Super Nanny!

Okay, I'm taking a huge risk here. I know this is even more crass than even I normally divulge. However, I need to vent. 4Realz. Don't judge. Don't hate. Just feel happy that it's me, and not you. 

For reader reference, my kids are :

11yr old Boy AKA - B

7yr old Girl AKA - A

3yr old Boy AKA - L

AAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggggHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar!

That was me e-screaming in frustration. 

I love my kids. I love being a mother. However, I don't always like the little fuckers and today is one of those days. Today, I'm trying desperately to remember WHY I decided 

against selling them to gypsies or just leaving them on the side of the road with a 'free to good home' like I had thought about doing oh, so many times. 

Also, my browser is being a douche.

Instead of my cursor hopping it's happy little ass down to the next line like it's SUPPOSED to do, it will instead scroll on and fucking on for ya know, EVER. Bitches!

Why is my computer being gay? I'm sure it's not at all related to the entire fucking cup of coffee my spawn spilled on my cord. Noooooo. I know, that's actually not the reason. 

Truthfully, techy shit is just forever messing up for me for no apparent reason what so fuck ever. 

This is going to contain even more profanity than normal for me. FYI

So my little darlings are assholes. Really. The two oldest fight all the fucking time. I can't fucking take it anymore. And fighting over the computer resulted in a spill. Okay, spills happen. I get that

But this should not have. So I've yelled at B no less than fifty fucking times today for shit like hanging off the kitchen chair. (He's already broken one that way) over and fucking over.

And the fighting. And the eye-rolling. and the back talk. Seriously, I had to avoid violence all together for fear that I'd take it too far. When he was being a dick and fucking with A

during her earned computer time, and spilled my coffee all over the fucking place I flipped my shit. I also told him that if my comp was ruined I was taking his new TV back and buying 

myself a new comp instead. Little fucker. 

So I resort to the old clean shit and shut the fuck up punishment. Gave him 20 mins to get his room spotless. A the same. She's not an innocent party here. Then, I had a whole list of assigned shit for them to do that would occupy the rest of their night. I did all this in my very most menacing voice. But controlled my volume level so the neighbors wouldnt call the cops. 30 mins later I went down to check on his progress. Surprise surfuckingprise. NOTHING had been done. His room was trashed! And the fucking TV was on. Of course, I flipped my shit again. And took his remote and controllers. Made him get his ass up stairs and start scrubbing shit. Literally. I made him

clean toilets. 

At bedtime I suddenly realized I was out of milk. Shit. So, I loaded them all up to run to grab some real fast. By this time bedtime was shot to hell. Got back at 8:30 and 

gave him til 9 to finish the job or find a new fucking place to live. Okay, I didnt say that, but it was implied. What do you know? 9pm I go down to talk/hug it out with him and 

ohmymotherfuck nothing was done. STILL! And the goddamn TV was on! ON! 

AAAAAssssssucccccckkkkkkccccoooocccckkkk

That was it for me. Told him to assume the position while I got the spoon. AKA Im about to beat your ass. L, who has also been a complete dick today heard me say I was getting the spoon.

Started asking why I was going to hit his brother. Seriously? Well, I was NOT backing down. Got the spoon and headed back down stairs. Told L to stay put. He said he wanted

to watch me. Normally I wouldnt have allowed it but in a moment of rage decided it might put some fear into him as well so being the shitty ass mom I am today, I let my three yr old

watch me whoop my 11yr olds ass. hard. Then told B to brush his damn teeth and go the hell to sleep. That was it. No hugs. No I love you's No good night. Nothing. 

I've also been going back and forth with 'mommys not-so-little princess' all fucking day. She screws around non fucking stop. Non stop! a 30 second task will take this kid 3 hours 

unless I hold a bic under her ass. Also, she dicked around and ripped the fucking curtain rod out of the wall in her room. Do you KNOW how hard it was for me to hang that shit? 

Like really, really hard! I bled for crotch sakes. She did not get an ass beating but I"m considering waking her up and throwing one in just for good measure. 

And then, there's L. He's been in a state of total anarchy lately. Seriously. I know it's largely my fault. I'm effing tired dammit. I don't always put up the fight with him that I should.

But holy balls if that kid has one more 20min crying fit because i wont bend to his will I'm going to ship him off to a third world country in excahnge for a new pair of Nikes. If it fits, it ships motherfucker!

I'm seriously rocking worlds worst mom guilt right now with a side of I will NOT use duct tape. I will NOT use duct tape. I will NOT.... where's the fucking duct tape??

I believe in picking my battles with kids. As it is right now, I need to pick them all. But how do I do that exactly? I'd literally spend every waking minute punishing or yelling. 

Thats no fun for anybody. B has become such an ungrateful little shit too. So fucking entitled. Nothing I do is ever good enough. If I didn't legit have concern over his saftey 

and well being I'd tell him to pack his shit and go see if the grass is greener with his asshole abusive absent cradle-robbing father. Except the grass would be greener, to him.

he'd play PS3 all night, eat pop tarts and mt.dew and never move past a 5th grade education.

**Let the record show, I just did some editing here. I had continued on for a bit longer, but after cooling down, I came to my senses and removed content that just isn't appropriate for online. While entertaining to read, my morality got the best of me. Sorry peeps. **

I need supernanny. And vodka. 

Yes, I need to take swigs of vodka, while supernanny whips my kids in shape. 

I do everything for these little assholes. Everything. I don't do shit for myself. But it's still not good enough. 

Now that I've tainted your opinion on me and likely invited a fucking case worker over for a surprise home visit, I think I'll call it. 

Sorry for venting. Needed to let steam out before I just exploded all together.

**UPDATE: As of this morning, all is fine and well in my household again. The talk/hugging it out took place and went exceptionally well. Despite the fact that I was up late tossing and turning over yesterdays antics. In all honesty, I felt guilty for spanking the 11yr old. Don't get me wrong. I'm not anti-spank. Sometimes, a kid just needs their ass beat. However, I believe that if I'm doing my job right, I should be able to avoid physical punishment for the most part. Unfortunately, my being up late resulted in me over sleeping and eldest missing the school bus. We squashed our beef on the ride to school. I really do love my kids. Really. They're amazeballs. Wouldn't trade them for the world. But I'm not perfect and parenting doesn't come with a handbook. And kids don't come with an off button. But they should. 

Random assortment of hotties...

It NEEDED to be done!

Mmmm... Ink...

Hott guys read, too!

You're welcome :)

Oh, Thank Jesus!

I've found it! I've found the holy grail of our people! 

Ladies, and even gents... I officially give Seduction and Snacks by Tara Sivec my stamp of approval! No. No. No.... not JUST my stamp of approval, but my OMG you MUST pick up this book right the hell right now stamp! If you never read another book again, you MUST read this one!

Also on the list of things you MUST do while reading Seduction And Snacks...

1. Wear a panty-liner, or adult diaper depending on how often you do kegals. You WILL piss yourself!

2. Grab a notebook, pen, and highlighter. You WILL find yourself repeatedly wanting to jot down a slew of the most ass-tastic one-liners you've ever heard.

3. Grab a friend. Trust me.. reading this together is far better than the way I did it, which included me texting my bff every five fucking minutes, with an update or funny quote!

4. Set your alarm clock BEFORE you start reading. Otherwise, you'll find yourself barely able to keep your eyes open at 4am, yet unable to pry your kindle from your cramped fingers and the next thing you know, you're kids have missed the bus on the first fucking day of school.

5. Buy batteries and chocolate. You'll thank me for that later, I PROMISE!!!!

And finally....The single, most important rule of reading Seduction and Snacks...

Share the love! Had a fellow blogger not turned me onto my new bible, I would have missed out on the read of a life-time. Share the word. Post links. Like Tara Sivec on facebook and for God's sake... leave a review, will ya???

Product Description

Claire is a twenty-something, single mom that grudgingly helps her best friend sell sex toys while she attempts to make enough money to start her own business to give her foul-mouthed, but extremely loveable (when he's asleep) toddler a better life.  

When Carter, the one-night-stand from her past that changed her life forever, shows up in her hometown bar without any recollection of her besides her unique chocolate scent, Claire will make it a point that he remembers her this time.  

With Carter's undisguised shock at suddenly finding out he has a four-year-old son and Claire's panic that her stretch marks and slim to none bedroom experience will send the man of her dreams heading for the hills, the pair will do whatever they can to get their happily ever after.

Warning: contains explicit sex, profanity and enough sarcasm to choke a horse.

About the Author

Tara Sivec is a wife, mom, chauffeur, soccer coach, babysitter, short-order cook, genius and the funniest person she's ever met. She lives in Ohio with her husband and two kids. In her spare time she likes to write and make people spit Diet Coke out of their nose. Most of her material comes from real life experiences with family and friends. Lucky for them, the names have been changed to protect the innocent (aka, drunk).

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tara.moransivec

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Seduction-Snacks-Chocolate-Lovers-ebook/dp/B008AZTUU8/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1346290557&sr=8-1&keywords=seduction+and+snacks

Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/208564

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/seduction-and-snacks-tara-sivec/1111681776?ean=2940014709507

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15704001-seduction-and-snacks

4am Malarkey

Technically, it's 4:09am as I'm typing this. Why am I blogging at such a random time? Well, due to a 'scheduling mishap' I ended up only working half of a shift tonight. I should probably bitch about this, but mostly I just want to celebrate. I have three days off starting tomorrow and I'm pretty geeked about it. I'm tempted to bitch and moan about my current state of employment. However it's all 'illegal' and can get my ass fired so... I have to skip over all that malarkey. Sad, I know. 

So, here I am, now 4:12am sitting at home, in my dirty ass house, drinking ONE beer and blogging about the nonsense that I'm still not sure anybody actually cares to read. Why one beer and not five? Well, because that's all I have and my state has some stupid as fuck law about no alcohol sales after 2am. While I'm sure this law was placed for good reason, I don't fucking care at the moment. I've worked three weekends in a row, third shift. I get off early ONE fucking night, vs getting out several hours late as per usual and I think they should make an exception. Home girl needs to get drunk. Real talk. It's good for my soul and shit. My liver? Nah, but my soul? Shit yes! 

Okay, so bitching about work is out. Bitching about people in my life who do dumb shit and piss me off is out, as I've learned that they apparently read my blog. WTF. Should have never started feeding the goddamn elves! All I ever do besides that lately is sleep (try) and boring day to day shit that you don't want to hear about. I guess I'll have to reach into my bag of tricks and tell you all about the nice neighbor who won't shut the fuck up....

So.. I moved into a new town-house about a month ago. This place is really pretty perfect for me. The only downsides are that I've been a home-owner for so long, and have lived in the country for pretty much ever. Now, I'm in a nice neighborhood, but with that comes neighbors. Dun duh dun!! I can hear car doors opening and closing all the fucking time, causing my dog to flip her shit. She, is also not accustomed to hearing those kind of noises except when we have company. So while I'm peeking out my blinds every five fucking minutes, she's trying in vein to hold in her barks. She really does try not to bark, but it's instinct. Instead, she tries to hold it in and ends up looking like she's dry-heaving. It's unpleasant to watch/hear. Having neighbors also means that for the first time in their lives, my children aren't at liberty to run through the house, jump and down or scream at the top of their lungs any time they want. This has not gone over well for them. It also means that I'm no longer at liberty to yell obscenities at them at the top of MY lungs when they do that shit, for fear of CPS showing up at my door. I've been instead forced to perfect my hushed 'I'm about to beat your fucking ass' voice. You all know the one. It's the voice you use to reprimand your kids while in public. You want to scare the shit out of them, without the rest of the world knowing that you just threatened to hog tie them, and get out the fucking duct tape. Don't judge me, and don't fucking lie to yourself either. Tell my you've never grabbed your kid by the arm in the middle of the grocery store and whispered in their ear threats of violence if they didn't calm the fuck down and shut the fuck up! Perhaps you didn't use those exact words. I don't either... but the intent is the same. We all do it people. 

Back to the neighbor. So she introduced herself to me around THE day I signed my lease. While nice, she A) does not shut the fuck up. B) has nothing to say that I actually want to hear. C) Irritates me for reasons that I can't quite put my finger on. Bitch, I don't fucking care about how many times you loaned your can-opener to the previous renter. Know what else I don't care about? Any fucking thing that you have to say unless it's 'good-day'. 

When I see her out, I try to make a hasty retreat. It never works. EVEN when I was moving in, arms full of heavy shit. She still continued to run her fucking mouth as though she were being paid per-syllable. Did I mention that she 'babysits'? Well, she does. From an outsider perspective, it would seem that she's got a good system going. Her back yard is littered with child paraphernalia. It looks like a damn wonderland out there. The problem? The kids she watches are never outside. Ever. I'm 99% certain that it's all for show, for the unsuspecting parents. What makes it even stranger is that she ONLY babysits for babies and young toddlers. Ya know, the ones who can't fucking talk or attest to God only knows what kind of weird shit goes on inside her place. Maybe I'm jumping to conclusions here, it's entirely possible. But, it's completely within my right to judge strangers based on my own impressions and gut instincts. I'm pretty sure that is an amendment in the constitution. I'll have to check and get back to you. 

No, I don't believe any of these children to be in harms way or anything. If I did, I would have stepped up and done something about it. It's just fucking weird. Considering that I have three kids and do often find myself in need of a close-by sitter for whatever, this could have been the perfect set-up for me. But, it's not... and I'm pissed. Did I mention that she has a son who lives with her? a 19yr old over-weight emo and strange as fuck son? Well, she does. At first I thought he was nice, if not a little awkward. But then I got suspicious. I have this itty-bitty hole in the ceiling above my shower. I've since discovered that it's a dry-wall screw or some shit like that. Prior to my learning this, I was simply convinced that that little fucker had cameras leading into my place or something. What did I do? Smeared it with toothpaste, that's what. Now, I realize I'm just paranoid and overreacting but whatever. I suppose he really never bothered me except for the one time when, while moving, I once again had arms full of a heavy as fuck box. He sat on his porch, asking me random fucking questions while I struggled to take a single step. Thanks for the help, asshole. 

Okay, so all that doesn't sound so bad when I type it out. I guess it's really not. I'm just not used to having neighbors THISCLOSE to me and I'm irritated by pretty much everything so they're easy targets. I still smile politely and all that shit. I guess it could be worse. I just don't understand why I can't live next to some calendar worthy male-model type who can never seem to find a shirt when I'm around. 

Is that so much to ask? No, I don't think so. 

The point's aren't the point. The point is... Wait? What was I saying again?

I guess this can kind of be considered a part two to the previous posting. That being based solely on the fact that it's coming in sequence afterwards. More accurately, not though. I've learned that I shouldn't make promises my ass can't cash. As it turns out, I'm completely incapable of following the guidelines I set for myself. I should probably do some soul searching or bring that up if I ever get into therapy. Fear of commitment or some shit like that. Bipolar? Or just single-white-female who gets bored as hell and loses interest in even what she has to say. IDK. 

Before I go any further, I have an honorable mention to drop. I recently gained a new blog fan. This makes my heart happy for two reasons. First and foremost is because every time somebody tells me I'm awesome, I celebrate. Secondly, this person posted publicly what is possibly one of the top ten greatest fucking things I've ever read. Being that she is a girl after my own heart, a bookie-type friend, AND has a great fucking sense of humor, her respect or admiration gives me down there tingles. Her post was the following:

"All he'd have to do is wave his magic dick wand, and my panties would magically disappear."

I almost died. I have no idea what so ever what context this quote played out in, or where it came from, but I fucking loved it. Seriously. I was having a really, really shitty day and was leading into what was about to be an even MORE shitty night... this was totally the bright spot in my rain cloud. 

Speaking of, ... fuck, what WAS I talking about again? IDK. So, I'm totally a pessimist. Well, I consider myself a realist who just happens to have really bad, awful, fucked up shit happen to her, and I can see it for what it really is. I'm not one of those 'the glass is half full' types. Those types piss me the fuck off. Real talk. I'm also not one of the 'glass is half empty' types. I'm more the type  to completely overlook how MUCH is in the fucking glass, and instead focus on WHAT is in the glass. A while ago, I randomly found one of those clip art thingies that perfectly describes my view on life. I now wish to share with you...

Perhaps you don't find this as amazeballs as I do. If not, well.. fuck you. Why are you even reading my blog? If you're a member of population kick ass.. they you're probably still giggling, saving this image, and sharing it with your homies. It's been MONTHS and I cannot look at this without laughing out loud. Literally. I'm not talking about 'lol' here... I actually open my fucking mouth, and sounds of the giggle variety come out. It's funnier if you read it in the way I do. In my head, the realist is frantically waving his arms, looking around nervously, and says in a high-pitched voice "I think this is piss" ... find it hilarious now? That's what I thought. 

Anyway, that's totally how I approach shit in my day to day life. I feel like I'm letting you guys down on this one, but apparently I'm all tapped out today. I'm just beat down, what with everything being full of piss and all. I'll come back swinging tomorrow. Then, we can revisit the promised bitch fest about my kids being assholes, the laziest, creepiest fucking cable MEN (plural) in history, and the neighbor who I originally thought was nice despite never shutting the fuck up... but I'm now convinced is just all fucked up. Really. 

Peace Out Girl-Scout

Should Have Never Started Feeding the Goddamn Elves

Another post title that has nothing to do with anything, but is in actuality a line from a favorite movie of mine. If you know that line, you're fucking awesome. Well done.


**Please, take a minute to appreciate the changes that I painstakingly made to my header via the uber-techy program known as Paint. I know, I killed it!

So yeah.... this is THE post. Ya know, the post-apocalyptica one after I dropped the D bomb the other day. If you're reading this, then you're aware that my recent absence has been directly linked to my going through a divorce. Well, can't keep a good dog down (Is that how that saying goes? IDK) And you can't keep a soon to be divorcee from blogging. Take THAT Family court!

Believe it or not, I do have SOME moral standards, so all things divorce related will be omitted. I know, that sucks because let me tell you... I have some doozies. But it is what it is. Also, all of this has taught me one very important message... Should have NEVER told any of my friends or family that I was blogging. I have so much shit to talk! I mean really. I'm considering putting out an anonymous book. Like in that anti-racism movie 'The Help' and just let all the bitches of this town stew on it and speculate who is whom. I'll get back to you on that.

I also wish to take a moment to thank Jesus for spell check. I just tried unsuccessfully to type out anonymous four fucking times and it still was all underlined in red because I can't fucking spell!

Back on topic... yes, I'm in the process of getting divorced. Yes, it sucks. Know what sucks more? MOVING! Ya... that just happened. I totally just skimmed over all the "My marriage failed" woes are me ... in lue of some serious bitching.

So, I got this new apartment. It's pretty bad ass. Well, in the sense that I dont have to mow the fucking grass and my girl Jamie (See Midget Dance Off) lives a few doors down. The down side? It's in a new town, meaning that my kids are switching schools. Okay, not new... more my neck of the woods. The town I had lived in, I married into. No thanks on seeing THAT every damn day the rest of my life. The kids are pretty geeked, but nervous as you could imagine. The other downside is that it's only a three bedroom. This problem is easily rectifiable by finishing the basement, therefore turning it into one major badass mancave/bedroom for the oldest spawn. The problem with that is that I, apparently have some dumb as fuck superwoman complex. This causes me to think that I can do all kinds of shit that I actually cannot. Like oh.. say, seal and paint a fucking basement. Epic. Fail.

Also on my list of shit I thought I could do but can't

- hanging curtains without putting many, many holes in the fucking wall.

- hanging mirrors with 'mirror tape' and expecting them to NOT fall the fuck down, in the middle of the fucking night, during my first fucking night in said apartment.

- lift and/or carry ANYTHING

- put together a goddamn thing without blood oozing from at least one orifice

Like I said, it is what it is. I'm currently all moved in, and getting to know my new place intimately. Know who else is getting to know it intimately? My ten year old kid. Who, by the way I walked in on during 'special time' today. In MY room. Oh. My. Fucking. GOD!

I cannot go any further with that, as the vomiting is just really bad for my laptop. Really.

So ya, in other news... ever want to know who your TRUE friends are? Move! A u-haul full of shit will weed them out quick as fuck! I thought I had it all planned out. My (ex)husband and his father loaded up an entire fucking house full of shit into the u-haul. All I had to do was come up with the man power to unload/assemble it. Oh, and drive the fucking thing. (I paid the extra $27 for the insurance because that shit's HUGE) All that sounds simple right? WRONG!

Let me explain.. first, I had many, many friends of the muscle variety offer to be a nice guy and help me move. While I appreciated that, I said no because divorce or no, having guys moving my couch would have just been an asshole thing to do in front of the ex. *I told you I had some morals* So I instead relied on mostly family, girl friends and their boys, and a few close guys. It was all fine and well until the u-haul was literally full of shit and everyone fucking bailed! Well, mostly everyone. I sent Jamie a message something akin to...

 "Oh my fucking god, Im going to slit my fucking wrists. Everybody fucking canceled on me"

To which she replied something like... "Fuck that. We'll do it our damn selves... just let me put on a bra"

Jamie, if you're reading this, I owe you my next born child. Or, I'll take yours. Whichever you feel is the fair way to play this. And, thanks for blowing your boyfriend, so he'd help. Seriously, please tell Mitch I said thanks, and I hope it was good for him!

I'll fast forward, and with a little extra tiger strength on my side, for which I'll be forever grateful, it all got done.

This is getting lengthy, and I'm getting tired. I'm going to part two, or three this one. Please tune in next week. (I actually have no fucking idea when I'll post the next part... it might be tomorrow for all I know)

**Still to come...

-My kids are assholes

-Install the fucking cable already

-The nice neighbor who doesnt shut the fuck up

-My kids are still assholes, where is the fucking cable man?

I didn't die!

Nope, not dead... just getting divorced. Dun dun dunnnnn..... Please, bear with me during this transition. Awful, hilarity type shit is ensuing, I just haven't had time to blog a damn thing. Or, make a new header. It'll be just like the old one, except with 'Wife' crossed out. I've got some major material stored up for ya'll.

In the mean time, please... send me any and all funny shit you can about divorce and/or moving. And do not, I repeat do NOT send me one single fucking 'I'm so sorry' message. Real Talk.

The Beer Has Gone Bad

That title heading has nothing to with anything. It just popped in my head and I made an executive decision. It's my blog. I can do that kind of shit. It's a line from one of my fav movies Can't Hardly Wait. Look it up. I can recited quotes from it all day. "Amanduuuuuuh"! 

Anyway... it's been a hot minute because well, shit has kind of sucked. I'll spare you the sob story and just say that my life is going through some changes right now. Also, a week with no power during a heat wave sucks tiger balls. Why tiger balls? IDK. I should probably go with elephant balls. Ya, that's more like it. Having no power for a week in 107 degree heat sucks giant, droopy wrinkled, dusty elephant balls. Also, I've just decided that I'm going to attempt to set a new record for the number of times that I can say 'balls' in one blog posting. Wish me luck. 

This post really has no rhyme or rhythm to it. The shit that's gone down for me over the past week is not funny. It's tragic really. Or, could get my ass fired for posting publicly. Or, could implicate me in a court of law. Because I neither wish to be unemployed, or locked up, I'll have to omit most of it all. Balls. (You see what I did there?) My fourth of July also sucked random amazon balls. Ever accidentally sat down on a stinging ant hill? While wearing shorts? Ever applied cortizone cream to your lady bits? I can now say that I have. Do ants have balls? So yeah, not a fun night. However, I did go see Magic Mike. It. Was. Awesome! Ladies, if you desire to go see this movie, please.. do so! Also, take an extra pair of panties. Trust me. Also, sneak some alcohol into the theater. I did. 

Tiny bottles of Hypnotic = Big fun!

Kind of off subject, (Not that I had one to begin with. Balls) but if you're reading this, you should go like the facebook page. I'm looking for an admin. Somebody to post random, funny shit from time to time when I'm kept away or oh... say, have NO FUCKING POWER for a week straight! If you're interested, that'd be amazeballs. (Extra points for making up ball related words). Let me know. Or not. It's kind of whatever. 

What a cute baby you have...

This is just a short story, which stems of from my previous posting about midgets. Cutting to the chase... One time, I was driving to the hospital for clinicals or something. My route took me through down-town. Even a small town brings out their A game down-town. As I'm driving, something catches my eye out to my left. At first glance, it appears to be a mother, pushing her child in a stroller. This caught my attention for two reasons - 1. It's fucking down-town Lima, Ohio. Not exactly the place for a leisurely stroll. 2. I'm a woman, and love the chance to oogle other peoples children. Or, judge them and make myself feel better by comparison. Usually the later.

Upon closer inspection, I realized that my first assessment was in fact, very wrong. I was now openly gawking at was in fact NOT a mother pushing her child, but actually a middle aged woman, pushing what I can only assume to be her middle-aged midget boyfriend. In an umbrella stroller. In down-town fucking Lima.

I know, I know, I'm an asshole. While I should have felt some sympathy for the man who is unable to ambulate by his own means (his knees are probably all fucked up) I could only instead whip out my phone and try to take a pic before the light turned green. I was unable to get a pic, and will rue the day for all eternity.

HOW can I sleep at night? Vodka. Well, that and the fact that the chick looked like she had been rode hard and put back wet. I didn't get close enough, but I wouldn't have been surprised to have seen visible track marks and/or midget induced hickeys. And homeboy? Being born with a condition does not negate the lifestyle you live. So his outward appearance, and present company checks him off my list of people Im eager to donate my 10yr olds used clothing to. I'm kind of a cold-hearted bitch when a person refuses to help themselves. True, I don't know these people. But based on that, I reserve the right to assign to them any story-line that fits my first impression.

Real Talk.

Sausage Fingers

So, what I WANTED to blog about today was the comical tellings of how my girl, Jamie had a dance-off with a midget the other week, while out for girls night. Unfortunately, several drinks in and my ass lost all ability to capture moments via cell-pic so I really have no proof to back up my claim. What I can tell you is that it was awesome. You know what? Fuck it! It's my blog and I'll cry if I want to.

So, this glorious piece of awesome, Jamie is my dear friend. Yes, I'm using her real name here as I think she'd not only appreciate what I'm about to say, bout would enjoy the claim to fame. You see... Jamie and I are often, one in the same. The kind of crazy, random shit that only happens to me, also happens to her. My favorite quality about Jamie is well, her boobs. After that, comes her off the wall ability to go from normal smiley white girl into homegirl with the snap of a finger. This chick has a potty mouth, a twisted sense of humor and is not afraid to cut a bitch. Yes, she is my soul-mate. IF Ohio ever legalizes same-sex marriage, I've got a ring on stand-by.

Now that the homo-erotic worship is over, let's discuss one of natures greatest anomalies - sausage fingers. I'm talking about midgets, or little people here. I'm all about being PC, but for the purpose of this post, I shall refer to them how ever the fuck I want mmm'kay? So.... It's Saturday night, and I haven't had a night out in EIGHT months! You think perhaps that this could be related to my violent tendencies? IDK. So, Jamie and I get all whored up and set out for what is sure to be a night of toe-blistering good times! We get to a local bar pretty early for the night, but I needed a damn drink and didn't want to wait. Walking in the front door, up toward the doorman   *By doorman, I mean creepy as fuck guy who looked at our ID's WAY too long before sweating all over my hand while writing an 'X' in such a manor that a Parkinson's patient could have done a better job. Seriously, he was like hand fucking me, it was gross. *      As we walk through the doors, I see in front of me, the back of what appears to be a small child, maybe ten yrs old. My first reaction was to get pissed. I'm all 'What the fuck? They let kids in a fucking bar?' Well, said child then turned, and revealed himself to actually be a not-so full grown man. I couldn't even guess how old he was, because it's impossible to tell and ya... I got drunk. Anyway, I live in a small town, so while this isn't front page news, it did catch me and my tipsy mouth a bit off guard. He was sporting a 'Staff' t-shirt. This of course meant nothing to me because douchebags of the world wear those fucking things just to try and look cool. It doesn't work. *You hear that guys? It doesn't fucking work!* As it turns out, he was actually staff. Well, I think so but we'll get to that in a bit.

Fast forward through a few drinks and some random dancing .... So ya know how everybody has their own dance style? Well, Jamie gets a little ghetto. I don't mean like booty bouncing .. Well, okay, I HAVE seen her do that a few times. I just mean she has this way with her hips and hands, I dont even know how to describe it. So in this establishment, there are a few solid pieces of awesome. One, a white guy who looks like Napoleon Dynamite with 40 lbs, who own the dance floor unashamed with his old-school moves. Another, a very large black man aka Papa Bear- who can get down like he's been droppin' it like it's hot all his life. And wi-man. I dont remember how it came to pass, but somehow my friend and I find ourselves on the dance floor with all three of these gems at once. First, wi-man and Papa Bear battle it out. while it was pretty awesome, it was also slightly alarming. Wi-man doesn't blink. In a day of bath-salts, I'm suspicious of anybody who doesn't blink and immediately begin fearing for the safety of Papa Bears face. A circle has formed to watch this David vs. Goliath dance-off. No winner was crowned as you really just can't choose ONE over the other! Losing interest, wi-man turns to Jamie. Never afraid of a battle... she throws down. What makes this funny? The whole fucking time, wi-man is doing that weird crotch-grab thing guys do while NOT blinking, and sizing up Jamies face for supper. Jamie responds with her own. I distinctly remember one hand going up, in a 'give it up to my homies' kind of way, while the other appeared to 'tap' dat ass. Knowing I couldn't hope to hold my own, I stepped back and enjoyed the show. The thing is, I got the distinct feeling that wi-man doesnt bat for our team. He was pretty much eye-level with her crotch, and never batted an eye. That's not a pun about him not blinking, he really just didn't seem to give a shit. Trust me when I say, she's beautiful so clearly, not only is he a non-blinker, midget, but I believe also gay.  **He must have been a puppy kicker in a past life because Karma is laying into his ass!

Eventually, my sides hurt from laughing so hard and we headed back to our table. Maybe a song later, somebody pointed out to me that he was, in fact staff, and was in the process of clearing the empties from our high-top tables. This, must have pulled at Jamies heart strings. She pointed out to me that she ever so kindly had pushed all of the empties toward the end of the table, so he would be able to reach them when he made his rounds our way. (Awwwww)

I'm going to peace out girl-scout at this point, and save my segways for another time. This story leads me to wishing to tell of the midget I saw in the stroller down-town once, My friends little sausage fingers, and all kinds of other random shit. But for now, I have Teen Wolf to watch. 

They Are NOT More Afraid Of ME

Real talk- I have me a serious case of arachnophobia. Serious. Many people call my extreme fear irrational because they're "harmless" and "more afraid of you than you are of them". Well, those people are full of shit, and don't know what the fuck they're talking about! 

First- they most certainly are NOT harmless! They have six fucking eyes, and eight goddamn legs! Not to mention the fangs... FANGS! Do you KNOW how much shit you can fuck up with six eyes, eight legs and two fangs? A LOT! What do you even need eight legs for exactly???

Secondly- they most the hell certainly are not more afraid of me than I am of them! Malarkey. Saying this kind of shit to my face will result in being promptly punched in the throat! Real talk. 

As previously disclosed, I live in the 'country' in Ohio. In my neck of the woods, we see a lot of spiders. The majority of them being an evil creature named the Wolf Spider. Quite aptly named if you ask me. 

Look at this fucker! Just LOOK at him! Does he look 'harmless' or 'afraid' to you? No! He does not!
Did I mention that these suckers can jump? Well, they can, and it's terrifying!

Again, in the country.. we get a shit ton of these. I spray as much as possible, but with our location and having kids in the house, limiting the chemicals I can use... they get by! The good thing is that USUALLY it gets cold enough in our winters to kill them off before they get the size of my hand. The bad news- it did NOT get cold enough to do that this past winter. So, hell on legs are all teenage-mutant-ninja-spider big and extra aggressive this year! Just fucking lovely! 

Now, as I said... I'm scared of spiders. Petrified really. I'm not talking about the daddy-longlegs or anything. I'm talking about that shit up above. Also, if there is a brown recluse, or black widow anywhere in my state, you can bet your ass it will find it's way to my front door. My family all gets a good kick out of my fear. When I scream in absolute terror, instead of asking 'What's Wrong' or doing what a real family should do (SAVE MY FUCKING LIFE) .. They point and laugh as piss runs down my legs. None of them fear spiders, so it would only be so that I am the one to always find them! ALWAYS! Also, my husband is the worlds WORST spider killer! They always get away! To further plot my destruction with their spider friends.. except now, it's personal and they're PISSED! 

Please, enjoy a good laugh at my expense with the following collection of my more awful spider encounters:

Halloween

Several years ago, at halloween time... my kids had the fucking house LITTERED with those god-awful plastic spider rings. They come in orange and black, traditional colors. One morning while getting a kid ready for school, I plopped my ass down to help tie his shoe. Reaching back, I rested my hand on the floor apx. 3 inches from what I THOUGHT was an orange plastic spider ring. That's what I get for thinking. In reality, it was in fact a very real, very almost orange spider *origin unknown* lying in wait for me to drop my guard. Needless to say, there was yelling, screaming, crying and pants pissing. I lied to the elementary school office personnel when I had to explain why my kid was late for school. 

Pick On Someone Your Own Size

I have a dog. Well, dog probably isn't an accurate term. I have what people believe to be a tea-cup Chihuahua She's really just the runt of a litter of normal sized chihuahua's and was in danger of being eaten by the larger dogs in her house, so we took her in. Now, she's in constant danger of being eaten by everything else, including my 3yr old, birds of prey, and fucking spiders. You see, she has Small Man Syndrome. Because she weighs a whopping 2 lbs, she picks fights with absolutely everything smaller than herself. One night, she chose the wrong wolf spider to mess with. It laid the fuck into her, nearly tearing her paw off. It swelled to the point that her skin was nearly splitting. She also went into respiratory distress and was foaming at the mouth. For real. She made a full recovery with pain killers and benadryl, buy now has arthritis and limps on that leg. Tell me again how 'harmless' those creatures of death are! 

The Not So Itsy Bitsy Spider

One day, I was going through old clothes, so I could sort out what needed donated. About half way through the lot, I reached out and came back with a fist full of legs, eyes and fangs! I did what any sane woman does. I screamed "Oh My God!" Please, somebody help me" and other such things of the nature. While standing in the corner of the room, trapped... I heard the laughter start before anybody ever emerged through the doorway. My husband and all the kids responded to my distress call laughing out loud. Despite the fact that even my husband later admitted that it was the largest spider he had ever seen, it didn't stop him from teaching the then 2yr old to sing The Itsy Bitsy Spider in a mocking tone to me. Then, the two year old would say shit to me like "It's just a wittle spider, mama" .... I almost punched my own child. 

I'll Wreck This Fucking Car, I Swear!

Once, while in nursing school, I left the hospital, got in my car, put my keys in the ignition and then pissed all over my scrubs. Security was alerted by the sound of my screams. Literally. You see, the second I put the keys in the ignition, some large as fuck black monstrosity jumped from my steering wheel, onto my fucking face, dragging like 6 strands of webs with it. IT WAS GOING TO TRY TO EAT ME! Security killed the offending creature and sent me on my way, probably questioning if I was in fact, a nursing student or actually an escaped mental patient. 

A few months ago, while driving home, in a different car... I saw something on my black dash move. Yup! Another giant black monstrosity. However, this time, it quickly ducked inside a vent or something. My only options were to keep driving, and pray to the spider gods that it didn't try to pull shit like that one at the hospital, or to wreck my fucking car in an attempt to set it's ass on fire. Alas, being that I had a kid in the car, the second option was eventually vetoed, but only after serious weighing of pro's and con's. 

I Think It Eats Dogs!

One day, home alone with my kids.. I walked through the doorway from my living room to my kitchen. After I had made it about 2 steps into the kitchen, I froze. Realizing something wasn't quite right, I slowly backed my steps up, knowing what I was about to find.... Sure enough, the biggest fucking spider I have ever seen was just chilling on my wall, watching my ass as I walked by, about 3 feet up from the floor. Fearing for their safety, and not wanting to alert it, I quietly ordered my kids to their rooms. Reaching ever so slowly for my phone, I called my husband at work and demanded that he come home NOW! When he giggled and told me that he couldn't leave, I burst into tears, explaining to him how large it was, and how a spider it's size clearly eats dogs. I think it eats dogs! He felt as though I was exaggerating, so I toned it down, still sobbing and explained that it definitely ate stray cats, which is why we never see any around. - Clearly! Still, he would not come to my rescue (Some fucking white knight I have)   At this point, I had no choice- it had to be destroyed NOW, before it could get away and steal off with one of my children in the middle of the night. Fearing it's wrath, or getting too close - I first attempted to incapacitate it via chemical warfare. I emptied two hole bottles of hair spray, half a bottle of bleach bathroom cleaner, and eventually spray glue before I got it slowed down enough for proper squishing. Then, to prove myself sane, I left it's body right the fuck where it was, so that my husband would see how very large it was! Of course, I created the equivalent of a police barrier around it. Still... when he got home- IT WAS GONE! And I haven't had a good nights sleep since. 

Still think my fear is irrational? 

Ode To INK (And Abs)

I do believe I'll begin a 'Shirtless-Friday'

MY FAV!

I could go for a dip right about now..

Don't be shy honey.

I realize, based on his shorts that he probably doesn't bat for my team, but fuck it!

How'd you get so sweaty? Hmmm??

You're right! It does look hot outside.. best to remove your clothes.