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.

Awesomesauce.

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.

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.
Maybe.
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!