The Faerie Who was Kissed by the Pixies.

20 Years ago my friend and I got silly little tattoos on our ankles after an afternoon of drinking on the beach. I was so proud of my little red rose and thought I was pretty cool.

20 Years later, that bright little rose on my ankle is now a fading black/grey smudge.

My dear friend Lisa left me, her friends, and her family last month. (I'm not ready to write that story yet)

While cleaning out her apartment, I found a book of Faeries. Lisa loved faeries and that was evidenced by the plethora of them in and around her home.

Several pages of the book were earmarked with notations. She had wanted to get one of those faeries tattooed on her.

Since she was never able to do so before leaving this world, I made the ultimate decision to get one for her.

That little red rose that took all of fifteen minutes to get has got nothing on this bitch.

After 2 hours and 40 minutes I am now branded for life.

Or you could say I am branded for Lisa.

Behold the Faerie Who Was Kissed by the Pixies....

For Sam

Since this bitch keeps bugging me, I have to write something. So here it goes. It's gonna be lame, because I am drinking while watching Intervention (is that wrong?)
Things are whack. Based on my last post, which was monumental in itself, not unlike this one, (faceslap), it is obvious that I have a lot of things to say - problem is, I guess I am just not ready to say them. I can't really sit down to write anything....I have a lot of things in my head, but I cannot get them through the keyboard. So on that note:

* My Jeep still isn't fixed from the accident. It's drivable, but not fixed.
* My home is still in limbo.
* My dog is doing much better, and the stitches have healed, thank you.
* And my friend is still dead. (and I am still bitter)

Yay! Fun post right Sam? If you give me bacon-eating chickens, (inside joke, YO) I'll give you something with more bite!

On another note: I recently had a landmark birthday and all I got was some wrinkle cream, so THAT was awesome. Also, I rocked out with my cock out at the Judas Priest concert last Wednesday and can I just say that Rob Halford pretty much rules. Here's a gratuitous tailgate photo:




I'm the one who is lacking in the breasticle department....

Oooh and I also got a pretty freaking awesome tattoo (for my friend)... Perhaps that will be my next story. I could probably write about that!

So, thanks Sam for the kick in the ass. I feel better now, and my poor punctuation and overuse of ellipses is making me want to strive for more....

Namaste!

Hi!?! Anyone still there? (tap tap tap)

Sorry that I've been gone awhile. Here are a few reasons why....







Oh and then there is this whole thing hanging over our heads....




Then our sweet little Misty Girl had to have emergency surgery....




Oh and then my very best friend in the whole wide universe went and killed herself with absolutely no warning....




Needless to say, I've been a little pre-occupied. Will any of you still be here? Obviously, I have a lot of stories to tell......


Kaila

Mystery solved! It's EYEBALLS!!!!!

So some of you might remember this post which may or may not have been too much information, but people this is some funny shit.

The Zanester was getting out of the shower the other night, and out of nowhere offered up some very important information.

"Do you know why it takes me so long to poop sometimes?"

"No, honey, I don't"

"They Bodder me."

"What bodders you honey?"

"Eyeballs"

he points to the floor where this sits



(sidebar - there is no cute little fluffy puppy in our bathroom)

"No problem, honey" I said, and threw the toilet paper under the sink.

"Now you should be fine."

"Nope." and he points to the area between the toilet and the sink cabinet....



(Eyeballs, people, eyeballs)

So I throw that under the sink as well.

"Well that should be it, right?"

"Nope." (and he points to the sink)



Yeah, that's right, he has a Spongebob Toothbrush....with eyeballs.

So we turn that around, and move the damn Dr. Seuss toothpaste to the side as well...because, well eyeballs



The pooping process has been much faster since then. Weird right? I know. But the EYEBALLS!!!! They BODDER him!!!

Did any of you feel like you were being watched when you were seven years old? Is this normal?


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Excellent Injury Thursday #3

It's been a long time since I started this series. This particular "excellent injury" really doesn't compare to this one or this one. At least the end result picture doesn't do it justice like the previous ones.

So anyway, we had our redneck caps on and were sporting our rebel flags. (not really) We were at the mud pit gettin' our jeeps dirtay.




That is totally me. Proof? You need proof? Well here I am conducting a little business after my last run.




I wasn't conducting business at all. I was trying to locate our buddy with the rope because the Oilybeauhunk was stuck. No way I was pulling him out! He's got a jeep too, and I had already been stuck...twice.



I located the puller-outer and we continued to get dirtay.

However, when the beer was gone day was done, we headed home for the arduous task of cleaning the dirtay vehicles.

We parked in the driveway and assessed our situation.

Mud.Lots.Of.Mud.

The Oilybeauhunk did the proper thing and gathered hoses, and scrub brushes and cleaning supplies. I did what every respectable redneck wannabe does and went in the house to don my bikini top and daisy dukes. (Isn't that how you are supposed to dress to wash a car?) I thought so.

So, we are hosing, and scrubbing and washing and hosing....(not that kind of hosing - not in the driveway anyway - unless it's dark out and the neighbors are asleep - note to self, check u-tube).

I saw a clump of mud on my windshield. At the top, in the middle, I couldn't quite reach it. What does a drunk redneck girl in a bikini top and daisy dukes do in that situation?

She climbs up on the wet and soapy hood of her jeep to get said clump of mud. Duh!

While I was up there on that wet and soapy hood of the jeep, some dudes drove by and waved. So I did what every redneck girl would do. I flashed my boobs waved back!...while kneeling on the hood, of the jeep, wet with soap.

So, yeah, I slipped RIGHT OFF, landed on the driveway directly on my kneecap and then fell over into the muddy yard. "I need the hose" I yelled. The Oilybeauhunk hadn't seen a thing (whew). He had the Zanester bring me the hose.

"Mom's in the dirt, Oilybeauhunk"

"What?"

"What happened, Kaila?"

"Nothing, I just need the hose."

"Why are you in the mud? What the fuck happened to your knee?"

"What?"

"Nevermind. You slid off the damn jeep didn't you."

"?"

"Go sit down, I think you are in shock."

"OK"

Turns out, I was in shock. My knee hurt like hell, and I had to ice it down for eight hours. I limped for 4 days.

Here's a pretty lame picture from a couple days later...




Sorry I didn't get a better one, but the story should stand for itself. Do any of you have excellent injury stories? If so, you must share. I have plenty more.



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Meandering Monday

To the other Mommy readers - Do you ever have one of those days, moments, hours, whatever, where your kid drives you absolutely b*o*n*k*e*r*s? I know the answer is yes, I just want to share my most recent one.

We were on our way to IHOP for breakfast. A once a in blue moon event. From the backseat there is a little voice.

"Mom? Why do love bugs stick their butts together?"

"And Mom? When do the love bugs show up?"

"And Mom? Can beetles poop?"

"And Mom? My friend says beetles eat their own poop."

"Mom? When do caterpillars come out?"

"I like caterpillars."

"And Mom?" Why do snails pee?"

"Mom? What is that yellow thingy?"

I kid you not people, all of these questions in a period of 10 minutes. CRAZY 7 year old boy minds.....

*************************************************************************************

At IHOP, a family was seated in the booth behind us. I overheard part of their order, and it went a little something like this:

man - "I'll have the (insert whatever omelet comes with salsa inside and on top) but I don't want any tomatoes."

waitress - "So, no salsa then?"

man - "No, I want the salsa, just no tomatoes."

me (and most likely the waitress) - "?"

Whatever peeps - Happy Monday!

Beetlejuice in my pocket....

I know it has been awhile, and I know it has only been about the Zanester lately, but this cannot go unpublished.

I picked him up from school today. We had the usual conversation about how his day was, and did he have any homework, yada yada yada.

All of a sudden....

"Ooooh, Mom!"

"Yes?"

"I have something for you in my pocket..."

Now I ask you my dear few readers, what do you think it was?

Was it a love note?

Was it a pretty drawing?

Was it a kiss or a hug?

NO.

This boy, this little love of mine had a pocket full of goodness.

A pocket full of joy.

A pocket full what every mom wants her beloved son to bring home to her....





That's right, beetles - seven of them to be exact.

What has your little sunshine brought home for you?


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His first attempt at a lie....sort of

It's been cold here lately. I sent Zane to school with a sweatshirt. When we got home last night, he went straight to his PSP and I went straight to his back pack to check homework, etc.

me - "Zane, where is the sweatshirt you wore to school?"

Zane from the other room... "You can see it on the 'puter."

me - "What?"

Zane - "On the 'puter, at school, you can see pictures."

me - "What are you talking about? Where is your sweatshirt?"

Zane - "Problee on the 'puter, they have cameras at school and you can see pictures of stuff."

me - "So, you lost your sweatshirt?

Zane - "Yeah"

me - "Short answers work best, honey."

Zane - "Huh?"

me - "Never mind."



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Six signs I am failing as a mother...

It is becoming clear that I am lacking in my motherly skills to my just recently turned 7 year old boy. I am coming to this conclusion as evidenced by the following:


1. The Zanester has a new morning routine. It involves burping the alphabet, and then taking a bow, followed by a fart.

2. He has been on a steady diet for two weeks, eating only one of the following two items; Chef-Boy-R-Dee spaghettios with meatballs, or ravioli with meatballs. That is it.

3. He has begun to proclaim how much things "suck". Such as, "I don't want to play my game anymore, I'm sucking." Or while watching American Idol during tryouts, with the awful people, he would calmly announce that "She/he sucks."

4. When the dogs do something stupid, he proclaims that they are "an ass".

(side note, at least he isn't combining them and saying "SuckAss")

5. He doesn't/can't grasp the concept of washing his hands before he eats because, dude, your nails are black.

6. And finally, this morning, I watched in horror as he pulled a dirty ball of wax out of his ear, closely inspected it, and.Then.Put.It.Back.In.His.Ear....

Where did I go wrong?


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Eff you, Stormy

Is anyone familiar with this website< Because this is how I feel about Stormy, also known as laid back dog.

This dog is FAT. She can squeeze her fat ass *out* of the "doggy door", but it looks like a sausage going through the ringer. She cannot, however, get back in. Weird, I know.

There are times though, where she is lazy, and if you are anywhere near said doggy door, she will just stand there staring at it and wagging her tail, while looking back at you with a look on her face that says "um, open this door because there is some person or dog, or squirrel, or UFO, or Jehovah Witness, or GodIDontKnow, but there is something or someone that isn't really there that I must immediately wake up from a dead sleep and squeeze through that infernal cat/dog door to go bark at."

Getting back in is a whole different story because going out, she steps down about 4 inches, therefore trying to get back in, well, umm, she gets stuck. So she resorts to sticking her head in and out of the door. Good Lord, the head poking through the magnetic little door drives me effing batty. Head in, magnetic strip click, head out, magnetic strip clap, head in, magnetic strip click, head out, magnetic strip click clap, head in.......... you get the point.........

I often want to poke needles into my eyes because of the torture she puts me through with the Clicking.Oh.The.Clicking.

For the record, she hardly ever (read: never) (except for the other night) goes out in the middle of the night. Recently, one night, she had to make an emergency "evacuation" in the middle of the night. I heard her squeeze her fat ass through the kitty/doggy door and then fell back into a nice comfortable slumber. Until I was awoken to the sounds of a fucking bull in a china shop. Fatass, Stormy, tried to get back in through the door herself. By ramming it over and over. It doesn't work this way people. It sounded like a plane was crash landing on our house.

*BOOM* Stormy ramming the door
*BOOM* Stormy trying to break the door off it's hinges
overandoverandover until she busts her way through.

Her shoulders don't fit coming back in... this is a neverending story.

Kill me now - or just take the dog............please?