There ARE Some Drawbacks

I thought this mom thing would be soooo much easier. And as Christie would say (and Kristen would never say), I'm not fishing for compliments here. But, really, some days I feel like I'm failing.

I used to look down on those mothers in the grocery store in their sweatpants, with their hair all matted and yesterday's t-shirt marked up with juice and spit-up. Now I get it.

Now I understand how one fucking load of laundry can sit in the dryer for two days after it had sat in the washer for three, causing one to have to rewash said load of laundry.

I used to think it would be a breeze taking my child out with me to pick up a gallon of milk at the grocery store and a quick trip to the gas station to fill up. But, shit! This chick has to come EVERYWHERE with me. I just can't pop in to the gas station and pay the attendant when my credit card doesn't read at the pump, and leave her in the car. I have to wrap her up again in her snowsuit (because while it works wonders OUTSIDE of the car for the five minutes from the door to the vehicle, once INSIDE the car, she is screaming her lungs out dying of heatstroke), unbuckle her, run in, wait in line, try not to make eye contact with the other customers knowing I'll get the third degree on her stats (while this was so pleasant when she was born, it gets REALLY old, REALLY fast) and then have to deal with the screaming child once again when the guy in front of me in line wants 50 different lottery tickets as her temperature rises to an unhealthy degree and I'm feeling all her 15 pounds in my right shoulder blade. When I unzip her snowsuit a little, I'm tisked by "Myrtle" behind me who thinks the draft from the door will surely kill the poor child. Finally, I'm able to pay and by this time don't even remember what pump I was at or how much the total was. I finally get the hell out of there and realize I could have purchased the milk when I was inside instead of having to go to the grocery store.

So you see, marijuana doesn't kill brain cells: having children does.

What The Hell Are Boughs Of Holly, Anyway?

This has been such a crazy holiday season so far. Although Canadians celebrate Thanksgiving the second Monday in October, we crazy ass Americans decide to wait until a month before Christmas, trying to jam the two busiest holidays of the year into a short time period of about 4 weeks.

By the way, Brit says Happy Turkey Day:

She's a "little turkey".

So, after you're all stuffed with turkey, stuffing and a pound of lard, here comes BLACK FRIDAY. My adorable fiance' works at a local TV station and he always gets all the dirt, not only locally but nationally. It makes for good party conversation (when he actually makes it to the party and doesn't have some random concert to attend). Well, apparently this year on Black Friday, some Walmart in Michigan or some other crazy cold state had a gaggle, thats right I said it- a gaggle, of people outside, well before dawn, just waiting to get their hands on that $2 DVD player. The doors opened, people trampled other people, stepping on poor Myrtles and Harolds older than our grandparents, just to score a hot deal. Another Walmart, I think in a warmer climate where Christmas decorations consist of Santa hats on pink flamingos and ornaments on palm trees, had an instance where a security gaurd maced a whole crowd because of their need for speed.

I went out shopping one year and one year only on Black Friday. The only reason was because Kristen's mother worked at the mall and I could get in line before any of the marathon running idiots at the door. Granted, I was there when she had to be at 4 am or something outlandish. But, hey! That $5 Furby was worth it! After about an hour of that nonsense, I was out of there.

It's no wonder this is not only the season for decking the halls, but filling the medicine cabinet with antacid, prozac and a loaded gun. Most heartburn, suicides and robberies happen between Thanksgiving and New Year's Day.

I am a huge fan of Halloween. Any holiday after just gives me a nice vacation at home.

Food Pyramid

If I could make my own food pyramid, it would contain a pound of chocolate a day. And I would do away with the meat group except chicken, turkey and peanuts, namely peanut butter...

...which goes perfect with a lb of chocolate.

Attack Of The Clones

Although, Britain doesn't have facial hair and Matt doesn't have a boogie hanging out of his nose.

Perfect Perfume

There are moments like this I wish I could just bottle and spray a little on me, everyday...for those times when Brit is 15 and bitching at me that she isn't getting anything (everything) that she wants and Matt is busy working late hours (with his secretary).

Brit is definetly a morning person like I am.








Matt, on the other hand...









...Not so much.

What The Flick?

Please bear with me while I have someone help me out with the Flickr link. And do realize I have a 4 month old and don't really have tons of time to dowload all my pictures at once to Flickr. So there is only about 12 pictures uploaded as of yet and its a little lame. Sorry. There will be so much more. I have this fear my house will blow up one of these days (where ALL my pictures are) and Britain will never have any baby pictures of herself...just like I don't.

HELP! ANYONE!

The Exchange Rate In Heaven

If I am wrong and Heaven and God are in fact, real and not just some made up campfire story, then I'm in deep shit.

Fast Forward to September 17, 2067. I've lived to be 89 but choked on a piece of tuna steak during a senior's brunch that morning. I show up, to my surprise, at the pearly gates, which aren't so much pearly as cold and dank. There is a 420 pound bouncer catching people such as I who must prove they belong before entering. I try and slip him a twenty but realize American currency probably isn't the greatest exchange rate in Heaven. He gives me a judging stare and puts me in the longest line I have ever seen, been in, or dreamed. Finally, what seems like months later, I'm face to face with God. Sorry folks. I was right about one thing. She's a she. And she is beautiful, bald...and black.

From so much back and forth talking, I have decided to color code:

GOD
TAM
KRISTEN
BRIAN

Why do you feel you belong in here? You never even believed in me or where we are.
I am genuinely a good person. I tried living life the right way, doing unto others as I would have liked done unto me...or whatever.
She flips through some pages in the HUGE binder floating in front of her.
You DID drive your poor grandmother around on errands because she never obtained her license. She pauses...Although you lied to her on many occasions about your car being out of commission or low on gas.
I was a GREAT granddaughter. She'd say so herself.
You visited your grandfather 5 times during his 15 year bout with Alzheimer's. And by the way, she wouldn't.
I was a great wife.
Which time?
I was faithful to Matt.
You slept with someone at his funeral...twice.
But I've only slept with people I was in love with.
But you've fallen in love- she looks at the binder again, 432 times.
I have a big heart? I search my brain. I was a thoughtful, loving sister.
You tied your little brother up to a tree and he almost died from bee stings.
At least we found out he was allergic! Pause. I was a very good friend to a lot of people.
You gave Brian Macauley beer for his birthday.
I didn't know about his liver until years later.
You gave it EVERY year...LAST YEAR, on his death bed!
I was involved in the shaping of many children's lives being a nanny.
Flips through the pages again. You've given a total of 4,686 therapy sessions to some very lucky psychiatrists. That's over 500 more than even Mrs. Leary.
I was a great mom.
You had a child out of wedlock.
I gave Matt's parents and my parents a beautiful grandchild.
She strips Friday nights to fuel her coke addiction...and she's 62.
That's not my fault!
You told her you smoked pot and as long as she didn't get addicted to anything, she could experiment.
Well, I was a good daughter.
You called your mother by only her first name for two years because, and I quote, 'she didn't warrant the title of mother'.
I didn't drink until I was well out of high school.
You've given over 1200 people lap dances, without pay.
But I didn't KNOW I was giving them lap dances.
Is that really your argument?
I never killed anyone.
Didn't I mention Brian Macauley?
I wasn't greedy.
You had 326 pair of shoes.
But only ONE purse.
That is also a sin.
Isn't there anything I did to deserve even a slice of Heaven?
Well, let's ask one of your oldest friends.

Kristen Bloeser appears. She is wearing pink wings and Chuck Taylor's to match. Her hair is in two buns. She has a romance novel in her right hand and a Dove Bar in the other. She smiles. Hello Tam. I tear up. It's been years since we've seen each other. It wasn't the lung cancer as much as her dogs catching rabies and mauling her to death in her sleep.
Kristen, why do you think Tam should be here with us?
She gave a pondering look, searching far and wide. She was an ok roommate, I guess.
Yes! See, I cleaned all the time.
You cleaned YOUR dishes and left mine in the sink. And I always cooked!But you were so great at it.
My brother was there more than I was. And I drove you to and from work everyday.
I came out to Cleveland way more than you came in to Erie.
You said my butt felt like tightly woven pudding!
THAT WAS DAVE!
Still...
Ladies!
And just like that, Kristen vanished.
Listen, I didn't know all this stuff was true. Heaven sounded so off the wall and you, yourself, was made out to be a skinny white man.
Really, could a man do all this?
We both laughed and shook our heads no.
Isn't there any way I could get in, some type of probationary period? Something? Brian Macauley transformed. He was wearing a stained up MTV t-shirt and what looked to be a sock in his pants. A beer can appeared suddenly in his hands but disappeared as soon as he tried touching it to his lips.
Brian, your Heaven is looking like Donnie, the nascar driver?
No, Donnie is part of my punishment from Amy.
Kristen didn't seem to be punished.
She was mauled by her own rabid dogs, Tam! I'm here to give you YOUR punishment. Its the only way you can get into Heaven. You must wear gouchos and granny panties. You can eat red meat and only red meat. You will never, ever have sex and must only take showers, no baths. The only music you will be allowed to listen to is country and one more thing...
Gulp
You'll never be allowed around an air freshener again.
NOOOOOOO!!!!!! Then Brian vanished and I picked myself up off the clouds. I looked straight at God, believing in her for the first time, and asked, So just how hot is it down there? And can I get a fan?

Remember What Bob Barker Says

A few weeks ago, I was taking my usual route home and I noticed a dog crossing the boulevard in the other lane. I was all slowing down waiting for him to get to my side when this crazy ass Toyota Camry (or maybe a Hummer...who can tell anymore?) comes flying down the road, warp speed. Obviously, there was no time for that jackass to notice the poor pup and he/she ran it over. Not that I'd want to go into detail about that moment that keeps playing over in my head, but I wanted to let you all know that its possible that little pound puppy is alright. He took a ride on the wheel, once around and then, if he could have spoken, might have said "nah, I'm cool" because that's how he walked away...all pimp like that. I would have stopped but the Toyota Hummer had found the brakes and turned around to make sure the dog was in deed, still able to mack that shit. So here's to you, pup- internal injuries and all. I wonder if it had anything to do with Kristen not writing a page of her book that day. Think of the damn puppies, Kristen!