It's like riding a bicycle

My boys are older now and know me...truly know me. I didn't say they like or approve of me. Just that they know me. I will always checkin with them prior to my alcoholic escapades to see if they need a ride somewhere or I need to be "on call" for picking them up. The know however you snooze you lose! Once they hear that blender or that cork pop on the wine bottle they give me my space. They don't bother me and I don't bother them. Seriously I'm not allowed to go upstairs and talk to them cuz apparently they find me extremely annoying at a certain level of intoxication. Whatever! So tonight I'm gettin my drink on...my older boys aren't home and my smart one...the golden chosen one....wait can't call him smart one anymore cuz he let some dumb bitch at school pierce on of his ears....okay so the chosen step child has a fried over and as adorable as this little boy is at 13 freakin years old he's high maintenance. Apparently got somethin in his eye and has been....Ma'am this and Ma'am that....all freakin night long....to the point I'm bout ready to tell him honey if you need a Mamma you need to go home! But I don't.....the Mamma mode kicked right in naturally and I've been wetting cool and warm cloths for this little boy and eye wash and assuring him he's gonna be fine. Ugh! Dang I lost my buzz! but he's sound asleep now.....:)

I have a dude brain

Sooo, I'm the girl that gets along really well with guys. Even the ones I don't want to bang. For the most part, I understand them. They're quite easy to figure out: beer, food, sex in various orders and throw in the occasional sporting event and your man is happy. I absolutely love the simplicity. No emotional reactions, no PMS, no nothing.

I now realize however that I may be a tranny or something. I'm having periodic girly moments and I'm beginning to get a little freaked out. I'm looking for the hubster to occasionally say something other than, "ya wanna do it?". I'm wanting him to handle things, and I do mean handle them. Not in a mamsy pamsy way, but to really turn me out.

I realize Texas girls are tough. Always have been, always will be. I was raised in the country by a totally Jerry Springer family. That may also explain some of the lack of "feelings" I have.

So last week , my friend at work (a dude-we will call him sweet tea) says I have the emotional intelligence of a 12 year old boy. At first I was all offended and planned ways to put his car on blocks..,,,and then I realized he's right.

I never know the right things to say. Emotional people make me extremely nervous and I just want to run away. I laugh at inappropriate times, mostly from nervousness. I really do care about the people in my life, but I'm terrible at showing and saying it. I'm shitty at giving compliments and even shittier at taking them.

Sweet tea asked if I had any sweet, nice, friends that I could set him up with. I cracked up and said I did not, I don't know any nice people and certainly aren't friends with them, even if I do know them.

So for my friends? I love that we make fun of people we don't like. I love that we have races to say "that's what she said". I love that we will hate whoever the other friend hates, just because they do. I love that you will helpe plot revenge (and vice versa). I love that if I'm gonna get my ass kicked because of my big mouth that you'll step in. So what I'm trying to say in a completely retarded way, I love you guys !

I would totally help you bury a body, just sayin'. No questions asked until after we are done.

Signed
your friend with the emotional intelligence of a 12 year old boy

Yes, he sucks, and he's all mine

So was reading a blogger (barefootfoodie) and she discussed her husbands terrible gift buying. I actually snorted reading that post. I will totally put her husband up against mine when it comes to sucky gift buying, ANY DAY!! You hear that Brittany? BRING. IT. ON!

I have told everyone who would ever listen that I truly have probably the most fucked up gift buying husband there is.

First of all, he waits until the day of, or if I'm lucky, the evening before to say "What do you want for (insert romantic, gift buying holiday here)? And I have to come up with something that he can get at the only open store on Christmas Eve.

Meanwhile, throughout the whole year, I'll just randomly see something and point it out "Oooo, babe, I'd really like that pair of Carlos Santana shoes" or some shit like that. Now as someone with a vagina, I actually pay attention when the LOVE OF MY LIFE says he'd like to have something. Mental note to myself to get said item at the next gift buying holiday.

Not my lovely husband. Oh no, Walmart on Christmas Eve? You bet your ass he's there. Never mind that I am the ONLY person he has to buy gifts for. I buy for his family, my family, the kids, the dog, strangers, you name it. He has one person to buy for and that's it. Now I know what you're saying. You're saying "Collin County Chick, you are such an awesome and amazing person I think it would be so easy and fun to buy for you." And I say, you are right. I'm pretty fucking easy (hence how I got my husband) and amazing. Now, that kind of loveliness doesn't require massive quantities of jewelry (hells bells I've never been able to spell that word), nor do I need a new Infiniti G35, black with tinted windows. OK I do, but I realize that is what I want, not what I'll ever get.

He has NEVER EVER bought me clothes, or anything else that requires him to do any thinking of any fucking kind, either head. The sad thing is, he can look at something and immediately know that I will or won't like it, 99% of the time. Doesn't matter what it is. So he knows me, or at least I hope so after almost 20 years of wedded bliss.

I actually one Christmas showed him the sale ad, circled it, gave it to him, and told him where it was in the store. Boo fucking hoo. Here's normally what I get. Costume jewelry and books from WalMart. I read, I LOVE to read. I wear costume jewelry, love it, couldn't live without it. BUT, seriously? Every holiday? Not even Sam Moon, Kohls, or Target costume jewelry. Nope just Walmart. Why does he love Walmart so you ask? Because it's across the street from our fucking house almost!

My BFF actually called him before this last Christmas and told him to go get me some stocking stuffers. Mine is always limp, sad and empty on Christmas Day. Whine, whine. This year, he totally rawked it out. Bath and Body works goodies, lip gloss, etc. etc.

Now, here's the deal. He's un-freaking believable at other things. Fixing things, mowing the lawn, sex, dishes, taking care of the kids, sex, helping out my crazy ass family, sex and putting gas in my car, among many others. And besides, if he puts up with my CRAZY ass, he's pretty good.

I have realized though that really good gift buying husbands are kind of pansies. So maybe I'll stick with the real man who sucks at gift buying.

Please please stab me

So I have one of those teenagers...... He's a really good kid, honest! So why do I have the desire to drive him somewhere, push him out of a moving vehicle, and punch the accelerator?

I remember being a teenager. I remember how badly I hated my parents almost 24/7. I remember feeling like nobody really understood me or what I was going through. (a little self centered I suppose). I remember how hard it was just being a teenager. But that's mostly because my family was/is CRAZY! I don't mean the funny haha crazy, I mean the certifiable, loony bin, batshit, kind of crazy.

Fortunately my teenmonster doesn't really have that excuse. Ok, so I'm slightly crazy, but I have convinced myself that it's the charming, isn't she cute kind of crazy. The hubster says he's glad he got the 80% sane one of my family. I'm thinking I'm more like 81.5% but who's counting?

Anywhore, that teenmonster: could give a shit less about anything except: xbox, myspace, and cell phone. He's failing 4 classes-including Art! Yes, fucking Art! How in the hell can you fail Art, you ask? Don't turn in shit, that's how.

I don't know how long I can do this. I can certainly drop him off at your house anytime.

The cable has got to go,, For Reelz

So, I was informed by my neighbor, whose 15 year old daughter is acne ridden and obese, that my precious angel said to the daughter "You really need to go one a diet and use Procativ". Strike one for the cable commercials.
Then my 11 year old tells me,"Mom, I need Extenze, i will help me with my endurance in baseball"! Although proud he new what endurance meant, not excited about the message he got.

Fucking cable commercials on Disney and Nick are killing me. Why are the promoting this shit on these channels???

Anyone???

Planes, crazies, and women with bad tits

So this weekend was quite eventful for me. I don't normally have a social life, but surprisingly this weekend, I left Collin County on multiple occasions. Saturday the kids wanted to go to grandmas and spend the night. Great, me and the hubster get to practice what it will be like when they get the hell out of my house! So I drop them off like yesterdays trash and race home to an empty house. Hubster is working, so it's me, the dog and the dead fish. Heaven! So I do what any woman would do with a house to herself......I clean. Yep , I am a beast bitches. I crank up the radio and go to town on my pigsty. That shit is clean now-haven't made it to my closet yet, that will require a fork lift , bulldozer and other heavy machinery that I don't have right now.

So I decide that me and hubster should actually leave the house. To the North Texas Irish festival we go...alcohol and shopping??? How can anything be made more for me than that? And for hubster? I can get him to do anything for beer.

So we get there and he immediately starts looking for the beer stand, as if they're in short supply. Well guess what? Any Dick, Hairy, and Douche can walk around with a beer in their hand , but the liquor drinkers have to stand in a little roped off area because everyone knows beer drinkers are all nice, responsible drinkers unlike the hellion liquor drinkers.

If you have ever been to any type of Renaissance festival, you'll know what I'm referencing here next. Holy terrible tits Batman! Please explain why the only people who dress up in these time period costumes are people who should wear burkas? I mean really ladies, I'm all for showing off the girls, but only if they're pretty, ok? I am absolutely able to admire someones nice rack, and can even say to hubster, check out the rack on her. But people, if I tell you we saw the worst racks ever displayed, I am telling the truth!! Just because they're big, doesn't mean we want to see them. If you have a shelf bra, but your tits flatten into pancakes, we don't want to see them. If you have a US map of stretch marks across your chest, put those awful things up! Oh and I know you may think men want to see them. Maybe your man does, but guess what? He has to say that! Those are the only ones he gets! This concludes my public service announcement about breasts:-)

While we are there, hubster comments on some mens rings for sale. I say no way no how, you'll just lose it. (he has lost three wedding rings and I refuse to buy more). So I say, you should get a ring tattooed instead, which he thinks is a great idea. He then says "and if we get divorced, it's not a big deal.". What did that motherfucker just say to me??? He says " you know what I mean.". Me: "I have no idea what you mean". Him: " well the divorce would be bad but the tattoo would be no big deal.". Me: "oh, but the band will have my name on it so you and the white trash slut you bang will have to see my name on your finger!".

So Sunday, we decide to go to the kids museum with my mom, my little guy, my neice, nephew, and last but least, psycho woman of the south, my sister....she is my crazy stick. When people tell me someones crazy, I ask "Are they as crazy as my sister?". Anyfuck, she starts screaming at her son because he's not listening. I say "chill, he's a kid, they never do" aaaaand, the crazy meter exploded. This chick had a full meltdown. She actually accused me of thinking I'm perfect! Batshit crazy this girl is! So I told her to quit being so dramatic and got in the car and left. On the way home, my little one says "mom, what's druh-mad-ick?". I told him it was something my sister does. I get home and tell hubster about it and he says "I'm glad I married the 80% sane one.". WTF??? 80% is all I get?

And today I am off to the armpit of America. Nope, not Los Angeles, Tulsa. And because I'm a genius, and queen of lost, I use my map feature to tell me how to get to the airport (that I've been to at least 15 times!). This piece of shit takes me all the way around the airport, I am running late as usual , and can see the terminal but can't fucking get to it. Douche wrappers, I hate travelin'. I should really not be allowed to leave Collin County, like evah!

So because I'm a moron and forget to check in last night on my Southwest cattle call, I am so far at the end, I can't see the gate. I get in finally and of course I'm in the middle of the aisle with a guy that has old man breath. Why do I have to put a mint in my mouth? To stop from barfing from the smell!!!! I do love the people watching and making up stories about the people and where they're going. These two guys at the end of my row at the gate? They are OSU college students who have been kicked out of college for hazing and are going home to tell they're bible thumping parents that they had anal sex with each other, but it was an accident.

I do live the wild life, peace out beyotches!

I could give two shits about your birthday!

So, it's my exes birthday and he called me. Following is the transcription of the conversation
Him: Hey, it's my birthday
me: uh huh
Him: Aren't you going to say happy birthday?
me: Um, yeah, Fuck you and Congratulations on being 41 and living with your parents, Fucktard.
Him: Silence


Ahhh, it's these things that make my life right.