the govenor and the general

I need to get it out because if I don't...I will probably clean something else. And frankly, we are out of cleaner. I just cleaned the kitchen with Windex. That is a bad sign.
My husband has been away for 2 weeks on his annual training. This is where I should put my disclaimer in, stating that I respect the military and all the men and women, who serve. That isn't what this is about. This is about me and my selfish self. Him being gone isn't the bad part. Hell. Go. Don't call. Don't write. But don't fucking blame me if I go crazy while you are gone. I have had 2 weeks of relative calmness. For 10 of the last 14 days, my boys have been angels. But OMG. I think I could kill them both and bury their bodies in the basement. We have a family wedding that we are flying to on Thursday. They are going to get to see their cousins for 4 days. Yes. We are all excited. But I will refer you to the fact that my husband is not at home. Which, in case you didn't realize, means that I have to clean the house, wash the clothes, figure out which of the clothes we are taking, and then pack the clothes. Oh. Did I mention that my kids have been on strike (their teachers) for the last week? Yeah. So in their mind they are on Summer vacation. Not so much. So. I think that I have everything under control...but still. There have been some near misses.
First I had an issue with a Pap smear. Oh fuck you if you don't want to read about it. So, I had to go back so he could get a better look at my hoohoo. Thanks. Like it wasn't bad enough the first go around, he has to use some crazy looking thing that looked like a telescope to zoom in on my cervix. Then...I got the old..."this is going to pinch." I can assure you that a pinch on the arm and a pinch on the cervix hurt in 2 very different ways. Then there was talk of "nothing in the vagina for 7 days." I'm sorry, what? What do you mean, Nothing in the vagina for 7 days? I am about to start my period? Do you MEAN no tampons, or are you just referring to random things I might stick in there? Turns out. Tampons. So. At 36 years old, I am learning the ins and outs of the pad. LOVE the pad. Hell no I don't. I can't believe that they even still make them. Girls are having sex LONG before their period. Give them a tampon and let's go. So. Here I am, and of course I decided that I needed the winged kind. Why? To complicate things of course. Uhm. The wings? Get stuck EVERY FUCKING TIME. Each time goes the same...me trying my hardest to keep them from sticking. Sometimes usine 2 hands and my chin. NOTHING WORKS. And. Riddle me this. How come I get the old "nothing in the vagina for 7 days" when the only thing I WANT to stick in said vagina is a tampon? Why can't I get those orders when above mentioned husband is around? I don't get it. You can rest assured that when I retell this story to sgt. hard on, the doctor will have said 14 days.
Then. Today. I went to the CVS to refill the crazy pills. Yeah. I mentioned the family vacation thing, you didn't think I would go without those, did you? Well. The bitch, I mean pharmacist starts giving me a little trouble with my rx. Whoa. Bitch. Take another look at what you are about to refill for me. Do you really want to bring it with me? I didn't think so. One good thing about being crazy and getting your rx filled at the local drugstore, those bitches are always so nice. Always offering free stuff, going out of their way to make sure I am taken care of...then Sally intern in her little white jacket wants to start? Really? You want to live to graduate from Duquesne, bitch? Fill the Effexor. Meanwhile, I have the govenor(P) and the general (L) climbing all over the bloodpressure machine, and random customers. Part of me just wanted to pretend they weren't mine. I often wonder....what would happen? I know the big one could find his way home...so I guess that wouldn't work.
We get home...and I am faced with 2 more loads of laundry and cleaning the bathroom. The govenor and the general are going BANANAS at this point. No one wants to shower. No one wants to clean their room. Our houses are pretty close together and so it was difficult for me to hold my tongue. I like to get real close to them and explain in my nicest voice that just because mommy can't yell, doesn't mean they are not going to get spanked if they don't listen to me. There is a small amount of fear that still comes in to play. I don't know what I would do if they both looked at me and called bullshit. Frankly, the govenor is way too big to spank. I could use a tip I learned the hard way from my mother, and that is that the fucking spatula with the holes? HURTS LIKE A MOTHER FUCKER...and LEAVES MARKS.
Anyway....In with the good air....out with the bad.
Peace.

LOVING THIS!

I stole this from Tori!!
XO

silver medal...

Seriously...if the word "retard" at all offends you...even mildly, please stop reading this. No joke. I am about to go all politically incorrect on your asses...and I don't want anybody getting all uppity on me. One mean comment and I am taking your shit off my Christmas card list...are we clear?
So...if you have gotten this far, you are obviously interested in what I have to say that is so fucking p.i.c. (politically incorrect.) Welp. Friday, I volunteered at the "day of caring" with the special olympics. Honest to God, there was not much thought involved in me volunteering. I shake my head...because I know how I am. Not a source of comfort...no calm in a storm. I am a smartmouthed mother fucker who likes to make fun of things...and retards are no different. So. I am there...all waiting to volunteer...and these school buses pull up and kids get off. And, honestly, I am thinking..."hmm...these kids don't look like there is THAT much wrong with them. This is going to be a piece of cake." Yeah. Those kids getting off of the buses? They were student helpers...not the actual retards...btw...they are ATHLETES not retards...that is just a small note to myself...one that I had to constantly repeat over and over in my head...because frankly, I am a train wreck waiting to happen...unleash this shit at a Special Olympics event and my shit is having a hard time NOT verbalizing what is in my head. So. Finally the ATHLETES start coming. And...I am paired up with a mean little girl. Seriously...can I trade up for a cute little Down Syndrome girl, please? Uhm. No trades were permitted. Obviously, they needed help running this show...what do you mean I can't TRADE? So...my ATHLETE and I start to go to the first event...oh how cute...she is RUNNING to the running event. Surely we have a winner here, right? She is 8 and probably as strong as I am...mother fucker...and running was something she was good at. When I finally had her corralled to the event...she gets up to the starting line...and stands there. They said go...they are yelling encouraging things at her...hell, I am even encouraging her...but nothing...Then we get done...and she wants to follow some lady with a dog...seriously? Who brings a dog to these things? NO DOGS. If I ran the show. Dogs wouldn't be allowed, but trades WOULD. So...we get her ribbon...and go to the next event. I will refer you back to the part where I said she is STRONG. She decides that she wants to go to some OTHER event...and won't switch directions. I can't even TRICK her in to turning around...Nothing. So finally, she sits down on a chair in the middle of the track...which is where the ATHLETES are to sit...the ones who will participate in that event...Anyway...finally we go back and it is the standing long jump. Yay! She is going to be a natural at this? Not so much. After much coaxing...and me jumping 5 or 6 times, they take MY scores. Surely that means we won the gold right? NOT so much. We got a silver. What? I placed second to another retard who is 8? I demand a recount. That is so not right. And if you make fun of me for being runner up in the Special Olympics, I will remove your ass from my Christmas card list too. Yes. It is funny. But no, I don't want to be reminded of it. And. That bitch got to keep MY silver medal. What ever. She did place first in the softball throw without any help from me, what so ever. I taught her how to do a celebratory dance, and point and yell IN YOUR FACE at all of the other little kids. That's right...we kicked ass! In the special olympics...Next year...I am going to stomp on those kids in a wheel chair...if I am asked back.

BB GUNS and Starbucks.

So...McStarbucks and I have had some mcconversations...and admittedly, he was way more attractive when we were not speaking. Isn't that how it always is? Everything is hotter when it is a mystery. Like that hot guy that you are dying to have sex with? He seems so wonderful...and the first time you do it...WOW! The sparks...but then you wake up, smell his morning breath, observe the drool on his pillow, and realize FUCK. He is no different than anyone else. And almost immediately, you are looking for a way out and an excuse to not ever see him again. No. I didn't sleep with McStarbucks. He did TOUCH me though...but we were in Starbucks, and it was him touching my arm...Turns out I look like someone he knows. Is it wrong of me to want to know who is hotter, me or this look alike girl? I refrained from asking...but still...it plagues me. We'll see what happens.
Also...on the Starbucks front...last night I am walking the boys and the dog...clad in a pair of shorts, a tee, and flip flops...trying out a new "casual do" with my hair in little pig tails on the side in the back...cute...anyway...the dog is a whore when it comes to being petted. He stops for everyone who even a little bit looks like they want to rub his belly. So. He stops...and I look at the guy and his two adorable kids...and am like...hmmm...you look fami..liar...OMG! You work at Starbucks! Yes. The guy that lives around the corner from me works at the Starbucks. God. it is a small world. Wonder if he would be opposed to bringing me home SF/FF Vanilla Lattes? I will have to work on this...
So...after we walked the dog...the shorties and I went to sign up for Cub Scouts. OMFG. Seriously. I don't know much about this little cult...my brother was never a cub scout. My nephew is one, but I always wrote it off because he is such a dork...but now my kids want to join. Fuck. So. We go to sign up...and as we roll up...there are 2 GROWN UPS wearing the Cub Scout uniform. What? WHY? One is a man...and one is a woman. Quite frankly, it was all I could do to keep from laughing...and here they are...tempting my kids with juice boxes and Doritos....Honestly, I learned a lot about my kids...it will only take an abductor a bag of Doritos (cool ranch, please, lest they NOT have the stinkiest breath EVER) and a juice box...and my kids are history. They were little food hounds. Like they hadn't just polished off the McDonalds. Then this guy starts telling them tales of camping and shooting BB guns and bow and arrows! I probably have a little Jeffery Dahmer on my hands...so...this man, in his cub scout outfit...filling my kids bellies with food and their heads with bb gun stories...I am no match for this? And we HAVE to get out of here. I cannot stand here and listen to this woman spout on about the scouts...I start shouting out bribes of my own...We have to go boys...mommy has to go to CVS. Usually, CVS garners the same response every time..."Can I get something?" But this time? It was as though I hadn't even said anything. So...I say..."boys! We have to go...mommy has to go to CVS...you 2 can get something..." And like the little whores they are...their attention shifts from cubby mccub scout...to me! Fuck yeah...in your face cub scout guy! I gave birth to these kids. You and your bb gun stories...puhleeze. And off we went. I got the information to sign them up...but didn't exactly "sign them up" Do you think they will forget? Oh I hope so.