the internet. You'll feel better. Besides, once every mother realizes that ALL mom's have hidden confessions maybe the competition will ease up....

...Naaaaaah! NEVAH!

I'm Loved x 2

2007-07-03T11:53:00.000-06:00

SING WITH ME!
"Hey now, I'm a rockstar, get my game on, go play!" Or however it goes... I am totally a candidate for that new stoopid show the "Singing Bee" or something. I always screw up lyrics.

Yep, two very special ladies saw fit to give me a little Rockin' Girl Blogger award! SUH-WEET!!!

Thank you Lori and Thank you Internet Safety Queen!

Now, it is my turn to pay it forward... allow me to share my love with a few ladies..

These are in no particular order:

Here in Idaho - Kristi needs no introduction and no explanation. She is just, um... the Rockinest Rockin' Chick Blogger, EVAH! I'm secretly in love with her. Ok, well it's not a secret anymore.

Wiping up Snot - Karly seems to share a lot of my own idiosyncrasies. She is the me that I want to be. I rawk, of course, but she rawks BETTER!

Perfectly Dysfunctional - Jen is hawt, she makes me laugh and she is the type of friend I could never get in school because I wasn't cool enough. Thank GAWD for the internet... geekdome can be hidden way easier this way.

Williams Triplets - She has triplets, she is still funny, she works and she STILL finds time to blog. That deserves an award all by itself.

The Diva's Thoughts - She rawks because she always comments on my blog and says nice things and has a beautiful blog herself!

Now... go read these ladies, enjoy and share the love!

Remember Stella?

2007-06-29T10:17:00.000-06:00

Stella, the stainless steel beauty that adorns our kitchen? Stella, the immaculate goddess of refrigeration? Remember her now? Maybe these two posts will refresh your memory...

Love at first sight

Stella comes home

Well, I'm here to tell you that she is everything we dreamed of and more. She has been with us for two months now and has not disappointed us once. Ok, that isn't exactly true. Her digital readout of freezer and fridge temp wasn't working properly. However, Stella has a wonderful support system (for at least one year). A very nice man came out to have a look at her a few weeks ago. He diagnosed Stella's problem and fixed her up, no charge. Now she tells us the temperature every time we open her doors. Even though she had a minor issue, we never lost our deep feelings for her.

The boys aren't always nice to her but she is putting up with them nicely. The fingerprints and smudges wipe off quite easily. I also managed to find a nice, non-toxic, stainless steel cleaner at Target by the Method company. I just want to make sure Stella receives the best care.

I'm also here to tell you that I absolutely love, cherish and worship bottom drawer freezers. They are a gift from the heavens. The easy access is unmatched, the chances for frozen items falling out and breaking your toe are zero and the space is the same only better. The only drawback is a relative drawback and would only affect those with children who normally couldn't reach the freezer in traditional fridges. See, DramaBoy enjoys getting himself a fork then sliding open the freezer drawer and helping himself to the homemade ice cream cakes that daddy makes. If there is no ice cream cake to feast on then he'll just grab a spoon, open up the ice cream carton and help himself to that instead. Either way, he's 3, he knows he has access to the freezer and if I accidentally leave the gate to the kitchen open he takes full advantage of his new independent superpower. Little creep.

Stella also has another feature that I absolutely favor and worship. She has a little slide out rack that fits 12 cans of soda! 6 Dr. Peppers for moi and 6 Diet Pepsis (barf) for hubs. They don't take up room anymore and there is always a cold one at the ready. Lord knows my soda MUST be cold.

She also fits 4 gallons of milk in her door. Did you catch that? Need to read that again? 4 GALLONS... IN HER DOOR! Yeah, we drink a lot of milk. Everything within Stella is so accessible that she still feels like a dream. Much like Karly dry humps her computer, I often dry hump Stella when no one is looking. She likes it.

So, if any of you are in the market for a new fridge, if you have been considering getting a bottom freezer refrigerator or if you just didn't know what to buy, I'm here to tell that Ms. Stella, the goddess of GE, is your lady. You won't be sorry. And that, folks, was truly my entire point all along.

This post was simply from the goodness of my heart and not a paid advertisement for GE or their subsidiaries.

A monsoon, Bridezilla and 4 years later updated AGAIN!

2007-06-28T08:55:00.000-06:00

June 28th, 2003. The sun was shining off and on and the temperature was comfortable. My family was in town and we were rushing around to get some last minute things done. Eventually I found myself sitting in a chair while a woman applied my makeup and did my hair. The reveal was both frightening and lovely. My face resembled a young Tammy Faye but my hair was passable.

Soon after, my sisters and friends were piling into my little two-door coupe and headed for the ceremony. 2 blocks from home I realized that my wedding dress was still hanging in the house. Screeching tires echoed through the air, the smell of burning rubber permeated my nose and a quick u-turn was made as I pounded the clutch to the floor and slammed the gear shifter into 2nd. Gawd I miss my 5-speeds.

A few moments later we were, once again, on our way. As we drove I noticed clouds rolling in and then, rain. Rain on my windshield. When you have an outdoor garden wedding ceremony planned, rain and clouds are the last thing you want to see.

Bridezilla was born.

We got settled into the dressing room of the old Victorian mansion and the skies looked more and more ominous with each passing minute. My dress was finally on and I felt like a million dollars. Even my makeup was beginning to look better. The time to walk down the stairs, across the garden grass and up to the beautiful, little, white bridge was here.

So was the rain.

This is the Chicago-land area... everyone within 200 miles of Chicago knows how fickle the weather is. If it rains, wait 10 minutes and it will be gone. I worked hard at suppressing the Bridezilla in me and took deep breaths, prayed, begged for clears skies and tried to smile.

A voice appeared from somewhere and asked, "Would you like a something to drink? A beer?"

"GOOD GAWD! YES! I need one!" I replied and snatched the bottle from her hand.

I chugged some beer, tried to relax and waited for the rain to pass. As I stood in the room overlooking the garden and the empty white chairs I watched the rain just come down in buckets. I saw my guests crowding under the breezeway that adjoined the garden so they could stay dry. Bridezilla did allow me to feel a tad sorry for them, briefly, but it didn't last long. I was the one suffering. The day was all about me and it was about to be ruined.

Then, the rain had stopped! Men in uniforms rushed around with white towels and began to dry off all of the chairs. Guests relaxed and started to walk out to take their seats.

The rain started, again. Only this time, the wind decided to join the party. Soon, the small town suburb of Chicago suffered a great monsoon. A monsoon, on my wedding day.

Bridezilla was scratching and clawing at my insides trying to find her way to the surface. The bitch. She won. In a moment of Paris Hilton rage I stomped my foot and bellowed out something childish and ridiculous. My sisters, bridesmaids and everyone else turned to look at me. It wasn't a pretty moment.

The rest of the story is borderline catastrophic and is the reason I'm still bitter to this day.

However, the debacle of a ceremony, the heat of the room we had to continue our wedding in, the fact that my father-in-law stared directly at the ass of a groomsmen that was one foot in front of his face during the entire ceremony and the fact that my music was screwed up as I walked in for my grand entrance, I still married a special man. When I saw his face, waiting for me, the rain, heat, tension and uncomfortable silence in the air drifted away. I smiled for the first time that day.

He is not an easy man to love, but he stole my heart the day I met him and I don't want it back. He is mine. He is the man who cooks me dinner. He is the man who always remembers to get me a Twix bar from the store. He is the man who keeps me warm in the winter. He is the man who makes me chocolate chip cookies whenever I ask. He is the man who knows exactly how I like to drink my sodas (yes, I have a specific way... shut up). He is the man with the silly laugh and great smile. He is the man gave me my children.

I married him for a reason. He is the man I first fell in love with, only better now. I love his grumpy face when he's tired. I love his sandpaper feet. I love his soft hands and I love his big brown eyes. I'm starting to love that he gets all squirmy when I get affectionate because he isn't a touchy-feely guy. Marriage is a learning experience so even after 4 years I'm still starting to love different things about him.

I didn't marry him to change him. I married the man he was and still is. If he squirms when I get affectionate, so be it. His heart is mine and my heart is his. Forever.

Babes, we have made it 4 years. We have made it this far with our differences and we will keep on going. You are stuck with me. I love you with all my heart. Someday, we will reenact our wedding in Cabo San Lucas and renew our vows. No rain. No debacles.

Happy Anniversary sweets. I love you.

*Update*

How could I forget to mention this...

This morning, I walked downstairs to find this on our table:

Ladies. Ladies, ladies ladies... do you see what that bag says? Go ahead, click on the picture, save it if you have to. Then enlarge it. Do you now see what it says?

IT SAYS COACH! As in, COACH! As in $500 leather purses, Coach! As in, DREAM ON Coach!

Then, I open the dainty, sweet brown box of joy and what do I see?

THIS!

This is a COACH scarf in greens, browns, creams and 100% SILK!

Girls, this mama loves scarves. Mama wears them in her hair, mama ties them loosely to her purses for fun and to add color, mama wears them around her waist to add an accessory to an outfit, mama wears them on her head and she wears them around her neck. Mama loves scarves.

But, until now, mama only bought the cute little scarves from Kohl's or Target. Now, mama has a COACH scarf. A 100% silk COACH SCARF. This po' little white trash girl is now the proud owner of a COACH scarf! Dear God I love my husband.

*Updated again...*

I didn't tell you WHY hubs got me a scarf for our anniversary. See, he looked up the traditional gifts for the 4th anniversary. I guess the gift was clothe or linen. So he got me a scarf. How thoughtful is that!?

Seriously girls, the man bakes chocolate chip cookies, makes homemade ice cream cakes and buys me a COACH scarf. You can love him too, it's okay with me.

Do you have passion?

2007-06-25T13:53:00.000-06:00

pas·sion - [pash-uhn]

1.	any powerful or compelling emotion or feeling, as love or hate.

2.	strong amorous feeling or desire; love; ardor.

3.	strong sexual desire; lust.

4.	an instance or experience of strong love or sexual desire.

5.	a person toward whom one feels strong love or sexual desire.

6.	a strong or extravagant fondness, enthusiasm, or desire for anything: a passion for music.

7.	the object of such a fondness or desire: Accuracy became a passion with him.

8.	an outburst of strong emotion or feeling: He suddenly broke into a passion of bitter words.

9.	violent anger.

10.	the state of being acted upon or affected by something external, esp. something alien to one's nature or one's customary behavior

11.

(often initial capital letter) Theology.

a.	the sufferings of Christ on the cross or His sufferings subsequent to the Last Supper.

b.	the narrative of Christ's sufferings as recorded in the Gospels.

12.	Archaic. the sufferings of a martyr.

__________________________________________________________________
This is how Dictionary.com defines passion. Seems to sum everything up, huh?

People have a passion for art.
People have a passion for cooking.
People have a passion for life.

What is your passion?

The bigger question is, do you have passion for your spouse? When couples have children the relationship changes between them, that is just a widely known fact. So, did you have passion for each other before you had children? Can you find that passion again if you take a night just for each other?

What if you love your spouse with every ounce of your being, but there is no passion? Or, what if the passion is one sided?

Expecting storybook love and passion in a relationship is idealistic. Even though relationships start out that way, they don't last.... for most people. Sometimes it does, but it's rare. But, does it really have to be so rare? Is it really so difficult to maintain?

If you are thinking of passion as in rip your spouse's clothes off when he or she walks in the door and just going at it right there on the kitchen floor, then no, that probably isn't realistic. But, simplify the term 'passion'. Think of more everyday expressions that show your spouse or loved one that you still feel that little flame in your soul. If everyone did that, then why can't everyone be passionate in their relationship?

Now, how do I define passion? To me, it's about thinking about the mundane and making it special. It is about not letting the little things go by unnoticed. Passion is something that is in my soul.

Passion can be shown with a simple look and a smile, a kiss while making dinner, a phone call in the middle of the day to just say I love you, making out when the kids are not around... it can be that easy, can't it?

Is it silly to want this? Is it silly to want your spouse to have a little burning desire for you? People are so caught up in providing for their families, paying the bills, grocery shopping, the state of the world, homework, school, sports and just going through the motions of life that they seem to forget about what truly matters.

Well, guess what? Life isn't about paying the bills and driving the kids to baseball practice. Life isn't about remembering the milk on the way home and making cupcakes for a birthday party. Those are just things in life that we do, every day. Life is about passion. Life is about standing in the rain and getting your hair wet. Life is about soaking up that full, orange moon in October and reveling in the beauty. Life is about hugging your child as tight as you can when he goes to bed at night and wakes up in the morning. Life is about looking up at the majestic tree on your block and realizing how beautiful it really is. It's yours... it's your view, your tree, your simple beauty.

Life is about living and caring and loving. Life is about many things for people... like Curly said in City Slickers... "One thing... find that one thing that really matters... that is what life is about." I'm not copping out of life and saying screw the bills, screw work and screw the government. Those are all responsibilities within my life, but they do not define my life. There is a big difference between duties we all need to do and things that define us as people. They are incomparable and need to remain separate. What defines me? What defines you? Well, passion defines me.. not my debt, my messy laundry room or my lack of culinary skills.

I have passion. I have passion for life, for my children and my husband. I have passion for the beauty of the trees in my neighborhood, the Asiatic lilies that I planted, the sound of my boy's laughter, the smell of my husband, the look of the rain drops clinging to my window screens, the cardinal that visits my lilac tree in the spring and the feeling of driving with the windows down and the a/c on for the perfect climate control and feeling of freedom. I have a lot of passion. It's in my soul for many things and many people.

Is it too much to ask for someone to have simple passion for me?

The Blender

2007-06-21T08:13:00.000-06:00

Today's Recipe:

4 glasses of ice cream juice
2 1/2 feet of attitude
a dash of Skinny bitches in commercials selling weight loss tips
and a healthy handful of this man

Ingredient One: Ice cream juice
Last night, we had "ice cream juice" for dinner. That is what DramaBoy calls the strawberry shakes that we make. We went strawberry picking recently and in the summer we always make fresh strawberry shakes. Last night because of cutting the grass and other things we didn't come into the house and get settled until about 7:30pm. So, I said screw it, we are having ice cream juice for dinner.

It's healthy right? I mean milk, fresh berries and ~~10 scoops~~ a smidge of ice cream?

Ingredient Two: 2 1/2 feet of attitude
It seems that Monster is taking after his older brother and talking back to me now, as well. He is not 2 yet and I get "No YOU stop it!", "No YOU get down!". Oh, and when he says that he slaps me. He is 2 1/2 feet of attitude and self-assertion. Maybe that will make it more clear as to why he is called Monster.

Ingredient Three: Skinny bitches
Anyone seen the new Special K cereal commercial? The one with the uber-skinny bitch in a trendy red shirt "skipping breakfast to lose weight"? Well, fuck that. Kelloggs can suck my left flabby ass cheek. I will boycott their entire line of cereals because of their ridiculous commercial which completely treats the general public as idiots and seems to think it is ok to imply that being 90-pounds soaking wet is fat! Kelloggs, you are a superficial and moronic company for allowing this commercial to represent your product.

And, the final ingredient: Adam Levine
The tastiest and most important ingredient by far... I give you, Adam Levine. The man I would love to miniaturize and place on my pillow at night just to stare at him and have him sing me to sleep. While we are at it... I'm in love with not only him, but this song by Maroon 5...
Maroon 5 - Makes me Wonder
On second thought, screw the miniaturization... I want him life size. Yummy. Adam, you have taken over the top spot on my "list".

Blend and enjoy

My Father - Part IV

2007-06-19T11:30:00.000-06:00

Last year I began telling the story of my dad.

This is Part I

This is Part II

This is Part III

Obviously, it's a long story. I have neglected to continue on, probably because I wasn't sure where to go next. Also, writing all of those things out brought up a great deal of emotions that I had not felt in a long time. This time, my father will be the subject in a less direct way.

In recent months a lot of changes have occurred within me...revelations, new perspectives and maturity. At 31 years old, I'm still growing. I'm starting to realize why people in their 30's are so happy and at peace with their lives. A lot of things happen in a person's 30's that really affect their mental state in positive ways.

Most recently two things that have been said by other people have opened my eyes a little bit more, in regards to my father. One was from an anonymous commenter (I am not sure if I know them or if they just kept up with my story or if they are a stalker and know more about me than I'm comfortable with.. LOL!). This person mentioned my alcoholic background (hopefully they meant my father's because I'm not an alcoholic myself) and said it could explain my need for control, since I did not have the control growing up. That was a huge "AH HA" moment for me.

The second thing was mentioned by a girl in one of my classes. There was a discussion question for this week regarding critical thinking and how it affects us as readers and writers. In my answer I explained that until recently, I was not a critical thinker. I took things at face value because I figured the media and authors were smarter than I, so why should I question them. This girl said that this can sometimes be the result of overbearing parents. If parents don't encourage free-thinking in their children and simply expect them to think and feel the way they do, a child will not learn to think for themselves. Yet another "AH HA" moment.

What does all of this mean? Well, this means that I can place all of the blame on my father for being a controlling idiot! Okay, not really. But, yes, really. What I'm trying to say is there is apparently a reason for me needing to be in control of things. There is a reason why I never really thought for myself, but actually road the coattails of other thinkers. This is a great epiphany, thanks to two complete strangers.

My dad was overbearing. As I mentioned in the first 3 parts, he seemed to demand perfection from me. The harder I tried to make him happy, the more I failed. I had a very difficult time trying to balance my life because I had to make sure I pleased my father no matter what. My dad was opinionated and a strong personality. He tried to encourage me to always know who I was, to be strong and to think. Somehow it backfired or it never sunk in because of him trying to control me. Maybe I was afraid to think differently than him. Maybe I looked up to him so much that I thought he was right no matter what. Whatever it was, I grew up never really questioning people.

Nowadays, I'm more cynical, distrusting, I think more independently and best of all, I feel smarter. Being cynical and distrusting are not bad things. They represent free thinking. I'm not saying that I am a negative person now, I just question things and don't necessarily believe things that I'm fed. I have gone from being naive to being a little more discerning of the truth.

This transition is by no means complete. In fact, it is just beginning. The funny thing is, my dad would be proud! If he were here right now, he would be the first one to tell me that I have wasted all these years listening to other people spew bullshit and just went along with it. He would be the first one to tell me to start thinking for myself. I honestly don't think that he ever intended for me to do what he did and believe everything he said. That is just how it happened because of his strong personality and intimidating demeanor.

Daddy, it took a long time, but here I am, 31 years old, raising two boys and I am finally growing up! I am finally proud of being who I am and will tell anyone to f-off if they don't like it. I am finally realizing that people have hidden agendas and are probably feeding me bullshit. I am finally strong like you wanted me to be.

Along with this transformation is another side-effect that I couldn't be happier with. I am more socially aware then I have ever been. Not that I never cared about social issues before but there was always something else to worry about. Now, these social issues are what I need to worry about. They effect my children, other people's children, our world and everyone else. I have always been an empathetic person, but now I feel empowered to actually do things to help.

I am becoming the person my dad always wanted me to be, but for some reason never was. My parents would be the first to say that I was a little "slow" on the uptake. My dad might not be so proud of the fact that I'm becoming more of a "bleeding heart" since he was such a strong Republican though. But, I would be the first to tell him to f-off. He would laugh, we would bicker over politics and clink our beers together, if only he were here, right now.

Sorry, but you got the wrong mama!

2007-06-15T14:45:00.001-06:00

I'm the Anti-Christ of crafting with my children. I'm way too controlling and anal to even try. Martha Stewart and Rosie make it seem all easy and fun but I know better. They are lying bitches.

Look, ask my friends about something as simple as the sandbox. Go on. Ask. Do you know what they will say? They will say, "OMG, Angel HATES letting her kids play in the sandbox because it's too messy. She is incredibly anal about it. Sure, she tries, but she is certifiably insane afterwards and we have to put up with it."

I have tried letting my kids play in the sandbox but I simply couldn't stand brushing all the sand off of them, then getting myself all gritty. And, if I even started to glisten in the slightest manner then getting that sand-turned-mud off was damn near impossible and I begged for an immediate shower. Then having to transfer two sandy children in my car and back home only to take their shoes off later and dump sand all over my floor, well, I hated it. I cannot physically or emotionally deal with it .

Stop calling me a tight ass. I know you are.

I realize I'm an uptight "shove-coal-up-my-ass-and-get-a-diamond" kind of mother. In Milwaukee my friends practically had restrain me from pulling my children out of the puddles that all the kids were running through. I was told to relax, breathe and think of a happy place, then given the paper bag to hyperventilate into. I managed to keep my sanity while putting my soaking wet children into their nice, neat and dry car seats for the 1 mile drive back to the hotel. All was okay. I survived and my children had fun! Go figure.

The self-control stops at finger paints.

See, I try to be creative with cards and gifts for hubs on Father's Day. However, I also become the almighty controller of the project and while it might be from the children, I do all the work so it does not get messed up. This year was no different.

Um, hello? Earth to dumbass? If it's FROM the children, shouldn't you let the children in on the project? Most mother's would right?

I tried. Really. I did.

I bought all the stuff for the gigantic card including finger paints so the boys could "draw" their own designs on the card. I stenciled the letters on and then started to color them in. I realized I was doing all the work and should let the boys help. So, I put the marker in their hand and held it and colored in the stencils...my way. It was good enough to let them at least touch the marker, right? That has to count! If they showed any signs of struggle or defiance, the marker was removed and I finished it myself because no way was I having them color outside of the lines or in the wrong direction. But, I tried.

Then I glued on some pictures. I'm was not about to give the boys glue sticks, are you nuts? Do visions of fingers stuck in ears or willies glued to tables come to your mind? Well, they do in mine!

The time for the finger paints and hand prints was near. This started out okay and I managed to get decent prints. Then, it was time to let them finger paint on the card themselves. Oh. Dear. God. This is how that went...

"DramaBoy, just put your finger in the paint and them paint the card, but don't paint over the pictures or other letters."

"Monster! GET YOUR FINGERS OUT OF YOUR MOUTH! You don't eat the paint!"

"STOP TOUCHING YOUR HAIR DAMMIT!"

"DramaBoy, you are doing so gre...... NOT ON THE PICTURES!"

"Monster! GET YOUR HANDS AWAY FROM YOUR FACE! It's paint not food!"

"No, you are not using crayons. WE ARE FINGER PAINTING!"

"NOT IN YOUR HAIR MONSTER!"

"Good gawd look at your face!"

I gave up. The card doesn't look nearly as nice as it did, but my own boys' artwork is on it so it's okay. However, I have now come to the conclusion that crafting with my kids is not for me. I have tried, in the past, and just cannot do it. I'm too controlling and way too much of a neat freak to be able to craft with my kids at this age. Maybe, when they are older it will get better. Do kids ever stop putting things in their mouths or will it just go from everything, to crayons and paint, to candy, to tongue piercings? I'm just curious.

So, I'm sorry boys, I'm sorry everyone, I am just not that kind of mother. I'm thinking of coming up with new ways to entertain the children. What do you think of vacuum racing, toilet bowl scrubbing contests and dusting competitions? They are already great little laundry helpers. Any future crafting will more than likely involve origami t-shirt folding, matching sock puppets and possibly macaroni necklaces... just because DramaBoy REALLY enjoys eating raw macaroni noodles.

She was Me

2007-06-15T07:24:00.000-06:00

This story is almost worse now

This was the story I mentioned yesterday, as it was breaking. A woman and her 3 children were shot to death in their SUV. All assumptions immediately lead to the husband. Well, here is a case of "things are not always what they seem".

It looks like she did it. However, I will not believe a thing until the investigation is final. They questioned the husband and let him go. The investigators say that the husband fled after she shot at him (he was shot in the leg). You can't jump to conclusions in things like this, yet I did. I know better. Regardless, the truth still hasn't been 100% revealed and it doesn't change how I feel about these things. Either way, a PARENT, a SPOUSE destroyed his or her own family. I don't care if it's the mother or father. The tragedy is still the same. The question of why is still there.

When you read this article you will be shaking your head just like me. What is worse is this family is my family. Our kids are different ages but it is our family. They were allegedly happy, no divorce plans, no troubles, bright futures and she was a stay at home mother in ONLINE school! She was me. 9 hours after a nice family dinner, she kills her family? What the hell happened?

One last thing... he FLED after he was shot. Why did he flee? Why didn't he wrestle the gun away from her? Why didn't he try to protect his children? This whole case stinks and I hope the police can solve this mystery soon. Something is not right.

This is why I cannot go into family or criminal law if I become a paralegal. I can't defend those I think are guilty and I can't prosecute those whom I think are innocent. I would rather be the psychologist getting inside of their head to figure out why they did it.

Not for the faint of heart.

2007-06-14T10:48:00.000-06:00

I'm not a criminal psychologist. Sometimes I wish I was. I'm the type of person that has to know why something is the way it is. If someone commits a heinous crime I really try to understand why. What drove the person to do it? What was so bad in their life that could bring them to such a drastic measure? Not only that, I think of the victims. What must have their last minutes been like? How much did they suffer? What happened?

In the Chicago area, lately the news has been saturated with tragic stories. A step-father killed his teenage step-daughter, then himself just the other day. A young girl is kidnapped and murdered right from a Target in Kansas! A local mother has been missing for over a month. A bright young woman from New York who was vacationing in Florida with her younger sister is missing. Then, there are these two local stories...

No words for this

No words for this, either

What is going on? These things are not uncommon anymore. Women are disappearing left and right while doing everyday things that we all do! Families are being murdered by psychotic men who seem to think that it is okay to shoot or stab the mother of their children and then kill their own children, too!

Look, I worked for a domestic violence shelter and learned that domestic violence is rampant and affects more people than you think it does. I'm not naive to this kind of thing. Rich, poor, young, old, there is no prejudice when it come to violence in families. Many times there are signs that foretell what a man is capable of doing, but it gets filed under denial or ignorance. Sadly, the man's true self emerges one day and a woman and child end up dead. This happens all the time.

Why? What drives a man to do these things? I say men or man because statistically, men are the ones who kidnap or murder women and children. There are exceptions, but I'm speaking specifically about cases in which women randomly go missing or men murder their own families.

A young girl went to Target, just like I often do. She lived in America's heartland. Now, she's gone all because of some lunatic man who probably didn't even know this girl. Two young women head south for a nice sisterly vacation. The older sister vanishes. A bright young girl is growing up and has dreams of the future when her step-father kills her.

Why does tragedy like this seem to be the biggest news story I see, everyday? It tears at my heart and makes my mind race while trying to wrap my head around it. These things are so common and don't just occur in urban areas anymore. They are hitting innocent little towns and unsuspecting places now.

The random acts are unthinkable and scary. I could go to the store one night and never come home. This is no longer a "it won't happen to me" thought. It's real. However, the men who slaughter their own families are despicable. What makes my husband different from these men? Did the women feel as safe and secure as I do? Did they see this coming? Were they trying to get away? Were they abused or simply blindsided by this sudden violence? How will we ever know?

I'm dumbfounded, heartbroken, sad and worrisome.

No one should ever think "it won't happen to me". We should always be on guard without cutting our lives off from the world. Look out for yourselves. But, look out for others too. Pay attention. Be aware of your surroundings and if you think a family is in any danger don't turn a blind eye and think it's none of your business. It is your business.

I'm just sayin.... for real this time.

*%!&$#!

2007-06-13T19:07:00.000-06:00

A cicada flew into my hair today.

I'm just sayin'.

DraMa's Blender

2007-06-13T09:53:00.000-06:00

Some days there is nothing to write about. The strong desire to post scratches at my fingers from the inside and my head scrambles to come up with something to say. In the end, either something ridiculous gets posted and I regret it, or nothing comes out at all. The latter is much better for everyone.

Then there are days like today, when a hodge-podge of ideas pours out of my head and subsequently I end up with 3 days worth of posts. However, I'm impatient and can't wait 3 days to post each item.

So, now, you get DraMa's Blender.

Add a cup of Mr. Wizard's passing, a pinch of the negative side of hubs having a blog, a large helping the Taste of Chicago and a dash of my genius in college and you get the perfect recipe for a post about nothing and yet about everything.

Ingredient One: Farewell Mr. Wizard.

I grew up watching you Mr. Wizard. I loved you, plain and simple. You taught me so many things like placing a piece of tape over a balloon and then pricking it with a pin will not cause the balloon to pop! Your lessons were so simple and made it easy for kids to understand and apply to everyday life. To be honest, I can't remember much that you taught but it isn't for your lack of charm or approach to teaching. What is important is the little bit of joy that rises up in my soul when I think of watching your shows. Watching you made me happy and that is a feeling I carry with me, even now, at 31. I became engaged in your lessons and know for a fact that there are things I know today that are a direct result from watching your shows. I will never forget you.

Just now, the news replayed the story of your death and showed old clips of you. I haven't smiled with such sorrow and sincerity in a long time. There is a huge sadness within me knowing that you aren't around anymore. You shared the joys of science with your grace and charisma and it was blissfully obvious that you were an incredibly special person.

Rest in peace Mr. Wizard, Don. I will greatly miss you.

Ingredient Two: The Negative Side of Hubs Having His Own Blog

Simply put... he steals my material. See here. Bastard. This was MINE! I would look like I'm riding his coattails if I posted it now. From now on, when I'm funny, it's going to be a race to see who can post it on their blog first! And believe me, I'm funny A LOT!

So game on loser. Game ON!

Ingredient Three: The Taste of Chicago

I. Live. For. This. Event.

I dream of eating my way through the streets of Chicago sampling the finest pizza, sausages, tempura and corn on the cob. I salivate at the thought of wall to wall food all within my grasp and finishing off the samplings with chocolate covered strawberries and Italian ice.

Wait... I don't have to dream. THIS REALLY HAPPENS! EVERY YEAR!

Many locals don't even attend this event because of the large amount of crowds or because they think it's so 1995. I don't know and I don't care. They must not love food as much as I... which is fine... MORE FOR ME TO EAT SUCK-AHS! I will gladly battle the crowds in order to pay 7 tickets for a slice of Lou Malnati's Pizza! I will sell my plasma for extra cash to buy more tickets to buy more food from the Taste.

You walk the lake shore, cool off in the mist of Buckingham Fountain and eat until you can't physically walk any more. That, right there, is a reason for living... or at least a reason for living in Chicago. And, because we live here and have access to the train right behind my house we plan our strategy ahead of time. We have a booklet of the event showcasing which restaurants are going to have booths, what days have the big activities and study the map of where each vendor/restaurant will be.

We make sure and catch the train from our house an hour or more before the Taste opens. This way, we get out of the station downtown right as the gates open and beat the big crowds. No paying for parking or struggling to find a spot and walking blocks and blocks to get to the event. We have a strategy planned of what booths we are hitting first and we set our internal GPS system and begin EATING! Then, we get our desserts, walk around in the shade and the parks, laugh at all the idiots and freaks, comment on how many pregnant women we see and reminisce of when I was pg and walking around the Taste and how bad I want to be pg again and then we laugh at ourselves, take a bite of reality and head back for our 2:30pm train home fat and HAPPY!

Oh mama mia.... I love the Taste of Chicago.

Final Ingredient: My Genius in School.

The scores on my two final papers were outstanding. Out-freaking-standing. I got 297 out of 300 points on one paper and 248 out of 250 points on my other paper. Most of my assignments throughout the courses were 100%'s as well. So I had strong A's in both classes for the final grades.

My first two courses ended on Sunday and the next two courses started Monday. No breaks. Hopefully I can maintain the high grades in these next two classes. They are harder so I just have to work a little bit harder.

Go me!

Blend on high for 2 minutes.

Facebook is now a better place

2007-06-12T08:47:00.000-06:00

Facebook is now graced with my face. They are so lucky.

Shut up, it's what I'm telling myself.

Here is me, on Facebook.

Go there, now. Join me. Add me as a friend. Don't leave me hanging out there all by myself. Make me feel special, worthy!

I truly don't know why I join these things. I rarely check my MySpace account. However, I was reunited a great friend from high school because of MySpace so it made everything worth while. Maybe the same will happen with Facebook.

Day 21 of the Cicada Invasion

2007-06-11T16:55:00.001-06:00

If you are squeamish, suck it up and watch anyway. Gawd, the things I do for you people!
You won't be able to see in the video but as I'm filming the trees above there are a bunch of cicadas flying around up there. A few flew by my as I was taping... yuck. But, I did it! I DID IT!

A letter to my neighbors

2007-06-11T10:21:00.000-06:00

Dearest Neighbors,

You can put away your petitions to evict us from the neighborhood. I am writing this letter to clear up any assumptions you may have developed about our family. Hopefully this will help you understand the shouting and/or cryptic things you may hear coming from our house when you walk by in the summer and our windows are open.

First, yes, we are loud. That is a fact. However, when you hear things like "You are a loser!" or "You suck donkey balls" or "Kiss my brown Mexican ass" or "BASTARD!", please, put the phone down. There is no need to call the police or a domestic violence hotline. This is just how hub's and I trash talk each other, in fun. We are adults who have yet to grow up.

Second, you may have heard the phrase "Stop playing with your willy!" recently bellowing from our windows. I apologize. This was simply the first thing that flew out of my mouth when my son ran out of the shower shaking his junk and yanking on it. It was just his way of exploring his manhood and playing around.

Third, we do not beat our children. I realize that the ear-piercing screams that you may hear echoing through the neighborhood might lead you to believe otherwise. However, you just need to understand that my children are incredibly dramatic. The two words spoken by us that seem to cause the most drama are "Stop that" or "No". This causes them both to lose all control, reach deep down inside of their bellies and bellow out this incredibly loud scream that can be heard round the world. Please believe me when I tell you that they are not spoiled brats, they are not being beaten or harmed in any way. They just channel the devil at times and wreak havoc in our house. This, in turn, causes hubs and I to yell, pull our hair out or simply ignore them and walk away.

You must understand that we are parents of two toddler boys. Let me clarify that statement: We are trying desperately to raise two, vivacious, opinionated, strong-willed and dramatic boys. The drama was inherited from me. Also, it's important to note that the older boy just turned 3 and this has somehow brought out an incredibly sassy and defiant child. He is enjoying expressing himself by yelling back at us and saying things like, "No YOU stop it!" The younger one, not yet 2, is just a heathen. He laughs at us, hits us and climbs on everything.

Lately, life with our children has been a bigger challenge than it ever has before. They have also been ill this week so a toxic mixture has been created... toddlers + illness = pure hell. So we are just asking that you cut us some slack as you walk by our home and hear seemingly awful things.

If you ever hear the boys beating on a door and screaming our names, just understand that hubs and I have simply locked ourselves within a safe confine in order to regain our sanity. Once we have gathered ourselves we will come out, remove the knives from the children's hands and begin parenting again.

Hopefully this letter clears up any misconceptions you may have developed recently. If you walk by and it is quiet, please do not think that the children are bound and gagged in a secret room. They are probably just napping. For real. Napping. I swear.

Warmest Regards,
Hernandez House of Insanity.

It's all about meme

2007-06-07T14:11:00.000-06:00

INSTRUCTIONS: Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so:

Holly’s Corner

An Island Life

Whee! All The Way Home

Melanie in Orygun

Queen of Drama

Next, select five people to tag:

Becky of Everyone else is doing it, because she is my uber-awesome bestest friend and she just needs to do one of these.
Jen of Perfectly Dysfuntional, because, she is cool like me.
Karly of Wiping up Snot, because she needs something else to do other than wipe boogers.
Lori of These are the Days, because she is off for the summer and needs something to do.. HA HA! I'm a riot.
Bill of Radioactive Jam, because he deserves this after taunting me about the cicadas. Back at ya Billy Boy.

What were you doing 10 years ago? Probably whoring around. No, wait, I was done with that by 1997. I was working for America West airlines and in the beginning of a new relationship.

What were you doing 1 year ago? Exactly one year ago I was just beginning to blog actually! The boys were a bit easier back then because Monster couldn't walk yet and DramaBoy wasn't as um, needy. So I had a lot of time to get on the blog train. The beginning was not a pretty ride. BLECK!

Five Snacks You Enjoy

Toaster Strudles
Pringles
Hub's homemade choco chip or m&m cookies
Quesadillas
Chicken nuggets with Ranch dressing.

Five Songs That You Know All The Lyrics To

Garth Brooks, Too Damn Young to Feel this Damn Old
Rascal Flatts, Mayberry
John Mellencamp, Cherry Bomb
Alanis Morrisette, Jagged Little Pill
Brooks and Dunn, Neon Moon

I just picked 5 songs that came to mind first.

Five Things You Would Do If You Were a Millionaire

Give money to family.
Donate money to charities often.
Take a lot of vacations and travel the world with my family.
Send hubby to culinary school.
Get my teeth looking PERFECT.

Five Bad Habits

Procrastination
Picking the skin around my thumbs. YUCK!
Laziness
Not sending out birthday cards on time, or at all.
No follow through

Five Things You Like To Do

Eat
Hang out with friends
Dine out
Drive alone to relax
Play on the computer

Five Things You Would Never Wear Again

Spandex shorts
Jelly shoes
Acid wash jeans
Knickers... shut up. My grandmother made me a pair.
Neon colors

Five Favorite Toys

My new PDA
My computer (the dell desktop of happiness)
My Hub's iPod. HA!
Mr. SUV, yes he's a toy
Stella... yes she is a new toy.

You're up next!

I Hate it When...

2007-06-07T10:16:00.002-06:00

... I spend a good 20 seconds in the shower trying to scrub off a piece of dirt, only to realize it's a brand new freckle.

... I put on my "sofa king cool" t-shirt and run a quick errand to Target to make a return only to get back into my car and see a gigantic smudge of lipstick covering my front teeth.

... I buy a really nice two-tone green striped shirt on clearance and then put it on with a pair of cute new khaki capris only to realize I am the female version of Steve from Blue's Clues. Seriously, put a collar on the shirt and it's a dead ringer. But I still love the shirt.

... I hate when people honk at me to pull out into traffic when there still cars coming and I can't get out of my car to yell at them for being stupid and impatient.

... I hate windy days. Like gale force windy days, just like today.

... I am watching Ellen and the best part of the show comes up and then all of a sudden a news bulletin breaks in and I think, "OMG, they are bombing Chicago!" only to hear that there is some accident messing up traffic! YOU BROKE IN FOR THAT!? Save it for the 5pm traffic report jerks.

... I have an afternoon of peace only to have to choose between a nap or schoolwork.

... Paris Hilton ended up getting off anyway.

... I'm on my hands and knees on the floor wiping up a bunch of food that Monster has thrown there only to have him reach down from his high chair to grab a fist-full of my hair and yank it, then Hubs has to come to my rescue.

But, I'm just sayin'.

Oh, and I chose the nap. Damn that was nice!

More Pictures.. from Milwaukee.

2007-06-06T09:54:00.000-06:00

You'll look and you'll like it!

DramaBoy, playing in the sand at the Children's Museum

As we were driving along the lakeshore in Milwaukee there was fog rolling in off the lake. This picture does nothing for what we actually saw. It was an amazing site. Along the beach you could see fog literally sitting on the beach rising up as if the sand were steaming hot. It was so beautiful. In this picture you can just tell it's foggy and that's it. That flag pole wasn't that far away and yet barely visible.

One of our friends let me borrow his zoom lens and put it on our camera and he said I could play around with it. So, this is basically a zoomed shot of the above picture. I just wanted to get the rock formation and some seagulls. I'm not a professional. Duh.

This was our group... a bunch of crazy adults with awesome kids.

Monster's nose the day after he face planted in the concrete while running through the puddles with the other kids. Poor baby!

And the family. This was after the fog lifted so you can see how clear things became.

One more thing... I just want to address a couple of comments from the last post....

#1 - Hot Australian Men - I have heard the same thing Lori. One of my friends who was with us on the trip told me the exact same thing! Now I know never to date one.... just use him for sex.

#2 - Mr. SUV's tank is only a 22 gallon tank. Mr. SUV just happens to rawk the hizzy and I love him berry berry much.

10 Things I learned on our trip to Milwaukee

2007-06-04T16:37:00.000-06:00

1. Never EVER take 1-94 on a Friday afternoon. Ever.
2. Hot Australian men make a better view from the hotel than any ocean or mountains, any day.
2. I'm an obnoxious drunk.
3. Never leave hubs in charge of the camera film.
5. Servers really dislike parties of 12. Especially when 6 of them 12 are children.
6. Large puddles are cheaper and make for better entertainment for kids than a pirate festival and a children's museum.
7. It's just not a pirate festival party without drunken wenches with gigantic cleavage hanging out.
8. Mr. SUV can make it to and from Milwaukee on one tank of gas.
9. There were 42 stairs up to the 4th floor of our hotel. (I don't do elevators, if possible)
10. Don't rough house with Monster after he eats pizza, especially if you are on your friend's hotel bed. Pizza puke stinks.

This past weekend was bitchen. Totally bitchen. There were 12 of us, 6 adults and 6 kids. We took in a pirate festival in Port Washington, WI., the children's museum in Milwaukee on the lakefront and had a great time all around. Saturday night the kids were relegated to their own room and the adults partied in another room. (We had 3 rooms and two were adjoining). They watched Stuart Little while the adults drank... a little. heh heh heh.

Thankfully, our floor also had partiers so being loud was not an issue. A few ladies attending a bachelorette party even stopped by our room (the door was open) to see what was going on. The entire hotel floor could have made a great video called "Adults with kids behaving badly". Then, of course, there were the oodles of hot Aussie's down by the pool, for hours. I got busted by one of the hot guys while staring out my 4th floor window at them. Oops. He just waved and smiled, while I ducked and ran for cover, like an idiot.

Anywho, Sunday we had breakfast and then decided to take in some sights before leaving town. We drove around the lakefront, took pictures and let the kids play at a beachside park. We wanted them nice and tired for the ride home. After that, we headed out.

Astonishingly, we made it to Milwaukee and back home on ONE tank of gas. Yes, I said ONE tank of gas. The tank was full when I left my house at 2:45pm Friday and drove into the city to pick up hubs from work. Then, we sat in traffic for over an hour with the a/c on, finally made it to Milwaukee (it's about 2 1/2 hours from our house to Milwaukee), then drove around the downtown area, then drove 50 miles round trip to and from Port Washington, then drove around Milwaukee some more then drove all the way home. Door to door without ever refilling the tank! We were on E by the time we reached home but the light never came on. Upon getting closer to home and hubs asking, "should we stop for gas?" and me replying, "is the light on yet? no? KEEP GOING!" we were reenacting the Seinfeld episode with Kramer and the car salesmen. Good times.

Onto the pics... the rest of the good pictures are on film so I won't have those until tomorrow. So, this is all I could come up with for now...

DramaBoy, in Port Washington at the Pirate Fest.

Monster, Port Washington Pirate Fest

All the kids at Edwardo's Pizza in downtown Milwaukee, the night we all arrived.

Pirate wench with a bat in her boobs. A fake bat, named Bob. (for Bob of My Boobs). Nice.

And that was my weekend... I want more.

Day 10 of the cicada invasion (updated with pictures)

2007-05-31T10:13:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I took the boys to the zoo. As we were getting ready in the morning I attempted to peak DramaBoy's excitement, since he had no idea where we were going yet.

"Hey buddy! Guess what?! Do you know where we are going today?" I asked him in my excited, sing-songy, mama voice.

He replies, in an inquisitive tone, "Wal-Mart?"

Luckily I was standing in the bathroom because I damn near peed my pants.

That appears to be a tell-tale sign that we spend way too much time and money at "Lucipher's Den".

After I composed myself I said, "No buddy, we are going to the zoo! We are going to see lots of animals!"

That is when I got to thinking... zoo, trees, animals, undisturbed ground... ruh-roh... CICADAS!!!!!!

See, we still don't have a single cicada in my neighborhood. Tomorrow is June 1st and that is supposed to be basically the last day of their emergence. There are towns right around here, including my MIL's two miles away, that are covered in cicadas. But not us. A miracle, maybe? HELL YES IT'S A MIRACLE!

However, I figured I was headed right into the grips of the cicadas by going to the zoo. As soon as I got into the gates I was seeing cicadas... dead, smooshed to bits on the concrete. It was nasty, but they were dead. Then I saw live ones. They were all over the wooden posts, hanging on leaves in the trees, crawling on the ground.

Guess what? I was completely at ease! Another miracle, maybe. Granted, they weren't that bad, as they are in some places around the area, but they were there for sure. I even got up close to one particular wooden post and took pictures of a bunch of the cicadas. I will get those up soon, I hope. They are ugly bugs for sure though. Yuck!

This kids enjoyed the zoo but it was an incredibly hot day. We were all melting and cranky before long. My hair was sweating. By the time we left I was thinking it would have been better had we actually gone to Wal-Mart instead. However, you just can't beat looking at a real, live giraffe. Especially a mama and her baby giraffe.

Tomorrow we are off to Milwaukee for the weekend. I fully expect a fun and happy family weekend. I truly hope all of you had a fabulous Memorial weekend and enjoy a great weekend coming up. Thank you all so much for your comments. I read and love them all!!!

Summertime rawks!

Edited to add the following pictures... muwahahahahahaha!

Look ma! I am one foot away from the creepy bastards and taking their picture! I so brave!

Aren't they cute! Can I get a collective "awwwwwwww"

And, just so I leave you all on a better note, I present to you, a nice view of my big ass. I didn't realize until today that my friend M took this picture of DramaBoy and I. Thanks. I love showing off my mommy-ass. Aside from that, I love this picture.

The Greatest Memorial Weekend... Ever.

2007-05-28T11:17:00.000-06:00

Memorial weekend is fairly big deal here in the States. For anyone that lives in another part of the world, Memorial weekend celebrates our military veterans and soldiers. It is celebrated on the last Monday in May and that turns it into a 3-day party weekend. Parades, dedications, American flags and barbecues are everywhere.

For us, it was an even busier holiday than usual. We had a birthday party to attend on Saturday. Then, DramaBoy's birthday party was Sunday and today, is his actual 3rd birthday along with the yearly Memorial parade in our neighborhood!! It was a weekend filled with good friends, good food and lots of fun!

Every Memorial day our village puts on a small parade, just for the residents. Our neighborhood is the old historic part of the village so that is where the dedication takes place and the parade to follow. It goes down the street right behind our house. About an hour before the parade starts we watch the people in our neighborhood walk down the street with their lawn chairs, wagons filled with kids and American flags in hand just so they can get a good spot on the curb to watch the parade.

This year, our friends decided that we should do brunch at their house after the parade. Their house faces the street where the parade marches down so we all met on their lawn, sat in our chairs, armed the kids with their bags to catch all the candy that the parade participants throw out and we laughed, drank mimosas (yummy, especially at 10am!) and had a grand time. Then, we all went inside for incredible brunch food.... egg and sausage quiche, french toast with nuts and syrup, fruit salad, more mimosas, sausage links and homemade cheesy hashbrowns. Then we retreated to their back porch with our plates piled high with yummy goodness and enjoyed wonderful conversation while chasing the kids around in between bites of food.

We are home now, Monster is taking a nap and we are relaxing for a bit. DramaBoy's birthday is today, as I said so we will probably have some good family time after Monster wakes up. It was just a great weekend and I couldn't be happier.

Next weekend all of us (our friends whom we spent all of our time with this weekend - two couples who each have two kids) are heading up to Milwaukee for 2 days of good fun. We have rooms at a downtown hotel and will take in the huge pirate festival on the lakeshore and have a picnic on the beach and enjoy the other activities that are going on. It's going to be a lot of fun and we are all very excited. All the kids are going to have a blast and all of us parents will enjoy a much needed weekend of fun!

Here are just some pictures from the weekend... they aren't anything fancy or artistic... just a couple from DramaBoy's birthday party yesterday and the parade this morning.

DramaBoy and his BIG HUGE cake... that I poorly decorated because I. Can. Not. Decorate. Cakes.

Opening presents...

Hubs and I... awwwww

Monster, falling asleep on grandma.... don't let the innocence fool you. He is still a heathen.

And from the parade today... Hubs is on the right and my two boys are next to him. The other kids are our friends kids. The tall boy standing there was the one who had the birthday party on Saturday.

And lastly, our village's large million dollar new ladder truck... it is pretty cool. I have a picture of the boys sitting on the front of it from their trip to the firehouse last year, but I'm not sure where it is.

What a great weekend it was...

Day 4 of the Cicada Invasion

2007-05-25T15:28:00.000-06:00

I have seen them. However, not in my neighborhood.

Today I drove over to my MIL's after running some errands with the children. I get them out of the car and head inside. I didn't even have a single thought of cicadas on my mind. Since I have yet to see one, they are just not much of a consideration... as of yet.

During our short visit my MIL asks, "have you seen any "chiquitas?"

She is Hispanic and has a strong accent and that is what she calls them.

"You mean cicadas?" I reply.

"Yeah, cicadas." She says.

"Nope. I have not seen a single one around our house! And I'm so glad!" I said.

"Your fatherrr-eeen-law found a whole bunch of them in the yard." She told me, with a grimace.

"Seriously! I didn't see any when I came in, but I wasn't paying attention."

Soon the subject is changed and it's showtime for the kids.

"DramaBoy, count in Spanish for grandma and papa!" I ask him, proudly.

"Uno, dos, tres, atro, seis!" He repeats right away without being asked a hundred times.

Cheers and laughter erupt. I'm proud and DramaBoy starts showing off by doing some strange toddler dance that looks like a combination of Elene Benes' dancing and Cliff Claven on Dancing with the Stars. It's odd.

We leave soon after and I get the kids in the car. DramaBoy climbs in and then Monster gets in. At somepoint I hear the locks on my doors go off, again. Monster has somehow hit the button on my keys which are still in my hand.

That is when I first see the empty shells of the creepy bastards. Distraction. I have forgotten that my doors are now locked. Monster gets buckled in and I shut the door to the car and start taking a look around me.

You know the scenes in movies where the actor seems oblivious to something that is around him, then finally notices one or two, then, slowly they all begin to emerge and soon he is surrounded by whatever it is?

That was me today.

It was as if I had blinders on and never noticed a single shell or gigantic cicada on the ground or in the trees above me. There was no cicada call that made them obvious.

At that moment I slowly take in everything around me and realize that I have been stepping on empty cicada shells. I see that the trees are littered with empty shells. I realize that crispy empty shells are being blown off the leaves and falling to the ground.

Then, I see a live one.

The black creepy son of a bitch with red eyes and huge wings. He sits motionless on a leaf a foot from my head. Then another one, on the ground, not moving a muscle. Are they dead? I get closer to inspect them.

Yes, I just said I. got. closer... closer to the very things that I have been dreading.

It was like I had to see for myself what was causing my unnecessary panic and stress. I needed to stare my nemesis down... peer into their beady little red eyes.

I. Did. It.

Granted, they weren't fluttering around. They weren't sworming. They weren't even that prevalent. But they were there. The shells were actual proof.

Did you figure out by now that I was locked out of my car, again? My children were safe, inside, away from harm of the wicked cicadas, and I was stuck, outside.

And, I was NOT panicking? Really, I wasn't! I was quite shocked at myself!

"Look! Cicadas! Live ones!" I sad to my in-laws who had come out of the house to help me get into my car, while laughing at me.

"I'm okay! I'm not panicking!" I said again, excited.

They just gave me a patronizing chuckle and looked at me like I was nuts. Nothing new.

In between beating on the window and trying to get DramaBoy into the front seat to unlock the doors, I would bend down and look at that huge cicada on the ground, knowing it could take flight at any moment. And, that high above me, in the larger trees they were probably looming over me, laughing. I heard them laughing.

But I was ok.

Then, it dawned on me. If DramaBoy has some ridiculous fear of climbing over into the frontseat maybe he'll be able to get my keys that are on the floor of the backseat! Why I didn't think of this the first time it happened 2 months ago, I don't know. Me? Not to bright.

Anyway, I tell him to get my keys that are under his brother's feet. He does! WOOT! Part one done, onto part two.

"Push the button on mama's keys baby! Push the button! NO! NO! Not that button! That will start the car! Push the other button! Yeah! That button! Push it baby! There you go! NO NO! Not that button! Not the panic button! Yeah, that one sweetie! No, honey, the button. Not the key. PUSH THE BUTTON!"

He is not getting this. Instead he sticks the key between the rubber seal and the window to try and unlock the door. Cute, but it won't work.

"Honey, push. the. button. The button that unlocks the doors for mama. Push the horn button. Yeah. Push the button honey. YES! YES! YES! That's it! Just like that! Push it... ok not that one... YES THAT ONE! PUSH IT!"

Click! I'm in. Thank gawd.

No police needed this time. No sedation from the creepy bugs. No panicking. Nothing.

I was victorious over the cicadas and being locked out of my vehicle, again.

Remote keyless entry is great... and a curse. And, I'm an idiot.

She's Back!

2007-05-24T18:24:00.000-06:00

Someone stop me! I am pretty much convinced that everyone in my classes hate me, although there has not been any substantiating evidence of this.

I have read back through some of my discussion question answers and it's quite obvious that am a huge suck up and I'm sure major eye-rolling is elicited from my classmates. It's sad. No, wait. It's pathetic.

Honestly, that is not my intention. Really. I swear. It is just quite apparent to me now that I probably come across as a snobby, do-gooding, over-achiever.

I was never an over-achiever in high school. My GPA will attest to that. For some reason college life has just brought this strange personality trait out of me.

See, I am actually learning things in my writing class. This means that I am applying them to my daily writing and that includes menial replies to discussion questions. I have tuned into what the instructor is looking for and I am purposely trying to shine so that he thinks I'm smart. Okay, in saying that I guess it IS my intention to suck up. Good gawd.

I have solid A's in both classes and, get this people.... I got a 90 out of 90 points on my rough draft essay for my writing class! That is 100% for all you math geniuses out there. He said I just had to fix a couple of minor errors and I was pretty much set! THAT WAS MY ROUGH DRAFT PEOPLE! It was written in about 8 hours spread over a few days including time spent finishing the essay in an airport restaurant! How freaking awesome is that! So, if I don't get a 100% on my final draft I'll hang myself. Oh and my instructor also said, and I quote...

"One of the strongest, best worded introductions I have seen to date! WOW!"

You know damn well I printed 80 copies of that comment and plastered it all over my house.

But I digress. Just know that I am fully aware of my horrid bitchiness, over-achieving, do-gooder status and I don't care. I'm paying for this damned education and I want to graduate with honors. I want to hear 20+ accolades after my name is announced and I start walking across that stage to receive my diploma.... Magna Cum Laude, Summa Cum Laude, Valedictorian, Honor Society, Best damn student in the entire United States and whatever else I can achieve. I want it all!

My Weekend - Part II

2007-05-23T18:00:00.000-06:00

Read Part I here

And remember, I was writing this from 35,000 feet, give or take, above the ground in a silver death tube. And, again, this post shows better if Firefox. In IE you'll see strange error messages between paragraphs.

There is a good two hours before my flight leaves so I head over to get some dinner. I pull out the laptop and start finishing the rough draft of my paper that is due Sunday. I eat my dinner and finish my paper. I felt so important sitting at the table eating my dinner with my laptop open. The guy next to me was playing chess and I made fun of him, secretly, because at least I was doing something that looked important. Image is everything, you know.

Ah, drinks. Yes! Wait, the jackasses don’t have Dr. Pepper. COKE? Are you kidding me? That’s just soulless and wrong. But, I need more cold, fizzy caffeine.

Finally, I pay the bill and head to my gate. I pull out the iPod and start to watch a movie that hubs downloaded for me. Then, I see the couple I met downstairs on the other side of the gate area. Their little girl begins having a meltdown. Daddy has run off somewhere and mom is left alone with the screaming toddler. The little girl is pitching a huge fit. Mom picks her up and the little girl slaps mom a few times. I had flashbacks of Monster doing that to me when he is pissed off. Mom sets the girl down and she is now on the floor screaming and kicking.

I decide to pack up my stuff and head over there. Everyone is staring and mumbling about it and I know just how that mom feels. She is in a travel nightmare situation with a toddler. She is frustrated. The toddler is obviously exhausted and she feels embarrassed and incredibly stressed out.

So, I walk up to her and touch her shoulder gently and ask if she is ok and if there is anything I can do. She sighs an expressive and overwhelmed sigh and says something I can’t recall. But I think she might be glad to see a smiling face. The little girl is standing in front of me crying and I’m not sure what to do because I know she doesn’t know me, so I don’t want to scare her. I just wanted to be there for mom and see if I could offer some moral support. After about 1 minute the little girls starts to calm down. Then she sees daddy walking back up and her eyes light up. Tantrum over.

I just continue talking to mom and offering the usual encouragement, friendly smile and the “I’ve been there” banter. Soon, it’s time for us to board. They are on the same flight as me and I offer my support on the plane if they need me. In the end, the little girl passed out and never made a peep on the plane.

Finally, I get my bag and run out to meet my mom and older sister waiting for me. We drive to my other sister’s house and enjoy making fun of each other in the car on the way there.

When I arrive, the party is over and everyone has left, except for my BIL’s drunk friends in the backyard… the hard core partiers. I have a drink and my sister’s and I catch up, as if we have never been apart.

To be continued...

Day 2 of the Cicada Invasion

2007-05-23T12:50:00.001-06:00

There is no day one, because they are not here yet! This is day two and still, not once single cicada.
My relief can be heard 'round the world. However, the cicadas are still coming. Some parts of the area are seeing them, in droves. But, here, nothing. Maybe they are actually in the forest preserves, but I will not be venturing out there to find them.

So, no pictures to show, yet. No hiding in the house, yet. Right now I'm just trying to enjoy the outdoors while I can.

Post errors

2007-05-22T08:25:00.000-06:00

I realize that the post below is screwed up in IE but is probably okay in Firefox. It was typed in Word and then just copied into Blogger and for some reason it's being read funny. I will retype it when I have time. For now, the post is better read in Firefox if you have it.

My Weekend - Part I

2007-05-21T18:37:00.000-06:00

Note: This post was written from the plane on Monday, May 21st. It is about my weekend in Arizona. I went down there for a day and a half to see my sister's graduation ceremony from college. It ended up being 7 pages long, in MS Word so I'm breaking the post up into several parts over the next week or so.

The weekend is already over. Saturday and Sunday were a blur and now I’m sitting on the plane, watching Chicago on my hub’s iPod and waiting for the drinks to come around. Of course, this post won’t reach the blog until I’m safely home again, but I figured I would pass the time by writing and recounting the weekend that was so fast.

Who knew Renee Zelwhatever could sing. Her and her pouty lips… bleck.

Saturday morning I woke up and got the children dressed and ran a few errands. Our baby trees needed to be protected from the upcoming Armageddon so I had to run to the nursery to purchase the netting. Then a trip to Walgreen’s was in order to buy tin foil and clothespins. That must have looked interesting.

Hub’s and I covered the trees, I sweated in my nice clean airplane outfit that was carefully selected and then, after hubs rested from his busy day that was, we left for the airport. Okay, in all honesty, we should have left a bit earlier. Hindsight is 20/20 and waste of time.

We are moving along fine and then bam, a warning. “ACCIDENT AHEAD. EXPECT DELAYS”. Shit. Figures. The traffic starts to back up within a minute of that warning. For the next 10-15 miles we crawled along slower than a snail slithering along in molasses.

I love Queen Latifah. She is just incredible. I think my head is the size of one of her boobs though.

My flight was scheduled at 4:42. At 4pm we are just barely starting to increase our speed. Hub’s then breaks ludicrous speed and we hit it… we cover about 13 miles in 10 minutes and reach O’hare at 4:10 or so. I quickly kiss all my boys and run out to catch my plane. The electronic check-in kiosk was open so I plug in my name.

Not found. Son of a bitch.

I plug in my phone number.

No seats available.

“Excuse me, miss, it says no seats available for my flight.” I asked politely, but noticeably distressed.

“Oh, that flight is restricted already. I can’t let you on.” She replies.

I muttered something, knowing damn well I was defeated and followed her directive to go stand in the “other” line. Also known as the line of “thank you for flying our airline, you are now fucked”. Anyone who is standing in that line has a problem, or they would not be standing in THAT line. Who actually flies with paper tickets anymore? No one. So everyone can check-in at the electronic kiosk. Only the poor schmucks who show up late or are bumped or have issues with their tickets stand in that other line. And I was now one of them.

“Did you get screwed around too?” The young couple with the baby in front of me asked.

“Sort of, I got here a bit late, but they seem to have restricted my flight a bit early and they won’t let me on.” I answered back.

“They didn’t even call our flight so we never heard it and now we can’t get another flight out of here. We are trying to get to Anchorage.” The man said.

The small talk continued and soon it was my turn at the counter. I explained what happened and was told what I already knew. The next flight was at 6:50 and I could get on that flight, standby. I was still distressed and pulled out one last card to plead my case.

“Does it help that I used to work for this airline?” I asked the lady on the sly and in a rhetorical manner so as not to sound pushy.

She doesn’t reply, but picks up the phone and asks another girl for the number to gate F10.

I knew she was trying to call the gate of the flight I missed to see if they would hold it for me. No answer, no luck. But she tried.

Since that didn’t work, she confirmed me on the next flight, instead of putting me on the standby list. That was a huge deal as it turns out. The flight had been wide open, but within that last hour people were reaccomodated on that flight from an earlier mishap and it filled up. Had the ticket agent not confirmed me I would have never made it on. I would have never made it to Phoenix. As it were I got there 2 hours later than planned and missed most of my sister’s graduation party, but at least I made it and would still see the ceremony the next day. That was most important.

To be continued...

The First Cicada has Been Spotted.

2007-05-17T08:37:00.000-06:00

The phone rings this morning, as it does most mornings, but this time it's not my friend M calling to chat. It's my friend J. She is calling with a warning.

The first cicada was seen, by her, a few miles away from our neighborhood.

Oh gawd, they are starting to emerge.

J's friend, who was doing yard work yesterday, says that they are about an inch down as of right now. Cicadas live for 17 years 18-24" underground. Now, they are near the surface and May 22nd is approaching fast. That is the date most cicadas have written on their stone tablet calendars and will emerge for their first taste of sun.

Am I freaking out? Yes and no. Because of my obvious and most public panic attack about the phenomenon that is about to occur, I have decided to mentally prepare myself for the cicadas. At this point I'm not panicking as much. I am repeating mantras in my head daily like, "I am a million times their size. I can crush them with little effort" and "They are totally harmless and are just small bugs... no big deal". I am also reading and watching as much as I can on the cicadas to learn about how special this event really is so I can appreciate it, instead of hate it.

It is working... but then again, once they are here and I have to face them, things may revert back to panic mode.

You know the saying, "face your fears", well, this is more along the lines of being thrown into the thing that I fear the most without having a choice. It's my very own "Fear Factor". Since there is no way to avoid this, short of packing up and leaving town for 2 months, I have to just get over it.

Besides, they ARE harmless bugs and nothing more. They look creepy but they are just trying to make their way in the world and not harm us. (These are things I keep telling myself to cope.)

The other day, while doing yard work, I picked up a worm with my bare hands. Then I picked up a gardner snake (with a glove because they will bite sometimes) and walked him all the way down the block to set him free. We don't want them infesting our yard again this year. How can I handle worms and snakes and not bugs?

Today, if there is time, I may go outside and hunt around the yard to see if I can see any cicadas emerging. I'll take pictures if I do. Next week, when I get back home, I assume the full invasion will have begun so maybe I can get some good video of them... if I still have the guts.

Talking about it and working up the nerve before they arrive is one thing. Once they are here, crawling and flying around, well, that is another thing all together.

At least I'm trying...

Green RULES!

2007-05-15T15:26:00.000-06:00

The bandwagon is rolling through town, it's painted green and I'm jumping on board!

Global warming may be a fallacy or it may be the truth. I'm not a scientist or a politician so I may never know the actual truth. Even the so-called experts cannot agree on weather it's real or not. However, this documentary that I saw (I haven't been able to finish watching it) seemed pretty convincing that it's a fallacy. Honestly though, it does not matter. We still waste too many things that contribute to many negative factors we face today. It's just a fact.

I have been watching all the interviews and programs that have given tips on how to go green. It has been so interesting and more than that, it's been enlightening and gives me optimism! The going green campaign is huge and I think it's a wonderful thing. No matter what side of the government you lay your loyalty with and no matter how you feel about the "tree huggers" of the world, going green is still a great thing. It's not too late to start either.

There will always be hypocrisies in most of our lives if we try to "go green" unless you are a full fledge hippie living in some compound with mud huts, hemp clothing and growing your own food. I use E-85 gas in my SUV, I switching to canvas shopping bags, I'm getting better at conserving water, I have unplugged useless things in my home and will switch to those energy efficient light bulbs. But, we still waste paper products. Hypocricy.

My point is, I learned today that you don't have to change your whole life in order to help. This is something you'll hear over and over and over... but it is true. If we all did our part, even a small part, it will help! For my family, we can't possibly change everything. But there are things we can change.

Things we are or will be changing in our lives to "do our part":

- Use E-85 gas if your vehicle accepts it. For me, I have a 2003 Ford Explorer that is an alternate-fuel vehicle and E-85 is always 30-40 cents cheaper at the pump than unleaded.
- Use reusable canvas shopping bags for grocery shopping, actually ALL shopping!
- Shop for clothing at resale stores (gosh that is SO FUN and everything is pre-shrunk! LOL and you can score a boatload of cute stuff for incredibly cheap prices... GO RESALE!)
- Not using paper plates any more. Doing dishes won't kill us, but we need to conserve the water while doing them.
- Unplug unnecessary things around the home (for us it was little accent lights that I had up)
- Switching to energy efficient bulbs (those funny looking spiral things, if you are like me, you just have to get over that they are like a florescent light)
- Conserve water!!
- Going paperless with our bills. Most places have that option for paperless statements and you can pay your bills online through secure sites like Checkfree.
- Using ego friendly cleaning products like Shaklee (my friend uses these and LOVES IT and I will be too!) and you can always clean with good old lemon juice, vinegar and water!

These are all simple things our family CAN do to save energy, save water, recycle and produce less waste. The point is, do something. You don't have to do everything. Some things might not be possible or are even uncompromisable. Maybe you can't use E-85 and can't afford a new hybrid car. Maybe you love your fancy little lights around the house or in your hutch and won't give them up. Maybe you HATE doing dishes and love the ease of paper plates. It's OK! Ideally it would be great to change those things, but if you can do something else to do your part, do it. Don't feel guilty. Just do what you can to go green.

I don't have time to really edit myself, speak properly or make this sound like that way I want it to. So, just know that I'm not trying to preach and I'm not trying to sound like a massive, tree-hugging, green addict. I can't afford to buy all of the organic new clothes or even food for that matter but I will try when I am able. I can't buy a hybrid car and I can't fill my home with everything organice. But, as you saw above, there are things we can do that don't cost much money. For us, money is always tight so we can only do so much. In the long run, we might SAVE money. Funny how that works.

So, this is just my commitment to the green campaign and I will just do what I can. Hopefully you are on board too!

GO GREEN!

Happy Mother's Day!

2007-05-13T14:10:00.000-06:00

I wanted to wish all of the wonderful mother's who read this blog a magnificent Mother's Day!

I truly hope all of you mama's enjoyed a lovely day and were able to officially take the day off! We only get one of these freebie days a year ladies!

I was given a reprieve from diaper duty and dishes today. We spent the afternoon with hub's mother and his family and ate some yummy Mexican food. I will see my own mother next weekend when I am in Arizona (for an incredibly brief visit).

Here are a few pictures of my boys and I from today. DramaBoy, the older one, brought me my first, freshly picked little flower today while at grandma's house. It was beautiful and I love it. I'm going to keep it and press it. You might be able to see it in the pictures. I put it in the lapel of my sweater.

Ta-ta for now!

I'm published ya'll!

2007-05-11T13:36:00.000-06:00

What that title really means is that some crazy woman with an internet site who is probably on heavy mind altering medications actually asked ME to write a short article for her site regarding our recent fraudulent charges to our account.

She runs a site dedicated to teaching everyone about internet safety for the sake of children. It's wonderful, informative and an incredible project that she has pioneered in her community.

Since I would never turn down an opportunity to write something of importance that wasn't for a college grade and since it would get this blog a little more exposure, I said SURE!

Internet Saftey Queen is the the website and the direct link to the article is here (my 15 minutes of fame... sort of)

Settle this... (edited)

2007-05-10T07:32:00.000-06:00

The Dispute:

Do you expect your husband or wife to kiss you every time he or she leaves the house?

I do. It has nothing to do with controlling my husband or being a nag. I just find it a sign of love and respect. I'm an affectionate person but he is not, therefore, he finds this kind of annoying. So, now I feel like I'm being a needy little wife when that was never my intention. Deep down, the intention is quite morbid and stems from my childhood. With my father being ill my whole life I never knew whether or not he would be there when I returned home. Death was always a possibility. So I always made sure I told him I loved him and gave him a hug when I left the house. This has probably carried over into my adult life. I guess I think that anything can happen to anyone and any day could be your last... so always leave the house by saying I love you to your family. Hub's still thinks it is silly and probably morbid.

Where do you all stand? Please, leave my sentiments out and answer honestly as you feel right now and what you typically do when you leave the house.

ETA - This dispute is not actually about the instance of fights and one person leaving. It actually has nothing to do with that. I try to NEVER leave the house angry for fear of that being the last word, but Hub's does and I hate it. Changing him is not going to happen. Anyway, this dispute is more for the everyday stuff like going to the store, going out with friends, running errands, taking the kids somewhere... etc. He leaves for work while I'm still sleeping so I have given up on getting a kiss then... his love is implied well every single day. But I still like a kiss and a "see ya later" when he leaves the house any other time. I have issue with saying "goodbye" as well. Goodbye is so final... I prefer "see you soon" or "see you later".

Does the term neurotic come to mind at all?

A boatload of randomness

2007-05-09T12:15:00.000-06:00

I have been tagged by a new reader , Phoenix Rising, so I must oblige. I would never ignore a new reader who has finally introduced herself with this tag! Besides, I LUVS me my readers! Ya'll make this blogging thing worth while, even though I have been completely suckolicious at reading and commenting lately.

Sidenote: Please accept my sincerest apologies for not being around to your blogs much. Currently, in my Bloglines I have 51 blogs that I track and there are 535 new posts that I have to read. Um, catching up is. not. going. to. happen. But I am trying to make my way around more and just pick up where you currently are in your blogs.

Onto the 7 random things about me: I'll try to make this a list of things you didn't read before...

1. I really want to see a taping of the Ellen Degeneres show (because I LOVE HER) and secretly dream of her talking to me in the audience like she frequently does with her audience members so I can be famous for 30 seconds.

2. I recently found a natural melatonin supplement for sleep and it contains theanine for stress reducing. I take it before bed and it really helps me fall asleep faster and sleep better at night. BUT. THE. DREAMS! OMG! This stuff is giving me the craziest dreams I have ever had!

3. I will never buy another Motorola phone. I also think the RAZR is highly overrated.

4. I am totally in love with Nate Pritchett from Pinks! (a show on Speed TV)

5. I firmly believe in the use of a question mark and exclamation mark at the end of a sentence that asks a loud question. I don't care if it's incorrect.

6. I happen to think this summer's fashions are wonderful and perfect for me. I am not a fashion slave or anything but this year's styles just happen to be personal favorites.

7. I have had strange itching going on lately. I have had an itch (feels more like a tickle) on the bottom of my right foot for a year, no joke. One. Year. There is NOTHING there to explain this. Now, my left ear is constantly itching. Not to mention other temporary, random itches that creep up, but when you scratch it the itch travels to another spot and pretty soon you are just itching your whole body. No, I do not have rashes or any evidence of a reason for this. They aren't painful, just annoying. It's like I'm being tickled with an invisible feather.

The list is lame but my creativeness is lacking lately.

Coming Soon:

I have decided to document this upcoming cicada invasion in pictures and in writing. Thanks to an anonymous commenter, a neighbor and numerous internet searches, I have learned that the brood in Northern Illinois could reach over 5 billion in numbers. Isn't that a comforting thought. That fact caused me to Google yet MORE information about it and I have discovered that this is actually a great phenomenon that many enthusiasts are highly excited about. It gives me absolute zero comfort but it seems to shed some new light on this upcoming debacle of bugs that could send me to an early grave. So, since it's unavoidable, why not document it with pictures for posterity, and for anyone who is remotely excited about this disgusting chain of natural events.

Also, so as not to post two posts in one day, tomorrow, hopefully, I'll be posting a dispute that I would love to have settled.... with all of your input:)

WHERE'S MY SEDATIVES?!

2007-05-07T13:36:00.000-06:00

Are any of you still in doubt of my paralyzing fear of bugs? More exactly, large flying bugs? Sure, paralyzing fear might be an exaggeration, but it is close. Just in case you still think I'm nuts, over-reacting or just plain insane, check this...

I'm sitting here, doing some school work and watching All My Children out of the corner of my eye. They found baby Jenny today, thank God! Anyway, just then, DramaBoy walks into the room and says, "Uhhh, mama?" as he's pointing towards the window in the dining room. At that very second, the blood rushed from my head to my feet, I shivered, panicked and did not know what to do next.

In that window, inside of my house there was a gigantic, flying and horribly loud buzzing bug. They are very common around here and you'll hear them fly outside once in a while and they are always alone. They are very large and dark black with thick legs and wings. I have never figured out what they are but they have similarly disgusting relatives in Arizona. I have hated them for years. They are bigger than a quarter all together. The body itself is probably the size of quarter.

Today, one found it's way into my house and I have no idea how. I did manage to walk gingerly over to the window and twist the blinds closed. I figured the bug was large enough that with the blind slats closed, maybe I could trap him in the window until I figured out my next step. It worked.... for now.

My next step was to get some decent clothes on, gather the children, leave the house quickly and not return until hubs got home and took care of the bug. One problem, Monster was sleeping and I was a horrid mess and in no position to leave. Had Monster been awake I would have been gone in a nano-second. You think I'm kidding? One time, I was babysitting for a little boy at his house and saw a huge wolf spider on the ceiling. I woke the kid up and walked back to my house and waited there for a while with my mom. No way was I going to be in the same house as that huge hairy spider.

Since leaving was out of the question, I decided the next best thing would be to call my husband at work, 30 miles away. By calling him on the phone and panicking while hyperventilating the bug was sure to see my plight and just up and leave the house on his own, right? I was mistaken. So I took hub's suggestion and called a neighbor to come ~~save me from the grips of this large, flying hairy monster~~ help me.

I remembered that my friend's husband comes home from work at lunch! HE WAS MY ONLY HOPE! So, I called her practically in tears. I told her not to laugh at me or be upset with me but that I needed to borrow her husband for a brief moment. I explained why I was so upset and she told me that either she or her husband would be right over. God love them.

Soon my knight in shining armor was at my back door with a small net to catch this monstrosity that was in my home scaring the piss out of me. Within 5 seconds he had captured the creature and released him back into the wild of my back yard. I breathed a sigh of relief and tried to brush the creepiness off of my skin. Just then, something small fell on my foot and I freaked out right in front of my friend's husband...nice. I thought it was another bug, but it wasn't.

Do you need a recap of what just happened? Here it is, shorthand:

I'm 31 years old, that means I'm an adult.
I have children that depend on me for care.
A large bug found it's way into my home.
I. Freaked. Out.
Seriously, panic, hyperventilation... saying things like "oh my gawd, are you fucking kidding me?" over and over again.
Call neighbor, two blocks away to come rid my house of this gigantic flying bug.
Neighbor man comes to my house and takes bug out.
I.Called.Someone.On.The.Phone.To.Come.Kill.A.Bug.For.Me.

Yeah... and you think I'm kidding when I talk about needing sedation when the cicadas come?

Oh. Muh. Gawd. Part Duex

2007-05-04T16:09:00.000-06:00

Remember this?

Well, it seems as though a date is pinpointed when these disgusting, freakishly large yet completely harmless bugs emerge from the ground.

May 22nd.

I return from a brief trip to Arizona on May 21st. What a shit-ass way to welcome me home.

Seriously, you have no idea how much I'm dreading this. For those of you who think I'm being overly-dramatic about this, please refer yourselves to the title of my blog for a smack upside the head. For those of you laughing at me, suck it. For those of you who think that I'm being completely irrational and am also a complete sissy, you are correct. Nevertheless, come May 22nd I am going to have the perma-heebee geebees and will probably be found in the fetal position crying in some corner of my house with an industrial sized bottle of bug killer in my hands. No joke.

On top of that, hubs and I have to find a way to protect our young fruit trees. We have 4 of them. When the female cicadas lay their eggs they dig long slits in young branches and it is potentially lethal to the trees. Hubs fruit trees are his pride and joy and if we lose them during this freak invasion of gigantic flying creatures, he will be crushed.

This invasion is supposed to last about 1 month and everyone is talking about how loud it's going to be. Yay. I live in an old neighborhood with tree lined streets. So these bugs will just have oodles of trees to live in. I LOVE sitting outside with my family during the spring and summer nights. But, it seems like during this cicada infestation, we, scratch that... I won't be anywhere near the outdoors.

Oh gawd, the minute one of those things buzzes my head I'm going to pass out. Ask my friend M. She saw me wig out in her back yard the other day because of some humungous buzzing insect that was apparently on the juice and chasing me. She thought it was funny. Beeyotch. She's lucky she was about to have a baby or I would have kicked her ass.

Speaking of which, she had the baby yesterday... more on that in another post that doesn't have anything to do with disgusting bugs.

Wish me luck. Do you think someone can die from a paralyzing fear of gigantic bugs? Maybe I can just stay heavily sedated during the next 2 months. Oblivion would be cool.

The "Silver Lining"... in pictures

2007-04-30T12:26:00.000-06:00

Here are the before and after pictures of our living and dining rooms.

The curtains are a light gold color but you can't
tell in the pictures. Eventually we will redo our ceilings
as well. We are planning on putting up tin or faux tin
ceilings in both the living and dining rooms. The bookshelf
in the first picture is in front of the other window so it looks
like a different angle but it's really the same.

Now for the living room...

We also still have to put up the baseboards in the living
room also and hang our pictures back up. But, the walls
already look better bare but painted than they ever did
white with pictures. The house feels so nice now... more rich and cozy.

We just have to do some finishing touches and it will be all done.

I need a break

2007-04-30T10:42:00.000-06:00

I'm considering taking a break here. It's pretty obvious that I'm not leaving comments at your blogs because I just don't have time to read lately. I feel really guilty for not being caught up with everyone.

Today is not a good day. Even though the sun is shining and it's 70 degrees outside, I'm filled with guilt, grief, stress and deep thoughts of self reflection and self-hate. Just when I think I'm finally comfortable with myself, life happens... life goes crazy.

This morning I lost my mind. I'm not going into details because I don't have the energy. I'm just tired, in every sense of the word. Starting school didn't cause this. It just seems like I'm letting my life get out of control and it starts with the kids. Most days it's like I'm just breathing to survive and going through the motions. There are a few days here and there where I'm on my game and things are great. Why I can't have more days like that, I don't know, but the problem lies within me... it's my fault. Therefore, it's up to me to fix it.

I'm not managing my time well. That is the source of all the chaos and the kids going nuts is a result of that. Lately it just seems like I have a to do list that never ends. Normally I enjoy that. I like being busy. But, this time, it's overwhelming.

Since today is a bad day, I'm not thinking clearly and am filled with emotion and a another headache. This post is nothing but emotion and how I'm feeling right now... everything can change in a few hours or a few days. I just don't know. What I do know is that I go through this, I come out of it and it happens again a few months later. It's a cycle. I hate this cycle. I just want to feel in control most of the time. I am so tired of these emotional ups and downs.... so freaking tired.

Silver lining: Life with my fabulous new Stella is every bit as wonderful and I thought it would be and the paint on my walls looks AWESOME! After pics will come soon...

Welcome Home Stella

2007-04-27T18:01:00.000-06:00

Today was the day we have been waiting for. The day that Stella comes home to us. After the passion of love at first sight a few days ago you can understand the angst we felt in waiting for her arrival.

This afternoon, her carriage (actually a big white delivery truck) arrived at our door. Two handsome Hispanic gentlemen whisked her across our threshold and set her down ever so gently. She was just as beautiful as the first day we laid eyes on her. Oh how distance makes the heart grow fonder....

She is truly magnificent. Today, I discovered even more about her as we spent our first moments alone together. When her door is open for longer than a minute or so, she tells me gently with the sound of a little beep. It's as if she is whispering softly in my ear "Please, if you love me and cherish my contents, shut my door...." I mean she could just as easily have said "SHUT THE DOOR YOU MORON! What, are you trying to cool off the entire house! Cripes! The Electric company called us, they said to we are draining their production!" That was what my father would say, at least... but not our Stella. She has class.

Stella is now a part of our family and we know that it's a match made in heaven. Hopefully the boys treat her well. I'm sure it will be a challenge for her but I'll never leave her side. She can count on me.

Her is our girl... in all her glory...

And here I am with Stella enjoying a cool embrace...

Note: We have a very old house as I have mentioned umpteen times. The kitchen is a work in progress and not like your standard kitchen. So it probably looks very different to most of you. There are only cabinets along one short wall... the rest is just vacant space open to interpretation and whatever I want to put there!

Note2: Yes, I have noticed that I have a certain fixation and love affair with appliances. No. I'm not ill. I truly do love Stella, my DDoH (Dell Desktop of Happiness) and my new vacuum. You just appreciate the new stuff more when you have had to deal with the crap machines that they replaced.

The Craptastic Trifecta updated with picture

2007-04-26T08:19:00.000-06:00

Unless you have a golden horseshoe up your ass you have probably been on the receiving end of the evil trifecta a few times in your life. We all know that bad things happen in threes. Or "when it rains it pours". It means the same thing.

For us, this week, our trifecta is now complete. The leaky roof/crumbling chimney, the $500 of my money spent by some jackoff and then, last night, the fridge handle broke.

Before you start thinking that a broken fridge handle is no big deal let me explain. This fridge, well, it's a relic. If you carbon dated some of the crap stuck on the shelves it would probably date back to the 15th century. My lettuce would freeze in the bottom drawer. My milk would have iceburgs. Every time you opened the freezer you were taking a risk of a broken toe because something was probably going to fall out on you. Not to mention that the doors would not stay open on their own. This meant that if you opened the freezer then bent down to the fridge to reach something then stood back up you would get a concussion from hitting your head on the freezer door that was shutting. Good times.

So, when the handle broke last night we laughed. We tossed around the idea of just using duct tape to fix it. Then I expanded on that idea and said we could duct tape the entire fridge to get the stainless steel look. I'm a trendsetter... I could write a book.... "How to get the stainless steel look with duct tape". I smell a bestseller right thar!

That is when we packed up the kids and drove to Lowe's to buy a new fridge. We figured the broken handle was a sign... a sign of impending death... the third sign in a line of bad luck this week. Once we got to Lowe's we made a bee-line straight for the refrigerators. It was then and there that we saw her... love at first sight. She was glorious and magnificent and her handles glistened with the flicker of her reciprocated love. Her come hither gleam beckoned us from across the concrete floor. She was our beacon of light in the dreary rain of the day.

And. She was on sale. It was fate I tell you.

After some speed refrigerator dating and a bit of deliberation, we came back to her. We knew she was the one. We caressed her, marveled at her features, discussed our future plans and dreamed of raising perfectly chilled produce together. She moves in with us tomorrow.

Stella, that's her name, is the light at the end of our dark tunnel. While we still don't have our $500 back and we are facing a couple thousand dollars in repairs to our furnace chimney she will gives us comfort, love and crisp, non-frozen lettuce for my turkey sandwiches.

Thank you Stella. We will live a long happy life together.

Here is our beloved Stella.... well, one just like her.

Craptastic Suckoliciousness Galore

2007-04-25T06:04:00.000-06:00

Two words...

"Leaky Roof"

Oh, and two more words....

"Identity Theft"

We are just rolling in the craptasticness called life!

It's been pouring all night long... subsequently, all night long, I heard "drip... drip... drip..."

Yesterday, I found two charges on my account that were not mine. Someone used my debit card (which is in my possession) to make two purchases with US Cellular. However, the charges are still "pending" on my account so my bank can't/won't do anything about disputes until the charges clear and post to the account. Fuckers.

Someone either hacked my card number through the computer from a site I used to purchase something or they wrote it down when I gave it over the phone to place an order for something. It was only a matter of time that this happened. But, it sucks nonetheless when it does finally happen. Now, for the time being, we are out almost $500.

Lessons learned... precautions will now be taken. They should have been taken in the first place, but how else are you supposed to order flowers for someone who lives in Phoenix when you live in Chicago!? I didn't order online because I wasn't paying the huge delivery fees and I wanted a local florist to do my mom's flowers. That's just one example. Needless to say, no more of that. I will just figure out another way to do things and be more diligent with precautions. I can only blame myself but the fuckers who steal like this and think they can get away with spending other people's money should get all the blame..... and that is merely putting how I really feel in very nice terms.

This isn't some quality post but I'm pissed and irritated and really don't feel like adding more stress to our overflowing plate!

Silver lining: I'm totally getting straight A's in my classes... 100%. I'm so awesome.

Dust bunnies, dirt and crap, OH MY!

2007-04-24T12:25:00.000-06:00

It's said that "April showers bring May flowers". That's sweet, isn't it? Everything turns so beautiful and green in the spring and the blossoms on the trees bring so much color to the season. Birds are returning home after a long winter, people start emerging from their homes like bears from their dens and the lawnmowers come out of hiding with the sounds of grass being groomed echoing through the neighborhood.

Yeah, that's nice but what about all the damned spring cleaning that seems to be in a woman's DNA that rears up around April and gives us the intense urge to clean everything in sight, including door knobs and light switches? What about all the year-old dust and dirt that starts flying around the house along with swear words in every language and exclamations like "WE HAVE TOO MUCH CRAP IN THIS HOUSE!". I bet none of you ever heard that little proverb in kindergarten, did you?

Right now I'm knee deep in dust bunnies, sneezing attacks, boxes that contain crap, more crap everywhere else and displaced furniture. It wasn't really the spring cleaning bug that crawled up my ass that started all of this though, it was the 4 cans of paint sitting in my mudroom waiting to be applied to the walls this weekend.

Ironically, it wasn't my idea to paint. I mean, I have been wanting to add color to this house for quite some time, but hubs is the one that said, "lets do it now!" So, last weekend we went and picked the colors and brought it home. This week I am trying to clean off the walls, and move the furniture so we can prepare to clean the walls and tape everything off.

This. Is. The. Part. I. Hate.

At times like this I want to snap my fingers or wiggle my nose or pray to the Gods of home improvement to just get it done without me having to put forth any effort. When a project like this comes along, I hate the "wait". Hate. It. I'm impatient. I want to see the results fast, immediately, YESTERDAY!

Making it through the next few days will be stressful, dirty, disorganized and a bit chaotic. Yay. But, I'm dreaming of next week, when my walls are full of color, pictures are hung, new curtains are on the windows and everything is back in it's place. Rome wasn't built in a day, right? While true, that saying doesn't help me. Besides, if I had built the aqueducts and Colosseum not only would they have been more colorful, but they would have been done in a lot less time.

I'll probably do before and after pictures... but right now my camera is under a pile of crap, obviously.

Where is the fast forward button?

Shameless Friday

2007-04-20T11:07:00.000-06:00

Since I have nothing to say and should probably be working on my paper, I'll just say this....

See that big, shiny, new button over on the right, in my sidebar? Go ahead, take a look... See it now? It's the one with the funky lookin' chick and the phrase "I'm a Top Mamma". Yeah, that's the one!

See how below it, its says "Click here to keep me on top!"

WELL CLICK IT DAMMIT!

Ok, really, I like being on top. I love being on top.

If you click that button, I can possibly remain on top, for a long long time. That would make me very happy.

Why would remaining on the front page of a silly website make me happy? Because, it would be a nice accomplishment for this little old blog. I can tell my grandchildren about it. I can make mention of the feat in my memoirs. I can shout it from the roof tops!

"DRAMA IS STILL ON TOP!"

Just do it.

Just call me Tracy Flick Ya'll.

2007-04-19T11:20:00.000-06:00

My first college paper is lingering out there, waiting to be written, waiting to be graded and waiting to be framed and hung on the professor's wall fame as the single greatest college paper he has ever had the privilege to read and grade.

I won't settle for a B.

The topic I have chosen for this future masterpiece is "Controversial Television Advertising".
I am in the process of brainstorming and pre-outlining. Spitballing, if you will. As part of my brainstorming I decided to interview others in an informal manner by simply asking the question, "What commercials have affected you in any way, negative or positive".

I have a list of a few companies that have created ad campaigns that have made me stand up and take notice both negatively and positively. But, I would like to broaden my view with other commercials that I may not think of. The focus of my paper, at this point, is leaning towards the more subtle and understated ads we see daily that have a larger impact than we realize. I'm not necessarily looking for the obvious controversy within commercials that sell sex. Controversy comes in all shapes and sizes.

My thesis statement is coming together but I would like to get a wide range of ideas so I can begin narrowing down my intent and focus.

So, if you are reading this, please leave me a comment answering my question and anything else you might like to add that could help me with this paper. I'm not sure I can cite my blog and it's comments in my bibliography or sources, but I will if allowed!

Me? A Thinking Blogger?

2007-04-17T09:13:00.000-06:00

Somehow, I have just been awarded the Thinking Blogger Award. Not once, but TWICE!!! Erin at Whatever Blows my Skirt and Blonde Chick Bloggin' were both heavily medicated when they decided to give me this award. But, they were compensated with larges sums of money as well. So, thank you girls! You have bestowed upon me my very first ever blog awards!

Now, for the acceptance speech....

"I'm humbled by this award and wish to thank the academy for this honor. I'd also like to thank the Hollywood Foreign Press, my agent, my fellow bloggers, my personal assistant, my trainer, my mother, my neighbors, my garbage man and the dude who checks my gas meter. Without them, I wouldn't be sitting here today, accepting this award. Thank you! I love you all! Thank you! Thank you!!!"

Ok, now, I must pay it forward... time to award 5 other bloggers with the Thinking Blogger honor.

Not in any order:

4th Avenue Blues - Andrew is a gifted writer and has made the blog world a better and more interesting place. He is very open about his life, mental illness and everyday battles. He brings life to the people he befriends that most of us just pass by on the street pretending they don't exist. His writing evokes emotion, thought and insight into a world we probably would never see, other than through Hollywood. This is the real stuff. Andrew, you know I adore you and you are definitely the very definition of a "Thinking Blogger".

So Shiok! - Shionge is from Singapore and has an incredibly positive attitude about life. Her beauty as a person shines through every single post she writes. She gives you a great perspective into Singapore life, she is a world traveler and enlightens readers with her stories and she always has a wonderful view on things happening around her. She is a strong, independent woman and is setting an amazing example for her children. I love ya buddy!

Kill The Goat - Jay is a new blogger that I have discovered and my only complaint is she doesn't post enough. Maybe she is just having a busy week. Her writing is interesting and very humorous. She's a joy to read and I'm glad I have a new blogger to enjoy! Maybe someday she'll tell me what the hell her blog title means. For now, I don't care. I heart her.

Long Island Dad - Even though he's been MIA for over a month, we hope he'll return and start posting again soon. I always enjoyed reading his daily posts. He is a stay at home dad so reading about the stay at home parent life from a father is a unique perspective. He is a great man and those who read him sure miss him and his daily tidbits of wisdom!

Jurgen Nation - Stacy's got it. Her posts are always witty and fun and I love reading her blog. She has such a fun way of writing things out that keep her posts interesting and humorous. Just the posts about her dog, the blog's namesake, are enough to keep you going back. And Jurgen is a Golden, so I have a fond and profound love of her and Jurgen just based on that! Stacy, you are a riot and you know I totally love ya.

There you have it... 5 wonderful Thinking Bloggers.

The participation rules are simple:

1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think!
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the blog that you enjoy.
3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote.

Happy thinking and awarding.

The creep

2007-04-15T12:46:00.000-06:00

A stranger has paid a visit today. Actually, that isn't quite fair to say. He isn't really a stranger, but more of a past acquaintance that has not been around in a quite a long time. He's a creep. I never cared for him in the least so you can't say I have missed him.

He is unwelcome and uninvited. His presence brings a feeling of loneliness and sadness. When he is here the colors around me fade, smiles are replaced by words that are forced to the surface that have little emotion or meaning and my face wears the weight of his effects.

It's obvious. It's so obvious that something is wrong. The laughter is gone, the smiles are non-existent and even the tone of my voice doesn't carry throughout the house as it usually does. It's more sullen and quiet. Why doesn't anyone see this? Why isn't anyone trying to rescue me from his grip?

It's not fair to bear all this weight. It's not fair to feel alone like this. It's not fair that no one seems to care.

I should stand up, stand high on a chair and proclaim that I am feeling weighed down by this creep and that I need help. I need a reprieve from him! I should do that. But, then the game would be over. The cat and mouse game would be won, by the cat. Me, the little mouse, would be running right into his paws and I would lose.

No, I need to be stronger. Don't give up! Don't give in! Frown more! Speak even less! Yes! Then, then someone will have to notice and then ask those sweet little words I'm dying to hear... "Is something wrong?"

"Yes! Something is wrong! God, the relief! The question I have been aching for has been asked! I feel disrespected. I feel angry. I feel sad! Everything all at once! I just wanted someone to know this. I wanted someone to see that they were wrong and it hurt me. I want this creep to leave me alone. I just want to hear 'I'm sorry'."

But, that isn't going to happen. I'm going to continue to feel lonely and sad. The creep isn't going to leave, not yet. He is hanging around just waiting for time to pass. Aside from having the strength to announce my disdain, only the hands on the clock make him leave. Sometimes it takes a full 24 revolutions, sometimes less.

If I say anything, if I say one word about how I feel it probably won't matter anyway. Instead, words will be spoken back that indicate it is my fault some how. It's my doing and no apology will be given. So, why bother? Why waste my breath? Why pick a battle that I probably can't win anyway?

It's still not fair! I feel that I'm right! I know that I'm right! But I'm weak. I'm stupid. I would rather just let it build and stew until it passes naturally... take the easy road, avoid the confrontation. Besides, maybe there is still a chance I'll hear that question or even hear "I'm sorry". There is still a chance, right?

Until then, I can't break. The cat will not win. I will not come crawling to him! I will just deal with the creep until he leaves on his own. He will leave, eventually.

Now lets switch gears and talk about what pisses me off so much that I want spit fire balls

2007-04-13T11:25:00.000-06:00

Item #1 - My family and I attended a funeral yesterday. I'm sure you got that from my previous post. The Godmother of my children lost her father on Monday to cancer. We attended the wake Wednesday night and then yesterday, hubs took the day off of work and we went to the funeral. This consisted of going to the funeral home for the final goodbye, followed by the processional to the church. The church was a good 15 miles away so it made for a long drive. This is only my 2nd funeral processional ever so I'm new to it. I was waiting to see if everyone actually obeyed the laws of a funeral procession or if they would show complete disrespect and cut into or through it. But, I thought to myself "no way, people know better."

8 times it happened. 8 fucking times. I was way past the boiling point the first time it happened, let alone the subsequent 7 times. We have bright orange stickers on our car (front AND back), our flashers on and we are at least 30 cars strong, how can someone NOT notice the procession and be fucking patient! I finally realized it wasn't about people not noticing us, it was about people being stupid, arrogant, impatient and disrespectful. It's 24 hours later and I am STILL just as pissed. I swear to God I wanted to follow each person and rip them a new asshole for being stupid and rude.

Honestly, if you all had witnessed the blatant disrespect and rude behavior I saw yesterday you would be disappointed too. Or as angry as I am. Not being able to scream at these people is making me more angry because there is nothing I can do about it... and I hate that even more.

Funny thing... now that I have typed this out, I'm over it. What a strange feeling.
___________________________________________________________________

Item #2 - Saying that my blog doesn't contain enough drama and I try too hard? Um, have you read the latest story of locking my keys in my car? Anyone else would have said something like:

"OMG, I locked my keys in my car the other day with my kids inside. My older one wouldn't open the door for me so we had to call the police to come break into my car. He used a funny method but it worked. Yay!"

I could have easily said that and saved a lot of you from reading a long ass story, but where would the entertainment value be! Instead, I turned a simple thing daily event into a 1000+ word short story. If that isn't dramatic I don't know what is you fucktard crankwads!

As for trying too hard... um YEAH! Hello! I'm a Drama Queen so I embellish and try to impress people you dumbasses! I fully admit this and don't hide that fact, ever. But, it should be known that I don't make this shit up or lie. I simply try to write things out in a more interesting fashion. Cripes!

Hm, yet again, now I feel better.

Heartbreak

2007-04-13T06:04:00.000-06:00

Heartbreak is hearing the phone ring a little bit after 9pm and you see it's your sister calling so you answer and say "Do you know what time it is?" instead of your usual "Hello!" and you expect to hear her laughing on the other end and then continue with a quick bit of information or question or something funny your nephew did, but, instead you hear a voice full of tears say "I really need you right now".... And you are 2000 miles away.

~~~~~~~

Heartbreak is seeing your friends' devastation over the loss of their father when you attend the wake and see them for the first time since hearing the news and knowing that you can't say anything of comfort and you can't take their pain away but you hope that your presence and your hugs will bring them just a little bit of peace as you whisper in their ears "I have been through this...."

~~~~~~~

Heartbreak is the knowledge that you put your youngest son down for naps or to bed early at night sometimes because you just don't have the patience or strength to deal with his antics, attitude or activity and the guilt of feeling like a horrible mother consumes you because the truth is, sometimes you just need him to sleep to give you peace.

A Belated April Fool's Joke

2007-04-11T06:57:00.000-06:00

This. Is. Not. Funny.

Dear Mother Nature,

Kiss my ass.
That is all.

Suck it,
Angel (better known as DraMa).

It's April fucking 11th and there is snow on the ground. Not only that, it's a heavy wet snow and this icy/wet/snowy shit keeps falling from the sky making it generally miserable. I have new flip flops that are dying to come out and play golldammit! I have cute summer shirts that are begging to be worn! I am so over jogging pants and sweat shirts!

Yesterday it was 54, we didn't even wear coats. Today, it's 36 degrees, utterly craptastic, we lost our satellite signal and the children are wearing me down to a nub.

Is it too early for rum and Dr. Pepper?

Good Cop Bad Cop

2007-04-10T14:23:00.000-06:00

The pizza was great. But, it always is. My friend and I enjoy taking our kids out for pizza at this restaurant nearby. They have a pizza buffet during the week for lunch. We ~~force ourselves~~ get to eat salad first then we go up for a few dozen slices of pizza. The servers know us now and the kids enjoy it. Our kids love pizza. Oh, and they sell Dr. Pepper. Fountain Dr. Pepper... it's orgasmic. A lot of restaurants don't sell DP and, well, I hate them. But, Chicago Dough Company does. I heart them.

After we gorged ourselves on salad and pizza and drinks it was time to leave. My friend "M" needed a nap (she is pg and due in 4 weeks) and I had a date with the local police station about a lame ass ticket we received yesterday, but that is another story. Oh the irony about to come.

Anyway, DramaBoy climbs up into Mr. SUV on his own and I hoist Monster (fat ass) up and into his seat. Normally I set my keys down before hoisting up fat ass but this time I kept them in my hands. As I get Monsterfatass into his seat I hear my door locks. (I don't think it's going to take a rocket scientist to figure out what is about to happen). I didn't think much of it and figured I hit the remote by accident and just proceeded to buckle Monster into his seat. In the 15 seconds it took for me to buckle up Monsterfatass, I forgot about hearing the door locks. But, that isn't anything new. Think: Dory from Finding Nemo. Anywho, this is when I decide to set my keys in my purse and set my purse on the console between the seats.

Monster is secured so I shut the door and begin to walk around to the other side to buckle up DramaBoy. The door doesn't quite shut all the way so I grab the handle to open and reclose it. It doesn't open. It seems to be locked. Hm, that's weird, I think to myself. Again, in these milliseconds I am not quite getting it. I give the door a soft hip bump to close it all the way and I start to walk away when all of a sudden, everything becomes clear.

Oh Shit. Fuck! Goddammit! Son of a mother loving bitch!

YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!

I quickly walk back and try my driver's side door. Locked. This. Is. Not. Good.

I walk behind Mr. SUV and look 75 feet away at my friend beginning to drive away. I solemnly raise my arms in defeat and shake my head. She knew. She knew right away. She pulls up next to me and suggests that I call the police. At this point she didn't realize that both kids are actually inside the vehicle. Once she does she insists that I call the police.

"How in the samhell are THEY going to get into my car!? It's not like they can just jimmy the lock with a coathanger!" I said, in disbelief.

"They do it all the time. Trust me. They can get in" she replies with confidence.

"Hey, wait, is DramaBoy buckled in yet?" she asks.

"No, I was about to do that. Do you think we can get him to open the door? I doubt he'll understand" I said skeptically.

"Give it a shot before we call the police" she says.

I go up to the passenger window and knock on it. DramaBoy is joyfully digging through his backpack taking out his toys.

"DramaBoy! Climb into the front seat! Go ahead!" I yell through the window while motioning with my arms to climb over the console.

He is just looking at me blankly. It becomes crystal clear right then that any attempts from this moment on are just going to be in vain and will not produce the result I need. Shit. But, I keep trying anyway.

"Baby! Listen, CLIMB. OVER. THE. SEAT! It's ok! Just climb over..... climb over. Baby, climber over the seat. Get in the front seat. GET IN THE FRONT SEAT DAMMIT!" I loudly say as I point frantically to the front seat.

This goes on for a few minutes.

"This is not working!!!" I yell over to M.

"DramaBoy, look, mama can't get in. I need you to push the button. YEAH! PUSH THE BUTTON!!! Climb over the seat and push the button!" I say with the hope that the mention of "push the button" will trigger his joy and love of pushing buttons and he'll jump over the seat gleefully to let his mama in the car.

"Just call the police M. He's not getting it." I yell back over to my friend.

As she dials, I give it one last effort. All the while, Monster is just chilling out in his seat like he could care less what is happening.

"Baby, mama cannot get in the car. I need you to climb over the seat and push the button to let mama in. Can you do that? Please? Just open the door baby. It's ok, you can climb over the seat. DON'T LAUGH AT ME YOU LITTLE BASTARD! OPEN THE DOOR!!!" I said exasperated.

I gave up. I walked back over to M's car and just waited for the police. I knew they would arrive quick so I just stood there talking to M and laughing at the situation.

A few minutes later, salvation arrives, but I'm still skeptical. Then, I see Mr. Policeman drives a Ford Explorer, just like me! A beacon of hope shines through. He gets out and I point him to Mr. SUV.

"Hey, you drive the same car as me, maybe you will really will be able to get into my SUV!" I said to the officer.

He chuckles back and proceeds to whip out some high tech tools. A wood wedge, just a few inches wider than a makeshift door stopper, a blood pressure cuff (???) and a 1/4" by 3ft long rod that was covered in black electrical tape and bent in a few places.

The rescue of my children and restoration of my dignity rests in the hands of a ginormously round cop with medival car jacking tools? Nice.

"Hey, this shit is high tech M! Check it out! A wood wedge and a blood pressure cuff! Sweet! He'll be in in no time!" I say sarcastically to M.

The cop laughed. Thank God. The chicks in jail would have had a field day with me. I ain't no one's bitch!

30 seconds later Gigantor had my car unlocked! I kid you not.

He used the wedge to pry the door open a smidge so that he could slide the blood pressure cuff down the side of the door jam. Once the cuff was in place he began squeezing the rubber part to inflate it. Once it was inflated some it was holding my door open about an inch which was wide enough to slip the makeshift rod into the door and push my unlock button!

My dignity was not restored, but at least I had full access to my children again and M was finally able to head for home to catch her much needed nap. But, of course, she had to ask 20 times before pulling away if I was good even though I was practically in my vehicle and had my keys in my hand.

Smartass.

And then I was off to visit another officer about a ridiculous ticket issued to us while I was parked in front of my house yesterday. Seriously, it's another story for another time. So, one cop pisses me the hell off and the other saves the day. It's a regular good cop/bad cop.

Beckster.... make a mental note to get a wood wedge, blood pressure cuff and a long stiff rod (heh heh, I said long stiff rod) and I'll teach you how to break into cars. Consider it training for your job. And then maybe we could totally get rich by forming our own car theft ring. We could be sitting on the shores of Mexico in a year, max.

Some Odds and Ends... maybe more ends, than odds.

2007-04-10T07:41:00.000-06:00

I'm on the verge of 5,000 visitors people. Look at the bottom of my sidebar. I ain't lying. So what if 3,842 of those hits were me? It's the number that counts! Naw, actually, I see my stats. I know ya'll are coming to visit me. And, you know what? I love you for it. I really do. This doesn't mean ya'll are getting gifts or anything. You'll just have to settle for a geeky girl living outside of Chicago writing your names on her notebooks and drawing little hearts around them.

I know 5,000 isn't a lot, but I have only had that meter on my site since the beginning of the year. I can't remember the exact date. So, yeah, I'm a tad excited. My page views are already over 5,000 but this number tracks just singular hits.

Moving on ~~~~~

Yesterday was my first day of class. I posted my bio and read the ones posted by the other classmates. I seemed to be the only one commenting them though. No one else was doing it. Losers. One of my professors liked my bio and said he enjoyed reading it - (even though in hindsight I totally regret parts of it now) - score one for me! But my other professor commented on every other bio in the class except mine? Hello! Dammit. Great, he thinks I'm a creep already!

Well, I showed him! I was the first one to post our very first assignment last night, which is due today! Take take that suckah! I'll be his teachers pet... just wait.

Am I starting to look familiar?

Moving on again ~~~~~~

I made a few changes to the "More On Angel" in my sidebar. I deleted my 100 things list, because it sucked. I re-wrote my "More About Me" page and I'm trying to think of some other ideas to add to it. I'm open to ideas. So, go ahead... love me. You know you want to.

And finally ~~~~~~

I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy so I wanted to shout out my love to all my peeps. Ya'll rawk!

Finally got my review

2007-04-09T19:39:00.000-06:00

Ask and Ye Shall Receive took long enough, but finally reviewed me. Unfortunately, I got reviewed by someone currently having issues, which I can understand, but it made for a less than stellar effort on their part. Well, it wasn't terrible... I got more points for my template than content though, but that's because they didn't read much. Had they read more, I might have rated higher, because, as we all know, I'm awesome. Shit.

Here is the review.

"Say it don't spray it!"

2007-04-06T18:11:00.000-06:00

The boys are playing in the living room and, per usual, DramaBoy is somehow tormenting the very life out of Monster which is eliciting desperate cries for help.

"Fightback boy! Stop taking that crap from your brother!" I spurted out to Monster.

"He's still too young! Look, sp......." Hubs tries to say to me but ends up spitting directly into my eye as I sit precariously 2 feet from him.

"Say it don't spray it loser!" I sputter back, inadvertently and accidentally spitting back into his eye.

This causes intense, side splitting, pee your pants laughter in which we are rendered breathless and soon coughing up a lung. During a brief reprieve, like a flash, he delivers one of his nasty flicks right to my bare forehead. Hard. His flicks are pretty much like taking a small lead weight and flinging it at someone. I have a dent in my forehead the size and shape of his fingernail.

Fucker.

Now we are laughing even more uncontrollably. And. I. Snort. (sigh)

Apparently I have married a freak who can't control his saliva when he speaks and has a barbaric superhuman flicking ability.

Ass.

"STOP LICKING YOUR BROTHER"

2007-04-06T14:09:00.000-06:00

The above title actually has nothing to do with what this post will consist of. It's just something I found myself saying 5 minutes ago as DramaBoy was pinning Monster down to lick his face.

Rather, this post will be more mixed up than President Bush in a phonics class. I'm warning you ahead of time, there is no point to this post, no direction, no happy ending and no lifesaving information that you'll need on your next spelunking trip.

Item 1 - I would just like to let everyone know that I have actually met the absolute slowest cashier in the history of underpaid/overworked, cantankerous cashiers on the planet. She took at least 23 minutes to bag each individual item, of the 3 people ahead of me! So, that meant I stood in line for something like, oooohhh lets see, 23 minutes times an average of 15 items each equals 354 minutes times 3 people.... 1035 minutes!!! When my turn finally arrived my children had each grown 3 shoe sizes and I think I suffered some bone loss. She drags my bottle of liquid Oxy Clean across the scanner slower than a snail high on pot and proceeded to tell me a gripping and hilarious story about her bottle of Downy that fell out in her car. Yeah I was laughing so hard my sides hurt and I peed a little.

Not really.

Item 2 - After our meeting of the short bus-riding cashier, I took the boys to get their haircut. The girl who cuts our hair wasn't in so I had another lady cut the boys hair. She was a large manly woman with an abundance of facial hair. Any local landscaping company could have made a bundle off of her eyebrows alone. To add insult to excessive facial hair, she did a shit job on the boys' hair. I could have done better job with their hair if I was high on crack and jumping on a trampoline. Dammit.

Item 3 - I. Am. So. Excited. About. Starting. My. Classes. Next. Week!! I am worse than a 9 year old girl who's about to embark on her very first trip to an American Girl store!

Item 4 - After a visit to a fabulous consignment store today, with my SIL, we are convinced that we should open up a consignment shop of our own. I already have a name picked out but no way in HELL am I sharing it yet, just in case Hell freezes over and we actually do decide to follow through with our daydream plans.

Item 5 - Thank you ALL OF YOU for your kind words about my school bio and naked face posts. You are probably all lying through your pearly white teeth, but that's ok. If you can't be nice to me, lie. And for the record (re: the naked face post) I wish I could say that I actually agree with all of you and that I'm just fishing for compliments. But that isn't the case. I really have a hard time looking in the mirror at myself during the "naked" days. That picture doesn't express the true fugliness.

And, one more thing... Thanks to all the new people who have posted comments! It's nice to "meet" ya'll and I stopped by all of your blogs myself.

"Mama, are they gonna like me?"

2007-04-04T13:33:00.000-06:00

In 6 days, I. Start. College.

My very first assignment is actually more like a pseudo-assignment. I simply have to write an autobiography that must be posted to the class' message board on Monday. How easy can it get!? I write a fucking blog for cripes sake! That is as narcissistic as it gets!

I open up a Word document and start typing. Words are flowing from my fingertips and soon my autobiography is done.

But, I'm scared.

I. Write. A. Blog. A blog that ~~millions~~ tens of people read every day! There are even people overseas (Yo Shionge!) that read this. So, what the hell is the big deal about posting a simple tale about me to a classroom message board? I don't know. I'm nuts. The people that will be reading this are just my classmates and professor. It's not even a graded assignment. But, I'm still a tad fearful. What if they don't like me? I'm lovable right? I realize I'm not 21 and hip, I don't have a job and I have given birth, but really! I'm cool! I swear!

Well, below is what I came up with.... it's being proofread by my uber-bestest friend right now... she'll tell me whether it's lame or not. She doesn't know this but she'll be proofreading ALL my college assignments because she is that honest and really knocks me down some notches when I need it. I love her.

____________________________________________________

Since I’m narcissistic and maintain a blog, this autobiography is going to be an easy task. However, the ease of writing this will only emulate the utter prosaicness of my life.

I am 31 years old and fully expect to be the oldest one here. I’m ok with this.

I am a stay at home mother so being able to attend college in my ~~underwear~~ pajamas is unbelievably gratifying. I have two small boys that will be running circles around my house while I’m trying to complete assignments and retain the information presented. My older son will be 3 at the end of May and my younger son is 18 months. They are every bit of a handful as it may sound. And, in case you are thinking it, let me clear a few things up. Yes, sometimes I do stay in my pajamas all day. No, I do not eat bon-bons while watching All My Children (I’m a Days girl). And yes, I do have playdates, frequent Wal-Mart and drive an SUV…. NOT a minivan.

I have been married for over 3 years (our 4^th anniversary is at the end of June) and live in the suburbs of Chicago. I moved to Chicago from Arizona in February of 2002. Ironically, I quit my job as a financial aid counselor at the University of Phoenix to move up here. I gave up my family, friends and a great job to move to a new place, all in the name of love. It was a regular Hallmark movie moment.

Now, here I am, a married mother of two boys, attending college through the miracle of technology and plan to work towards my Associates degree, then obtain my Bachelor’s degree. After I graduate and the Wizard gives me that piece of paper that says I really do have a brain, I plan to attend classes to become a paralegal. My ultimate goal is to work for a law firm that strictly handles corporate law cases, because corporate law won’t make me cry, ill or give me nightmares.

This is my first step.

________________________________________________________________

So, will that do? I was told it needs to be a few paragraphs so the length is actually ok. I just might rely on my blogger friends to carry me through this whole college thing. There might even be opportunities to make money if any of you would like to do my assignments or write my papers... but I'm not making promises.

**NOTE! I AM THIRTY ONE! 3 - 1! If it looks like 37 on your computer screen, PLEASE tell me! I am not 37.

The Everyday DraMa

2007-04-04T09:20:00.000-06:00

The only reason I'm posting the following picture is because Kristi seems to have this misconception that I'm cute, every day. However, this could not be farther from the actual truth and I really don't like giving anyone false pretenses about the Queen of Drama. I am many things, but a phoney, I am not.

My husband, my friends, my family and my in-laws have all seen me at my absolute worst, which is the origination for the "hideous factor" that I mentioned in my reply to the comments on the last post. It truly exists and resides within me. Signed affidavits are available to anyone who requests one.

I am incredibly too ~~vain~~ self-conscious to post a picture of me with anything less than a little bit of make up on and my hair at least tidy. In truth, I am way too embarrassed about what I look like au natural and it takes a lot of work to get me looking decent and presentable to the rest of the world. I do, however, venture out into public au natural, often, but more out of necessity than desire. To make myself feel better, I just think, there are worse cases than me in this world. So, I do it, I leave the security of my home with my hideous factor worn for everyone to see, for the good of my family.

There are times when I am able to appropriately mask this "hideous factor" (and by definition it means simply that DraMa is unshowered, unmakeuped, hair not done and at times utterly hopeless) by using strategically placed bandannas or hats upon my head, washing my face and smoothing out the texture with a makeup sponge but not using makeup and finally, never, EVER leaving the house without the almighty, the omnipotent and absolute best friend a girl could possibly have, my sunglasses.

And, now, I present, the naked DraMa. Unshowered, unmakeuped (not a stitch, not even the use of the makeup sponge) ... but the hair is at least combed and pulled back somewhat. This is the everyday DraMa.... this is why I don't post pictures of myself looking au natural. Oh, and I happen to be dressed here, where as many days I don't get out of my pajamas before 3pm. Furthermore, this isn't even the worst hideous factor there is... it is much worse usually. But, I just can't bring myself to put those pictures up... I can't.

I'm throwing up in my mouth a little bit.

My poor poor husband is married to ghastly woman.

**Note - this has nothing to do with being comfortable with my body and size. Because I truly am. But, my naked face is an entirely different subject and source of discontent.

Superscrawnyfragileisticexpialatrocious

2007-04-03T11:29:00.000-06:00

I'm a size 10/12. I weigh about 153lbs and I'm 5'7". If this were 1959 I would be perfect.

Instead, it's 2007 and even after all the negative publicity and women shirking this super skinny craze,

this is still the "in" look?

What I want to know is... no, wait, correction... what I absolutely must know is what man out there finds this superscrawnyfragileisticexpialatrocious look attractive? Do any exist? It's ok if you do, really. I'll just ridicule and taunt you until you are in the fetal position crying and begging for mercy. Then I'll kick you in the nuts. So, please, don't be afraid. Fess up. Is that beautiful to you?

After confessing my true size, I'm here to tell you that I'm not embarrassed or shameful about it! As I have stated many times before, I used to be a constant 118 pounds. Quickly, and out of nowhere, I gained 22 pounds. My size 5's didn't fit anymore and it was a very hard transition to make, mentally. I found myself not being able to wear certain shirts that I was used to and my jeans went from a 5 to an 8 then to a 10. Double digits? Craptastic.

One day I was looking at old pictures and saw myself at that 118lb weight that I thought I missed so dearly. But in reality, I looked emaciated and sickly. It was then that I realized that I'm better off now. My weight was holding steady at 140 pounds and I looked healthier. I still needed time to get used to my new size, but it was getting easier.

Then, I had children. Another 13 pounds appeared. But, I would not trade one ounce of cellulite, flab or added weight for my children (what mother would say anything else?). Still, I consider my stretch marks and "mama body" a badge of honor. I truly do! There are days I still feel frumpy and wish I had my flat tummy back, but I know that if I just put some effort forth, I can get into better shape. I don't want to lose weight, I would just like to turn my flab into fit.

I don't have daughters so worrying about having to teach my children proper self-image isn't a major concern. I'm not trying to say boys never have to worry about this but factually and statistically, women are the ones who struggle with weight and image more. Regardless, seeing advertising campaigns like the one Dove pioneered is incredibly gratifying and offers us women our dignity and self-respect back. If I did have daughters I would be embracing that campaign even more. But, it's just me, and I am elated to see a company go to these great lengths to show the world that beauty is not beheld in some 5'11" 105lb pound runway model.

Curves are beautiful and sexy. Curves are feminine and statuesque. Skin and bones are, in a word, repulsive. Besides, when I picture the skeletal freaks trying to have sex, the only image that comes to mind is snapping a twig over my pudgy thigh.

I can't change the world's mind on what is beautiful but at least someone in this world is trying to project a healthier image for girls to follow. Honestly, I don't really care what anyone else thinks is beautiful, that is their choice. I just know that I'm happy as I am, right this minute and no fashion magazine is going to dictate to me what is beautiful.

Sure, I joke about the size of my ass, but honestly, it's in better shape now than it has ever been. That's all thanks to the stairs in my house I climb up and down 50 times a day. So, instead of buying yoga pants that have "Pink" or "Sexy" written across the butt, I think I'll get a pair that say "Wide" ...and I'll wear them proudly.

This picture is a perfect example of then and now....

This is my younger sister and I from April of 2006. She (on the right) is the size I used to be*. And, yes, she has had a baby. Then there is me, on the left, after having two children. I'm happier at this size. Now, clearly my fashion sense is not up to par, but that is not the focus here. Rather, I'm trying convey that my flabby arms and big belly are the new me, the better me and the happier me (aside from having a freakishly small head... but that can't be helped).

*I'm not lumping my sister in with the Olsen Twins or Nicole Ritchies. But I do think she is too skinny... and her self image isn't really healthy, she has battled it for a long time.

The Fluff Piece for Monday

2007-04-02T15:05:00.000-06:00

My blog is worth $43,469.58.
How much is your blog worth?

Oh, I feel all warm and fuzzy inside now.. I'm worth some cheddah!

(in all actuality, my sarcasm is a blatant cover-up of the fact that I'm completely euphoric about this useless piece of information and jumping up and down like a teenage girl who just found a ½-off sale at the Wet Seal)

Oh. Muh. Gawd.

2007-03-31T08:46:00.000-06:00

Every current project or to do item has now been put on hold so that I can fully concentrate on this new list of things to do....

• Shrink-wrap entire house in impenetrable plastic.
• Buy enough food and supplies to last for a few weeks so I don't have to leave the house, ever.
• Build a strong plastic and also impenetrable tunnel from the back door directly to Mr. SUV in case of emergencies.
• Get large prescriptions for Paxil and Valium.

Because this is on the verge of happening and I. want. to. move.

Maybe, if I'm uber-lucky this infestation will occur on the EXACT days that I'm in Arizona in May. I'll be on my knees begging for that to happen from now until then.

I. hate. bugs. Especially gigantic flying bugs that make retchid noises. I can already feel them crawling all over me and buzzing around my head and I'm having trouble breathing .... and they aren't even here yet.

I'm dreading this... shit.

"Hi, Satan? Are there Targets in Hell?"

2007-03-30T15:12:00.000-06:00

One trip to Target, 4 children's books that have buttons to push for sound effects, some L'orèal tinted lotion for a fake tan, a book called"Dreams from My Father" by Barack Obama and few irresistible summer shirts that seem to have been tailor made for my muffin-top of a torso have cost me a signed contract with the devil and one way ticket to Hell...

...but I'm going there well-dressed and tan.

In case you don't understand why a few measly purchases from Target would send a sweet, passionate, beautiful (shut up, it's my blog and I'm allowed to embellish) loving mother like myself to hell, read this first. If you did understand then I thank you for being a loyal reader. I'll send you some souvenirs from Hell.

If you check the calendar you'll notice that Easter isn't until April 8th, a little over a week away. That means I only survived 31 days of Lent. 9 more days and a little bit of will power would have saved me a lifetime in the fiery depths of Purgatory.

It is all Target's fault though. Seriously. I might as well be a crack addict walking into a dark alley where there's an all can you shoot-up crack buffet. I would never expect a strung out crackwhore to resist that kind of temptation so why should it be any different for a woman who walks into Target on payday after 31 days of abstinence from purchasing anything frivilous!? Yeah, you'd cave too. Don't judge me.

See, they dangle their merchandise in front of you like a carrot on a string and if you listen carefully you'll notice that it knows your name. It does. I swear. They put the cute clothes right inside the front doors, they circulate a strange potion through the ventilation system that creates a euphoric desire to spend money and they use the color red which we all know is a passionate color that stimulates your heart and emotions creating an intense buying power.

Target executives aren't stupid, they are just cruel and evil. In fact, they are the ones that should be going to Hell. They are just highly paid cult leaders that lure in innocent victims like myself and pray upon our weaknesses for great stuff at bargain prices.

Maybe God will let me off the hook this time. I mean, I'm not Catholic so technically my sacrifice wasn't binding, right? It was a merely a personal mission and I'm only human. Any lawyer would be able to plead that case and get an innocent verdict.

Just in case I am relegated to Hell for all eternity though, I do hope they have Targets there. But, I'm sure they don't ... and that is why it's called Hell.

Drama goes to college

2007-03-29T13:08:00.000-06:00

You are looking at the newest college student. That's right, Drama is gonna get smart.

I realize that I don't look the part. I mean I'm not hot, under 21 and oozing with sexual energy or, on the contrary, blushing with virginity. I have two kids and a big ass to prove it. But, these days, people like me are redefining college students. It's no longer all about hot coeds, frat parties and attending classes with a hangover.

That was the old college experience.

Nowadays you can attend class in your underwear (actually that probably happened in the old days too), pick your nose, make a snack, yell at your kids and fart during class and no one will even notice. Does it really get any better than that? I'm not sure that it does.

On April 9th I join the land of higher learning via my DDoH (Dell Desktop of Happiness). I'll be attending the University of Phoenix and working for my AAB degree. Once that is done (in about 12-14 months) I will roll right into my Bachelor's degree. My ultimate plan is to get my BA degree and then get my paralegal certificate. Once it's all completed I'll probably be ready to rejoin the workforce since both kids will probably be in school by then.

But, I'm married, 31, have two kids and attending school online won't allow me to experience the true college life that involves heavy drinking, random sex, smelly professors, some potential hazing and frequent nakedness. I can't help but feel a bit empty inside about that.

So, it's up to me to spice the online college world up a bit. I'm thinking about pioneering some old fashioned college adventures with a new technological twist.... webcam orgies, virtual keggers and chat room sororities. Nothing would beat being naked in your home drinking from a beer bong while your sorority sisters cheer you on from the chat room typing things like "LOL! She's so wasted! Brb, gotta pee."

Ok, so my husband might frown upon that, especially if he saw some naked frat guy on my screen passed out on his computer desk.

On second thought, maybe I should scratch those ideas and just concentrate on gettin' some smarts.

Student loans will add up, but for the first time in my life I actually feel like I'm staring down a fairly short road and the prize at the end is a big old Bachelor's degree and a lot of open doors with dollar signs behind them. Now ain't that a pretty picture.

*Update - Hubs just told me he would buy me a six pack and make me my very own beer bong in honor of my first class!! Can't ask for a better hubby than that ladies.

The Fair Princess of Wells Fargo

2007-03-28T09:45:00.000-06:00

Once upon a time in a far away land called Wells Fargo (actually, a large office space in a strip mall), there lived a beautiful princess named Tina. The beauty in her face was merely a reflection of the beauty in her soul. She reigned over the kingdom of Wells Fargo with a fair hand and gentle touch. Princess Tina's sincerity and joy was unrivaled by the royal families of the neighboring kingdoms (and by neighboring kingdoms I mean the other evil financial institutions). They could never compete with the loyalty and care that she beheld for her own people.

One fine day as Princess Tina sat surveying her subjects, she came across a family whom she felt she could lend some of her expertise and services to. Princess Tina decided to call upon the family to offer her royal assistance. The family was undoubtedly wary at first but the princess soon charmed her way into their good graces without so much as a hint of pretentiousness or deceit. Graciously, the family accepted her services and so the journey began.

Throughout the duration of Princess Tina's service to the family she remained affable and very accommodating. She never faltered. It became blissfully obvious to the family that Princess Tina truly loved serving the people of her commonwealth. She had passion in her reign and merriment in her servitude. The other kingdoms would be hard pressed to compete with her generosity and honor.

When the journey was over and her services were concluded, Princess Tina had bestowed upon the family an intangible gift. The family will forever be greatful to the princess and will always remember her. Princess Tina left her proverbial castle door (well, the door to the office in the strip mall) open to the family for any future needs they might have and they parted ways to all live happily ever after.

"Trader Joe's taste, on a Wal-Mart budget"

2007-03-27T10:14:00.000-06:00

I went to Trader Joe's yesterday. As I'm meandering the isles scanning all of the organic goodness and immersing myself in the zen-like atmosphere, I wonder why I don't come here more often. I mean they have great food that is undoubtedly healthier so my entire family could benefit. Then, it hits me... OH YEAH! It's 15 miles away and EX-PEN-SIVE!

As I made my way through the checkout I encountered something unusual... actually two things that were unusual... the first was a pleasant cashier (take a moment to read that again if you must). The second was a jovial patron who politely said excuse me as she was making her way out the door. Now, as a Wal-Mart frequenter this was blissfully astonishing to me. At that moment I flashed back to my previous Trader Joe's visit last year. It was a very similar experience - a cashier that was wonderful and made small talk that was superfluous and natural. I think it's a fair assessment to say that Wal-Mart and Trader Joe's are polar opposites. For everything good that Trader Joe's represents, Wal-Mart is the antithesis.

If you shop there you will realize something from the very second you walk in the door. The employees, the patrons and the entire premise of the store is unpretentious. They don't make you feel like you don't belong there if you eat McDonald's 5 times a week. You are welcome with open arms regardless of your daily dietary choices. It's as if you walk through their doors and your nutritional slate is wiped clean and you are given a fresh start. You become inspired to cook better, eat better and take care of yourself! All of sudden you have the urge to help little old ladies cross the street and return your shopping cart to the proper corals.

What I finally assessed, after spending $19.10 on some organic juice, yummy heat and serve shredded bbq chicken, whole wheat organic buns and some organic alphabet cookies for the boys, is that eating healthier must make people nicer. Without presenting bold stereotypes, just allow the evidence to speak for itself. If you shop at Wal-Mart you run into less than stellar people and you will probably leave the store having at least one negative confrontation with an employee or a patron, but you'll save money. If you shop at Trader Joe's you are greeted with warm surroundings, smiling faces, helpful employees, jovial patrons and a pleasant all around experience, but it might cost your kid his future college education.

I don't know about you, but I would rather blow my budget and shop at Trader Joe's on a regular basis in order to give my body a reprieve from saturated fats and my mind a reprieve from the cantankerous public. It will never happen though. The best I can do is plan a once a month trip to Trader Joe's for some healthier snacks and continue shopping for the healthiest choices that Wal-Mart (and our regular grocery store) has to offer.

Who knows, maybe someday, if I trade in my toaster strudels for some organic waffles I will actually become a nicer person. I'll start doing yoga, learn to meditate, become a better mother and wife and my life will be more zen-like.... just like Trader Joe's would want for me.

Who knew that a small grocery chain could bring this much inspiration.

"Will you please just let me have my hangover!"

2007-03-24T20:22:00.000-06:00

Today, most of my time was spent laying on the couch, the guest bed or recliner moping and trying to catch any ounce of snooze time I could manage. My stomach was upset all day long and I was, and still am, very tired. So, to say I was useless would be an understatement.

Most people nurse excruciating headaches the day after a night of boozing. Alas, I am not most people. I am weird. Not only do I store things like mini flashlights, cough drops and the television remotes under my pillow for easy access, I also have hangovers that last 2 days and involve vomiting and utter uselessness. I say again, I am weird.

Last night I went out with a friend of mine for some drinks, munchies and girl talk. Our regularly scheduled girl's night out had been canceled due to a funeral that two other girls needed to attend last night. Another GNO participant is over 32 weeks pregnant and down with bronchitis at the moment. And then there were two....

She and I decided to stick close to home so that we could drink and not have to drive. There happens to be a quaint little Italian restaurant right behind our houses, literally 50 yards from us, so we chose to go there. We bellied up to the bar, had some drinks, appetizers and talked. It was nice because we weren't screaming at each other over loud music and we weren't being harassed by drunk businessmen trying to see if we were up for a quick blow job in the rental car outside. Thank God for the little things.

As it turned out, I might have actually given the impression to the bartender that I was a lesbian. Silly me. I arrived first and ordered a glass of white wine, a reisling. Hello! That's clue number one, I'm straight and naive.

The nice young bartender asked me "So, is he late or are you early?"

I replied, "It's a she, and I'm early."

"Oh, well, that works too." he cantered back.

Wait a second, did I just inadvertently tell him I'm gay? Immediately, I start positioning my left hand so as to show of my wedding ring. Maybe that will correct the situation without me bumbling something out like "Wait, I meant, I'm meeting my girlfriend here for drinks! Shit! I mean my friend, who IS a girl... not like girlfriend as in we like, well you know... she's just a friend. Not that there is anything wrong with being gay, cuz there totally isn't, I'm just not gay, is what I mean... "

He isn't seeing my hand. Crap.

Shortly thereafter, the bartender and I are engaged in small talk when all of a sudden I hear a "hello" from my behind me. It's my friend. Once I stop staring at her huge knockers, of which I seem to be completely enamored with lately, I say hello and she sits down. I'm admiring her t-shirt mostly, but it's obviously very flattering to her chest. I wish I had boobs like that. Obviously that isn't helping my argument at the moment.

Then, I inform her, loudly enough for the bartender to hear, that I managed to give off the impression that we were lesbians. She and the bartender both start laughing. The bartender immediately starts to stutter and say something to the effect of "oh, it's ok, I really wasn't thinking that..." but his tone actually said something like, "I was totally thinking you were lesbians and got really excited because you are both way hot and I was starting to fantasize and thank God for you walking in here because my boring night just got a whole lot better, then you ruined it by saying you are both married... to men."

Then, just because I feel like being a smartass, I mention to my friend, "But, we can totally make out later if you want."

Good times.

The night progresses and I move onto a vodka cranberry and 7-up all the while thinking, "stick with the wine idiot, stick with the wine!" 2 vodka cranberry and 7-up's and about 3 hours later, we pack it up and let the owner close the place down. We were the last two souls in there, along with the owner. Even the bartender had long since gone.

This is where we decide it's too early to call it a night and we want to hit the neighborhood dive bar directly across the street, 50 feet away. I had only been in there a couple of times with hubs. They serve beer, plain old mixed drinks and burgers. Nothing fancy. But, I still walk up to the bar hoping to find more of that cranberry vodka that I had been enjoying. After asking the bartender if he has that, then coconut rum and being turned down both times, my friend had already ordered a beer. This is where you can see the bartender's eyes rolling and he actually says snidely, "Two beers then, right?" I didn't order a beer.

In other words, he is saying, "lady, this isn't the fucking Ritz, it's a dive bar, order a beer and sit the hell down."

We got our Miller Lites and sat down at a table. It's a class act all the way folks. All I can think at this point is how I am going to pay for this very soon. Mixing drinks is lethal for me. Adding beer on top of wine or mixed drinks is the equivalent of mixing ammonia and bleach... with my body anyway.

Still, we chat, enjoy good conversation, I start seeing 3 of her swaying in front of me, I probably even managed to spit while speaking a few times and then... oh then, we hear a fight brewing. Sweet. We both turn to look behind us and see a group of about 6 people, men and women, wagging fingers, yelling profanity and moving as one unit down the bar while fighting. This and our Miller Lites completely round out the white trash evening. We couldn't have cued it up any better. Alas, no fists are thrown, thank goodness. We look at each other and enjoy the entertainment for a few minutes and it dies down. Then, as it starts up again, we grab our things and call it a night. I am a proud white trash girl, but even I know when to walk away.

I walked the short distance home, washed my face, extracted myself from the smoke-infested clothes and crawled into bed, downstairs in the guest room. I didn't want to wake hubs. Only a short time later do I feel the pangs of nausea and the spins emerge. Oh shit, here it comes....

2 hours later I vomit, immensely, and it's done. (However, I don't think I'll ever be able to eat brushetta again) WHEW! Close call! Normally the vomiting starts and doesn't end for about 10 hours. I got off lucky this time. Instead I was just left with an upset and volatile stomach all day. This is where my complete uselessness comes in. By morning hubs is onto my plight and revels in it. He's violently opening blinds in my sleeping room and asking me if I would like to partake in foods that have an incredibly high vomit factor.

I yell at him, "WILL YOU PLEASE JUST LET ME HAVE MY HANGOVER!"

Ass.

It's not what you think

2007-03-22T12:37:00.000-06:00

I'm not buried alive under a mound of cow manure. (remember that happened to Biff from Back to the Future? ha ha ha... good times)

I'm not trapped in a coal mine.

I was not adopted by Angelina Jolie.

I didn't run away to join Cirque de Soleil (flexibility issues)

I'm not even in jail being assaulted by a large, hairy woman named Beasty Betty.

In reality, I have just been uber busy this week. I have a lot on my mind, I'm trying to work some things out for my family and the kids are keeping me very occupied with their daily antics. All in all, I need a lot of alcohol, a good nights sleep and some warm sunshine. Unfortunately, it's been stormy, our girl's night out is canceled this week and sleeping well isn't on the menu.

My stomach hurts as much as my brain does. It could be from the diet of toaster strudels and Dr. Pepper but that's just a guess. Regardless, once things settle down, I'll rejoin the ranks of blogging and doing my best to entertain the masses. If you can consider my writing entertaining, and all. Go ahead, lie to me. Constructive criticism has no place here... bold face lies about my awesomeness are much more appreciated.

I'm legal once again, but I'll always be an idiot.

2007-03-20T10:45:00.000-06:00

On my 31st birthday, October 20th 2006, my Illinois driver's license expired. It's just a date, highlighted in red, on my license and I didn't take it that seriously. I knew it was easy to just drop the children off at my MIL's house, drive the very short distance to the license facility, get it renewed and be done. Furthermore, I knew that I always get through the facility fast because they have a great system. I'm never in there for more than a ½ hour.

However, as of March 18th 2007, (that would be almost 5 months later) I still had not performed this relatively simple task. My expired license caused me to be on the receiving end of a rubber-gloved female patting me down at the airport and caused hubs to be less than happy with me.

On February 28th 2007, the registration on Mr. SUV expired. I was officially a completely illegal driver with an expired license and registration. But I have said it once and I'll say it again, I am a rebel. On Sunday March 18th the family and I were at Wal-Mart grocery shopping. We get back out to Mr. SUV, load the children and groceries up and climb in to notice something on our windshield. It was a pale yellow envelope and in this area it only means one thing. Some community service officer (rent-a-cop) with nothing else to do and obviously in some great discomfort from the stick shoved up her ass decided to take her frustration out on me and Mr. SUV.

I received a $40.00 ticket from a fake cop because my tags were two weeks past due. The ticket was legitimate, I'm not arguing that fact. I'm arguing the fact that some police academy drop-out has time to drive through a parking lot, seek out Mr. SUV and see that his tags are slightly overdue and issue me a ticket! Cripes, real officers of the law don't even bother you while you are driving until your tags are at least a month overdue. (Becky, remember this when you are out on the roads... leave the people that are less that one month expired ALONE!)

Sure, it's my fault. I cannot place blame on anything like solar storms, riptides or being temporarily held hostage but some gorilla-like creature. I just didn't take care of these details in a timely manner. I was waiting until the end of this month to take care of the registration knowing that there is an unwritten grace period, in most cases, and I was merely being lazy about my license.

Needless to say, yesterday I finally made the effort to drop my children off at my MIL's, drive the short distance to the license facility and get my license renewed. When the attendant asked if I was still 5'7" and 140 pounds I sheepishly grinned and said yes. Let's just say I took poetic license (ha, get it... poetic license?) with a few minor details. I also got a new picture taken so that the freakishly squinty-eyed moron on my old license made way for a more natural looking yet bug-eyed character. I was in and out in a ½ hour, as always.

Today, I went online, like I do every year, and renewed my registration. It took 5 mintues. So, 35 minutes in two days were spent making me legal again. 5 months ago, 30 minutes would have spared me the airport frisking and 3 weeks ago, 5 minutes online would have saved me a $40.00 ticket.

I'm going to be 32 years old this year, but I'll never learn. The important thing is, if I do get pulled over (for something completely bogus because I'm totally legal now and would never ever dream of speeding... ha) the officer will see a much better picture on my license and believe that I'm actually 140 pounds. And we all know that is all that matters.

(look at me all usin' labels now.)

I'm ready.... I think

2007-03-19T11:42:00.000-06:00

I have visions of a new house. I have visions of a master bathroom with a big oval bathtub and dual sinks. I have visions of a nice kitchen with dark cabinets, sprawling counter space and stainless steel appliances. That is all I'm really asking for. The house doesn't need to be 3000 square feet. Heck, it doesn't even need to be 2000 square feet. A spacious 1600-1800 square feet would be fine! The kitchen counters don't need to be granite and the sinks and bathtub don't need to be marble, they don't even need to be porcelain. My requests are not high end dollar, just functional and nice. Space is the main request. Counter space. Bathroom space. Closet space.... Arizona space.

The house we live in now is great. It's over 110 years old, has original hardwood floors, a wood burning stove, cozy living space and tons of character. It's a house I always dreamed of having. It's a great place to raise a family and sits on a corner lot in a wonderful neighborhood. The trees that line the streets are large, tall and old, the neighbors mow their lawns every weekend in the summer and snow blow their sidewalks in the winter. We wave to our friends as they drive by and say hello to residents who are relaxing on their front porch as we stroll by in the summertime. It's a close to a utopia as you can get in this dangerous world we live in.

Why would I want to leave this house or this neighborhood for dual bathroom sinks and a spacious kitchen? To be honest, I don't. This is what you call a full blown conundrum. I'm torn. You could slice me in half and one side of my body would be waving the red, blue and yellow Arizona state flag while dreaming of the glorious mountains. The other half would be clutching Buckingham fountain and the Sears Tower with white knuckles.

I want to stay but I want to go. It's a tale of two cities.... Ok, it's more a tale of one incredibly large urban area and one beautiful southwestern state. My heart resides in both. My body can only reside in one. As if that isn't confusing enough for one person to deal with, try this on for size. If money, jobs and a place to live were no object, I would pack up my family and leave tomorrow. Just like that. That type of spontaneity is in my blood. It's part of my genetic coding. I mean, that is how my family and I ended up in Arizona in 1987 and it's how I ended up here in Chicago in 2002.

So, if I could leave tomorrow, why am I wavering? Why am I torn? Well, contradictions are also part of my genetic coding. My only explanation is that I am in love with both places. I have family in both places. I made a life in both places. I can be happy in both places.

My head is spinning in just writing this out, so I can imagine what is happening to those who might be reading this. Consider this just me, speaking aloud. I'm documenting my trials. Maybe a decision will be born of my writing.

The fact is, there is no decision to be made. We are both ready for a new life. We are ready for change. We want that change!! But life is holding us back at the moment... a boring job, a house that isn't in sellable condition, lack of funds and so on. If those fall into place, we will more than likely be moving onto a place that boasts 300+ sunny days a year...my home, my heart. Until then, I'm not sacrificing anything. I'm not unhappy. I'm surrounded by amazing friends (the single most amazing friends I have ever had in my life), by my husband's magnificent family and a life that I can be proud of. I built a great life here, I laid roots down which is a rarity for me.

From now on, we will be working towards a goal... that goal is to move to Arizona. The goal is to find a new home, one with a spacious kitchen and dual bathroom sinks... and a garage that we can actually park two vehicles in. It's a goal to start a new life, a carefree life free of snow, cold winds and potholes. Hiking in the mountains, driving through poetic scenery and golfing year round will replace winter hibernation and icy roads. The best part is that if we ever miss the snow and need a relief from the heat, we simply drive 2 hours north. It's as simple as that.

To bad making and implementing these life decisions are not as simple.

200 posts

2007-03-14T14:11:00.000-06:00

A milestone has been reached that merely signifies that I spend countless hours on the computer wasting time and spewing narcissistic bullshit. This milestone will not change the lives of those living in third world countries and it will not cure cancer... oh, if only blogging really had that effect!

Alas, I have reached 200 posts. Tuesday's "Photo Montage" is what put me at that glorious number of distinction. Do I get special entrance into an elite blogger club now? Do I win money? Will I be inducted into the blogger hall of fame? Prolly not. I just embrace this milestone in my heart and treasure it like I treasure lint in my pocket. It's that important, after all.

So, in honor of this momentous occasion, I present:

"All things related to the number 200".

1. Number of times I have heard the word "Mama" today.
2. Number of hours I have wasted trying to figure why Passions is still on the air.
3. Number of dinners I have screwed up.
4. Number of times I have thought "I know that Sarah Jessica Parker is butt-ass ugly when she wakes up, she needs every stitch of make up and hair product she can get"
5. Number of times I have said "I. HATE. STEVEN. SEAGAL!"
6. Number of times I have patronized Wal-Mart..... just this year.
7. Number of pins that I will not even get close to knocking down Saturday night at our annual Candlelight Bowl Fundraiser.
8. Number of batteries we seem to go through, every week.
9. Number of times that I probably say the word "Totally" each day.
10. Number of dollars that I wish I had in my purse, every day.
11. Number of people that pissed me off to a point of feeling homicidal.... just this year.
12. Number of times I leave the house and forget something and have to turn around and go back, every year.
13. Number of strawberry toaster strudles I probably consumed in February.
14. Number of times DramaBoy goes into the fridge, every day.
15. Number of sippy cups it seems I wash, every day.
16. Number of times I check my email, every day. No. Joke.
17. Number of minutes I spend picking food off the floor, every day.
18. Number of times I call hubs a loser, every day.
19. Number of minutes it has taken me to write this stupid post.
20. Number of people it might take to convince me that Steven Seagal should ever be allowed in another movie again.

That is all.

A Photo Montage - A Day in the Life of DramaBoy

2007-03-13T13:13:00.000-06:00

On Tuesday March 13th, something strange happened. It was an oddity that made the citizens of the great Chicago-land area beam with joy and revel in the gloriousness. What could possibly cause such a stupendous outpouring of jubilation, you ask? Well, the temperature reached 70 degrees. In March.

70 degrees.

March.

(I figured typing it out a few times might make it more believable)

The windows of my house have all been opened and the resident evil spirits of winter have left this domicile for the arctic shores. In the immortal words of the creepy little short chick from Poltergeist... "This hayous, is cleeeaar"

DramaBoy and I ventured outside for some much needed sunshine, fresh air and warm breezes. I could feel the weight of winter leave my shoulders while the Springtime air filled my lungs. And then I sneezed ... and coughed... because despite the warm weather we are having, I'm fighting off a cold. I digress.

Onto the photo montage that the title of this post boasts.

Like most first-time car owners, DramaBoy owns a POS (piece of shit). His POS comes equipped with a handy-dandy push to start system. It provides exercise as well as endless fun.

Aaannd he's off... TIKES™ actually stands for Toddler Initiated Kinetic Energy System.
(you can totally see I figured out the TM thing! And, TIKES is the make/model of the car)

You can't see it but he actually has a bumper sticker that says "If you don't like my driving dial 1-800-Eat Me"

Child labor laws my ass! As soon as my kids come out of me they are put to work. Daddy needed some kindling for the wood stove (because this IS still Chicago and the weather will plummet into the freezing depths of the northern states once again so the wood stove is not exactly done for the season) so you can bet I put his toddler butt to work. Besides, I'm not daddy's wood bitch.

Then he locked the keys in the car. That would be a maternally genetic trait he was blessed with.

"DAMMIT! I should have signed up for AAA!!"

"You have GOT to be kidding me! Is it too much to ask for a nice GM vehicle that has OnStar!"

After the car got out of the Mother Mechanic Garage, he had had it. He doesn't get the "DramaBoy" moniker for nothing. This little fit was courtesy of me because I didn't sit in the exact spot he wanted to me sit. I tested the fates and got up to go sit at the front of the house while he wanted me to remain seated on the side of the house. It upset the biorhythms and gravitational pull of the Earth therefore sending him into a tizzy.

And so ends DramaBoy's day in the sun.

I really am as dumb as I look

2007-03-13T08:03:00.000-06:00

Although I didn't put my phone in the freezer like my very pregnant friend did, I am still quite capable of equally mindless things. If you know me, you know this very large factoid already.

Today, one such stupid thing occurred that left hubs quite pissed at me. However, in the midst of his holy-pissedness, I learned something. (There is always an opportunity to learn) Despite being together for 5 years I learned that there are degrees to his anger. Today I discovered that pissed is actually a higher degree than mad. Who knew? So, while he started out pissed at me, I mended the situation and the degree of his anger was brought down to only mad. Whew! Disaster averted!

Alas, that is not the point of this post. It just so happens that on the day I decided to write something regarding my stupidity I do something stupid! It couldn't have been planned any better. My actual reason for posting was to say that even though I have been a "blogger" (that is said as if it indicates an actual profession) for almost a year now, I still do not know the important aspects of blogging or what comes with the moniker "blogger". (seems to be a theme here, not learning things until much later)

For instance, I had no idea that there was actually a point to typing out your email address like this: angelh28 (at) sbcglobal (dot) net. I was informed by wonderful fellow bloggers that this is new way to fight spam crimes. When the email address is typed out in phonetic form, if you will, they are thus rendered invisible to the criminal spammers. Or some shit like that. That little tidbit only took me 10 months to figure out.

Then there are the "labels" for blog posts. Their utilization is quite apparent in blogs where posts can be categorized, thus the labels serve a purpose. But what about blogger schmo's like me who are too cheap to pay for a better blog hosting service where options aren't as limited? Don't we deserve a way to actually use the labels in Blogger? I bet the Blogger officials are taking joy in giving us the power to label our posts without the power to actually categorize. Sick bastards. If there really is a way to use my labels for the greater good, I don't know how. Shocking, I know.

Oh, I'm not done. The proverbial bug up my ass that drives me insane is how ya'll get those little "R" and "TM" things in the circles to signify a trademark. A - How the hell do you do it? and B - Why do you do it? Am I infringing on copyrights by saying Wal-Mart or Home Depot or Barbie in my menial, unpaid blog, without putting a little r in a circle next to the name? Well, if so, I don't care. I'm not skeered. I'm a rebel, don'tchya know? Besides, if I do mention their name, shouldn't those bastards be paying me for advertisement? That's my logic, anyway.

Just a few weeks ago, my uber-bestest friend Becky taught me how to trash unwanted comments. Apparently the little trash can icon underneath each individual comment escaped my line of sight. Again, shocking, I know.

Anywhoo (I totally know there are people out there that absolutely hate the use of the word "anywhoo" so I'm doing to annoy, because I can, aaaaaaannnd, wait for it....... because I'm a rebel) this concludes the examples of my ignorance for now. Of course this conclusion does not denote that it is a complete list of ALL examples of my ignorance, but merely a pause in the ongoing saga of "Ways DraMa is Clueless". It will be continued when my patience level rises, children stop annoying me and I possibly get a decent night's rest. All of which, are highly unlikely to happen in the next 24 hours.

Look at me all bloggin' on a Saturday!

2007-03-10T09:35:00.000-06:00

This means one of the following has happened...

1. Husband left me for Selma Hayek and took the kids with him. (ha, the jokes on him, she's all pregnant and engaged now... total damaged goods.)

2. Aliens have abducted my family and left me here to proceed with world domination plans.

3. Hubs and the kids are bound with duct tape in the cellar.

4. The weather is very nice and hubs is outside with DramaBoy leaving me with the Monster who's not being so monstrous at the moment.

Even though each of those statements are highly unbelievable, I guarantee, one of them IS true (hint... it's #2!)

Here it is, Saturday morning, and I felt it necessary to share my WTF moment of yesterday.

MIL was sitting in my living room and we were chatting. A commercial aired on the television and in a rare paradoxic moment, I was rendered speechless complete with my mouth agape and only remnants of prehistoric sounds emerged from my lungs.

The Mattel company, the proud creators of Barbie, have created a new extension of the prized doll that is cherished by girls as well as nostalgic women. Introducing Tanner, the pooping dog!

A FREAKING POOPING DOG! The commercial is complete with a demonstration. Barbie feeds Tanner a dog biscuit and it cleverly emerges from his butt when you push down on his tail. Wait, there is more! Then, Barbie is equipped with neat little contraption that will pick up Tanner's poop!

Well, I for one feel compelled to run right out to the nearest Wal-Mart and buy this new Barbie and crapping dog for every little girl I know! There is so much joy in watching dogs poop! You didn't know? It can provide endless hours of crappy fun. And who knows, maybe, if you are really lucky, this toy will inspire your sweet little girl to fulfill her dreams and become a dogwalker*!

I'll admit, maybe there is, by some sliver of hope on the part of the Mattel company, a real lesson to be learned here. A lot of children long for a puppy to join their family and many parents, in turn, give the speech about how to take care of a dog... they need to be walked and fed and cleaned up after. The innocent children reply with excitement and guarantees of taking good care of the puppy.

If only those parents knew that help is now on the way! They don't need to give that speech anymore! Enter, Tanner the pooping dog! He can train your children for you! A solution to their problems comes in the form of a little plastic dog that craps biscuits and is only $15.95! The relief is felt across the world.

Apparently, getting a dog and actually teaching the children how to feed and clean up after it is too hard. They need a demonstration by a small plastic dog. No matter what, I will never find joy in watching my dog take a shit. It's pretty nasty and not something I giggle and laugh at with girlfriends.

You know, I just don't care if Mattel thinks this is helpful training tool or not. I have never seen the joy or need for baby dolls that pee and toy dogs to poop. Some things don't need to be demonstrated for pretend purposes. It's just disturbing. The Elmo potty training video is where I draw the line...

*I realize dogwalking is actually quite a lucrative business nowadays... so maybe aspiring to be one isn't so bad. It's an admirable job at the very least.

5 Reasons Why I Blog

2007-03-09T16:55:00.000-06:00

It has happened again, the blogging inevitable. I have been ~~attacked~~ tagged by Blonde Chick.

And so we begin: 5 reasons why I blog

1. I own a computer.
2. I know how to type.
3. I'm narcissistic.
4. I crave attention.
5. I enjoy believing that I'm entertaining.

There it is. You can all resume your regularly scheduled blog surfing in peace.

That idiot took up residence in my body again

2007-03-09T07:02:00.000-06:00

It's early. Very early. Ok, it's not that early. But I have been awake since, ohhhh, 5:30am! Now it's 7am. Usually, when I'm awake at 5:30am I'm in a groggy state and roll over to catch some more of those elusive zzzzz's that I'm so fond of. Today that wasn't in the cards. I wasn't just awake at 5:30am, I was wide awake. As I lay there in my state of awakeness I realized that getting up would better suit me. Going back to sleep would only mean that I would wake up later with a headache, a backache and be groggy and ultimately useless the rest of the day, because, that is how DraMa's body works. It's fucked up, I know.

So, here I am, at 7am reading blogs. New blogs. That's when the idiot strikes! The evil bastard invaded my body just now and made a complete fool out of me! I hate him. Yes, it's a him. Anyway, I'm intrigued by the title of a blog that I spotted. I click on it and begin reading. The first post has me laughing. It's about jock itch. Well, at 7am, being that horrendously early hour that it is, my mind is not fully functional! How could it be! Normally I'm still in bed trying to ward off DramaBoy so I can sleep some more. So, to me, anything on jock itch means I'm reading a man's blog, right?

NOT THIS TIME SUCKAH! See, what I failed to do is read the profile of the blogger first, like I normally do. I also failed to read the post clearly to understand the whole point of it! So, I comment, without doing any basic blog research and completely insult this blogger by saying something like "now you know how us women feel about buying hygiene crap... ". I said "US WOMEN" people. TO A WOMAN! I honestly thought I was reading a blog written by a man. But, you could see how I would think that right? I mean ANYONE could make that mistake right? See, not only did I read that post about jock itch, but I also read a post about DIY (do-it-yourself) and plexi-glass and sanding and drilling!

This complete error in judgment brought back memories of my days as a Chili's hostess. One time a family walked in, and as usual, if they had kids I would ask if they wanted a children's menu and crayons. So I proceeded to ask and they politely said "no thank you" and it was then that I realized it wasn't a child, it was a ~~midget~~ little person!

Wayduhgo loser.

Upon realizing my complete lapse in all brainpower, I promptly deleted my comment. But, then I realized that it was probably already emailed to her (if she has that feature set up) and she'll see it anyway. Not only that, she'll probably click on my link and know exactly who I am (Hello Sarah, I'm a fool and I'm sorry).

Now, in the wake of my idiotness I have somehow painted a picture of myself that entails a narrow minded, 2-dimensional thinking woman. In reality, I'm neither of those things (the narrow minded, 2-dimensional part... I am a woman however). But I sure do know how to lay the groundwork for an excellent first impression don't I?

Aaaaannnnd, once again... wayduhgo loser. Go ahead, say it with me.

Sarah, if there is some sliver of hope that you'll see this, I am very sorry for my mistake. I blame the hour of the day, no caffeine and the little idiot man that invades my space sometimes.

After hours of deliberation, I still have no title for this post.

2007-03-08T15:45:00.000-06:00

All week long I have been one day ahead. On Monday I thought it was Tuesday. On Tuesday I thought it was Wednesday. Today, I'm pretty sure is Thursday but up until 5 minutes ago, it seems I had been regressing and thought it was Wednesday. Go figure.

Today, whatever the hell day it is, was spent trying to work out kinks on my new computer. Fun times. I made a shameless move and emailed someone whom I know has computer knowledge so as not to bother my husband with it. Hubs has enough to worry about and I didn't want to add to it or frustrate him with my odd problems. And they are odd.

So, I bit the bullet and emailed Long Island Dad for help. I hated bothering him, but knew he could probably answer my questions. Mr. LID actually took the time out of his busy day to call me and try to help me! That was a pleasant surprise and it was wonderful talking to him. However, for him, I'm sure if there was any question about my idiocy, it has been dispelled and now he is positive that I really am an idiot.

In the end, after a phone call to my DSL provider and a few hundred million clicks, a thousand whatthefucks, some hair pulling and some screaming, the problem was not solved. But, I somehow fixed it anyway. Go me. My email is working just fine now. It only took all day long to fix. No biggie. It's not like I have anything else to do around here (boy is the sarcasm thick in here). Sure, I could have waited until tonight to tinker with it but I'm a bit obsessive compulsive about these types of things to my ability to put it off doesn't exist. Laundry I have no problem putting off! Insane little issues that have no bearing on the state of my home, life or the planet, THOSE I can't deal with putting off.

Early today, in the heat of battle with the computer Gods, I tried posting something. Not once but twice something happened and it was not successful. So, in one last effort, I'm trying again.

My post was regarding a decision that I'm trying to make but will need some help with. I'm putting it out to all of you for some advice, tips, suggestions and anything else you want to throw at me (put the rotten vegatables down!).

Last year I had made a decision that I would like to become a paralegal. I enjoy research, problem solving and paperwork. Yes, I said I enjoy paperwork. Don't ask me why. After that decision was made and a small amount of research into schools was done, the thought was stored away in the back of mind to be retrieved at a later date. Much to my surprise, the thought was retrieved recently and my decision has not changed! It's a shock to my system but I'm managing well, thanks for asking.

What you need to know is that I know nothing of the field, nothing of schooling and I have no college education. Working Gal, don't sit there quietly, speak up. I have a friend who is a paralegal so I have been directing my questions to her so far. She has been a great help. What I'm not sure is how to go about getting the education for this career path. Do I just get a paralegal certificate? Do I go balls to the wall (I'm so fucking ladylike it's scary isn't it?) and get a BS or BA degree first then go for the certificate after I have a degree? I ask that because I want to make a good career out of this and not just get a job that will help pay bills. At some point I'm going to be the sole breadwinner so I need to make sure I do this right and make good money. It doesn't need to happen immediately, time is on my side, for the most part. But I would like to be done with schooling in 5 years. Online schooling will most likely be the way I go. It's more convenient.

So, I am asking the blogosphere to be my virtual guidance counselors. Don't make me beg, it won't be pretty, don't make me pay because I'm poor and I don't do sexual favors for anyone except the hubs.

Thankyouverymuch.

My son looks like a demented and tacky Christmas decoration

2007-03-07T09:50:00.000-06:00

After DramaBoy aroused my slumber by turning on the very bright light in our loft bedroom and running over to my bedside throwing back my covers and saying "Mama! Wake up!" I realized that I would not have much patience today.

My sleep was disruptive and in no way replenished my soul. Therefore, today, I am just the vacant space of a mother. Crankiness and general evil has replaced the loving person I was yesterday. Hunger plagues me, sleep beckons me and sanity escapes me.

DramaBoy will adorn his ill-fitting pajamas all day because I just don't care. Monster will continue to resemble the demented and tacky Christmas decoration because I just don't care. I probably won't shower until the evening hours, because I just don't care.

Alas, there is a silver lining in my proverbial black cloud that is looming today. The silver lining is that there is nothing I need to do. It's all done. I have been quite productive the last few days and because of that there are no loose ends draping over my home or my head. So, the nap I'm about to relinquish myself to will be justified, guilt free and oh so enjoyable...

... provided the little freak and DramaBoy don't ruin it for me.

Burning questions

2007-03-06T12:50:00.000-06:00

Lately, I have been plagued with questions that I can't seem to find the answers to. I'm not sure if I'll ever get the answers. So, if I write them down and get them off of my chest, maybe the answers will find me? Is that in the realm of possibility?

How in the world do people drive down the road with their brake lights constantly on? Seriously, do they have gigantic feet that rest on both the gas and brake pedals? Is it a short in their electrical wiring? I want to bitch-slap every moron that does this.

Why does Elmo's dad sound like a pimp? Go ahead, play an Elmo DVD and listen to his dad. It's fucking creepy.

What happened to Owen Wilson's nose and why hasn't he gotten a nose job yet? He's got the money for goodness sake.

What is this new thing with typing out your email address like this: asshat (at) dumbshit (dot) com? Are ya'll trying to be cute? Do you not realize it's a pain in the ass for me? Instead of just copying/pasting the address or simply clicking the link to email you, you make me fucking work for it. Thanks. Seriously, what am I missing?

Why do smoke detectors and my cell phone batteries always die in the middle of the night? "BEEP BEEP! BEEEP!!! It's 2am! WAKE UP! Change the batteries or charge your phone dumbass! It would be too convenient to die in the afternoon!"

What in the samhell is the difference between 'Visits' and 'Page Views' on my SiteMeter?

What on earth does the poetic and talented John Mayor see in shallow-dumbass Jessica Simpson? Is she really a savant parading around as a moron? Or, is John Mayor really a dumbass parading around as an artistically gifted musician?

Does buying an office chair for my desk mean I failed in my Lenten Sacrifice? I mean, the box I was sitting on was working just fine. Ok, so my fat ass was starting to create deformities but structurally it was still working. It probably would have lasted another 4 weeks. So, was the chair a true need?

If we have a third child will I die a cruel death caused by 3 children working their way through my central nervous system like little pac-mans to leave me vulnerable and frayed wherein I finally succumb to their vicious feast on my body? Cuz, I kinda want another baby... but I'm skeeered.

Do I fart in my sleep? Hubby does, so I wonder if I do?

Those are just some of the burning questions of the present. Maybe if I go sit on some mountain top, chanting and meditating, the answers will come to me. Buddha must know what happened to Owen's nose, right?