I often write my thoughts down everywhere because more often than not I really annoy myself but sometimes I think I am funny and laugh. Here's one I wrote and I know It will offend people but this is when I will grab my right boob and say, former milk bag, I don't care!
preach- You pray to Jesus, I'll keep my plastic unicorn. We both love the mythical stuff but mine doesn't drive me to babble or foam at the mouth preaching it.... unless it's a baby unicorn then I flip the fuck out because come on, those are so adorbs! Baby Jesus, in my opinion, was so average looking. Speaking of average looking... who's the old ball and chain, in the manger with "Virgin" Mary? The one wearing a headband over a sheet. They look pretty tight and Joe's adoring that average looking baby just as much as her. I can see that hipster's thought bubbles, it says {"wtf is that smell and why are we outside with the animals? Lordy, I drank way too much red wine when I should be out looking for a better job. My own kid is born in a manger :(... wait, isnt this super creepy that all the animals are just staring at us like this? Jesus, it's cold as fuck out and he has no clothes on laying in hay! Did I just say Jesus? We should totally call him Jesus, that sounds pimp."}
Here's Mary's thought bubbles {"my peepeeth hurteths. Toucheth thy vaginath again & Joseph shall be shanketh"}
It's a good thing I am a leaver loner (hence the whole "typing in MY blog than chanting this on the television" to millions of folks) You make fun of sign language, I make fun of you praying & talking to air. Praying to the air asking for stuff feels really, really, odd. I do it once in awhile because it's hilarious to feel so "off" but I understand the feeling. It's the power of funny. "Jesus, dont let me kill my child" and what do you know? My child is a living, thriving, yappy ball of 'tude. She cant thank Jesus for that! She can thank me for tuning everything out and going to my little "off, talking to the air" land to distract me from strangling her.
Raised Catholic, these are my thoughts and I am allowed to have them. Everyone is allowed to believe in whatever we want. I promise I will never preach to you about my silly gnomes, unicorns and mother earth again, as long as you shut the fuck up about your silly beliefs to me. I'm super content believing in my own fun stuff, by myself... shouldn't Christians be?
Cable TV is a big ruiner
Oh dear God.
I've never watched "To Catch a Predator" before until last night. I was always told to avoid it. Why did I watch it? I watched it. omg the horror. This world is fucked. There were so many pervs caught in ONE episode. Sooo many!!! One, 1, after 0 but before 2, numero uno, episode. I cant even say episodes because that is plural, this is singular. ONE EPISODE.
They're barely charged with anything. All they got was getting arrested, jail, faced a judge, hopefully lost their wives, kids and jobs, paid fines, registered as sex offenders then patted on the butt and let go.
Umm, big problem here. They're still breathing.
Those growdy bastards were all heading over there to tear up and go to town with that little, innocent, virginal girl who just loves her computer, sweet tea and laundry.
My10 65 year old daughter, Anyaxxx Louisa Jo Brown of Scarborough, North Dakota, will never be allowed to touch a laundry basket again, computers are the devil and she'll be forced fed with grains like cattle or geese to keep her greasy and fat. I'll make her so fat her innocent arms cant reach the keyboard.
How in the hell is that man, Chris Hansen, so calm? Forget those soft cops waiting outside. Someone needs to replace them with a mother like me. A screaming banshee, covered in Vaseline with a gun in one hand, grenade in the other and it's pin in teeth, mother, blasting through those curtains, not even! I'll meet em in the driveway and chew through the car to get at him. Seriously, Chris Hansen's tweed jacket must be acting as a full body transdermal patch loaded with heavy sedatives. How is he not stabbing those pedophiles with a knife/pencil/sharpened fingernail finger/boom mike/shank straight in the face? How does he not at least tremble or foam at the mouth when talking to them. How does he not bite his own tongue off at the thought of what could have happened?
I cant have cable tv. It ruins me.
I've never watched "To Catch a Predator" before until last night. I was always told to avoid it. Why did I watch it? I watched it. omg the horror. This world is fucked. There were so many pervs caught in ONE episode. Sooo many!!! One, 1, after 0 but before 2, numero uno, episode. I cant even say episodes because that is plural, this is singular. ONE EPISODE.
They're barely charged with anything. All they got was getting arrested, jail, faced a judge, hopefully lost their wives, kids and jobs, paid fines, registered as sex offenders then patted on the butt and let go.
Umm, big problem here. They're still breathing.
Those growdy bastards were all heading over there to tear up and go to town with that little, innocent, virginal girl who just loves her computer, sweet tea and laundry.
My
How in the hell is that man, Chris Hansen, so calm? Forget those soft cops waiting outside. Someone needs to replace them with a mother like me. A screaming banshee, covered in Vaseline with a gun in one hand, grenade in the other and it's pin in teeth, mother, blasting through those curtains, not even! I'll meet em in the driveway and chew through the car to get at him. Seriously, Chris Hansen's tweed jacket must be acting as a full body transdermal patch loaded with heavy sedatives. How is he not stabbing those pedophiles with a knife/pencil/sharpened fingernail finger/boom mike/shank straight in the face? How does he not at least tremble or foam at the mouth when talking to them. How does he not bite his own tongue off at the thought of what could have happened?
I cant have cable tv. It ruins me.
not for the weak...
Touch and go with letting Anya remain in the house as my daughter, last night... My sweet little human chick and I were having a funny conversation when all of a sudden, she's twitching a little, face is turning into a green hue, the ground starts rumbling, vomiting, demon man, making the ugliest, cat having a massive hairball, bulging veins in neck, sweat, chunks and other nouns, dripping from nose, type of faces, I have ever seen. I nearly started taking picture because I could not believe the amount of stuff coming out of this obviously, Jaba the Hut squeezed into a 10 year old child's body, body. Even though I didn't take pictures of it, I did stand there helplessly, staring, covering my mouth and point at the poor sight. I thought should I run away? She kept looking up at me with these "help me Mommy" eyes but I couldn't. I was frozen with such surprise that my little princess will never look the same. She's ruined. Thankfully after 20 pound of vomit exited her like a fire hydrant, a shower and good night sleep later she woke up cute again.
It's a good thing I'm not dramatic, huh? She got sick because we ate TOTAL CRAP food for 2 days and after having a meal of fake hotdogs, macaroni salad, guac burgers, and other random objects found around the house, we went out side and there was a stench (later we found it was hefty roadkill on the tree lawn) that glued it's rotten perfumed self to our nose hair to carry around inside our face for awhile. She finally had enough of all this (apparently during our fun conversation) and flipped the internal, gravity off, all systems go, exit switch, and let it frigging loose. again and again and again....
God, I felt bad this morning for almost evicting her last night so I decided to make her a nutritional breakfast of sweet potatoes and strawberry & sprout salad. Bless her sweet heart (and stomach too Jesus, never let that happen again...)
Mommy's just kidding Anya. You can stay with us for as long as you like ♥ We just have to eat better food.
It's a good thing I'm not dramatic, huh? She got sick because we ate TOTAL CRAP food for 2 days and after having a meal of fake hotdogs, macaroni salad, guac burgers, and other random objects found around the house, we went out side and there was a stench (later we found it was hefty roadkill on the tree lawn) that glued it's rotten perfumed self to our nose hair to carry around inside our face for awhile. She finally had enough of all this (apparently during our fun conversation) and flipped the internal, gravity off, all systems go, exit switch, and let it frigging loose. again and again and again....
God, I felt bad this morning for almost evicting her last night so I decided to make her a nutritional breakfast of sweet potatoes and strawberry & sprout salad. Bless her sweet heart (and stomach too Jesus, never let that happen again...)
Mommy's just kidding Anya. You can stay with us for as long as you like ♥ We just have to eat better food.
I couldn't decide if I wanted to post this here or phattymania.blogspot.com/
Quinoa, almonds, currant, coconut, flax fuclusters.
I used the following
1 c. Oats
1/2 c. rye multi grain oats
1/2 c. Quinoa
1/2 c. almonds
1/2 c. dried currants
1/2 c. coconut
some flax and chia seeds
1/2 cup of honey, agave nectar and maple, I poured all 3 till I got a half cup. (NOT A HALF CUP EACH)
3 eggs (whites only)
Combine all the dry ingredients, stir in 1/2 cup of sticky sweet syrups mix well. Beat 3 egg whites to death till foamy, add salt? Up to you. Pour egg white in, mix well. Ice cream scoop balls on wax paper, press to flatten and bake at 350 for 15 minutes.
You will get this...
Quinoa, almonds, currant, coconut, flax fuclusters.
I used the following
1 c. Oats
1/2 c. rye multi grain oats
1/2 c. Quinoa
1/2 c. almonds
1/2 c. dried currants
1/2 c. coconut
some flax and chia seeds
1/2 cup of honey, agave nectar and maple, I poured all 3 till I got a half cup. (NOT A HALF CUP EACH)
3 eggs (whites only)
Combine all the dry ingredients, stir in 1/2 cup of sticky sweet syrups mix well. Beat 3 egg whites to death till foamy, add salt? Up to you. Pour egg white in, mix well. Ice cream scoop balls on wax paper, press to flatten and bake at 350 for 15 minutes.
You will get this...
*Brakes screeching*
No you wont.
ALL LIES!
You will have spent all your time and money into this...
...a bowl of granolayish clusterfuckde cookies.
On the plus side, wax paper resembles coconut.
chew well, I'm not insured.
Population Control # 62,211,054
So, is there a reason why we're not adding a good inch to that platform that raises my bread in toasters? Do the toaster folks get some kind of profit from ambulance rides, burn creams or band-aids?
Every day!!! Drop your bread into the abyss - push the handle to sink the bread deeper in the abyss - wait for bread to startle you when it humps/thrusts itself up from the abyss - watch it collapse back into the bitch abyss.
All those people who ended their lives by stabbing their toasters with butter knives. shame. NOw that I think of it... is it a coincidence that I eat that bible bread? I wonder what Ezekiel 4:9 means?
I stand over the crucifying, hot, full of voltage, metal, hell box armed with a butter knife ofcold candle wax unsalted butter, waiting to pounce on it like a lion to a gnu, yet settled just enough to remind myself to NOT to stab the toast with a knife because then I'll just die and that sucks for my kids.
Population Control #62,211,054 - along with cast iron pans, candles in jars and those biscuits that pop out of a can (I know it will pop but I still have a coronary every time it does)
PS- In case you said "why don't you just buy a toaster OVEN?", under your breath. I shall let you know, I threw out my toaster oven long ago because my hands are not the size of newborns in which that oven was clearly made for.
Every day!!! Drop your bread into the abyss - push the handle to sink the bread deeper in the abyss - wait for bread to startle you when it humps/thrusts itself up from the abyss - watch it collapse back into the bitch abyss.
All those people who ended their lives by stabbing their toasters with butter knives. shame. NOw that I think of it... is it a coincidence that I eat that bible bread? I wonder what Ezekiel 4:9 means?
I stand over the crucifying, hot, full of voltage, metal, hell box armed with a butter knife of
Population Control #62,211,054 - along with cast iron pans, candles in jars and those biscuits that pop out of a can (I know it will pop but I still have a coronary every time it does)
PS- In case you said "why don't you just buy a toaster OVEN?", under your breath. I shall let you know, I threw out my toaster oven long ago because my hands are not the size of newborns in which that oven was clearly made for.
blurpeebubadooGAAunidifit!!
just a warning...
I tried to start a 'quitting cigarettes' journal about how crabby I am and will remain, until I am washed clean and free from crack... I mean, nicotine. It is proving to be a little more difficult than I thought.
I figured, type all the emotions that are running though me, but ended up realizing I'm just slamming the keyboard and pounding it with my fists like a chimpanzee would hoping it would somehow bleed my emotions to the screen. this sucks and this sucks, hairy balls, bad. I hate that I ever allowed something to control me for 22 years. My own mother & husband cant control me so I'm not letting this mother fucker control me anymore.
Easier said than done. I quit a lot of shit in my life time. Jobs, relationships, weed, acid, diets (obviously). This is proving to be the hardest, but it's the last thing I am ever quitting (well I do still have that one 'white elephant in the room' thing but that's more like winning than quitting)! I am smoke free and hopefully tmw I will have better control over my thoughts and words because today it's just all muther shit Beelzebub cock die hate spit flap balls crap fling dammit! *sigh*
I tried to start a 'quitting cigarettes' journal about how crabby I am and will remain, until I am washed clean and free from crack... I mean, nicotine. It is proving to be a little more difficult than I thought.
I figured, type all the emotions that are running though me, but ended up realizing I'm just slamming the keyboard and pounding it with my fists like a chimpanzee would hoping it would somehow bleed my emotions to the screen. this sucks and this sucks, hairy balls, bad. I hate that I ever allowed something to control me for 22 years. My own mother & husband cant control me so I'm not letting this mother fucker control me anymore.
Easier said than done. I quit a lot of shit in my life time. Jobs, relationships, weed, acid, diets (obviously). This is proving to be the hardest, but it's the last thing I am ever quitting (well I do still have that one 'white elephant in the room' thing but that's more like winning than quitting)! I am smoke free and hopefully tmw I will have better control over my thoughts and words because today it's just all muther shit Beelzebub cock die hate spit flap balls crap fling dammit! *sigh*
How hemorrhoids, Pabst Blue Ribbon & Harleys reminds me of my hero.
I could easily talk for days or even weeks about how badass, strong & handsome my Dad was but I only have so much time to spare before I have to run along and do my motherly duties and tuck my kids into bed.
so here's a long, short version...
It's going to be pretty shocking for you to hear this... but I was / still am,(deep breath) a total adhd, wild, tomboy, child, shoulda had a bag of liquid Ritalin implanted, banned from all sweets, red No. 40 dyes & small animals, pees or nearly pees her pants often because way to busy doing 90 thousand other things such as chase squirrels, lick 9 volt batteries and talk directly into fans to hear my mind blowing robot voice, type of girl. I was my father's dream child. I know it.
My parents divorced when I was 5 and when it came time to visitation, I would pack my stuff a month in advance and drive my mother insane daily asking if today the day that my Daddy comes? When the day finally did arrive, I pretty much lived on the front window sill and would dart out the door every time a car came by.
Even the UPS man once led me on when he stopped a couple houses from my house. "Maybe Daddy's in disguise because that's how awesome he is" I thought. After I found out the UPS man wasn't my Dad, I lied and shouted "it's my birthday!" to him, hoping he would have a reserve package in the back for girls like me who lied about their birthdays. Instead the man in brown, just said "happy birthday idiot, now get away from my parcel truck!".
As the day went by, I started getting pretty fatigued from galloping after cars to look in the backseat, in case he was hiding or to see if they would stop near by and pop the trunk to spring my Dad out with millions of balloons holding signs that say "#1 Daughter" so I went in to sulk & fret that maybe my Dad forgot about me...
What is that massive noise, shaking the house? "chopchoppotatopotatopotato chop chop"... wait... Diiiid myy Daaad just arrive in a helicopter??? I jump kick, flip, roundoff, out the door and saw the most majestic thing my little eyes ever did see... I swear the white of my eyes turned black and my jaw dropped to the floor while my body immediately floated 90 feet in the air...
my handsome, wavy haired, hero... was in my driveway, smiling... sitting on a Harley...
My Dad was bungee cording my suitcase to the back of my seat while my Mom was waking up, recovered from her meltdown after breathing in a paper bag. She started borderline making out with me by kissing, crying & hugging me so much. We didn't have any helmets and I had already burnt my calf on the muffler while climbing on, but I could not have been more excited. We only got a couple of miles on the highway before I peed the seat.
3 hours later, we arrived to my Baba and Papa's house in Steubenville and my once shoulder length hair, was now one giant, beaver tailed, dreadlock, sticking straight out from the back of my head. My dried mouth, teeth still baring face, arms and legs are covered in welts from the bugs and/or pebbles landing on me at 65 mph. I returned home a few weeks later, looking like a boy since my hair had to be chopped off but that summer with my Daddy, Baba, Papa & Unka Non, was CHAMP! I was the happiest girl alive.
That winter, during Christmas break, my Dad showed up in his, equipped with seat belts and a hard outer, made of steel, Buick. My Mom was so relieved... up until she helped me put my suitcase in the back seat and empty Pabst Blue Ribbon beer cans fell out. Boy, my Dad just cant win with her, no wonder they got a divorce. I still to this day, remember the sounds those cans made when turning corners. It's so soothing to me.
Lastly, I have an embarrassing story...
(in the voice of Sophia Petrillo) Picture this, Columbus, 1980somethingish, my father's trailer...
It's happened to the best of us, so you cannot deny it. After too much cheese, red no. 40 dye or fast food for the month, I had an upset stomach. After I did my business, I was really hurting and walked out to the living room (aka weight slash trophy room) of my Dad's trailer and told him that my butthole hurt. Sorry, but it did.
My Dad tells me to "use the stuff, in the tube, in the bathroom". So... I found the stuff, in the tube, in the bathroom and used it. I believe the name on the tube was Icey Hot, not the lanolin that he intended for me to use. Anyhoo, I put it on my butthole. Sorry, but I did.
I was just a kid, I didn't know any better! I made a big poop and my hole hurt and I thought my Dad's advice on hero cream for buttholes, was gonna help. I tried to scorn & banish away the hurt by splashing water on it. That made the pain so fucking great that even to this day, in 2011, I still cringe when I hear the words "Icey Hot". I automatically think "oooooh, do not put that stuff on your butthole". This is forever embedded in my brain. Sorry, but I do.
To summarize my long, short version... I miss my father. He still to this day, swells and breaks my heart. I miss every simple & complicated thing about him... He was the greatest man and he loved everybody, but he especially loved me. I'm so privileged to have been his daughter and my memories of our crazy fun time, will never fade. Even the time we hit a rabbit and splattered on the windshield and he said "look... the heart is still beating" while trying to use the windshield wipers.
so here's a long, short version...
It's going to be pretty shocking for you to hear this... but I was / still am,(deep breath) a total adhd, wild, tomboy, child, shoulda had a bag of liquid Ritalin implanted, banned from all sweets, red No. 40 dyes & small animals, pees or nearly pees her pants often because way to busy doing 90 thousand other things such as chase squirrels, lick 9 volt batteries and talk directly into fans to hear my mind blowing robot voice, type of girl. I was my father's dream child. I know it.
Even the UPS man once led me on when he stopped a couple houses from my house. "Maybe Daddy's in disguise because that's how awesome he is" I thought. After I found out the UPS man wasn't my Dad, I lied and shouted "it's my birthday!" to him, hoping he would have a reserve package in the back for girls like me who lied about their birthdays. Instead the man in brown, just said "happy birthday idiot, now get away from my parcel truck!".
As the day went by, I started getting pretty fatigued from galloping after cars to look in the backseat, in case he was hiding or to see if they would stop near by and pop the trunk to spring my Dad out with millions of balloons holding signs that say "#1 Daughter" so I went in to sulk & fret that maybe my Dad forgot about me...
"CHOPCHOPCHOP POTATOPOTATOPOTATO CHOPCHOPCHOP POTATOPOTATO"
What is that massive noise, shaking the house? "chopchoppotatopotatopotato chop chop"... wait... Diiiid myy Daaad just arrive in a helicopter??? I jump kick, flip, roundoff, out the door and saw the most majestic thing my little eyes ever did see... I swear the white of my eyes turned black and my jaw dropped to the floor while my body immediately floated 90 feet in the air...
my handsome, wavy haired, hero... was in my driveway, smiling... sitting on a Harley...
My Dad was bungee cording my suitcase to the back of my seat while my Mom was waking up, recovered from her meltdown after breathing in a paper bag. She started borderline making out with me by kissing, crying & hugging me so much. We didn't have any helmets and I had already burnt my calf on the muffler while climbing on, but I could not have been more excited. We only got a couple of miles on the highway before I peed the seat.
3 hours later, we arrived to my Baba and Papa's house in Steubenville and my once shoulder length hair, was now one giant, beaver tailed, dreadlock, sticking straight out from the back of my head. My dried mouth, teeth still baring face, arms and legs are covered in welts from the bugs and/or pebbles landing on me at 65 mph. I returned home a few weeks later, looking like a boy since my hair had to be chopped off but that summer with my Daddy, Baba, Papa & Unka Non, was CHAMP! I was the happiest girl alive.
That winter, during Christmas break, my Dad showed up in his, equipped with seat belts and a hard outer, made of steel, Buick. My Mom was so relieved... up until she helped me put my suitcase in the back seat and empty Pabst Blue Ribbon beer cans fell out. Boy, my Dad just cant win with her, no wonder they got a divorce. I still to this day, remember the sounds those cans made when turning corners. It's so soothing to me.
Lastly, I have an embarrassing story...
(in the voice of Sophia Petrillo) Picture this, Columbus, 1980somethingish, my father's trailer...
It's happened to the best of us, so you cannot deny it. After too much cheese, red no. 40 dye or fast food for the month, I had an upset stomach. After I did my business, I was really hurting and walked out to the living room (aka weight slash trophy room) of my Dad's trailer and told him that my butthole hurt. Sorry, but it did.
My Dad tells me to "use the stuff, in the tube, in the bathroom". So... I found the stuff, in the tube, in the bathroom and used it. I believe the name on the tube was Icey Hot, not the lanolin that he intended for me to use. Anyhoo, I put it on my butthole. Sorry, but I did.
I was just a kid, I didn't know any better! I made a big poop and my hole hurt and I thought my Dad's advice on hero cream for buttholes, was gonna help. I tried to scorn & banish away the hurt by splashing water on it. That made the pain so fucking great that even to this day, in 2011, I still cringe when I hear the words "Icey Hot". I automatically think "oooooh, do not put that stuff on your butthole". This is forever embedded in my brain. Sorry, but I do.
To summarize my long, short version... I miss my father. He still to this day, swells and breaks my heart. I miss every simple & complicated thing about him... He was the greatest man and he loved everybody, but he especially loved me. I'm so privileged to have been his daughter and my memories of our crazy fun time, will never fade. Even the time we hit a rabbit and splattered on the windshield and he said "look... the heart is still beating" while trying to use the windshield wipers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)