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Hyperbole And A Half - Allie Brosh is awesome, wait, that's not right...she's freaking awesome..nope...oh, she's a mother fucking rock star!

Nailed it.

Go to her blog. Read her things. You won't regret it.

Click on this picture, one of her own drawings. Of herself doing awesome things on the interwebs.

Word of advice. If you do read her blog while at work, either close your door, stifle your laughter or...well, get fired for laughing hysterically and falling over your chair and knocking over your cubicle wall onto Jerry's head and then he's going to sue you for assault because he knows that you really did it on purpose because you don't like him due to his pungent BO, constant nail clipping and habit of chewing with his mouth wide fucking open.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Hey Jerry? How about you not bite that chip in half! Geez. The simplest thing.


No Title Because If I Had to Think of One My Head Would Explode

I have been dealing with this water heater crap for 3 days now and I've had just about enough. Every time I hear the footsteps of one of the many men that have been gracing my door this week I take a beat and prepare myself for the news. News like the following:
  • That one spot of wet on your carpet? That's not all.
  • What I mean by that's not all is, your entire first floor is soaking wet under the carpet.
  • We are ripping up the flooring in the bathroom.
  • We are ripping up the flooring in the hall closet.
  • We ripped up the carpet and removed the pad.
  • Your crawlspace has standing water and you need new insulation.
  • We'll have 10 of these fans on for two days, hearing damage? You should be fine...
  • The fans will heat up the first floor to a chilly 95 degrees.
  • The insulation in your laundry room wall got wet.
  • We need to tear down the wall with the wet insulation.
  • We will need to remove your new water heater and your furnace to do this.
  • You won't have hot water for a few days.
  • You're head is on fire...ma'am? 
This week has been the freaking best. I can't stop smiling from all the good news and excitement. The fans are going and I will have the noise of it in my head for next six years. Oh, and, the dog won't come inside because he's scared of the fans. At first he wouldn't go outside, I finally lured him down there with salmon treats and a new car. He peed for 10 minutes. Now it's raining and he won't come inside. This is fine by me. He knows its raining, he's the one out there, what the hell ever. You know who cares? Madison. And boy does she care. She cares enough to bring it up to me 60 times an hour. Over and over and over and over.  "I think he wants to come in now." "It's raining, we should go and see if he'll come in." "Can we let him in now?" "I'm going to go check on him." "He's been out there a long time."

And, she's watching High School Musical 87.

I now have 4 bald spots and a self-inflicted black eye.

Bocephus is still outside. I know because Madison just went to check.


Who Needs Hot Water Anyway?

On Friday night I was downstairs doing one of the many loads of laundry that are now piled up waiting for me to fold and put away (don't hold your breath, laundry) and I noticed a spot of wet carpet. Not unusual considering I have a 100lb dog, a 7 month old, a 6 year old and I live in Alaska. So I did what anyone would do, grumbled and stepped over it, then on the way back I forgot to step over it and got my sock wet. Then I threw the laundry basket against the wall because a wet fucking sock is the worst.

I wasn't home over the weekend and when I returned the spot of wet carpet was now a continent of wet carpet. So, I did what anyone else would do, I stepped over it while carrying a baby, two bags, tripping over a dog and telling a kid to brush her teeth and get ready for bed, but she hadn't had dinner yet so she couldn't brush her teeth and that meant that I still had to put the baby to bed and cook dinner. I put Cooper down to bed (amazingly this is the easiest part of my day, everyday) and then walk (i.e. trip over laundry and shoes) out to the kitchen and take in the chaos that is my kitchen counter, the stack of unopened bills on the table, the overflowing clean laundry hamper in the living room, the dog dripping half of the water out of his mouth and onto the floor and the drooling, starving child staring at me wild eyed from the kitchen floor.

Know what I did? Do ya?

I locked myself in the bathroom and sobbed for five minutes. (I did manage to throw some chicken wings at Madison before I retreated, so yes she has been fed.) After my sobbing was done and I was just crying I called my momma. Of course I did.  After she could finally make out that I was saying water, carpet, leak, floor, chicken, dog, bills she let my step-dad know that I had a leak. Now, when that man hears "leak" what he really hears is "the ship is taking on water". They were here in five minutes with pizza and a heavenly glow.
After looking high and low and everywhere in between the origination of the leak was discovered. Water heater. That bitch.

Pizza in oven, Madison still sucking the marrow out of the chicken bones, Momma and Jack waiting to see if I would break down again, I called the Home Warranty company. Luckily they can get someone out in the morning, only that means I have to turn my hot water off until it's fixed. Fun. While on the phone and trying to hold my life together, Madison comes prancing in. With my bra strapped around her chest. Please picture this.

Me, on the phone with someone from who knows where trying to explain to them through a crackling phone line what's wrong with my water heater, my momma and step-dad on the couch ready to tackle me to the ground in case I spontaneously burst into flames and my daughter prancing around with a white push-up bra strapped over an Alaska Aces t-shirt.

You know what that looks like? Awesomeness.



I haven't written in a while, mostly because I didn't want to have to explain why. So, I thought that maybe I could just pick up on a random topic with no explanation, but then that seemed rude.

Last week my Mammaw passed away. She meant the world to us and it has been a rough week. We know that she is no longer in pain and I believe in God and Heaven, so that is where she is and it must be wonderful. I am so luck to have had her for my Mammaw, she taught me so much and is a constant source of reference when I'm faced with questions in raising my kids.

I'm not in a place yet where I can talk much about it, but I just wanted to share what a wonderful, sweet soul she is and that she is missed.

I will now blog about funny stuff and scaring people with fake spiders because that's what she loved.


America's Got...Talent...wait, that's not right.

Madison and I like to watch America's Got Talent. It's a show that we both like and that I can also let her watch. There's not typically much nudity or prostitution. Typically.

We have a game that we play. We play "Call It". If the person gets a little pre-performance interview we call it then, if not, then we wait until they walk onstage and we yell out if that person is going to suck or not. Madison adds a little thumbs up or thumbs down to her holler. She's serious about this game. When she wins she jumps up and yells "Hey-oohhh", watch out she just might junk punch you. Loser.

I have learned the way to pick out who is going to suck. Are they talking about how awesome they are? Do they say that everyone tells them what a great singer or whatever they do they are? Do they say that they are going to be the next "insert famous name here"? Do they walk around like they have a small animal up their ass?

Then they suck. Period. No exceptions. Depending on the person, I sometimes feel bad for them. If they get their bad review and they just bow their head and leave, then that makes me sad. Because, obviously no one was ever honest with them and told them "Hey, you're not that great, how about you do something else". BUT, if they start talking back and getting all bitchy and crazy faced, that's when my sympathy ends. Hey, Sucky McSuckerson, sorry you don't have any friends that respect you enough to be honest but how about you get your huge ass and huge head off the stage and make room for some talent.

Now you see how serious I am about my TV.

They should hand these out to the losers.


Say "Roooooaaaarrrr", oh, and "Cheese".

My driver's license expired. *clears throat* Two months ago. I've put off going to the DMV because I enjoy it so much that I wanted to wait until their busiest day just so I could spend more time there than humanly necessary. I also wanted to be ignored not once but twice by the super helpful employees, thus lengthening my stay at the glorious DMV even longer. And I wanted this one kid to cut in front of me even though I was there like forever before him, and I wanted to pull back from using the eye vision tester thing to realize that the little oil and germ absorbing paper pad had not been changed since 1987, and I wanted to forget my phone so that the only form of entertainment I had was the local paper, the same paper that printed my sons birthday as being 20 days earlier than it really was. GUESS WHAT YA'LL?! I got EXACTLY all of the things that I wanted. Yay me!

After waiting for-literally-ever it was finally my turn! I danced to the counter, did all the do and she sent me over to the photo-taking area. Ha! You forgot about that didn't you? Well. On this particular day I didn't really do myself up, because I wasn't planning on getting my picture taken but then I realized that I would like to have a drink sooner rather than later so I would need a new license...NOW. I sit and wait, obviously forgotten about then finally someone waddles over to snap my mugshot.

Let me just say, I am not exaggerating when I say, this is the worst picture that I have ever seen. Of anything. They basically set you up for failure. The worst lighting possible, blue background to bring out any blue or green in your skin, a flash so bright you feel like you're looking at the sun, and the lady says "1, 2, snaps picture, 3". Bitch.

The screen is set up so that everyone else in the world can see the picture that was just taken of you, and not in regular size. This picture fills up the entire screen. I get around to see the screen just as it turns off but I do see the faces of all of the upstanding citizens around me. Just know this, no one would make eye contact with my pleading eyes.

I look like a monster. A monster. It's terrible. My hair is sticking out everywhere, my eyes are all squinty, my cheeks are the size of softballs, I'm a Shrek shade of green, the small blemish that I have  multiplied into a colony fed by the flash of a camera, oh, and somehow I sprouted horns an extra set of eye teeth and my ears are all pointy and stuff.

I will be getting this re-done. It will be well worth the $20. For now I have to beg  people to trust me when I hand them my ID with my thumb covering the picture.  What's been seen can't be unseen.

Continue Holding

Okay, the new header stays. I'm not so sure about the background theme, I'm a little more simple than this so you may just be seeing a one color background soon. But right now I'm tired of dicking around with it.

I'm also trying to get rid of the ads in between posts but it keeps telling me there is an internal error. Internal error? The Coop would agree, he's been constipated since Monday.


Please Hold

I am messing around with the format and layout of my blog, so please bear with me as I make changes and basically screw with your mind.

You're welcome.


I Wash My Face Like A Monster

Do you ever see those face wash commercials on TV? What am I saying, of course you do, they are on a kajillion times per teen angst television show. Not that you or I watch teen angst television shows, or...err....ugh. Right. Okay, well then. Tastes like teen angst.

Alright, face wash commercials. During the commercial there is always a scene taken from the mirror perspective of a girl with perfect gleaming skin splashing water on her face. Flawlessly. This water was made for this chick's face. It looks so refreshing and clean and it makes you want to jump up right then throwing your Cheeto's into the air and run to the bathroom to wash your face. Wash your hands first or you'll just end up turning your face Cheeto cheese orange. This coming from experience.

Okay, back to that flawless face splashing. Is that what happens when you wash your face? I'm honestly asking because I'm beginning to think that I am some sort of monster incapable of washing my face like a decent member of society. Washing my face generally ends in me being pissed off and crying because I just know that it can't just be me...can it?

Commercial and normal human being face washing technique:

  1. Turn on faucet to receive perfectly warm water.
  2. Gather a small amount of water and then splash it perfectly onto your perfect face.
  3. Place small amount of soap into palms and apply to perfect face.
  4. Again place hands under warm water, rinse off soap.
  5. Gather clean warm water from faucet and splash it perfectly onto your beautifully lathered face.
  6. Soap comes off perfectly, open your eyes and use nearby towel to pat dry your perfect face.
  7. Give one last glance and a perfect smile at the mirror. You are perfect!

Amber or "monster" face washing technique:

  1. Turn on faucet for warm water.
  2. Put hand into water and recoil because it is freezing, turn the hot knob more to make it warm.
  3. Put hand into water again, it's room temperature at best but it'll do.
  4. Splash water onto your face and the wall behind you, all the while water is running down your arms and onto the counter where the plugged in curling iron is. Yank electrical cord out of wall to reduce risk of electric shock.
  5. Squeeze small amount of, oh wait, the fucking top came off, try to scrape soap back into container, fail miserably and end up just dripping it into the sink wasting the liquid gold.
  6. Apply soap to face.
  7. Reach into the sink to rinse off sudsy hands, recoil because the water is a tepid 200 degrees, add more cold, add more fucking cold, why is it still hot! My hands are on fire! OWWW!
  8. Finally warm water! Splash water onto face and wall behind you, water and soap are dripping down your arms onto the counter, the floor, your shirt, pants, etc. 
  9. Grab blindly for a towel, knock half of the shit that's on your counter off, including the curling iron, which thank God you unplugged because now it's in the toilet along with your toothbrush and your new MAC kabuki brush.
  10. Find a towel and pat dry your face, open eyes and OW! OW! OW! OW! OOHH!! OW! MOTHERFUCKERFUCKINGSOAPINMYDAMNEYES! SONOFABITCH! 
  11. Desperately turn on water to rinse your eyes out, without testing water first, splash 1000 degree water into your eyes, add cold and instantly splash crushed ice into your eyes.
  12. Blindly use shower curtain to dry your face, hands, arms, torso and feet.
  13. Peer through one swollen eye into the mirror, barely make out your stooped shape through the water and soap that is on the mirror. Here's looking at you kid, wink. Be careful when you leave the bathroom, don't slip on that pond you created.

Is that how it's supposed to be because that right there is my typical morning AND evening.


I Don't Have An Answer For You Right Now...Maybe Tomorrow.

I hate to argue. It's not that I hate the actual arguing or the need for arguing or whatever. I'm just not always good at it...while it's happening. Some people are great arguers, they have all of their facts and points to get across. They have prepared sides and research and a fancy pen to click in the air. Me? I have nothin'. I can't even raise one eyebrow, the more I think about it the more I feel like this is my main problem...If I could just raise one eyebrow I wouldn't have to talk at all, my eyebrow would say it all. You lazy effing eyebrow. Get a job.

I've veered I see. Okay, let me regain control of this post. Got it.

This is usually what happens:

Arguing with me person starts to argue. Then I start to argue back. I'm holding my ground, using hand and arm flailing where necessary hoping it distracts from my lack of individual eyebrow movement ability. I'm bringing up points and things sometimes. Arguing person decides to get all crafty and asks me a question about topic being argued. My eye twitches. Oh yeah EYE, you can effing move on your own but you can't get your brow friend to muster up a little movement? Fucking worthless. And that's it. I typically just stand very still and hope that the arguing person forgets I'm there and just makes a sandwich and walks away. Or sometimes I will just walk away.

But that's not all. A day later, sometimes two days later, it will come to me! The clincher! The point to end all points, the answer to the question, the statement that would bring the hammer down on the fool that even thought they could argue with me about something so stupid and trivial. They are the stupid ones...wait..what day is it? That's right, it's two days later. Now I have to ask myself. Do I, a) Call arguing ass and say "Hey, remember the other day when you asked me _____? Well...AWESOME REBUTTAL HERE!", b) Call arguing ass and try to sneakily instigate another argument so I can insert my AWESOME REBUTTAL a little more casually, you know, like I hadn't been practicing in front of every available reflective space. (Sorry guy with the huge sunglasses on at the park. Cute dog by the way.) or c) lose. Well, I don't ever lose so...I go with A! I call and say "Hey, remember yada yada yada..." and they say "No"...and I say "eye twitch".

Also, I would like to say that I am sorry that I didn't give an actual argument example. I couldn't remember an exact one to share, maybe tomorrow I will, but then you won't remember and insert eye twitch.