Monthly Archives: February 2012

I’z Gonna Be A Lady Someday, Though I Didn’t Know When or How

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Recently, I have been researching and working hard on reforming myself and becoming a bona fide lady.  I think I am making major progress! Prior to learning how to look and act like a lady, I would wake up and put on sweats or cotton gym shorts and a t-shirt to prepare for a day spent inside the house, taking care of my litter of children. Now, however, I wake up, do my hair and make-up and put on a nice dress, heels and pearls. Okay, so that is an exaggeration. I just put on my dressy (i.e. not stained or ripped) yoga pants and tank top. If I am leaving the house, especially if I am dropping by the kid’s school, I will put on my dry weave coordinating workout ensemble.  See, the latest in stay-at-home mom/lady fashion is to always look like you are on your way to workout, even if you have no intention of ever breaking a sweat.I have been speaking very softly, like a lady speaks. I try not to think too hard, unless it is about what kind of sandwich I should make, and I don’t do anymore of that opinion having. I am coming to understand that if I want men to say they are interested in my brain, I need to nickname my vagina, “brain”. I’ve also been watching my language, in order to sound more ladylike. For instance, I don’t say I “fuck” my husband anymore. Now, I “make fuck” to my husband.  Like a lady.

Apparently, a lady does not tell others when doing her kegels. With this knowledge, I have stopped announcing to anyone within a 20 yard radius that I am vagi-cizing.

When I drink, like a lady, I drink wine.  That way, when I get totally drunk, I am “lady drunk”, which is classy.  I mean, to be fair, just  holding a wine glass makes you appear 30% less drunk than holding nothing or holding  any other drink container. That is just a scientific fact.

It seems, being a lady requires various cocktails of prescription pills, which I do not yet possess. That is on my “how to become a lady” to do list.

I am kicking ass—I mean, rear end–on the path to ladyhood. I am making lady lessons my bitch—I mean, my female dog. Now, I am going to put on a bra (because, if you can believe this shit–I mean, mess– ladies wear bras all the time!) and get ready to get lady drunk later. *curtsy*

I'z Gonna Be A Lady Someday, Though I Didn't Know When or How

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Recently, I have been researching and working hard on reforming myself and becoming a bona fide lady.  I think I am making major progress! Prior to learning how to look and act like a lady, I would wake up and put on sweats or cotton gym shorts and a t-shirt to prepare for a day spent inside the house, taking care of my litter of children. Now, however, I wake up, do my hair and make-up and put on a nice dress, heels and pearls. Okay, so that is an exaggeration. I just put on my dressy (i.e. not stained or ripped) yoga pants and tank top. If I am leaving the house, especially if I am dropping by the kid’s school, I will put on my dry weave coordinating workout ensemble.  See, the latest in stay-at-home mom/lady fashion is to always look like you are on your way to workout, even if you have no intention of ever breaking a sweat.I have been speaking very softly, like a lady speaks. I try not to think too hard, unless it is about what kind of sandwich I should make, and I don’t do anymore of that opinion having. I am coming to understand that if I want men to say they are interested in my brain, I need to nickname my vagina, “brain”. I’ve also been watching my language, in order to sound more ladylike. For instance, I don’t say I “fuck” my husband anymore. Now, I “make fuck” to my husband.  Like a lady.

Apparently, a lady does not tell others when doing her kegels. With this knowledge, I have stopped announcing to anyone within a 20 yard radius that I am vagi-cizing.

When I drink, like a lady, I drink wine.  That way, when I get totally drunk, I am “lady drunk”, which is classy.  I mean, to be fair, just  holding a wine glass makes you appear 30% less drunk than holding nothing or holding  any other drink container. That is just a scientific fact.

It seems, being a lady requires various cocktails of prescription pills, which I do not yet possess. That is on my “how to become a lady” to do list.

I am kicking ass—I mean, rear end–on the path to ladyhood. I am making lady lessons my bitch—I mean, my female dog. Now, I am going to put on a bra (because, if you can believe this shit–I mean, mess– ladies wear bras all the time!) and get ready to get lady drunk later. *curtsy*

Just Sayin’

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Things that puzzle me:

Who coined the phrase “slept like a baby” to describe a restful, fulfilling night of sleep? Did they not have a baby? Had they never met anyone with a baby? Based on my experience with four babies, the phrase makes, absolutely, no sense. “I slept like a baby” should be used to describe a restless night of sleep, that occurred in 2 hour increments that has resulted in complete exhaustion.  I move that we change the meaning of that phrase, immediately!  All in favor, say “Aye”.

My son had told me he wanted a toy vacuum. Has anyone else ever noticed that all of the cleaning toys are in the girls’ toy aisles? Up until recently, Number Three’s favorite toy was a baby doll and a stroller. He loved his baby and loved pushing her around in the little stroller. Others would shake their heads in disapproval and say, “that’s a GIRL’S toy”, to him. A statement directed at me. I know, I know. Letting my SON play with vacuums and baby dolls could have dire consequences. I mean, he could grow up and—dare I say it?–Hold a REAL baby or *GASP* vacuum!?!?! What would become of society?

Then, there is my husband. He showers for any and every plan and event. I mean ANY AND EVERY. If he is going to the store, he takes a shower.  If we are going out to dinner, he showers. If he is going outside to do lawn work, he takes a shower. If he is going to run or to the gym, he showers first. After the doing the yard or working out, he will shower again. Okay, so I get showering before going out and I get showering AFTER working outside or exercising. I have always been thrown, though, by the pre-yard work/running shower. Can anyone explain this to me? Bueller? Bueller? Even though I know it is stupid, when the batteries are going dead in the remote control, I just try mashing the buttons really hard for days, rather than take the time to just change them.

Why are people so grossed out by the very idea of tasting milk that came out of a human being but don’t think twice about guzzling liquid that came out of a cow’s tit?

Now you’re all up to date on what has been running through my mind these last few days. Anyone else have random thoughts like these?

Just Sayin'

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Things that puzzle me:

Who coined the phrase “slept like a baby” to describe a restful, fulfilling night of sleep? Did they not have a baby? Had they never met anyone with a baby? Based on my experience with four babies, the phrase makes, absolutely, no sense. “I slept like a baby” should be used to describe a restless night of sleep, that occurred in 2 hour increments that has resulted in complete exhaustion.  I move that we change the meaning of that phrase, immediately!  All in favor, say “Aye”.

My son had told me he wanted a toy vacuum. Has anyone else ever noticed that all of the cleaning toys are in the girls’ toy aisles? Up until recently, Number Three’s favorite toy was a baby doll and a stroller. He loved his baby and loved pushing her around in the little stroller. Others would shake their heads in disapproval and say, “that’s a GIRL’S toy”, to him. A statement directed at me. I know, I know. Letting my SON play with vacuums and baby dolls could have dire consequences. I mean, he could grow up and—dare I say it?–Hold a REAL baby or *GASP* vacuum!?!?! What would become of society?

Then, there is my husband. He showers for any and every plan and event. I mean ANY AND EVERY. If he is going to the store, he takes a shower.  If we are going out to dinner, he showers. If he is going outside to do lawn work, he takes a shower. If he is going to run or to the gym, he showers first. After the doing the yard or working out, he will shower again. Okay, so I get showering before going out and I get showering AFTER working outside or exercising. I have always been thrown, though, by the pre-yard work/running shower. Can anyone explain this to me? Bueller? Bueller? Even though I know it is stupid, when the batteries are going dead in the remote control, I just try mashing the buttons really hard for days, rather than take the time to just change them.

Why are people so grossed out by the very idea of tasting milk that came out of a human being but don’t think twice about guzzling liquid that came out of a cow’s tit?

Now you’re all up to date on what has been running through my mind these last few days. Anyone else have random thoughts like these?

It’s Nice to Have a Husband Who Listens

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I’ve been telling Husband for several YEARS that I would like to upgrade my wedding ring. To be fair, since we were first married, we agreed that at our 5 year anniversary I would get a ring upgrade. Well, fast forward 8 years and I have brought up “the deal” on more than one occasion. The week of Valentine’s Day, I thought was the day our deal would come to fruition.  For several days leading up to Valentine’s Day, Husband had mentioned that “one of” my gifts had been something I had been requesting for quite some time. His exact words were, “you have asked me for this so many times”.

On Valentine’s Day, I got one package. It was a gift package of Euphoria perfume, which smells amazing. Husband told me that the gift I was waiting for was yet to come. The next day a package arrived. When I opened the package, I was so excited when the packing peanuts revealed a small velvet box. I just KNEW it was the new wedding band I had been requesting for the last couple of years.

*DRUMROLL, PLEASE*

There it is, folks. He was so proud of the new “dime and ring” he bought me.

 

I’m going to get him a rubber vagina. When I get the real thing, he can have the real thing.

It's Nice to Have a Husband Who Listens

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I’ve been telling Husband for several YEARS that I would like to upgrade my wedding ring. To be fair, since we were first married, we agreed that at our 5 year anniversary I would get a ring upgrade. Well, fast forward 8 years and I have brought up “the deal” on more than one occasion. The week of Valentine’s Day, I thought was the day our deal would come to fruition.  For several days leading up to Valentine’s Day, Husband had mentioned that “one of” my gifts had been something I had been requesting for quite some time. His exact words were, “you have asked me for this so many times”.

On Valentine’s Day, I got one package. It was a gift package of Euphoria perfume, which smells amazing. Husband told me that the gift I was waiting for was yet to come. The next day a package arrived. When I opened the package, I was so excited when the packing peanuts revealed a small velvet box. I just KNEW it was the new wedding band I had been requesting for the last couple of years.

*DRUMROLL, PLEASE*

There it is, folks. He was so proud of the new “dime and ring” he bought me.

 

I’m going to get him a rubber vagina. When I get the real thing, he can have the real thing.

Pop Quiz

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Pull out a pencil and piece of paper, boys and girls! It has come to my attention that it is necessary to test your ability to distinguish between literal statements and hyperbolic or satirical rhetoric.

1) If I state, “I am going to kill my husband for not taking out the trash”, should you:

a) Call the police

b) Nod in agreement because you’ve been there

2) If you overhear a mother saying to her child, “I have already told you a million times not to do that”, do you:

a) Think it is weird that she would repeat herself THAT many times, as well as impressive that she kept such an accurate and extensive count

b) Assume she has probably repeated herself but, probably, no more than 3-5 times

3) If Joe says he is going to “slap Jane with a lawsuit”, does he mean:

a)he is going to strike Jane with a stack of court papers

b) he is just planning on suing Jane

4) If I say that letting your thong hang out above your pants is “classy”, do you assume that:

  a) I have very poor taste in fashion and/or a misinterpretation of the definition of “classy”

b) I am being facetious

If you answered mostly “A”, pretty much everything I write will fly over your head. Do us both a favor and move along.  If you answered mostly “B”, CONGRATULATIONS! You have a fully functioning brain!!

Oh, and again, if you are offended by foul language, you are going to fucking hate my posts.

Lessons Learned from Blogging

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I have been taken to task in the comments section of some of my recent posts.  Here are a few of the things that I have learned, so far, from authoring a blog:

  • A large portion of the population have no concept of sarcasm, satire or hyperbole and will take any statement employing these literary devices as completely literal.
  • Since I have a vagina, I am expected to act like a lady and ladies do NOT, under any circumstances, use words like “fuck”. That makes one “un-ladylike”. Being called “un-ladylike” is interchangeable with terms like “dyke”, “cunt”, “whore”, etc.  (I need to remember to add those titles to my resume!)
  • Making a wish of a violent end to someone or a direct death threat is a perfectly rational response to a blog post you dislike or disagree with.
  • Despite the fact that this is MY blog, that I own and I pay for, I am expected to conform to the standards dictated by the polite police and the “Act Like a Lady or You’re Gunna Die” foundation members that found their way to my blog.  Those guys are neat-o.
  • I shouldn’t be blogging, since it take time away from me being in my kitchen and making sandwiches. From what I gathered from a lot of the responses, making sandwiches should be taking up the majority of my day. I’m not that big of a sandwich eater, nor are the kids—I mean, we like to eat *A* sandwich here and there but it seems like making sandwiches all day, every day would just be wasteful, really.
  • Children should NEVER be picked up from school, for any reason. Not making children walk home in inclement weather is the end of civilization and the very reason that the entire world hate us. It has nothing to do with our foreign policy. Now I want to know which presidential candidate is going to address this glaring issue?
  • If people don’t like a blog, you would think that the logical answer would be that said people just close the tab in their browser window and move on with their lives.  Well, you would be mistaken. Evidently, the expected solution is that the blog be shut down by the author or the interwebz police. If you can’t make everyone happy, the shit must be stopped!

Moral of the story: There are some crazy mother fuckers in the world.

 

 

Your Language is Offensive

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After my last blog post and the responses to it, I have done some serious soul-searching. It was mentioned over and again that my use of swear words was offensive to many people, I was  even informed that it wasn’t ladylike.  After reading through most of the replies and absorbing how my liberal use of profanity upset so many people, I have decided to take the advice of these readers and not employ foul language in my blog posts.  I apologize if my use of vulgarities offended anyone. It won’t happen again.

I’m totally fucking joking! Welcome to my muthafucking blog, bitches. If you don’t like my fucking language, feel free to click that fucking “x” at the top fucking corner of your fucking computer screen.  “Fuck” is actually my favorite fucking word. That shit has so many fucking uses. If any of you assholes are offended by fucking swear words, I am going to go out on a fucking limb and assume that my blog is not the fucking place for you. It isn’t my fucking job to shower you with glitter and unicorn piss. If you want to read about puppies and angels, you hit the wrong fucking link.

Just so there is no misunderstanding, here are a list of swear words that will appear in past and future posts on MY blog: hell, shit, damn, ass, asshole, fuck, fucking, mother fucker, mother fucking (lots of variations of the word FUCK), bitch, dick—-well, pretty much, if you can think of it, there is high potential it will appear on this blog.  If you have a problem with that, fuck off.

And, yes, I do kiss my mother with this mouth.