Wanted: My Brain.

If you happen to see my brain around could you please send it home straightaway? Thanks, oh, and tell it to bring some milk. We're all out.

I have been having one of those weeks, and it's only Tuesday. We are in the middle of a typical Alaskan summer. Which means 20 hours of sun...but without the sun. Also, rain. It has me all fucked up yall. I can't even write funny things, or meaningful things or real things that maybe you'll care about.

I could bring up the Rep. Weiner thing, and how I bet the guys at Fox News and MSNBC are just having a field day with coming up with titles for all the stories this guy is creating. I'm sure that's being done all over the place, right? Sure.

I have a song stuck in my head, I have no clue what the words are...I'm just mumbling them and humming and also whistling (sorry Lord). I wonder if Shazam works like that, maybe I can just hit the SHAZAM button and hum it and then it can tell me what the song is. Please hold...

Nope. Now I look like an idiot because I'm humming and whistling into my phone.

Dear Shazam, please make it so I can hum into the phone and then tell me the song. Thanks.

See what happend all up there? That's what an email typically looks like from me, if you haven't had the pleasure of corresponding with me yet. I just write things, usually just one sentence, press enter and then BAM, new topic. Now you know.

Sometimes I don't have much to say.

Surprising, I know.

200 Things...Just Kidding

This is my 200th post. Should I do something special? Hmm....good question.

I could list 200 things lists..lists. Like, 200 Things I Do Before Bed, 200 Things That I Have In My Shower, 200 Things I Can Reach From Where I'm Sitting...200 Things I Ate For Breakfast.

I could do that...or I could just do the same old, same old.

I got nothin. I could blog about what everyone else is blogging about, "Who the fuck is Arcade Fire?". But, I wouldn't do that to you my friends. Mainly because I don't really know who they are, only that they did the song for the Where The Wild Things Are trailer (only because Stephanie told me, thanks friend), but I don't really give a shit because that movie is irritating, mainly because that kid is an asshole. Shannon hates it because that one guy has a...ahem...booger hanging out of his nose the "WHOLE EFFING TIME AND WHY DOESN'T SOMEONE SAY SOMETHING!?".

Ooh, or I could blog about Egypt. I'm pretty sure everyone else has that covered though.

How about this, sometimes when I pull up to stop signs I put my car in park for a reason that I don't even know about. Do you do that? No. Yeah, figures.

I have an urge to go shopping. Probably because I'm broke. I have this irresistible urge to buy boots. Except, unless boots go great with mashed potatoes then I'm not getting them. What's that? They go GREAT with mashed potatoes! Right then, consider those babies purchased. "Momma, this beef is like leather."

Wow. This post has absolutely no flow and no consistent topic.

You're welcome.

Welcome.

According to my traffic source stats I am attracting a lot of readers from this post. I'm not sure why...wait, yes I am.

Because there is a picture of Jason Statham.

And if I have to whore out my blog with pictures of Jason Statham to get more readers that will grow to love me and my hair, then that's what I'll do.

I need more love...and compliments on my hair. I thrive on it.

Also this...

And...a little bit of this.

But only a little bit...it can be overwhelming.

You Know What Causes Weather? Me.

I have reason to believe that inside of my body is some sort of magnet that attracts forces of nature. Or it could be that I am so large and pregnant that I have thrown the earth off of its axis and now I am the center of the universe, yeah that's it.

This morning was calm, a little cold no big deal. Taking Madison to school I decided not to put my coat on because A) it's not windy or that cold and B) I'm a whale and don't need one more layer on. Again, I will mention that it was calm, no wind, not even a hint of wind coming around.

We get out of the car and walk about 5 feet when all of a sudden we are swept up in a wind storm. Snow is flying everywhere and by everywhere I mean that the direction of every flying object was aimed at my face. Madison has her coat over her head screaming for me to guide her. We're lucky we weren't run over by an SUV or that a house didn't fall on our heads. Now, this is how I know that it's me, that I am the reason for this freak of nature weather. (Well, this and I just know that everything is about me, so there.) We get within one foot of the door to the school and it stops. The wind just stops. Fine, mother nature, good morning to you too.

I get her into school, to her class and I'm looking outside through the windows and it's still calm. Cool. I walk out of the door and I shit you not I am 5 feet outside and the wind picks up again. Practically pushing me down the sidewalk toward the car. Now I'm getting pissed. I get to the car after walking safely to and from the school, being bullied by the wind and I lift my foot to step into the vehicle and down I go. I happen to have stepped on the one patch of black ice in the whole parking lot. I'm sorry to all of the parents and children who had to witness this maniac screaming and cussing while trying to climb into her car.

Watch out world, tomorrow I'm going to dress in full winter gear. Get ready for a heatwave.

Marie Callender, You Heartless Bitch

I don't cry much. I might whine and bitch a whole lot, but seldom do I cry over things. My best friend of 12 years can cry at the drop of a hat, she knows it so I'm not saying anything hurtful here. It would come in handy when her dad would say she couldn't do something. She could turn on those waterworks faster than I could shrug my shoulders (my general response to anything) and he would change his mind. I guess it was a survival instinct for her, she grew up knowing that this thing worked for her so she had to employ it. I mean, if we couldn't go hang out at the bowling alley our lives were o-v-e-r, over. For serious ya'll.

That being said, there is something that can make me cry every time.

Food.

Does it to me every time. For instance, a while back momma made beef tips and rice for dinner and I was over along with some other family members. Well, while I was helping to get the table set everyone was making their plates and I walked into the kitchen to find that the rice was gone. They had taken all of the rice. Now, how the hell do you eat beef tips and rice, with no rice? Momma, seeing the panic on my face and tear about to fall, yells "Don't cry! I'm making more rice!" Too late, already crying.

While on vacation we went to a Marie Callender's restaurant. You know her right, she makes the bomb ass chicken pot pies. So, we all sit down and of course I know that I want a chicken pot pie, so that's what I order. The waiter comes back a short time later to tell me that they are out of chicken pot pie's. Out. Gone. No more. What? This is a Marie Callender's RESTAURANT right? You're not microwaving frozen pot pies back there are you? No ma'am. See, at Ms. Callender's restaurants they only make a certain amount of pies per day and when they are gone, they are gone. Momma sees my panic, it's too late. Sobbing.

Last weekend I sat in the chair by the window crying. Joe asked "What's the matter?", to which I replied "I don't know what to have for breakfast!"

These are only three stories out of a lifetime of food ordeals, there have been plenty more. I can't explain why food is my crying trigger but it is and by God if I order something and you bring it to me wrong or tell me that your out, well, you better have your method of self defense already picked out....and kleenex.

Also, Madison cried yesterday when what she wanted for breakfast was french toast sticks but we were out. Let's face it, I gave birth to myself.

Great Balls of Fire

If you had a super power what would it be? I cannot count how many times I have been asked that in my life. Why do people always ask that? It's like asking, "For a million dollars would you eat that turd?". Well, do you have a million dollars to give me? So, if I say I want to fly will you be able to grant me that power?

Didn't think so.

I never had an answer to this question that I was happy with. I hate heights and I'm a klutz, why would I trust myself as a human dart? There's super strength I guess, but that never really satisfied me. Invisibility would be cool I guess, I could hang out and listen in on people or hide from bad guys. Laser vision, what would I do with that? Sometimes I would answer that I would like super speed because I'm super impatient and would just like to get to wherever the hell I was going but then again, I am trusting myself not to plow through a concrete wall. It would be inevitable.

After a post that I made recently about my pregnancy anger and how things seem to set me ablaze I finally have my super power answer. I would like pyrokinetic abilities.

Yes. This is it. Except it's not so much the setting fire to objects like Drew Barrymore in Firestarter. I would like to burst into flames like Liz Sherman of Hellboy. Compared to all of the other lousy strengths this one seems to be beneficial to me.

Not only will be able to deter villains but I can also light the campfire. Handy. The main purpose I believe that it could serve would be to warn other of my mood. A lot of the times husbands have no clue that their wives are mad, ignoring the slamming of doors and dishes, looking past the items being thrown at their skulls. With this strength there will be no question that shit is about to go down and you, you there, husband with the remote acting like nothing is wrong, you better back the fuck up.