Saturday, April 21, 2007

A rebuttal (and this is for YOU Xris...)

My best friend recently complained that I used her to test my mother for shortness in my kitchen last week. Granted, I did. I know how tall Xris is, and I couldn't very well stand back to back with my mom and SEE how much bone loss she's experienced. Also, it's easier for me to judge how much larger something is than something else rather than the opposite. Shut up. I know what you're thinking...

In her complaint Xris listed all of the great things about being wee.

She's right. So now I'm going to list the suckass things about being tall.

---As a child my mom almost always cut my head off in photos. There are loads of cute pictures of an adolescent torso in my photo albums.

---Jean shopping sucks. Do you remember the kid's size "slim fit?" They don't make those for adults. And even if they did, they'd be too fucking short.

---Speaking of, in school, due to the rapidity of growth, every shithead short kid asked me when the flood was coming. Har de fucking har.

---Speaking of, at Jr High dances, no one would dance with me because I towered over their Munchkin heads. It had nothing to do with the fact that I was a spaz.

---It SUCKS to always have to get shit down for people. Somedays at the shelter I was tempted to just pick up this itty bitty co-worker I had and just throw her at the upper cabinets to get her own damn sticky notes. No Mondy, not you.

---Speaking of, when you walk past cabinets in the cat room and suddenly a cat that was hiding on TOP of the cabinets reaches down and grabs your head with his claws, that sucks too.

---Tree branches.

There's more, but the kid just woke up.

Thursday, April 19, 2007

Time to turn in my ovaries

Especially since I'm done with them.

I was leaving Food Lion today, pushing the kid in the shopping cart, and watched a pickup truck pull in. It was a painting truck, and the bed was full of gear. Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket It was also the most awesome 4-Door Frontier. Ever. I drive a pipsqueak 2-Door Frontier. I approached the driver and said, "What year is that?" He said, "2003." I told him I liked the body style and he agreed that the old style was better than the new. I asked him what his mileage is without payload, and he told me it had been so long he had no clue.

So. I'm turning in my ovaries. Whoever calls dibs can have them.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Time for a drink

You know the world is hopelessly fucked when you witness two crows beating the shit out of a turkey vulture.

I shit you not. I thought the cardinals and sparrows were bad. I chalked it up to males and springtime. This was out of control. I stepped outside in time to see two crows in pursuit of a turkey vulture, pecking at him mid-flight. I assume the issue was whose carrion was whose. I honestly didn't care. What I did care about was that one of them managed to chase the vulture into a tree and start whaling on him. Now, you need to understand that a crow is roughly 8 times smaller than a vulture at full wingspan, and their beaks are probably 15 times smaller. I'm out there screeching, "You pussy! Turn around and snap his head off!" The vulture was standing in a tree like a girl lifting her skirts, shrieking, while this crow whomped his ass. Finally, the vulture attempted escape, and tried a low flight across Six Forks Road. In rush hour. A woman talking on her cell phone looked up at JUST the moment the vulture crossed in front of her windshield and nearly plotzed. I could see her face. She didn't hit him, but she did manage to aid his escape by providing a barrier between the pursuing crow and the vulture.

I finished my cigarette and went inside.


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Monday, April 16, 2007

Nothing funny here

Just some observations.

I'm dreading my child becoming mobile. And sure, part of it is because I'll be moving non-stop to keep up with her, but most of it is because she won't be attached to me anymore. My role as momma-monkey with a baby clinging on will end. She's already preferring to feed herself with her bottle, and she already hates being cradled "like a baby," so this will be one more way for her to pull away from me. The moment she takes her first step, which all signs indicate will be fairly soon, will be harder on me than her first day at school I think. She sits in her highchair or stands in her walker eating Cheerios, bottle in front of her, and pretty much ignores me unless she wants to be somewhere else. As soon as she can get there on her own, well, I think I'll go have a drink and flip through the electronic photo album of her wee-ness and sob like a soap star.

Thursday, April 12, 2007

That's my girl...

Yesterday Livvie attempted to dive headfirst off of the bed onto the floor. Only my Gatito like reflexes saved her ass. Then, when we were out at lunch, she grabbed a napkin and managed to chew off and swallow a small corner before I could get it away from her. THEN, last night, she was sitting in her swing, swinging her bottle around like a drunken pirate, and she bonked herself in the eyebrow with it, leaving a small bruise. Hysterics ensued. I informed her the mark would fade, but clumsiness lasts a lifetime.


This doesn't include the myriad number of times yesterday that she just bonked her head on whatever wasn't moving.

Yep, that's my girl.

Friday, April 06, 2007

The Double Standard

Why is it ok for guys to talk about gross things but they wig when chicks do? That said, if any guys are reading this STOP READING NOW.

So the Today Sponge is back on the market and I loved it in my early 20s so I bought some. I had the opportunity to use one last night (yay me!) and after the nasty is performed you're supposed to leave it in for several hours to be certain all stragglers are dead. This morning I woke up and had 2 cups of coffee, and then eventually the coffee did its job. I went into the bathroom and sat down and unfortunately had my wee'un in the room with me. I have no choice these days. So I'm sitting there, going about my bidness, and know what? After childbirth things really DO change in the Netherlands. The sponge shot out of me and bounced off the toilet rim and then bounced off the bathtub and landed next to my daughter on the floor. I had to lunge for it, ass in the wind, before the kid could grab it and start teething on it. Nowhere in the instructions is it mentioned that this form of birthcontrol can be applied as a projectile weapon.

Also, I'm back on psych meds. I'm on an Anatypical Antipsychotic called Risperdal. In the VERY long list of possible side effects it mentions that it can increase the levels of Prolactin in the blood. Prolactin is the hormone that causes women to lactate. My ever loving husband declared that I'd better not lactate on him, so I keep running around the house squeezing my girls at him making "Skishskishskish" sounds. He finds this disgusting, but it makes me laugh, and hey, that's all that matters at this point.

Sunday, April 01, 2007

It's Springtime

When young birds' fancies turn to thoughts of ass-whomping.

Earlier I went on the back deck to smoke and saw three male cardinals engaged in a turf war. It went on for quite some time, and took up most of our back yard. Eventually they flew off in pursuit of each other into the next yard. I thought the excitement was over. Until I saw two male sparrows tumble out of a tree engaged in actual fisticuffs. They landed in a leaf pile, and were pecking and screeching and squeaking like crazy. Feathers were actually flying. I hopped off the deck, walked over, leaned over them and yelled, "HEY!!!!!!!" and they flew to corners.

It was an odd morning.

Wrong Sparrow. Too Bad.....

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