Thursday, May 31, 2012

Day Eighteen

What I say:  Time really does fly when you are having fun!  Can't believe June 1st is tomorrow, already!  So excited for summer and can't wait for the kids to finally be done with school! Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit!

What I mean:  Where do I begin?  Let's start with the rabbit, rabbit, rabbit thing.  I did a little research and found out that this is said on the first day of the month for good luck.  So tomorrow, for the first time ever, I will try it.  I figure the reason I've had shit luck for so long might just be due to the fact that I've never said rabbit, rabbit, rabbit on the first of the month.  I didn't realize that three little words could take all of my problems away (I wonder if that means little rabbits will come in and do all 30 loads (and counting) of laundry for me)!  Good luck here I come...

The "rabbit" thing did just remind me of another childhood story.  This time, I was with my sister.  We were playing in the snow, and I think I was about 8 years old.  She was 6.  There was some rabbit shit in the snow and she asked me what it was.  So, like the wonderful big sister I never was (but I am now dammit), I told her they were Cocoa Puffs.  Of course, she didn't believe me.  So, I picked one up and pretended to eat it.  She fell for it hook, line and sinker.  She picked one up and had it inches away from her mouth before I realized my mother would absolutely kill me if she found out I let my baby sister eat rabbit shit!  So I told her the truth, she went crying into the house, and I got in trouble anyway...

Where was I?  Oh yeah, so be sure to say "rabbit, rabbit, rabbit," tomorrow morning or you will die.

Summer.    I have a love/hate relationship with the season.  Obviously, the weather is beautiful, which I love, but I sit in a windowless office, so I don't get to enjoy it Monday - Friday.  On the one hand, this is good, since I can't see what I'm missing out on.  On the other hand, some fresh air would be nice.  Of course, the kids are home from school so we get a break from the whole morning routine, drop off/pick up, sporting events, homework, reports requiring poster board (I should buy stock in that shit - and I'm always informed that it is needed at 9:00 p.m. the night before it is due - WTF), so that is the nice part about summer.  However, me and Boy, 45 a/k/a husband, both work full time.  This means that there will be 4 million calls, emails and text messages throughout the work day with ridiculous questions like, "Where did you put my phone charger?" or "Do we have any lettuce?"  Unfortunately, I do not have a photographic memory, but my kids don't realize that.  It's waaaaayyyyy easier to call and ask Mom where shit is than actually looking for it! Now instead of annoying me at work from 2:30 - 4:30, they can bug the crap out of me all day!  Of course, I don't have to pay Girl, 15's high school tuition this month, so I'm liking June, but I do have to pay the mortgage again, which makes me want to kick June right in the cocksucker. 

So I think we've established that June bugs me because she is so damn confusing.  I love her, but I hate her at the same time.  Come back tomorrow for a complete list of reasons why I have a love/hate relationship with summer.   In the meantime, I'd love to know what crap bugs you!  Comment below!!!

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Day Seventeen

What I say:   It is so vulgar when people swear during a regular conversation!  And if my kids ever heard those words, I would be absolutely mortified!

What I mean:  To me, the words “shit” and “bitch” don’t even qualify as swears.  They are just regular old nouns.   What really bugs me is how offended some people are by the word “fuck.”  Seriously?  In  this day and age where you can see nudity on network television or turn your on computer and in a matter of moments see people doing things to each other that shouldn’t be done to farm animals (what can I say, I was curious), you would think that society would have become a little more desensitized. 

I have to say, I swear around my kids.  They aren’t toddlers just learning the language, and I know that whether or not I swear in front of them, they are going to swear around their friends.  Here’s another story about my Dad.  When I was 10 or so, he was watching a football game.  I saw what he was doing and I said “football sucks.”  I hadn't used the word before, and I really wanted to try it out.   He snapped a friggen gasket!  He made me sit on the couch and watch the whole game and I was grounded for two weeks for saying “sucks.”  I don’t want my kid having words with some bitch someday and telling her to “shut her ugly poopie face." Yeah, that will scare the shit out of her. Saying “Fuck off you ugly douchebag, slut, whore, bitch” is so much more intimidating, don’t you think?   Life lessons, people!  Life fucking lessons!

Has this ever happened to you?  You are in a casual conversation with someone.  You throw a few F-bombs in there for good measure, and you see the person you are talking to visibly cringe.  It’s amazing!   Yes, I did just say “fuck.”   F-U-C-K.  I’m forty fucking years old – I can say “fuck” if I want to! (Sorry, Mom!  Oddly enough, my mother used to tell me my language was horrible until just recently.  I think she finally gave up when she realized that her words were falling on deaf fucking ears.)

Let’s be honest, nothing gets your point across quite like the word “fuck” does.  No matter what part of speech it’s used as….a noun (“I don’t give a fuck”), a verb (“don’t fuck around”), an adjective (“that was a good fucking time”), the effect is the same.  Things just sound better when you add the word “fuck.”  As a matter of fact, “fuck” might be the single most versatile word in the English language!  Am I right? 

You bet your FUCKING ass I am!!!
Written with the help of Mike, who uses the word “fuck” frequently, and getting dirty looks for it really fucking bugs him!  Thank you, Mike!

Monday, May 28, 2012

Random Crap That Bugs Me...

Some songs bug me.  Especially the ones about sex when my daughters are in the car.  When I was their  age, "Jack and Diane," by John Cougar (not yet Mellencamp) was a big hit.  My father hated that song and forbade my sister and me from listening to it (which is odd, since he wasn't exactly the Father/Preacher from Footloose type).  So, we did what any normal preteens would do.  We recorded it off the radio on our boom box and listened to it over and over again trying to figure out what the hell was so bad about it.  He busted us one day playing the tape, and he came in, hit eject and stomped on the tape.  To this day, I'm still not sure what he found so offensive, but I'm guessing it was this:

Jacky's gonna be a football star
Diane debutante backseat of Jacky's car
Suckin' on a chili dog outside the tastee freeze
Diane's sittin' on Jacky's lap
He's got his hand between her kneesJacky say "Hey Diane lets run off
Behind a shady tree"
Dribble off those Bobby Brooks
Let me do what I please..

Fast forward to today, and "Birthday Cake" by Rihanna/Chris Brown evokes the same feelings for me that my Dad had for "Jack and Diane."  These lyrics, however, are waaaaaayyyyyy more graphic.

It's not even my birthday
But he want to lick the icing offI know you want it in the worst way
Can't wait to blow my candles out
He want that cake....

Ooh baby, I like it
You so excited
Don't try to hide it
I'mma make you my bitchCake, cake, cake, cake
I know you wanna bite thisIts so enticin'
Nothin' else like this
I'mma make you my bitch
And it's not even my birthday
But you wanna put your name on it
And it's not even my birthday
And he tryna put his name on it
Oooh, I wanna fuck you right nowJust get up on my body...

The first time I heard it, Girl 12 was singing along.  I shut the radio off as fast as I could and told her I didn't like the song and asked her if she knew what it was about.  "Duh, Mom, chillax, will you?"  Anytime this song comes on the radio with either of the kids in the car, it is switched immediately.  I'm not about to stomp on the $300 iPod I bought her, and I know for a fact that the more I was told not to listen to John Cougar, the more I did it. 

Which songs bug you?

Saturday, May 26, 2012

Day Sixteen

Our Wedding Anniversary is tomorrow, May 27, 2012.  I'll be way too busy celebrating to post tomorrow, so here goes:

What I say:  Happy Anniversary to my soul mate, my rock, my reason for living.  These past 17 years have been wonderful, and every morning I wake up next to you, I have to pinch myself to be sure that I’m really awake and not still dreaming.  When you look at me, I still get that giddy feeling and butterflies in my stomach like the glorious day we met. 

What I mean:  Butterflies?  Actually, I had chili for dinner last night.  You might want to steer clear of the upstairs bathroom.  Oh, and can you grab me an extra roll of Scott’s from the closet just to be on the safe side?  You may have to move my Preparation H and Immodium A.D. out of the way to reach it. Thanks – I knew there was a reason why I married you!  (How’s that for romance?)

Posts like my Fakebook status kill me on so many levels.  Here are three reasons I just threw up in my mouth by simply writing this, and every time I read a similar post.

  1. First of all, my husband doesn’t have a Facebook.  If I were to post my Fakebook status, he would never see it, so what the hell is the point?  If he DID have a Facebook, I might throw a “Happy Anniversary, Dickhead,” on his wall, since it would be OUR anniversary, not all of Facebook’s.  I'll probably just tell him in person anyway, since we do live together, and it's much easier than logging in, entering the password...etc. 
  2. If Facebook didn’t exist, would I carry around the Hallmark Anniversary card I bought him (if I even bothered, or vice versa) and show it to everyone I see to read?  Enough said.
  3. A Fakebooker will usually include some details about their celebratory plans, complete with photos!  As if the status wasn’t enough, the Fakebooker blows up my newsfeed with a picture of flowers, a picture of their dinner at the restaurant (and of course they tag their beloved in the picture of the plate of meat and potatoes).  A serious Fakebooker will even include a picture of their “Happy Anniversary” cake or special dessert that the chef of Restaurant X whipped up just for the occasion!  I don’t need proof that it really is your anniversary, or proof that you are as happy as you say you are.
In honor of my anniversary, I’ll do something nice for Boy, 45 (a/k/a  Husband).  I’m thinking maybe I’ll pick up the socks that he leaves rolled up in balls around the house without bitching.  Leave him alone for the day about the fact that the Christmas Lights are STILL up, and until they come down, we won’t be getting down.  Maybe for me, he’ll throw in a load of laundry or three, put the cap back on the toothpaste and put the toilet seat down for the day.  At some point, we’ll both look at each other and wonder how the hell we have made it 17 years, when there were times we didn’t think we would last another 17 minutes! Happy Anniversary, Dickhead! 

Disclaimer:  I realize this isn't as funny as yesterday's post, but how the hell do you compete with "Twat Waffle?"

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Day Fifteen

What I say:  A trip to the mall with my favorite Tween for some retail therapy!

What I mean:  After being at the mall, I need therapy! My kid loves to friggen shop.  She should be Paris Hilton's BFF, because I cannot afford her.  Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she's a size zero.  (I don't think I was a size zero in-utero, so I'm not quite sure where she gets it.)  Not only can I not afford her, there is not enough Zoloft in Massa-freakin-chusetts to make me want to enter another Hollister anytime in the next six months.  Walking in, I was immediately disoriented by the darkness.  Once my eyes adjusted, I got a headache from either the strong smell of the perfume/cologne or the blaring music.  How is shopping like that even enjoyable?  I literally had a panic attack when the sales kid (who looked like he was 9) asked me if I was finding everything ok, but I only saw his lips moving - there was no sound.  I thought I was going to pass out.  I answered, "Yup. All set," and my daughter's lips mouthed the words "Mom - you're so loud!"  Are you shitting me?

And here's a message for the twat waffle and her douchebag daughter who were standing at the register at another store complaining about the fact that they couldn't use their coupons on certain items.  Read the fine fucking print.  Do not stand at the register while there is a line of people waiting for - and I'm not shitting you - thirty five minutes trying to get your way.   It's ignorant  and you are assholes.  For people who know me, it should come as no surprise that I could not keep my mouth shut.  After waiting 35 minutes, I earned the right to speak up.  While Twat Waffle was pleading her case, she said, "...and I never complain."   Before I really had a chance to think about it, the words "well, you're doing a fantastic job for your first time," fell out of my mouth.  "Well, what's right is right," Twat Waffle said.  And then she said more shit that I ignored.  When I was done, the cashier handed me my receipt and told me that I had earned coupons for my next visit, and she asked me if I knew how to use them.  "Of course I know how to use them," I said in my Italian whisper, with a grin from ear to ear. "And if I wasn't sure, I can read.  I would just read the back of the coupon, where it clearly states what I can and can't use it on."  The cashier looked like she was leaning in for a kiss and hug, and I turned on my heel and high-fived the other customers waiting in line!

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Day Fourteen

What I say:    Wow, today really flew by!  I can't imagine ever being a stay at home Mom and not working full-time.  I'm so lucky to have such a loving, supportive family!

What I mean:  FUCK THAT.   I would give my left breast (not that anyone would want it),  not to have to work full-time.  I'm only crabby because I actually cooked dinner tonight.  I figured I'd give the pizza place a night off.  But cooking meant going to the grocery store after work.  By the time I got home, cooked dinner and sat down to write, it was 7:30. When I did sit down, I listened to everyone bitch and moan.

Girl 15: "Are you blogging?"
Girl 12:  "OMG, that's all she ever does anymore!"
Boy, 45 (a/k/a 3rd child/husband):  "Are you ever going to do laundry?"
Dog:  Wagged his tail in agreement with everyone else.

Seriously? So I did what any other annoyed mother who just worked all day, cooked (even though I don't do that often), and cleaned up after dinner would do.  I gave them all the finger in my head (except for Boy, 45 - I just told him to bite me), and went to my bedroom.  I could couldn't* care less if anyone ever has a clean pair of skivvies again.  I'm separating my laundry from the gargantuan pile taking up residence in my basement, bringing it to the Wash & Fold where I will fork over 2 bucks per pound and they can all kiss my ass!

*Corrected for Sean, since gramatically incorrect phrases bug him (incidentally, they bug the crap out of me too, so thank you)!

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Random Crap That Bugs Me...

Fake words. For Example: Irregardless. Conversate. People who use these words think they sound like Harvard scholars when they use them. Irregardless means the same thing as regardless. No need to use the "ir-." And "conversate," that one realy irks the shit out of me. You can have a conversation, you can converse, but you can't conversate.

What fake words bug you?

Monday, May 21, 2012

Day Thirteen

What I say:  Even food shopping for me is a treat.  I just love wandering through the aisles, especially the Organic Foods and Fruits and Vegetables sections.  I care so much about my family's diet, that money is no object when it comes to feeding them. 

What I meant: I think the following picture pretty much speaks for itself, but you know I'll have plenty to say!

Are you friggen kidding me?  I actually took this picture with my phone, so I know it was really there, on top of the effing lobster tank, mocking me as I walked by!  And I'm not pissed because foodstamps can't be used to purchase cooked lobsters.  No.  I'm pissed that they CAN be used to purchase live ones!  WTF?  I'm eating Chicken of the Fucking Sea because I work like a dog and never get ahead, when all I have to do is quit my job, get foodstamps and eat lobster every fucking day?  Sign me up! 

Disclaimer:  I am in no way, shape, or form "picking on" those in need.  This is not meant to offend anyone specifically, and if you don't share my views, hopefully you got a chuckle and will agree with the next post!

Sunday, May 20, 2012

Day Twelve

What I Say:    I have the best housekeeper - she made a special trip to the beach house to tidy up!

What I Mean:  I broke a nail pulling the screens out of the trailer windows. Those bitches were dirrrrrrty! Used a brush to scrub them clean, ran them under the hose and put them all back. Now I can see the rest of the trailer trash nice and clear out of the windows. Nothing like a relaxing weekend. There is a family of campers spending the weekend across the way - the kids have literally been in their pajamas since 7:00 last night and the parents have been drinking all day (ok, I'm slightly jealous of that part). Judging by the fact that they were yelling each other as if they were in their own living room, I'm pretty sure the po-pos will be called in the next 8 hours for a domestic dispute. Oddly, there have been no Disney character sightings, but I'm told next week the Trailer Park is sold out, so I'll have to do a running tally on which character is most popular with the adults in the trailer park. Do stay tuned.

I have a Fakebooker question. Why do husbands and wives "like" each other's statuses? I guess I can see it every so often, but seriously, can't they just turn to each other and say..."Hey, great post. I really liked the fact that you used three squares of T.P. when you took that shit." Or even better, when the post says something like "At __________ with John Smith," and then John Smith likes the post. WTF? Fakebookers suck.

Day Eleven


What I Say: Woke up on Mother's Day to Breakfast in Bed!

What I Mean: This picture was not taken in my house. It's a Google Image. Further proof it's not my bedroom is the fact that the bed is made! The only time my bed is made is when (a) I change the sheets, (b) people are coming over, or (c) I've decided to go on a cleaning spree. I did wake up to a wonderful homemade card from Daughter #2. Of course, I'll be picking up scraps of paper from now till next mother's day from the cut-out hearts she made, but it's the thought that counts. After the card, I spent the morning at......where else? The softball field! I should mention that the kids surprised me with dinner last night. I walked in to find the table set and 5 shiny red lobsters sitting on a bed of steamers waiting for me! I almost took a picture and posted it, but then I remembered I'm not a real Fakebooker. I'm just a pretend one. It was very nice, but of course, when everyone was done, they all disappeared, leaving me to clean up after the massacre. Lobster carcasses, empty clam shells, crustacean innards, and melted butter spashes pretty much everywhere! I would honestly rather clean up after Thanksgiving Dinner!

I don't want my kids to see this and think I'm being ungrateful. I love my gifts, I love my kids, and I enjoyed my weekend. I'm pretty sure they know that even though I didn't provide a list of the gifts they gave me (more than mentioned above), thank them on Facebook and tell them how much they mean to me. I do that in person, to them, without including all of you. And for that, I hope you are all grateful!

PS: Happy Mother's Day to all the Fabulous Mothers I know

Day Ten

What I Say:  Having a lovely conversation with my wonderful daughters!

What I Mean: I'm surrounded by bitches. Seriously. You know what they are fighting over? Phone chargers. "That's my phone charger!" "Where's my phone charger?" Mind you, we have about 10 phone chargers in the house, and the only one they can find goes to MY kindle...which is dead...and I have to finish 50 Shades of Grey, for crying out loud! And in the middle of the two of them screaming at each other, the biggest bitch of them all - the Husband a/k/a Rich the Bitch - starts yelling at them to be quiet! I think I'll go downstairs and do a load of laundry or twelve.

Day Nine

What I Say:  Sat in the audience during the taping of a television show!

What I Meant: It was a school committee meeting. On cable access. But really, if that was my status, who the hell would be jealous of that? So the evening really went something like this: come home from work. Clean the kitchen and living room. Avoid the Husband like the plague because I know he realizes the kids are with my parents, and time alone is extremely rare. Kids come home and bring us their leftovers from dinner with Nana and Papa at the Clam Box. Yay! Dinner is served! Read a few chapters of 50 Shades of Grey and wish I hadn’t avoided the Husband like the plague, before running out the door for the meeting!

Day Eight

What I Say:  My personal chef, Gardener, Mr. Fix-It and Nanny have returned!

What I Mean: My parents are back from their winter in Vegas! They still spoil me and my family rotten, and I’m not afraid to admit it!!!! Can I help it if my Dad likes to plant flowers and pull weeds? Like I’m going to ruin his fun! And really, who else but my Mom is going to teach my kids how to sew and do laundry? Certainly not me, since I may have mentioned that I absolutely suck at laundry. Who in their right mind would refuse an offer like “dinner is ready and on the table, come on over…” after a long day at work? You don’t say no when an old-fashioned Italian offers you food. The big family joke is when my Dad offered someone an Italian sausage from his big pot of Sunday Gravy. Dad said, “Do you like sausages?” The guest said “No.” My father proceeded to scoop two fat sausages out of the pot and said, “Well, you’ll like mine!”

If I don’t do a load of whites soon, I’ll be going back to Wal-Mart to buy everyone their own new package of Faded Glory socks! The scary thing is that I’ve done this before. If there ever comes a day when I actually get through the 20 something loads of laundry in my basement, each member of my family will have 100 pairs of friggen socks!   

Day Seven

What I Say: Successful evening of shopping....spent waaaayyyy too much, but hell, it's only money, right?  

What I Mean:   I went to Wal-Mart. The reason I spent so much is because I forgot my coupons. Oh, and because I decided that I was worth the extra fifty cents, and splurged on the real Crystal Light instead of the "Great Value" brand. There are certain items that you have to buy the name brand, and there are others where "Great Value" will do. You don't eff with toilet paper. That shit has GOT to be Scotts. Anyway, I'm sure the wonderful people at the Mortgage Co. will understand and give me an extra day or two to scrape up enough cash to pay the mortgage. They are so cool like that!

Day Six

What I Say: Prepared homemade Chicken Pot Pie for Dinner! Yum!

What I Mean: Mrs. Budd made it. Technically I put it in my oven, and I'm at home, so it's homemade, damn it! And really, how do you know Mrs. Budd didn't make it in her home? Now, if I was a really annoying "FakeBooker" (the term I've decided to use when referring to those who update their statuses several times a day and make their lives sound so much better than they really are), I'd take a picture of it, and show you just how talented I want you to think I am. A FakeBooker may also add details like "grew the vegetables in my organic backyard garden from seedlings," or "let the kids help me peel potatoes!" I'm pretty sure the reason they do this is because their life really sucks, and they want you to believe it does not! However, some FakeBookers have been faking it for so long, they actually start to believe their FakeBooking as the truth. The friggen maid didn't show up again today, so I have laundry coming out of my ass. 

Day Five

What I Say: Fabulous family getaway weekend, but happy to be back home!
What I Mean: My laundry has grown to 20 loads. I spent most of the weekend cleaning the camper and picking up after everyone. Now I'm home, and I get to do it all over again, but here! I would like to find the person who determined that the work week would be 5 days and the weekend would only be 2, and punch him right in the piehole. Had a great time at the Lady A concert, which was the highlight of the weekend. A close second to Lady A was the discovery of peanut butter Oreos! Like I needed to find something else to push me closer to wearing a Minnie Mouse caftan.

I'm dead serious when I say I have no idea how people update their status so much....I type someting and then quickly delete it because I can't help but think, "Who the hell cares?" Also, since I started this experiment, I find myself trying to think of witty things to say all day...instead of focusing on things that really matter (i.e., laundry).

Day Four

What I say:  Woke up feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the day!

What I mean: I was awakened out of a deep ass sleep at 4 a.m. by 3 giggling preteens. Understand that we are in an oversized sardine can on wheels. The guy in the campsite next to us farts in his trailer, and I can hear it loud and clear. Got up, told them I'd take them all home unless they went to sleep, closed their curtain and then gave them all the finger. They didn't see it, but it made me feel 100X better. Finally got back to bed and it started pouring. Rain falling on the trailer roof is fine if you are already asleep, but when you are trying to fall asleep, it sounds like a live performance of  Riverdance on the roof. Lady Antebellum/Darius Rucker concert tonight...hope I can get a nap in before it! By the way, to you folks who update your status 3, 4, and 5 times a day, when the hell do you find the time? 

Day Three

What I say:   Heading to the Cape to open the beach house for the summer!

What I mean: Trailer. Park. It’s a few exits away from the Bourne Bridge and/or the Sagamore, but lots of people from Southie and Dorchester consider it the Cape. While my “fake status” conjures up images of lighthouses and beaches, the view out of my trailer window is slightly different.

Kids running around with dirty feet. Grown women wearing shirts with Tinkerbell or Winnie the Pooh on them. (As someone who could lose a few pounds, I don’t get why being overweight means you have to dress like a toddler!) Guys playing horseshoes with coolers indicating that their aim will be off, so you should steer clear of the horseshoe pits on your way back from the pond unless you want a horseshoe hummed at your head. At the pond, people float on air mattresses that double as rafts (then sleep on them at night – so effing gross), and women wear bathing suits they have no right to be wearing, exposing their FUPAs (more effing gross than the air mattress/raft thing). 

I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t have it any other way, but for now, I’m good. The bills, the chores and the friggen laundry stay at home, and it’s nice to just be away and be able to relax…plus, we have a lot of laughs people watching!

Day Two

What I Say: Long day at work, but finally able to relax. Maid comes tomorrow...can't wait to come home to a clean house!

What I mean: Today sucked. It dragged by, and I ran around like an idiot picking up shit in Norwood, dropping it off in Milton, then heading back to work (a/k/a lunch hour). Came home, threw in a load of laundry (18 left to go - woohoo!), wolfed down a bowl of cereal and off to a meeting. Have to pick up one kid in Holbrook, race back home to hear about the other kid's softball game, and then clean the house and do a few more loads of laundry after everyone goes to bed and then pretend that the Maid is really not me, even though it is, and say she cleaned the house. Off again...

Day One

What I say:  Quiet for a family evening hike!

What I mean: Ate a box of macaroni and cheese in front of the tv by myself. (Did the friggen box shrink?  It says there's two servings but I'm still stahhhhhvin'!)  I'm eating alone because my 12 year old daughter is in a bitchy mood and dislikes me strongly (we don't say hate in this house), and the husband and 15 year old are at Modell's or Dick's or Monkey Sports or some shit like that! Family can TAKE A HIKE...I'm watching Dance Moms on Demand.