Thursday, February 11, 2010

Ain't no valley low enough .... to keep me from coming back to stalk you all

So I'm going away this weekend with the kids. I'll tell you all about it when I come back, but I'll be away at a camp with the kids. We'll be in a valley out in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. Hotty Hubby will be here. On his own. He'll probably sleep most of the weekend and spend the rest of the weekend drinking beer and eating junk food while watching movies.

Honestly? As much as I would LOVE a weekend of rest and relaxation sans spawnlets, I'm happy that he's getting one instead. He works so hard to support us. He's exhausted at the end of every day. He NEEDS this weekend.

I, on the other hand, will be driving two and a half hours to stay in a cabin with the kids and another a family for the weekend. Kill me now.

See y'all on the flip side!

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Friday, February 5, 2010

Calling it a shovel

If you are someone who has the distinct misfortune to know me in person, you will likely know that I tend to be fairly blunt. I tell it how I see it. If I have something to say to you, I'll say it. If I haven't said it to you but someone else has told you I said it, then that means I was venting to them and then decided it wasn't important enough to discuss with you ... not that I was gossiping. I'll own my words. Always have, always will. I'm a straight shooter and sometimes that bites me in the ass but, in the eloquent and sexified words of the amazing Kurt Cobain, "I'd rather be loved for who I am than hated for who I'm not".

Want to go shopping? Take me with you.

Yes that shirt looks amazing. No that skirt would only look good on a 6 year old. No honey, those pants don't make your ass look fat...your humongous ASS makes your ass look fat.

If you're having doubts about your boyfriend, chances are you do NOT want to talk me about him because if you're having doubts then I've already got his method of demise picked out along with a snarky epitaph for his headstone in the woods.

When I started this blog, I did it with the idea of having somewhere to pour out my random thoughts that mostly occurred to me in the middle of the night while I was working at the No Tell Motel. That was almost two years ago. Obviously I am no longer in the same job let alone the same country. My thoughts, opinions and ideas have evolved. My readership has increased (thank you all...you make the attention whore in me VERY happy) and my blogroll has increased. But through it all, one thing has stuck with me.

OWN YOUR WORDS

If I write something on here, I am fully prepared to stand behind it. I've been informed a few times by email that people will not be returning to read my stuff because they "don't care for the language used" or find me "too coarse and crude". That's totally fine, I'm not to everyone's taste and I really don't care.

So take a moment, if you will, to imagine my surprise when I received a comment this morning telling me to come on over to this other blog because there was "an *ahem* unusual award" waiting for me. Of course I immediately went skipping off over there because, well, wouldn't you?! And this is what I found waiting for me:


Holy Shit Bubbles! Ain't it purty?!

The schmexy Madmother over at Meaninless Meandering from a Madmother decided I was blunt enough to "call a spade a fucking shovel" and bestowed this upon me. For which I scream a Squeee filled THANK YOU!!

Here's the "rules" of the award, copied & pasted directly from her because I cannot possibly paraphrase in a way that would even bring justice to it:

This award is for the straight-shooters. The "tell it to someone who gives a fuck" bloggers who don't let the ignorant minority dictate to them. As a certain commenter from my last post put it (and something a dear friend called me a few years back) the ones who call a spade a fucking shovel!

The receivers of the award (and I hesitiate to use the word winners as it is not some type of lame-arsed competition, it is merely a show of appreciation for the blogger who doesn't pretty up the harsh realities) do NOT have to pass it on! If you wish to, great! Means I get to find some new no-bullshit blogs. If not, meh, not my problem.

This is not to be passed on to anyone who cannot handle the heat. You know, the bloggers who post one controversial topic, get blasted, and so delete it whilst whining "youse are all bitches" under their breath. If you write it, own it! Note: exception to this rule is if you post something in anger which hurts those you love. Not anonymous, faceless bloggers or followers, but someone you genuinely care for, and realise later when you have calmed that it was not acceptable to blog about. We have all done this at one time or another.

This award is not to be awarded for just being nasty! It is for those blunt, honest, sometimes brutal bloggers who post from passion, not spite.

Link me (Madmother)! After all I am an attention seeking bitch according to some...


And so, because I CHOOSE to pass it on, I'd like to bestow this beauty upon a few people who I think are blunt like a sledge hammer.


Adreinzgirl @ Think Tank Momma
Dual Mom @ We're At Dad's That Week
Aunt Juicebox @ Bacon Is My Lover
Daffy @ Batcrap Crazy
Cape Cod Gal @ Diamond In The Rough
Kelley @ MagnetoBold Too!
Twenty Four @ Twenty Four At Heart

There are lots of others, but a lot of the people I read are also on other blog rolls so I left some for other folks. But like the rules say, you don't have to share if you don't want to.

Before I leave....what are YOUR personal rules for your blog? Do you stand behind the words you put down? Do you tell it like it is? Do you feel like never coming back here again?

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Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Just a quick one for today

Lose It Bitch! update:

I only lost 100 grams this week. For you folks who don't speak kilos and grams, that's about 0.22 lbs.

*sigh*

That takes my current weight down to 318.78.

I know that a loss is a loss, and honestly I was expecting a gain after my "I don't give a shit" week of eating too much, but still.

More on this over at "Looking For My Feet".

*~*~*

In other, and more glee provoking, news..... I was given another award. Didn't I just make that sound like I've got oodles of awards pouring in? Yeah, not so much.

Anyway, Toddler Knows Best gave me this lovely little thing that made me go "SQUEEEE!" with delight. The rules say I am meant to link to the blog that gave it to me (done), post it somewhere on my blog or in a post (done) and then nominate 12 other blogs to give it to.

Well. There are so many of you out there who I love and honestly I just don't have the energy to try and decide why one merits the award over another. So I'm giving it to ALL of you. Go ahead. Snag it. Pass it on if you like. I am very grateful to have you all as readers and you fill my days with sunshine. Thank you for sticking around to read my stuff.


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Monday, February 1, 2010

It's because I taste so damn good!

There, that title should bring a few more pervs out of the woodwork. You can never have too many pervs really can you? As long they're not leaving me those long-winded comments in some random Asian language that I can't understand but that link to porn sites, I'm fine with them stopping by. Maybe I'll learn something I didn't already know.

Anytasty....the reason I've called you all here today is to talk about my apparently tasty qualities. It's really the only conclusion I can come to for what has been happening.

Since I was a young girl, I have loved animals. I've mentioned this before....my adoration for the animals of the world and the desire to love and help them all. I've worked in pet stores, owned animals and helped to look after other people's. So given that, WHY do they keep biting me?

When I was much younger (about 10 or 11 I think?), I stopped to say hello to a horse in a field. He gave me all the right "come hither" vibes and even batted his eyelashes at me. I had some sort of food on me (like that comes as a shock?) and offered it to him in the hopes that he would love me more. He sure did! He took my whole bloody hand into his mouth and then promptly bit me. On the middle finger. Maybe he was trying to teach me a lesson of some sort?


Not too many years later we were living in Wales - land of the sheep and dodgy blokes doing creepy things with sheep. As I was walking down the street, I came across two HUGE cats hissing and growling at each other. They were clearly vicious and demented and I was wary as I approached them.


I could see that the larger one was unimpressed with me; I was obviously getting too close to his prey. I had a destination in mind though and being the lazy person that I am, I kept going. The next thing I know, claws are embedded in my leg, I'm yelling and trying to shake it off. But it hung on and carried on hissing at it's enemy. I finally escaped and made my way home. As I walked in the door I started to tell my mother what had happened. Maybe she could call the zoo and get them removed before they mauled some poor unsuspecting old woman! I pulled up my pant leg and was confronted by a beautiful set of puncture wounds and blood running down my leg. It's a surprise that I could even WALK! It's a wonder that these animals aren't required to be tagged and wear signs. I would hate for someone else to get savaged by....


...a kitten. I'm so ashamed.

Fast forward about 7 more years and I'm living in Auckland, New Zealand with my family. I worked in a pet store in a mall. I spent my days helping people pick cat foods and save their fish. I encouraged mothers to buy goldfish and fathers to buy beer to cope with the whining. And I learned how to train ferrets. Fun! I trained them to go from nippy little bastards to sweet snuggly little lovelies.


So, of course, when a guy who looked like he belonged in the backwoods of Hickville, Kentucky with his Uncle Daddy, complete with overalls and mullet, came in looking for guidance in how to re-home his ferrets, I nearly jumped on him to hump his leg from here to kingdom come.

He agreed to let me have them and their cage. I was over the freakin' moon.

Now, keep in mind that I knew a lot about ferrets and their care and their natural instincts. All information that somehow remained in my brain under my goddamn pillow the next morning when I went out to see these lovely creatures who had received virtually NO training or handling. These fuzzballs who had not yet had their breakfast.

I opened the cage and pulled one out for cuddles. As I held him at waist level and cooed at him, he suddenly decided that my face looked rather appetizing and jumped.

SONOFABISCUIT THAT HURT!!!!!

Something you may not know about ferrets is that when they bite, their jaw locks. Sound fantastic, no?

As you can imagine, I started screaming my ever lovin' head off. My mom and step-dad came running. My sister, who was about 8 at the time, stood in the doorway yelling. The ferret hung off my face like a big fuzzy icicle.

My mother tried to pry its jaws apart. I kept screaming. My step-dad tried to wring its scrawny little neck until it passed out enough to pull it off. I screamed "DON'T KILL IT!". Finally, they managed to get it off my face and I was taken to lay on the table of a very gorgeous doctor while he flushed out a nice set of puncture wounds on my face so that I didn't get lock jaw myself.

It took me awhile to stop seeing ferrets like this...


Which bring us to present day and my mother's cat. It's a lovely wee Burmese and as we've owned this breed before and had them be very very sweet, it was quite a shock to meet him. He's a complete freakin' psycho. I am currently sporting a bruise on my left boob where he bit me. He's definitely the nastiest pussy I've ever met.

Now I've been told that all these creatures are crazy, but I prefer to tell myself that it's because I'm delumptious (thanks to Boy Spawn for that word!). My question for all of you now is this.

HOW DO I STOP THEM EATING ME?!?!

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