Thanks a lot, Meth Heads

It's March in North Carolina. Specifically, it's Pollen Time in North Carolina. When I moved here 12 years ago it totally fucked me up. I was a mess for years. 3 or 4 of them. Eventually, I got used to it. Luckily, I had tested as NOT being allergic to pine, because this is pine:



That's the accumulation since yesterday afternoon. However, I really haven't had too much trouble in years. Until today. My face feels like it's about to split open, letting loose that annoying bowler wearing mucus dude from the commercials. My teeth hurt, the pressure is so bad. All I could think was, crap. Do NOT let me get a sinus infection. So off to Kmart I went to buy Claritin-D. Yep, that's right, the only thing left that still contains actual Sudafed. This meant that not only did I have to present my driver's license, but I also had to sign my life away. For sinus meds. As I was signing I said, "This is so retarded." and the lady at the counter said, "yes it is." I said, "the new stuff doesn't work," and she said, "It sucks."

So thanks to a handful of morons, innocent, law abiding people have to record exactly what meds they're buying and when.

Fuckwads.

Shut up You Stupid Twat

Can I use the T word here? I guess we'll find out.

So I was eating a yogurty bar thing and all of a sudden my brain formed the phrase, "Shut up You Stupid Twat." This naturally led me to wonder what kind of a day my best friend is having at work. I got the feeling that since I wasn't engaging in any type of discourse with anyone that she might have been dealing with her moronic co-worker and her internal venom was so overwhelming that it traveled 9 miles down Six Forks Rd and whomped me in the head. THIS led me to decide that each and every one of us should be granted one Shut up You Stupid Twat per year. With this (and you'd have to make sure you used it wisely) all of us would be exempt from any repercussions from using the phrase when dealing with the truly lame. So, best friend is listening once again to complaining, bottom feeding co-worker and can take no more and lets loose. Since she's using the freebie, and would present a card at time of utterance, Bottom Feeder is obliged to look contrite and say, "Okay," and leave. Let's face it, how many of us wouldn't love this?

So after my yogurty bar thing I went outside to smoke and saw a Jeep Wrangler drive past. It's being engaged in the service of the post office, which is a bummer, because while I watched it go by I decided that if I had super powers I'd have launched myself the 200 feet and pulled the driver out and stolen the Jeep for said best friend. I mean, why would anyone press a Jeep into civil service? It's unseemly. Unfortunately because it had sticky letters on it that said, "U.S. MAIL" I would have committed a felony and ended up doing hard time.

So, since I can't steal her a Jeep to make her day better I will take this moment to utter the phrase she so badly wants to use on the Bottom Feeder. "Shut up You Stupid Twat."

Here's my card.

How to lose an argument with your husband

Snark at him, "Yeah? Well I'm not privy to what makes your mind work."

Apparently "privy" isn't used that often these days.

Today was NOT the day

Dear Suave-

Fuck off. That's right, fuck off. You know your new commercial about the percentage of women who "let themselves go" after becoming mothers? It sucks. Do you know why it sucks? It's because you seem to think that a bottle of shampoo that costs a couple of bucks will suddenly turn a haggard and harried 8 month pregnant mother with two children already into a frigging supermodel. Do you know what will turn a mom without a full time childcare staff into a supermodel? Nothing. That's right, not one fucking thing. Know what might get her close? Rozerem. But Rozerem chooses to show chess playing beavers in their ads. I have a bottle of your shampoo in my shower. Know what? I haven't used it in three days. That's right, three fucking days. My pits are growing enough hair to get me into a Phish concert for a flash of the titties and a beer. Here's an idea, maybe I should use that miracle shampoo in my pits. The closest I've gotten to a shower was last night when it was raining and I had to take the dogs out and I had a split second of considering taking the shampoo outside with me.
And since my child is screaming her head off again today, it looks like we'll be approaching day 4 without a shower. So you can bite me.

Proof That Canada Hates Us...

I've managed to keep my child away from PBS because of an overwhelming Barney anxiety that I developed in the 90s when my cousin's son was a toddler and the only way we could get him to eat his salad was to tell him the purple cabbage was Barney and the lettuce was Baby Bop.

So we watch the Disney Channel. Her favorites are The Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and Little Einsteins. Little Einsteins isn't too offensive. They find themselves in great peril every episode, but through teamwork and a fairly high tech rocket ship for pre-schoolers to pilot, everything always works out well. I'm disturbed that I know all the words to the theme song, but the show keeps Livvie happy, so that's great. (As a matter of fact, as I type this a giant flower just ejected a harpsichord out of itself, so maybe it's more disturbing than originally thought...) However, the Disney Channel is also home to The Doodlebops, which is where Canada comes in. For every Michael J Fox they send us they also dump someone like Priceline's Whore, William Shatner. They've inflicted my home with the Doodlebops. I don't think I've ever encountered a more annoying half hour of television. Here they are in their costumes: I used to be able to change the channel and Livvie never even noticed. However, one day I couldn't get to the remote in time and the kid was fascinated. They're now a daily staple, and I'm even more disturbed to find that I know the lyrics to their songs too. I know when to holler, "Don't pull the rope!" to Moe, the yellow Doodlebop, and I know that he's always hiding at the start of every episode. So. At least it isn't Teletubbies, right?

In retrospect, I have to admit that I had some odd choices of favorite shows as a kid. Absolute favorite of all time was Da Man, Ultraman. I religiously watched every episode. As a four year old my very first crush of all time was on Shin Hayata, the dude who turned into Ultraman. To this day I have a deep love for sexy Asian men, and I think it's Hayata's fault. Bastard. I also loved The Space Giants (are you sensing a theme here?) and watched every episode of this until it got canceled too. So I sit here and wonder if 'tis better to love singing popsicle colored doofuses or giant rubber monsters. And why did it take me 36 years to realize that Japan clearly hates us more than Canada?

Babies Are Not Bling

Ok, it's been enough months now that I think I can get off my ass and start doing this again. Usually the reason I stop writing is because life gives me something metaphorically shiny that distracts me, and in this case the shiny object is my daughter. Which brings me to the title of this entry.



Know what pisses me off? Movie stars (or anyone) having babies and treating them as accessories. My latest pizz is the Jolie-Pitts, because GOD KNOWS they needed another frigging kid to tote around when their own child is only almost a year old. I know they have the money. That's what pisses me off. Having scads of children (or worse, just one) because you have the money for a frigging nanny. An ex-boss of mine got her comeuppance when she squirted out twin daughters with a nanny waiting in the wings, and one child had a birth defect that required she take time off from work anyway to trot said infant to NYC because by all that's holy we certainly don't have any good doctors in the City of Medicine that's located in the adjoining county.

I secretly suspect that the only reason women aren't purchasing oversized diaper bags and toting their infants around in them like chihuahuas is because of that pesky bit where infants can't support their own heads. I also suspect that someone is attempting to invent a harness for the interior of diaper bags which will allow the above to actually happen.

In fact, the reason I resisted "wearing" my daughter while out in public for so long was because I had seen so many granola-bar women doing this and my first thought was always of Ms Hilton and her ratdog. It pains me to say that Livvie loves being worn when we're out shopping, but that was before she discovered the joy of the shopping cart seat.

As far as accessorizing, the fact that I suck at being a girl was driven home this afternoon when I put actual clothing on Livvie. It's an outfit that Rich's mom sent her, and I figured she should wear it at least once. It's black velvet pants and a red peplum shirt with a scotty dog on it. It has black velvet cuffs and collar. And I was wearing....Levi's, a faded brown t-shirt, and 3 year old Tevas. And I left my child barefoot. Screw you, Church Ladies. And you know the type I mean. Nasty old biddies can't mind their own beeswax.....