I don't have ADD....Hey, look! Vermont!

Everything in my boggled, crazy, 90mph mind wants to write a blog. It wants to write the kind of blog that makes you laugh, cry, shake your head, and pee your pants, but I CAN'T! Why you ask? Because in 24 hours I am leaving for Vermont with my BFF and Ninja soulmate for 4 glorious days. I get to see my adopted family and revel in the beauty of that gorgeous state. In addition I get to stare in amazement at all the pasty white skin, bubble vests and hiking sneakers that clutter the beautiful scenary. I will shop and walk and eat and soak up the lovliness. I will laugh and sleep and shop some more and pedicure my tired feet. I will ride 7 hours in a car with the only person on earth who I completely turn my filter off for, and listen to the porn channel on satellite radio and laugh at all the pathetic guys who call in with one hand holding the phone and the other hand in their pants. We will sing a little too loud to the radio, talk smack about everyone we know and try not to get pulled over for talking on the cell phone this year.

Every other time I have been to Vermont I have either been sick or just recovering from surgery. This time I am going thinner, more in shape and ready to take on the world. I have been trapped in this bubble of exercise and weight loss, and OMG-I-NEED-TO-TRACK-MY-CALORIES-AND-RUN-A-BAZILLION-MILES-A-DAY mode and I am so ready for a vacation from my life.

So, while I would love to post a blog that would knock your socks off and make you laugh so hard you spit morning coffee out of your nose, my mind is otherwise occupied with lists of things to do and pack. Because going on vacation for someone with OCD is a full time job and I can't focus on anything other than making sure I remember to pack clean underwear and hairspray.

On the bright side, it should give me plenty of things to write about when I get back and I promise to post pictures! Hope you are ready Vermont, because here I come!!

Men are from Mars, Kids are from Uranus?

Just for the record, everytime I read the title to this blog I laugh until snot flies out of my nose. First, it's the first grader in me laughing at the word URANUS, and second I get an image in my head of my children actually being birthed from my ass. I know, juvenile, but still a little funny.

Are my kids the only ones that misconstrue the phrase, "clean up your mess" to mean wipe off the counter with a dirty paper towel, miss an entire ant hill of crumbs on the floor, and throw your things as close to the garbage as possible without actually going in? I got up this morning, stretched, scratched things, and thought I would gather up the dirty laundry, take it downstairs, grab a protein bar and enjoy the sunshine for a little while. What actually happened was, I got downstairs and realized the dishwasher had to be emptied so that a whole new load could be put into it, the garbage can looked like the garbage was stored on the outside of the can and had to be cleaned, the wall behind the trash can was covered in food because apparently it is the backboard to the garbage can/basketball hoop, and the counters and stove were still in need of a good cleaning. This was all after my husband told me he "cleaned the kitchen" after dinner yesterday.

I feel like the majority of my days are spent cleaning up after other people who have already done their version of cleaning. Like when the kids "clean their rooms" which is short for "we threw everything we could underneath our beds, in our closets, and in our dresser and desk drawers so you can't see it and it looks clean". Or when the husband tells me he "did the laundry for me" which only means he put it in the washer, sometimes it made it to the dryer, but the folding and putting away are left for me. I think next time he wants to get naked and do the horizontal mamba, I am going to strip him naked, get him aroused and then say "we totally just had sex" and then roll over and go to sleep. See how he likes that.

It also never ceases to amaze me how blind the people I live with are. They will walk by something on the floor a thousand times and never see it until I point it out. Then they will say they didn't see it even though they have already stepped on it or pushed it aside every time they walk by it. Drives me insane!! Next time they are out of clean socks and underwear and come down complaining, I am going to say "Sorry, I didn't see that six foot high stack of stinky laundry with flies circling it!".

My all time favorite lately is when I tell the kids to brush their teeth and they go stand in the bathroom with the water running, texting on their cell phones or picking their asses, and then they come out and try to run out the door before I can check their yellow, stained and lying teeth. My son is the best con artist ever, until he remembers who his mother is and that I will always be smarter than him. Conversation from this morning:

Did you brush your teeth this morning?

Yes, I just did!! (Flashes his teeth at me from across the room)

Let me see them.

SEEEEE!! They are clean!! (Starts backing out of the room with that I'm-late-for-school attitude)

Bring your FACE over here and let me see your teeth.

Inches about 2" closer to me.

Let me smell your breath.

Moommmmm. They are clean.

I will make a deal with you. If you come over here and let me smell your breath and see your teeth up close and they are actually clean, I will let you eat ice cream for dinner. If your breath smells like day old ass cakes and your teeth look like you peed in your mouth, you lose your TV and Wii for a week. Wanna take that bet smartass?

Fine. I will go brush my teeth.

Good choice. It helps if you put toothpaste ON your toothbrush and actually scrub the brush across your teeth.

I know mom.

What was that?

Silence.

That's what I thought. Love you!

I tell my kids all the time, I had you young enough so that I remember all the crap I tried to pull as a kid, so I am sorry to ruin the joys of adolescent lying, but you are going to have to invent all new schemes of deception if you want to pull one over on me!

Then there is the man of the house. I went to my sisters house this past weekend and ended up spending the night. When I left, the house was clean and in one piece. All I requested was that it look like that when I got home. Instead, I come home to a game room that looks like a giant video game monster threw up remotes, CD's and snack wrappers, a dryer full of clothes from the day before that hadn't finished drying, and a sink full of dishes (even though there was a perfectly good, EMPTY dishwasher right next to it. I could have ranted and raved, and bitched till my face turned blue and I sprouted horns, but all I would have gotten is that "dog that hears a high pitched noise" look from them all so, I laid down and took a nap instead. Because being the only rational, clean and organized person in the universe (or at least in my house) is exhausting. If I am Superwoman than dirt and stupidity must be my kryptonite.

Despite it all, I love these blind, stinky, foul breath having creatures that are my family. And unless I somehow find a way to encapsulate myself in a pristine bubble of cleanliness, I will continue to be the cleaner of the house, the maker of meals, the picker upper of all things dropped and forgotten, and the washer of dirty socks and underwear. It's not a perfect life, but I'll take it.

But I still say men are from Mars, and children are from Uranus. If nothing else, they are all a pain in Uranus. And I'm off to giggle again.

Well, I did it. I went out and got myself a J.O.B. Yessir, that's a true statement. I didn't know when I would go back, or if I would go back, but one more day in this house obsessing about the treadmill and food, or watching re-runs of Wife Swap and I might have off'd myself. There is only so much cleaning and yoga'ing I can do before I lose my mind and join one of those online survey companies that pay you in spam mail and false promises.

So, Monday morning I will slip into a pair of big girl panties and high heeled shoes, put on a skirt and some eyeliner and rejoin the world of the working. I think it will be good for me. It is only part time and it's close to home and all the naysaying whores with an opinion can shut their puckered pieholes about me being a stay at home mom. Because apparently all of us SAHM's do nothing but lounge in slinky, satin lingerie on the couch, while eating bon bon's and watching soaps. The fact that everyone has clean clothes to wear, dinner on the table, a clean house and all errands run must be done by the magic Fairy I carry in my back pocket. Well, let me tell you, I sat on that little Fairy Bitch long ago, and what I have done for the last year WAS work.

I get to make sure my kids get off to school, I will be home when they get home from school, and I won't have to miss one single sporting event, dance class, school concert or Science Fair. Plus, I get to continue to hone my skills and be around people who want to talk about things other than math homework and teenage boys.

So, I am off to rearrange my closet to get all my "work" clothes together (the ones left that fit me anyway!), and dust off my high heels so I can get out there and be a productive member of society again. Wish me luck!

Random Thoughts Thursday

I have had the Tom Petty song, “Last Dance with Mary Jane” on repeat in my head for the last two days and I don’t know why. It’s not like this is a happy, feel good song that gets my mojo going. I am pretty sure that Kim Bassinger dancing around as a corpse is NOT the epitomy of a jovial, good time song. But there it is haunting my brain and distracting me from things like my broken ass cheek or the fact that my house is haunted.

That’s right I broke my ass cheek. Getting out of a tanning bed. And this, my friends, is why I haven’t exercised so strenuously in the last 15 years. Well, that and the fact that I was a lazy hooker, but that’s secondary to my plight. I am pretty sure yoga was the culprit. Something about being in downward facing dog and lifting your leg behind you as far as you can, only to swing that leg between your hands and come into a crescent pose, has pulled an ass muscle and it was exascerbated by me crawling out of a tanning bed while half sleep. Because I totally take naps in the tanning bed. But don’t worry, I lock the door and keep my panties on. So apparently me + exercise = broken things. First I broke a sweat, then I broke my vagina and now I have broken an ass cheek. And I walk like a cripple who has just suffered a minor stroke, and act like a schizophrenic maniac swearing to myself the whole time. It’s a real treat to watch.

And yes, my house is haunted. And I know this because I have Ghost Radar on my CELL PHONE, which must be totally accurate. I am sure all the coolest ghost hunters are using this superhuman technology. For $1.99 how could I go wrong? So let me start by saying, I do believe in ghosts, I do believe in ghosts. And I wish Dan Akroyd would show up at my house and slime the little haunting bastards, but in truth, I ain’t scared of no ghost. The man who lived in this house before us died. Not in the house, but from what the locals tell me, he was dragged out of this house kicking and screaming and died in a nursing home. His kids then went on to sell this gorgeous house below market value. Which can’t make his ghost very happy. But in all fairness, we have maintained and upgraded the house, and while I sense that his watchful eye is always upon us, I think he is happy with what we have done. One day, as I was filling out Mother’s Day cards and balancing my check book, the little bobble head on my daughters craft project just started wobbling to and fro. I'm not sure if he was shaking his head in shame at watching me trying to balance a check book, or if the head was shaking in laughter, but I am sure it was the ghost who made the head bobble. I hear the floor creak and see things move, but honestly it doesn’t bother me too much. After all, who wants to be alone all the time? And for the record, when I ran my little $1.99 ghost hunting app on my cell phone for the first time, it said “John”, “Master” and “Rose”. John was the man who owned this house for over 30 years. He was the master of the house. And he had a love of rose bushes, which we know all too well by the 15 or so planted all over the land. I’m just sayin’. Ghost Radar rocks. So don’t screw with me or I will sick Master John on you and he will stick you with thorns.

Lastly - and this is more of a rant than a random thought - if you are walking across a busy parking lot talking on your cell phone, oblivious to the ½ ton of steel heading in your direction, you DO NOT have the right of way. Death by stupidity is a really horrible way to go, but I will mow you down with my mommy van if you cross my path. I can’t believe the narcissistic idiocy of some people in large plazas. They think the entire parking lot is one giant cross walk, but I am here to tell you I am a rule breaker, and I will run your ass down. Just some food for thought.

From Darkness to Light

I came across this poem I wrote when I was in a dark place in my life, and it really forced me to stop and appreciate just how far I have come in the past year:

I secretly cry a river of tears,
I secretly hide my innermost fears.
I secretly sleep alone everynight,
I secretly live in a world full of fright.
I secretly hate what I see in the mirror
I secretly run when I should remain here.
I secretly want to be happy again,
I secretly want this misery to end.
I secretly lock all my secrets inside,
I know one day my secrets will have nowhere to hide.

Then the world will know my secrets and I will be free.
Free to hate secrets, free to be me.

I am finally free to be me. I am free to do so without hesitation, without regret for time lost, without shame and without overanalyzing how my changes will affect everyone else. My secrets are now an open book for all the word to read. I now cry tears of joy rather than sadness, I smile because I am genuinely happy, rather than to hide my pain, and when I look in the mirror I see an imperfect woman who has learned to love her flaws and fallibilities.

From the first breath we take, our first instinct is to cry and this is an emotion we carry with us for the rest of our lives. We cry when there is a bump in the night, when shadows play on our bedroom walls reminding us of monsters and bears. We cry when the training wheels are taken off of our bikes and we take our first tumble. We cry when our friends in kindergarten call us names, or take to new friends on the playground. We cry when we hit puberty and our bodies take on a form of their own making us feel like social outcasts amongst our peers. We cry when our hearts first get broken, the first time someone we love passes away, when friends move away, when we don't understand our parents, and when we feel like the world was invented as one big conspiracy against us. We cried because we didn’t know any other way to express our joys and our sorrows. I am taking back that emotion. I will cry out all the ugliness and pain that I have endured so that it cleanses me. Then I will dry my eyes and move forward on my journey, because that is what my life is really all about. Moving forward towards that which will make me happiest.

As we get older we grow within ourselves and inspite of ourselves. We feel things we can never distinguish, establish fears we can never justify. We laugh to hide discomfort and cry to reveal our joy. It's one big tumultuous ride through a tunnel filled with light and darkness. There are times we feel like no one in the world truly understands us and there are times when we find someone that understands us so well that we feel like we share the same soul. I have been lucky enough to take this ride despite speed bumps, road blocks and the occasional fender bender, and came out of it safely behind my seat belt, shaken but unphased, and I have a true appreciation for the ride. Now, it’s my turn to get out of the passenger seat, get in the drivers seat and determine my own destination.

There are no rules to this game. No procedures, no guidelines, no leader or mentor telling you what will make you happy. You have to make your fate, never let it get the best of you. We have to learn to be strong despite our hardships and learn to always stand firmly on our own two feet. We can never let others dictate our happiness because, forever is never guaranteed, and if you rely on someone else to make your happiness, what will you do if you wake up one day and that person is gone? I rely on me, I set my own boundaries and goals, I determine my own happiness. And by reading the words I wrote when I wasn’t in control of my own fate, I learn how to never end up in that place again.

It is absolutely gorgeous outside. The kind of day when you want to sit outside and bask in the sunshine with the breeze blowing through your hair. It's the kind of day that makes you reflect and re-appreciate the love of life. For me, it's one of those days when you forget all the things that are troubling you and focus on enjoying this one brief moment. Tomorrow may be filled with thunder and lightening, but today is perfect.

It's also a reminder for me that, like the weather, we can't always control what happens in our lives. We can try to look ahead and predict, but life is graded on one big curve, and you never know what the score will be from one day to the next. At least for today, I am living in the moment. Enjoying the sound of my childrens laughter, forgetting to check my email for awhile, turning off the phone, sitting outside watching the world go by, happy to be a part of it.

Forget all my thoughts of failure, the way I feel today validates me. No matter what my future holds, I know that days like today make the wait all worth while.

Olive Juice

I am beginning to love myself again. Which is surreal, because my body is in this weird transitional place. Kind of like when you grow your hair out and it gets to that annoying shoulder length, and you think it will never get longer, and then you wake up one day and it has. I look at myself now and I take stock of my stretch marks, my freckles, my sagging skin and I fall in love with it. Because it’s all changing and it’s a part of the new me. The me I always knew I could be, but never had the courage to find. I am in love with this perfect imperfection that makes me whole.

I feel like one of those squishy balls full of gel and when you squeeze it, it forms these weird, mushy shapes but it’s still fun to play with. I am almost half way to my first goal and I never thought I would love being a squishy ball of goo, but I actually do. I love that when my husband hugs me, his arms overlap around my waist. I love that when my daughter puts her hands around my waist she tells me “Mom, you are gonna be skinny like me pretty soon!” (oh, how I wish!!). I love that I can bend over to tie my shoes without holding my breath. Or, that I can drive the car without the steering wheel anywhere near my gut. I love that I can RUN, and that I can bend over and touch my toes. I love that right now things squish and mush and bend and wrinkle, because it means this is working.

Most days I am so busy looking at where I want to be, that I forget to appreciate where I am and how far I have come. I need to readjust my focus from the finish line to how far I am from the starting line. I have lost almost 50 pounds in 8 weeks and that is nothing to sneeze at. I have to learn to be more present and celebrate the smaller victories, if I ever want to really appreciate the big prize when this is all said and done. If I don’t, I will end right back where I started. I need to live every moment of pain, never forget the anguish and hopelessness, and always feel that small amount of resentment so I am reminded to never live in that place again.

By doing that I find that I love that I am finding out new things about myself. That each pound lost is a chance to be a renewed and improved me. And so, I wrote this:

I stand amongst the morning dew,

The rebirth of day at once renewed.

Evening teardrops glisten on carpet green,

Haze of sunshine in between.

Whispering winds sing lullabies,

Tales of stars at midnights skies.

Of this new start I become strong,

Part of this earth I do belong.

Eternal sweetness, hope reborn,

As I wake in the early morn.

Yes, each day is a new beginning. A new chance to be something I never knew I had the strength or the courage to be. A new day to love me in a way I have never let myself before. And because of this, I am finding new ways to love those who support me and believe in me. And that, to me, is the most blessed life I could ever live.

A Mothers Love

I fully admit - I am that mom that goes to her kids school performance and cries like a baby. You know, the one who makes her kids roll their eyes in total embarassment and say "Mooooommmm, stttoooopppp!!!!" Last night my son sang in his chorus concert, and my daughter performed in the school play (with a solo, no less!) and it once again hit me just how fast they are growing up. We spend so much time when they are little wishing they would get bigger so they can go to the bathroom by themselves, or sleep in big kid beds, or tie their own shoes, and then one day.....we take a second to blink.....and they are all grown up.

So when I see them up on that stage singing their hearts out, laughing with friends and waving to me in the audience, I cry. And I know that it embarasses them beyond all believe but I can't stop, because just look at how beautiful my babies are.......

Enough said.

Cheater, Cheater, Burger Eater

I miss cheat days. I miss that one or two Saturdays a month when you could give the one finger salute to salads and yogurt and chow down on some serious high fat grub. I miss pizza and wings Fridays and going out to dinner and ordering spinach dip and greasy burgers. I miss Dairy Queen Blizzards and Doritos and Chip Dip. I miss Ben AND Jerry, nachos loaded with cheese, movie theater popcorn and SODA! Man, how I miss soda. That is one giant pitfall to this surgery, I can never just take a cheater day again. I know people say that this is for the best, but right now, those people can suck it. Because all I want is to go to Red Robin and scarf down half a tower of fattening onion rings and wash it down with a 1000 calorie A-1 burger and garlic and parmesan fries. Yum!

I got so used to just being overweight that it became my persona. I was just the fat friend with a pretty face who made everyone laugh. And I was ok with that for a long time. And now, I am this whole different person and I am losing sight of what makes me, ME. Is it still politically correct for me to make fat jokes since I am still, technically fat? Would it be worth the pain of “dumping” to just venture out and eat whatever I want for the day? Would my body revolt against me and just shut down? How would I feel the next day since guilt has become a new way of life for me?

It’s weird to go out with my friends and be the only person who can’t drink. Cause let me tell you, I am one FUN drunk! Going to dinner seems uncomfortable when it takes me twice as long to finish a meal half the size of everyone elses. I have to plan my outings around food and when I have to eat again. I can’t just make a run to Mickey D’s and grab a supersized value meal if the urge strikes. It’s like I had this surgery to get over my addiction to food, yet food seems to be the one thing my whole life is centered around. When do I have to eat my next meal? How do I get enough protein? Do I have food to take with me if I go out and it’s during a meal time? There is prep time, and constant grocery store runs, and calorie counting, and sugar monitoring and protein intake to think about. It’s madness.

And I’m not saying the process isn’t worth the outcome. I KNOW that there is a light at the end of this food filled tunnel. And I know that the end result will be worth the long term struggle, but right now, it’s not about that. I have to mourn the things I miss so I can get through the emotion of it, and get to dealing with the acceptance of it. So for this moment, I miss all the things I used to be able to eat just because I wanted to eat them. Even if they brought me to this overweight place. Because it is in the here and now that I am redefining who I am, what I want, and who I can be.

That doesn’t mean I don’t still want that greasy cheeseburger, it just means at least now I really get why I can’t have it. Sort of.

Oh, Pappy Day!

The only thing worse than getting an annual pap smear is having to find a new doctor to give it. It’s not like I have a wart or something that can be seen by just anyone. This is my vagina we are talking about. I don’t just whip it out and show it to anyone. Anymore, that is.

The last GYN I had was a crazy wackadoo with cancer issues. After my hysterectomy last year I had to go in and see about getting me some hormones. But what I was in for was a front row seat on a train to Crazy Town, USA. She looked over my family history and lost her marbles and insisted that I get a mammogram and have the BRAC-1 testing done to see if I carry the gene for breast cancer. So at first, I humored her, and thought ok, no biggie, we can do this. THEN SHE SAYS: “And if the BRAC testing comes back positive you have some serious decisions to make. You may want to decide to lose your breasts.” And I immediately grab a hold of the girls and think “Are you fucking kidding me lady??? These are MY breasts, and I don’t lose them like a spare set of car keys. They make me, ME. And have you seen them?? For 35 and having two kids, the twins have held up exceptionally well.” But I have already been through 12 years of cancer at this point, and I think to myself that maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad idea, even if only to be proactive.

The first thing I do is go for a mammogram. I am greeted by this teeny, tiny little 20-something who looks like she barely got her associates degree in boobie smooshing, and I wonder how the hell her cold little hands are going to handle a set of 42DD’s. But this is her problem. The mammo itself wasn’t all that bad. A little weird to have someone other than my husband or my drunk girlfriends manhandling my tata’s, but other than that, relatively painless.

Then two weeks later I get a letter in the mail from the lab. A fucking letter!! Stating that the mammo showed a “shadow” in my right breast and “Come back soon ya hear!” or in real speak, come back in 6 months for a follow up. That was it. Hi, you may or may not have breast cancer but we don’t have the courtesy to call and tell you so here is a letter and thanks for stopping by! In a panic, I call my GYN, wait two weeks to see her, spend 2 hours in the waiting room, only to be called into her office for a grand total of 5 minutes, in which time she tells me nothing any different than the letter. And the letter didn’t cost me a $20 co-pay. So I wait 6 months. When I go back there is a new teeny bopper working there and I tell her that I am not leaving the office that today until someone reads the x-rays and tells me whether or not I get to keep my tits or start shopping for new ones. She tells me they don’t normally read the x-rays the same day and I interrupt and say “I know, you send letters in the mail. Which is cruel and inhumane. And if someone doesn’t read the x-ray today I swear to God I will murder you all and piss on your dead skulls!” Ok, I didn’t say the murder and pissing part but I did threaten to smack her in the head with my boob and then cry until I got my way. Out of kindness (or fear, but it doesn’t really matter), she agreed to have someone look at the x-ray.

Maybe it’s because I threatened her, or maybe it was because they had to get a better look at the shadowy boob, but that second mammo hurt like a son of a whore. But the outcome was that they believe whatever is in there lurking is benign and so I get to keep my flabby boobs awhile longer. I also decided against the BRAC-1 testing. I figured there was no sense in living a life full of fear when we live in a technological era where breast cancer has a high rate of remission. I can live my life proactively and get yearly mammos, or I can have some crack pot tell me I “may or may not” get cancer in my lifetime and constantly wait for the anvil to fall on my breasts. I choose to live without fear thank you very much.

After this ordeal, I can’t bear to ride the train back to see Dr. McCrazy so I have been avoiding it since February. This has now put me about three months past my due date for my yearly GYN raping. And speaking of which, since I have no internal plumbing left, what is left to pap or smear? Are they just making my vagina is still there? Do they holler into my empty lady space and see if anything echoes back? Can you get cancer of the anti-uterus or non-existent ovaries? I mean, c’mon now. I should be forever exempt from cold metal stirrups and long sticked Q-tips scraping my vaginal wall.

But alas, I am not exempt and I need to suck it up and find a new doctor. One that will give my dried up system some estrogen before I grow testicles and a beard and one who doesn’t want to cut off my boobs. Is that too much to ask for?

To My Mother

Mom,

You have taken the road less traveled. You always had to do things the hard way, because the easy way was never within your grasp. You showed me what it means to be loyal, to be loving, to have courage, to smile through the pain, and for that I am eternally grateful and will always love you.

You gave up so much of yourself, so that we could be something more, and you never complained. You never let us see you hurt, you sheltered us from as much pain as you could bear, and you taught me how to be a mother.

You are the foundation I base all my values on, the first women I ever looked up to, the one woman on earth who means more to me than any other. You are my best friend, the reason I exist, and a true blessing from God.

You are my confidant, the keeper of my secrets, the shoulder I can cry on, the ear I know will always listen, the heart that beats in time with mine. To say you are merely a mother is to do you an injustice, because you are in fact, so much more. I feel like there are never enough words, never enough hours in the day, never enough flowers I could send or cards I could sign, that would truly express to you just how lucky I feel to be able to call you mom.

Thank you for being my inspiration. Thank you for believing in me even when I didn't believe in myself, for picking me up when I fall, and for laughing and crying with me throughout all of lifes trials and tribulations.

When the ground beneath me cracks and shakes, I know that your love is the glue that will keep it all together. You are my rock and the first true love of my life. You are my mother, and I love you.

Love,

Lisa

You wanted it again, you got it!

Why doesn’t Barbie have an anatomically correct vagina? It’s bad enough that her body is unrealistically proportioned, but how has she been around for like 7,000 years and has managed to become a vet and a doctor and have triplet babies with Ken, but hasn’t developed a vagina? Since they have empowered Barbie with such high powered jobs, where is the Trailer Trash Barbie or the Porn Star Barbie. I want to see a shiny box with a bleach blonde Barbie inside whose accessories include a tiny plastic vibrator and boobie tassles. Or how about Manwhore Ken? He comes dressed like a douche wearing Sean John jeans wore low on his waist, with boxers sticking out the top, an oversized t-shirt, thick, fake, gold chains and a Blackberry full of baby mamas numbers. He has a little button on his back and when you press it, it says things like “Imma hang wit the fellas baby and I be back in a few” and then shows up days later with hickies and a bad case of syph but explains it away saying he was kidnapped by leaches and got the syph from sitting on dirty toilet seats.

I so need a job, because I have way too much time to let my overly imaginative mind wander without direction. Anywho….

I got this in my mail box, and since I love answering surveys, and since I can’t focus on anything but Barbie’s plastic, android vagina, this is the rest of Random Thoughts Thursdays. Deal with it.

1. High heels or boots? High heels. They make my stumps look less stumpy.

2. What time did you get up this morning? 7:00 am. The voices in my head were hungry

3. Diamonds or pearls? Diamonds studded pearls please!

4. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? I haven't been to the cinema since that uncomfortable episode with me and Pee Wee Herman.

5. What is your favorite TV show? Housewives of any city. It's nice to see women bitchier than I am.

6.What do you usually have for breakfast? Egg beaters and meatless sausage. I know. Be jealous.

7. What is your middle name? Satan. Oh, and Marie.

8. What food do you dislike? FISH!!

9.What is your favorite CD at the moment? The only thing I hear is the circus music playing in my head.

10. What characteristic do you despise? DRAMA!! Save it for your mama.

11. Favorite Clothing? These days, anything that FITS!

12. Anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go? AZ to see my mom and get my tan on.

13. Are you an organized person? Not unless you call being extremely anal retentive and OCD organized.

14. Where would you retire to? anywhere the drama queens don't live and can't email me.

15. What was your most memorable birthday? I have wiped all memories of birthdays from my brain now that I am over the age of....ahem, 29.

16.What are you going to do when you finish this? Yoga. I know, funny right.

17. Furthest place you are sending this? Wherever in the wonderful world of blogging it happens to land – I am thinking Australia.

18. Person you expect to send it back first? Quilting In My Pajamas. Because she has a warped sense of humor too, and will totally get why this is fun!

19. When is your birthday? Everyday is my birthday. Buy me something!

20. Are you a morning person or a night person? Talk to me in the morning and if I punch you in the face repeatedly, then I am a night person.

21. What is your shoe size? 10. Just like me. LOL

22. Do you own any animals? I have two messy kids, two step kids, a husband, two dogs and a partridge in a pear tree.

23. Any news you'd like to share? My vagina is healed!

24. What did you want to be when you were little? Big. Which is true irony. Because by BIG, I meant famous, not BIG.

25.What is your favorite flower? The kind that squirt water in your eye.

26. What is a day on the calendar you are looking forward to? May 28th when I get to go see my VT family, and someday in August when my MOMMY COMES HOME!!!

27. Do you wish upon stars? Yes, I wish on Colin Farrell and Ryan Reynolds. I mean, they are stars right? I wish they would love me and leave their skinny bitch wives and profess their love for me.

28 Are your parents alive? yes

29. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? I would be one of those cool rainbow crayons. Not because I am gay but because I am colorful. And not that I have anything against the gays, because I *heart* them, but I also like colorful shiny things, hence the crayon color.

30. How is the weather right now? Sunny and lovely and yearning for me to come walk!

31. Last person you spoke to on the phone? my mommy!! And I LOVE HER!!!

32. Favorite soft drink? Fuck off. I can't have soda anymore asshole. But at least I'm not bitter about it.

33. Favorite restaurant? My old favorite, before I was reduced to eating like a bird, was Chili's or Red Robin, but also Simply Crepes and maybe a little Buffalo Wild Wings. Ohhh and Wendy's. But is that a restaurant really? Damn it, now I'm hungry.

34. Hair color? Which month? This month, blonde.

35. What was your favorite toy as a child? my Mr. Snuffleupagus. Until he died a tragic death while in the attic during a roof replacement. R.I.P. Mr. S.

36. Summer or winter? Fall

37. Chocolate or vanilla? Chocolate. Especially when it's rich. Because I like rich things. And shiny things. Which usually cost money. Hence, the rich part.

38. Coffee or tea? It used to be coffee, but decaf is gross. So tea.

39. What was the last magazine you read? People. I know, deep right?

40. Do you want your friends to email you back? If they want to be cool like me.

41. When was the last time you cried? The last time I saw a commercial for Red Robin. Yum.

42. What is under your bed? Dead bodies. Don't look.

43. What did you do last night? You mean after I achieved world peace and found a cure for cancer? Attended my sons baseball game, watched trashy TV and went to bed.

44. What are you afraid of? Clowns. I will kill one if it comes within 50 feet of me. No lie.

45. Salty or sweet? Oooh both. Especially chocolate covered pretzels. Which, again, I can’t have. Bastard surgery!

46. How many years at your current job? 1 glorious year of being a stay at home whore

47. Favorite day of the week? All of them, I don't work. LOL

48. Glass half empty or half full? Depends on who drank from it, and if alcohol is involved.

49. How many people will you send this to? As many as I want to!!

50. How many will respond? All of them, they are losers....I mean, fun like me!

51. Do you like finding out all this stuff about your friends? As long as it has nothing to do with yeast infections, and can't implicate me in a crime, then yes.

Feel free to answer the above questions for yourself in the comment section! Happy Thursday Everyone!

Yoga? Me? Whodathunkit?

I take back every whiney, horrible thing I said about exercise last week, because now I have found yoga. And we are in love. Set aside the fact that I didn’t have to do the “modified” version of any of the moves, and the fact that I did NOT in fact break my vagina again, but that was the best workout I have had to date. It just stretched you, and worked the abs and the buns (which are firming up like fresh risen dough, thank you very much) and before you know it, your shoulders are on fire, and your legs are quivering and there is a puddle of sweat at your feet, but you feel….empowered. I am pretty sure yoga is going to help my milkshake bring all the boys to the yard. And damn right, it’s better than yours. I felt alive and renewed, and did I mention I came out of it with my vagina intact? Yoga indeed.

I never thought I would be one of those “ohm’ing” type women with yoga pants and a mat under one arm, and a half-caf, non-fat soy latte in the other hand bouncing off to “find myself” in the peace and serenity of yoga. But I really enjoyed it, plus I already own the mat and the pants, so why not give it a go? It was way more enjoyable than lifting weights and doing cardio. It’s like really worthwhile exercise for lazy whores like me. It didn’t hurt that the participants were former Biggest Loser contestants so I didn’t feel like I was competing with Barbie and Skipper.

I am sure that yoga is the thing for me for a multitude of reasons: it makes me laugh, cry, grunt, vomit, sweat like a sumo wrestler and often wish I were dead. But then…..I can’t wait to do it all over again!! I feel re-motivated to continue on with my journey of less fatassedness, minus the whining and forcing myself to workout everyday. At least for now. I do have ADD after all, and I have to wonder how long this new found fascination will last. At least I still have the Tae Bo collection that has been gathering dust in the DVD case for a couple years to fall back on. Although, I have seen the bitches in those videos and I am pretty sure I would get exhausted and pissed off and punch the TV. So, maybe I had better stick with the yoga.

'Til Death Do Us Park

So I went to the park the other day to walk outside, soak up some sun and jam to Shinedown, and I was VERY excited to see I owned the park when I got there. There wasn’t another soul in sight. So I got out, picked my ass, put in my earphones and got to walking. When what to my wandering eye should appear, but a creepy man walking behind me wearing knee high socks, old school gym shorts and a Members Only jacket. Crap. Where in hell did he come from??

I was pretty sure his intentions were to rape and maim me and then dump me in a ditch somewhere, so to avoid ending up a “whodunit” story on Dateline, I decided to walk over to my van and pretend to stretch so he could pass me and I could keep a watchful eye on Creepy McKidnapper. He wasn’t violating me while I was listening to angry rock music and getting my walk on. No sir. I kept thinking to myself, “Should I leave?” or “Should I run for the nearest house screaming Stranger Danger! Stranger Danger!!”? I mean he didn’t have his hand in pants and he wasn’t offering me candy or anything, but he was creepy just the same.

So as Members Only guy walks by, and I glare at him through my knock off Gucci sunglasses, he starts chatting. Really? Does it look like I came here to make friends? I am wearing yoga pants, the t-shirt I slept in and an oversized Old Navy sweatshirt and I have earphones in. Hello!?! So I take out the earbuds and say “Excuse me?” and he says “It’s a bit chilly out this morning, eh?” And I think “eh??” Did he come all the way from Canada to kill me cause I hate to disappoint him, but he wasted a two hour drive and a hefty toll. This flabby ninja ain’t going down without a fight. And by fight I mean eye scratching, kicking, screaming like a girl and hair pulling. I knew I should have bought that damned taser!!

Anyway, I nod politely and put my earphones back in, wait for him to start walking and then pull out behind him. He slows down and looks at me like he wants to be walking buddies and chat about the weather and sports. I lip sync quietly to my music as if to say “Look creepy stalker-slash-murderer, I don’t have time for this. I have DVR’d shows at home I need to watch and I would like to sneak in a nap before the kids get home from school, so find someone else to kidnap and torture and leave me the hell alone”. Finally, he gets the hint, tries to look cool by running, apparently gets a cramp of some sort, realizes I am not going to make it easy for him to murder me and steal my eyeballs for souvenirs, gets in his car and leaves.

Phew, that was a close one. I am totally going to buy a taser now. And find a different park.

Mi Familia

I wasn't going to blog today because I decided to refrain from thinking and exercising. But then I got stuck walking around the park for the opening ceremonies of my sons baseball league, so I figured I might as well break all the rules.


This is only to share with you the beauty of my family. I love them. They. are. da. bomb. And today I got to be with them, and take pictures with them so that I can always be reminded of how lucky I felt on this day, for no particular reason at all.


So without further adieu....

Mama Ninja and Baby Ninja

Sister Ninja's and Best Friends

Ninja Siblings. And yes, the boys will kick your ass if you mess with their sistas!

Matriarch Ninja - The heart of the family :)

See why I am such an annoyingly chipper Ninja? Look at that from which I came. And I am grateful for them all!