mrtl

My Momma is a Whore and I'm Going to Hell with an STD

There's this website that states that in no uncertain terms, "Only whores use frozen orange juice." I don't squeeze fresh oranges, either, and since I have nothing to do with the purchase of the bottled stuff -- my GASP husband GASP does that -- I must be just as much of a whore for it. Besides, I sealed the deal of my whoredom with the other definition of a whore on the site: "Only whores initiate sex."

I'm not going to post a link because this person is deranged and is obviously phishing for hits to her site. I'd much rather link to more amusing sites, like Landover Baptist (check out the happenin' WWJD thong!). I did comment there, though, basking in the glow of my whoredom. Her response (to me and a Christian chick whom I'm proud to say is a fellow whore and friend)? "Those other ladies could learn a bit about honesty from the two of you. However, bragging about your whoredom will not get you into Heaven. I'm sure you know how many whores are beaten by both their pimps and their "johns." And of course STD's are a perk of your work. Don't you care that decent man will ever want you??"

O.M.G. (and that's for Oh Mah Gock, by the way) Not squeezing oranges to make fresh juice for my apparently indecent husband (er, my pimp and "john") is going to get me beaten and give me an STD, too? Egads! Who knew oranges could lead to such mayhem?

Sobered and BC'd

Mister mrtl thinks I should take down my post from last night. He thinks I should be embarrassed by it. Like "What if your kids read this someday?" kind of embarrassed. I see his point, but I'm not embarrassed. Granted, I had a glass of wine too many, but nothing got broken. Besides, I don't make a habit of getting drunk (and wasn't trying last night - damn let down), and I did it in the privacy of my own home. My concern/regret comes from not being fully prepared to handle an emergency. All was well last night, and Jem slept till 3:30 so she didn't get a spiked meal.

So Bug and Jem, if you're reading this: As an adult of legal drinking age, don't drink without suitable and sober backup.

Let's move on, shall we? Today I got Mirena'd. Five years of birth control. After taking the pill for so long -- and luckily not getting pregnant, what with my frtlity and my propensity to forget things like taking a pill every day at the same time, -- it'll be nice to not have to worry or remember.

Oh, but there is some remembering involved. Every month I have to "check for my strings." Imagine the fun we can have with that phrase or suitable spinoffs! (e.g., "Hey baby, wanna check for my strings?")

Mister mrtl, if the kids read this one, chances are good that they won't be reading anymore.

I'm drunk, and right now I'm so annoyed with you

Of all the things I'd like to accomplish tonight with the cleaners coming tomorrow and all, and considering Jem's tendancy to screech and the need to triage my priorities, I settled on two Must Do's: pump and shower. I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow, you see, and I'd really rather not take Jem to it. Mister mrtl will be home tomorrow. Sleeping, but here. So tonight I planned to pump so I could leave her to hopefully cuddle with him in bed and sleep with him.

After finally getting her settled in bed (and hopefully to sleep until 4:30 like she did last night), I had a glass of wine to relax myself to get pumpin'. Well, what do you know. One glass didn't work, so I poured a second. We all know what ONE glass of wine does to me (see my last post if you don't). So now not only am I fucking drunk, but I've got the munchies and am working on a roll of Ritz crackers (to go with my string cheese since I don't have any port wine cheese and Club crackers damnit), which I will surely finish, which makes me feel so bad about my bwopping because I've already been bad today, what with the

::tangent for a taste of Heaven::
Today I took my girls to Fred Meyer. The last time we went, Bug bugged me about wanting to go into the playground,

::tangent within a tangent to describe::
Fred Meyer has "Freddy's Playland," where they offer an hour's worth of free care while parents are a-shoppin'. I need to ask another mom of a kid Bug's age to join me sometime for coffee to take advantage of this. It was wonderful.
::end tangent within a tangent to describe::

and even though we were only there for a couple things, I caved and signed her in before I went to the register. When I went back a few minutes later, she pretty much told me to go away. ("I'm not ready to come out!") She was having too much fun. So like any accommodating/enabling Momma, I took the opportunity to take myself straight....

::tangent within a tangent within a tangent because I want to::
Just mentioning that the second glass is now hitting me, and it took me fucking forever to write this because even though I'm drunk I'm still too fucking anal about my spelling and grammar to ignore the typos.
::end tangent within a tangent within a tangent because I want to::

...to the in-store Starbucks for a caramel latte and some milk chocolate covered graham crackers. O.M.G. those graham crackers. I could live off of them, you know. Fuck nutrition. I love them.

::tangent within a tangent within a tangent because... I'm confused::
I'm confused now. Where the fuck was I? I'm so drunk. This is pathetic.
::end tangent within a tangent within a tangent because... I'm confused::

::end tangent for a taste of Heaven::

Later I bribed Bug to take Daddy dinner (since he didn't have time to pack it) with strawberry ice cream, which of course I helped her eat.

I'm not on a diet. I'm not on a diet. I'm NOT on a diet. Even though I signed up to be on the Debu_team today, I'm not on a diet. I'm taking advantage of breastfeeding to lose my baby weight, is all.

Why settle for great lashes when you could be fabulash? I want to be fabulash. I need to trash all my makeup, though, because the media has told me all my shit is old. Oh shit. I'm so drunk. WTF am I talking about now? And I'm almost finished with the roll of Ritz. And I can't stop laughing. Goodness me. Dios mio.

That should have been a tangent, but now I'm too drunk/lazy to make it one. Give me another Ritz. (3/4 through the roll now). I should be pumping but I can't stop my fingers from typing this ridiculous shit. I do hope you're amused; I'm certainly amusing myself. And may I also say I'm totally impressing myself because I'm taking the 6 out of myself and the r out of because and correcting all my typos even though I am fucking up every word.

For the sake of amusing my readers, I will not correct anythig more. I'll let you sete just how crappily I type whn I'm working on two glasses of wine. Shit. Now aI'm typing more slowly twso I do'nt mess up. And it's making me laugh so hard. I feel like Charlie in Glowers for Algernon. bug but I'm not retrted. I'm trying to shard not to spit 9ut my ritz now. sheeeeit. i hope yo're as amuse as i am that i'm not correcting my typing.

i otold mr mistrl that i would be posting soon. he's wrking a wswing tonight. lol i should be pumping. ew the ritz are lik paste in my mouth an i can't stop laughing i am going to wake the girls. I need to get in control of myself. Look at how my concentration affects my typing. I'mtotaly caoncentrated now -- now I 'm not I'm laughing again and at hw I screwe that up. enough already I need to ftgo take a shower. and try to upump somwe smore. Smore - chocolate mmmmmmmm... Stacye? are you evenr going to post again? I's been so long!

::tangent for PSA::
Talk to your doctor about PHV. It can lead to ceerviacal cancrrer. It almost edid for me. Really.
::tan end tangent for PSA::

I kdon't like editing my jo NOT enditing myself. Gah!
::end tangent for PSA::

The End.\

::end tangent for `racker note::
I'm sipitting out my titz now - hee titz 0-- i i have gou t four cracker left in my roll. good thing ai don't have the bo x here to look at the ==nose eitch-- health contoent of the crakers because i'd totallhy be freaking out now becuae u i burned 100 no 10 no guck you hands 200 calories last ngight on my ddrDDR. hahahahahahahhaa i'm going to wak e th e girls with my alaughing. I hope my moherther's not reading this my cheeck itches now i can't belivee i'm such a lightweight.
end tangetn:: end tangent ofr cracker note - shit i'm laughing to hard now""

I think i'll go take a shower now. I ope I don't drown. ti I think I oewe mister mrtl a dollar for togay because i'm not going to dance otnnight. I feel guliltiny about working tonihtght with my current state. Sheeeeeeit.

My mothuth ois psasty wiht ritz.

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p.s. to mister mrtl i totally smell the cat shit please clean out the little littler litter when you get home bacbecuause it emsmalsmells =-= luaghing so ghard -- liek shit as well it should but i't's making em \\skcik ti you. yo.

====

uopgdate: i have now finished the roll of tiritz -- heheh titxz -- and i really don't liek commandr in chand chiefl.

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i still haven't let down. wtf?

A Challenge to Yonder Bloggers

Next time I meet up with one of yous, you have to get me to a club so I can show off my mad DDR dancing skills. I'd totally do it on a bet, especially if I have had a teeth-numbing glass of wine (this girl can't hold her liquor, you know).

mwahahahahahahaha! It's so much worse than the thumb dance I do. Yes, mister mrtl, it is.

Bwopping, Week 3 Report

Blogging has taken a backseat to life... Potty training is time-consuming, y'all! And I thought having a second child brought more laundry. Shhheeeee-it. I'm doing it every day now. Laundry, that is -- lots of dirty big girl underwear. Not it. But gah! I'm not even getting into that. Because today? Shhheeeee-it. No. Not blogging that. Nevermind. Don't mind me. Move along now. I can't believe I'm actually considering blogging about it. Because really? It blew my mind. And ha! I bet you think you know what I'm talking about, but you don't. You really don't. Walk away, mrtl. Walk. away.

What's this post about anyway? Oh, yeah. Bwopping. Pshaw. I'm surprised that I lost anything this week besides my resolve, but I did. A whole pound. 145.5. Money? Hmmmm... Well, I didn't track that very well, and I did a lot of housework this past week, moving a queen-sized bed and heavy bookshelves by myself (except for the mattress), readying for a visit from Bug's home care provider from Texas in a couple weeks. But I digress. I'm going to call a half and round up: $4.

I didn't bother to keep track of all the things I fantasized about eating this week. My magic pink jelly bracelet kept me from going completely bonkers. I finished off the orange/choco chip sherbet this week and had a monster chocolate cookie with peanut butter chips from Carr's (Safeway). There was an all-fried greasefest of a fishy dish for Fry Day (which of course included fries, and a side of mister mrtl's soda IN MY LAP courtesy of the waitress).

I'd write more, but I must go and tend to a screeching baby.

Tara

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Update: "Ta-ra" is an English farewell. See A Dictionary of Slang -- and I found the word of the day!

TAGNUTS - Noun. Faecal remnants that adhere to anal hairs.

(Deb's going to shoot me.) Your assignment for today is to use the word of the day at least once in conversation. Feel free to comment here letting us know how you incorporated it into your day.

Insert Coin Here

I noticed the following during Bug's fun with dominos tonight.

(No, she's not quite potty trained yet, but she's doing really well.)

A Stolen Moment

Morning free time just doesn't exist here. For some reason, Bug's still asleep. I tried to wake her almost an hour ago, but she was sleeping too hard. I left her door open, but still she doesn't make a peep. No big deal. I'm relishing the moment, wishing I had some good coffee to sip while I relax with the cat lodged firmly against me, keeping my butt warm. I may have to settle for a Folgers bag, but I bet the second I get up to go downstairs, Bug shall appear with all her 2 1/2-year-old exuberance.

I think I'll take my chances.

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Update: She emerged from her Moose cocoon as I walked back upstairs. Very well-rested, happy, mellow.

Bwopping, Week 2 Report

Eating this week was still pretty good, although I am a little aghast in looking at my Magic Pink Jelly Bracelet Update; I didn't do as well as I thought, having a dessert item almost every night this week. And I did have a bacon cheeseburger and a few of Bug's fries at dinner Friday night. It's a good thing I kicked up the activity a notch, but still, this is something that I'll have to work on next week.

There was a lot of progress on the exercise front. First, I got DDRMax2 and a dance pad. I have a feeling this $50 investment is going to repay itself over and over. I'm already addicted, and maybe I'll learn some coordination yet. Second, after griping about the gym thing to one of Bug's teachers, she told me the gym over on Fort Rich (the neighboring Army base) doesn't have a problem with carseats near machines. She's even seen strollers sitting next to machines with bigger kids in them. It's good to know that, should I need a break from DDR, the gym option is open again.

The Magic Pink Jelly Bracelet Update

My magic jelly bracelet protected me from the following this week:
~Bean burrito at Taco Bell
~McDonald's French fries
~Godiva white chocolate bar
~Easter candy
~Ice cream with strawberries, bananas, honey, chocolate and Digestives
~Coffee and donut
~An excessive amount of salt and vinegar chips
~Banana bread

My magic jelly bracelet did not protect me from the following this week:
~Strawberry shortcake
~Shortcake
~Ice cream with strawberries, bananas, honey, chocolate, a Digestive and Cool Whip (low-fat ice cream, at least) -- I give myself a pass for this. It was a tribute.
~Chocolate and peanut butter milkshake
~Chocolate chip mint ice cream with a Digestive (low-fat ice cream, at least)
~Orange sherbet with choco chips (it came this way - I didn't add them)

Despite all the crap I did end up eating this week, I still managed to lose 1.5 pounds. I'm at 146.5 now. But, hey! I haven't pooped yet. hee! I skipped activity a couple times, so I owe mister mrtl $2.

See my progress here.

An Examination of Religion, Part IV

Part I | Part II | Part III

Alternate Titles:
Anger
Shaken, but Not Stirred

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God,

You're an asshole.

mrtl

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I just reread my An Examination of Religion, Part III post, wherein I first erupted with such blasphemous talk, and realize that I was wrong. Not wrong about God being an asshole, mind you. I was spot on with that. The whole fate thing, though? About how it's a way for me to not be pissed? About how it gives me peace when horrible things happen to people? Bullshit.

Maybe that's true when there's no personal connection. Maybe not. Maybe I haven't truly been tested since I adopted this philosophy. Whatever the case may be, I'm not willing to blindly accept Nikki's death as how things had to be. It shouldn't have happened. It's not fucking fair. She was good people. She went out of her way to reach out to others, to be a cheerleader, to spread sunshine, even when her own heart was broken, when it would have been totally understandable -- expected even -- for her to spend her time wallowing in her sadness.

That's what gets me the most. I can't help but think that if something happened to mister mrtl, to one of my girls, I'd be so withdrawn in my grief that the last thing I'd be able to do is focus my empathy elsewhere. Sure, one can hide plenty behind a keyboard, but I never once sensed an underlying sadness with Nikki, so big was her heart that there was plenty to spread, so strong was her ability to reach through the monitor and hug the hell out of you.

::tangent to breathe and maybe smile::
Hug the hell out of you. That makes me think of Susie and her "The Jesus in Me Loves the Hell Out of You." (Where's the t-shirt?) By the way, Jesus isn't an asshole, but I still don't believe he should be wearing tighty whiteys.
::end tangent to breathe and maybe smile::

Where do I go from here? My personal philosophy has been blown apart. I feel lost, faithless. I need to resolve -- or at least comfort -- the conflicting thoughts, to relieve the anger and the sadness that has me so wrapped up that I find myself tearing up at random moments.

What would help here? Maybe if something good comes of Nikki's death. It wouldn't totally rectify the loss, but it would offer some degree of peace. Then again, I don't like having a contingency that rests on fate or circumstance itself. I must be proactive. Something good must come of this. Her memory must be honored.

My head is about to explode here. I'm not finished, but I need to take a break and chew on this for a while.

Silence

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