Sunday, November 7, 2010

OMG he's giving me that look.

It's fucking November 7th and I'm watching A Muppet's Christmas Carol that I only have because I forced my 7 year old daughter to rent for me from the Library because I'm too cheap to just buy it *and* too lazy to get my own Library card. I'm an awesome mom. Should I add that I was the only one interested in watching it? Who's children are you?! It's the god damned muppets, for shit's sake! This is wholesome fucking family entertainment! Drink the sugarless Kool-Aide and like it!

So, I'm blogging. It's already going downhill, I can feel it already. I don't know why I'm blogging... especially since the keyboard on my tablet is funky and makes me feel like I have Godzilla hands (GODZILLA HANDS! OM-NOM NOM NOM - spoken with loud, growly voice) which is funny because I also feel like breathing fire soon if my son's don't stop dueling each other with their stick ponies I let them me buy at the dollar store earlier. I must have been drunk to think giving them the stern mom face and preaching rules would be effective. Now I just feel like a douche for even giving the speech... "If I see you swing those things ONNNNE tiiiime..." Shit, I'm stupid. I must have been sober, drunk me doesn't make those mistakes. Or is it that drunk me doesn't care? Meh, either way. (p.s. I can't believe I have to point this out, but I'm too classy to be drunk around my kids. Just an FYI. OK maybe classy is the wrong word. How about beautiful and brilliant? Yep. That's it.)

I'm digging into the Christmas shit a little early this year. I may or may not have some form of lights up already. (suck it) Last year I couldn't wait... because in December I was getting divorced and able to move in with my now husband of whom is the greatest man alive and can part water n' shit and we'd live happily ever after, forever and ever, AMEN. And we did. And Christmas was the best I've had in years. But THIS year we're having about 25 people over for Thanksgiving, so I thought maybe we should put the tree up... WHICH GOES AGAINST THE ONE TRADITION I HAVE STUCK TO MY WHOLE LIFE. You never, EVER, put the tree up until after Thanksgiving. Never. But now I want to decorate. And to suckle on the holiday joy teet for an ounce or two of optimism. So... now I'm going to be the asshole with my tree up early. I mean, I might be an asshole, but never a cheerful oh-mah-gawd-it's-Christmas-yay kind of asshole. I've had my neighbor try to plow up a wall of snow at the end of my driveway, blocking me in my driveway because we refused to pay him with the rest of the neighbors for taking care of our street... because he was a DICK about us forgetting. Fuck him. And his "second notice" taped to my door for shit I never agreed to pay in the first place.
Grr. Wait, what the fuck was I even talking about before I felt the urge to get stabby?
*reading back*
As yes, I'm an asshole. Coming soon, with a Christmas tree.

My husband is asleep on the couch. That means my blog post AND this movie have bored him into a coma. No wonder I don't do this shit anymore.

I bet you were wondering the point to me blogging today for the first time in almost a year.
There isn't one. I just felt the urge to swear a lot so the kids didn't hear it. So you may not hear back from me for another year.
Thanks for being my word vomit bucket, Suckers. POW!

Friday, February 5, 2010

And for my next trick...

This week's recap:
Lea goes into the hospital Sunday.
We stay home Monday to recover and visit her Doctor. She's fine.
I get sick Tuesday from bad Chinese food. Let me rephrase. I vomit at work, go home, vomit some more, then vow to never again consume sweet and sour chicken and/or start feeling the overwhelming desire to burn the restaurant down in retaliation.
Wednesday I feel fine again. But Lea's up all night with ear pain.
Thursday Lea misses school, Motrin solves the problem.
Friday I wake up feeling like God punched me in the ovaries in the middle of the night, 5 days early.

In retrospect I should have just laughed at my OB when he asked about the tubal ligation. Like, really? Just "tying things up"? Why fuck not just pull it out like those multi-colored handkerchiefs hack magicians pull out of their sleeves, only at the end it would be, you know, my inner lady parts instead of a rabbit or butterflies or something else gay. Granted it's much bloodier and I have no idea how that would fit up a sleeve but I think it would generate the same amount of applause. I'd give it a standing ovation (see what I did there? Ovaries, ovation... Fuck people, C'mon!). Basically, what I'm trying to say is I'M NOT HAVING MORE KIDS WHY IN THE BLUE HELL SHOULD I STILL SUFFER EVERY MONTH?
Not cool, God. Really? 5 days early? Way to be Mr. Efficient.
Is this because I called you the Lorf Jebus in an e-mail yesterday because I both mistyped and made a joke out of it? 'Cause that shit was funny. If you can't take a joke then what the fuck is up with the platypus?

I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but self soothing with just sugar-free red bull and twizzler bits doesn't work in this scenario. Unless you get to throw it at people.

I think it's safe to say I'm not fit for humans nor should I be allowed to use my debit card today.
Shit. Look out... the Red Bull is gone.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010


What the hell is wrong with me?? *sigh*

What happened in the last month... well, shit.

My friend Thomas had her baby. There was drama.

The father of my children took our kids overnight for the first time in a long time. There was drama. While it wasn't his fault, spending the day in the ER with my daughter for stomach pains and high fever was an ultimate sucktastrophe and in the end she was fine.

My boyfriend went out of town for work for the first time since I've moved in and IT WAS HORRIBLE. I slept with the lights on. I'm such a p-word.

I went to two birthday parties and a Holiday party at a martini bar all in one day and didn't hurt myself or anyone else. I'm pretty sure I should get some kind of award or medal or patch with high score written on it. Just a suggestion.

We painted my daughters room. It's pink, of course. We get to Lowe's and she runs up to the color section that should have said 'Most Expensive Colors in the Fucking Place' above it and grabs the one she can't live without. Thank you, "Berry Much" (the paint color).

I think that sums it up, so don't cry about not knowing my life's details because, really? It was pretty fucking boring. And filled with drama. But the boring drama shit no one likes to hear.

I spent yesterday afternoon heaving Chinese food, which I'm going to dub poisonous, hence forth. I will miss you, Egg Rolls. Today my lunch consists of a can of soup I can't bring myself to open (for fear the smell will trigger my gag reflex) and an icee of the blue raspberry persuasion. I love saying that word. Rasp-berry.

I want to have people over for Super Bowl, I think... but I'm conflicted because I've slipped into hating everyone again and just want to make a bunch of fun food for Capt. Awesome and I and drink beers and get fat and watch some football. The last time I stopped talking to everyone I cut all my hair off. This will never happen again. Mostly because I've learned it's much more constructive to just get a new tattoo instead.

Next Post: My New Tattoo.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Know what's awesome?

Having Star Trek on my iPod.

Spelling Star Trek right the first time. (I totally spelled it START trek, and then fixed it, because my brain really wants me to press start on my iPod and watch Star Trek)

Renting, watching and laughing hysterically at Paranormal Activity, only to be too fucking creeped out by it later to sleep heavy anymore. This is awesome because now I don't snore. Thank you, shitty rip off of another shitty movie, Blair Witch Project.

The Beastie Boys. (I may have pushed play after all)

The Oatmeal.

Having to move an entire office because the building it's in is closing as soon as the next few weeks. This is awesome because I'll just forget to eat and shave off a pound or 15 moving other people's shit for days. You're Welcome *AND* Thank You.

Telling your Christan daycare that you've moved you, and your three kids, into your boyfriend's house with his two children and seeing them practically shit themselves before your eyes.


Friends with Macy's Credit Cards that can get me an extra 20% off a dress that's already 40% off because I'm poor AND have nothing to wear to the single most hated day so far this year, the 16th, for more reasons than I should ever have to list but it all ends with a party and a dress and a Patrick so I'm still happy. Maybe.

Alarm clocks not going off and waking up 45 minutes late.

Having a boyfriend that not only brought me coffee and the offering of help after the above mentioned incident this morning, but did it without judgement when I looked ultra stabby and wasn't making coherent sentences.

Capt'n Awesome, that's what.

Taking 3 days to post a blog. That too.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

You blew it, Holidays. You were almost in the clear.

You know what sucks? Accidentally hitting enter with your thumb and posting an empty blog. I apologize for any false hopes I may have just given you. Wait. I'm still going to fill said empty post.

I'm so confused.

The holidays, were, well, the holidays. They came, they wore some sweat and tears, they cleaned up afterwards. For once, I had a wonderful holiday, and I cant believe I'm saying this but I went shopping on Christmas Eve and it was hella fun. No, really. Why do people bitch about this?? There's 3 times more employees working to check you out (but you, not "check you out" because I'm so not hot enough to get that kind of "attention" any day of the year). Also, I took the week of Christmas off for the first time in my working life and didn't feel guilty about it because I was totally distracted by the fact that I FUCKING MOVED ON MONDAY. Yea. It was like narrowly escaping death because my sister came home with her baby:
I know, awwwwwwes, right? Totally. He smelled like a cabbage patch doll. Which is funny because I always wondered why they smelled like that for I have never met a child that didn't smell like vomit or french fries. (My brother had a lactose intolerance... his vom smell like The Donald's)

Capt'n Awesome and I were totally prepared for the holidays, as it was our one and only goal to find, and wear, the most embarrassing and ugly Christmas sweaters available for purchase for Christmas Eve. Only problem being we couldn't find one God damned sweater for weeks. Hell, we even looked in Frankenmuth, only to find one for ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY AMERICAN DOLLARS. Yea, no thanks. Dicks.

Eventually we found these:

Why yes, he *IS* wearing a woman's vest. And an over sized stocking on his head. I know he's awesome, but you can't have him. He and that pom pom are MINE.


Hey dude that said "you can't pick your friends but you can pick you seat"... I win. Booger FTW!

OMG, I have a gobbler. When the fuck did that happen?? You know that mass of skin shit under your chin. Oh gross. I'm so going to win the lotto and fix that. STAT. Ug, Kristyn, fix my hairs.

I need a hat. OH WAIT!

Eat it, Holidays.

This one goes out to the drama that started Christmas Day and JUST KEEPS ON A COMIN'!

Weird, my finger is crooked. Hmm. How have I not noticed that before? Oh My GAWD I can't stop staring at it. This reminds me of the time I dated a guy with too few toes. I think this totally makes me a hypocrite for dumping him because of it. Don't judge me! That's shit just ain't right! There should be 5 foot digits there, kids! Didn't you learn that in Kindergarten?? Who *are* your parents?? Is their job title Carnival Extraordinaire?
That reminds me that there's a dude that works at the Mongolian BBQ in Royal Oak that srsly looks like he could be his brother. You should go there and while he's grilling your food ask him how many toes he has. Nevermind if you ask the wrong guy, the right one will get all defensive and say, "How did you know?!" and you can say, "I could smell them from here." and then you can post it on YouTube and make a ton of money tricking people into thinking you can smell a foot with 3 toes like Chris Angel or some shit. You're welcome.

OK, maybe that's a little mean.
Wait until after New Years. Then it's game on.

Monday, December 28, 2009

I Christen Thee, The Most Craptastic of Blogs.

Welp, here we go. Another day, another anonymous blog. But not really. Mostly I'm just out of things to say and I have to pee so lets make this quick, shall we?

You know me.
We may have kicked it passive aggressively back at my old blog, but now here we are... all unlocked and exposed. I know that feeling well. It was recent, actually. Funny story, in a majorly embarrassing yet mildly hysterical way. You know, like looking in porn section at the video store and having someone you know see you when you walk out. That's totally not what happened, BTW. OK, maybe this is nothing like that.

I've yet to decide just how anonymous I want to make this blog, so I may have to drink tonight and sort out aliases for alllll the people in my life. Or just say 'fuck it' and divulge all of my life's secrets here for the people I don't want to read them that stalk me on the internets. Shit. I'm at odds.

You know what? Fuck it.

Hi. I'm Momcraptastic. I have offspring. I have other people's offspring (just not in the sense that I stole them because seriously? Why steal them when you can make them for free? Anyway, who would want MORE of them when you have so many already?). I'm madly in love with someone that is stranger than I am. He's hot. Every time I get a pet someone rips it away from me so I'm not allowed to adopt them anymore, which is good because of the before mentioned mass quantity of minors in my house that aren't old enough to pick up poop, yet some still do in their pants. When I grow up I want to be Archaeologist so some rich guy will fly me out to his island of dinosaurs where I can take pictures. Really? You went all that way and didn't bring a CAMERA? TWICE. Jesus, Sam Neill. Get a clue.

I'm doing that resolution thing where I intend on posting every Monday. Right. We'll see. It's like promising your kids you'll go to Chuck E. Cheese "soon". You know... when it's not dripping with germs like a Ghostbusters sequel. ZUELLLL!