Help a chick out…

So as you have probably noticed life is a tad hectic ’round these parts. We are coming up to breeding season. AKA kids birthdays. Too’s being on Wednesday. And then there is the whole ‘Non STD Screaming Sleeping Emos’(tm) that my girls have developed. And Boo has lost his freaking mind and I am getting called in for a meeting Every Single Day to discuss his behaivour. Oh and he is spelling every fucking word, so it takes four hours to determine that he, in fact, would like chicken nuggets for dinner. And then there was the 15 minute …

Meh to Monday.

I hate Mondays. I haven’t always hated Monday, now it is made of suck and fail. With a side of McDonalds-fucked-up-my-order-again-and-I-got-nothing-for-me-in-the-bag-fuckers. And serving up a nice heap of my-new-job-that-I-was-squealy-happy-like-about-has-now-been-made-redundant. (don’t worry, I haven’t lost my job – I am too fucking awesome for that – they will just move me sideways, but fuck it I love that job) Served with a sauce of went-to-fill-the-car-with-fuel-and-ended-up-paying-$1.60 per litre-when-every-other-fucking-place-was-charging-$1.50. Next to a steaming bowl full of fuckers-getting-in-my-way-and-over-sensitive-dicks-reading-shit-into-things-that-aint-there. And a five-a-day of after school madness. So I was a little pissed.  Probably coming down from the sugar rush yesterday… But there was light.  …

All I want for my birthday is the world to explode. Or implode. Or Hulk hands.

So how do you ensure the Best Birthday Ever? Some mad scientists doing some freaking AWESOME experiment that has the tiniest chance of blowing up (or blowing in, yeah whatevz, I never said I was no intellectual) the world or causing a black hole to form or things to go boom. Make your mother take you shopping for something like a billion hours and STILL not know what you want and have said mother go waaaaaaaay over budget to try and find something to make you happy. Accidentally on purpose forget to give your mother your school report – …

8 minute shower.

very week I treat myself to an 8 minute shower. Ten if I clean it at the same time. I have a butt load of hair so that is my conditioning time. Waist length hair can end up as literally a butt load of hair. All the girls with long thick hair are nodding in agreement, you lose long strands and that particular crevice is a natural magnet for the wayward hair and afterwards you are all ‘what the fuck?’ When you discover an arm length hair in your panties… Ahem. Anyway. This time I was all what the …

Dear ‘Concerned’

Thank you for taking time out of your busy day to contact me. I appreciate that you took time away from your ivory tower to write me, detailing your concerns for the welfare of my children, my current mental state and the number of shoes in my closet. I am sorry it has taken me so long to reply, but as you point out, instead of curing my sons Autism I have been wasting my time playing on the internet and wandering around in fabulous shoes. While we are on the subject of my son, I feel I need to clear …

Sights and smells in the local supermarket.

So I ventured to the supermarket cause I was out of chocolate and vodka fresh produce, wearing my purdy shoes. A girl needs to feel purdy when venturing out with the great unwashed. Armed with my shopping list, I parked next to the most expensive cars I could find – just to add a little excitement to my day – pleaded with Boo to ‘open the door carefully’ and waited patiently for him to let me out of the car. Cause apparently I am incapable of opening a car door myself. I need to wait till Boo comes and …

Don’t breathe on me.

I think I am a pretty good mum. My kids beg to differ. Especially when they are sick. I have a very low tolerance for sickness. You will get a bit of sympathy, maybe a hug, but if it drags on longer than a couple hours I am over it. Totally. I am all ‘What? Go to bed or something. Get out of my face. And for God’s sake don’t breathe on me! I don’t want your germs.’ Meh. I will give them medication and stuff. Throw a couple of cloves of garlic in their general direction. Maybe a …

I am a woman of my word, Iceel you bastard.

Alternate title: The post where I go all mummy gooey, ask for a favour and then show my boobies. Before my breasticles, an actual post. Boo had a wonderful time at camp. I drove the hair raising drive out to the secluded camp, in the middle of freaking NOWHERE with hills that rivaled rollercoasters in the fucking RAIN, and found him doing archery. Well I heard him first, yelling at the kids to stand where he deemed necessary and basically ruling the roost. As usual. He came running to me. And then he showed me around. Smiling and happy …

This is the way it is goin’ down, yo.

Dear Family, Sunday. Mothers Day. Day of mother worship. Mother. That would be ME. You know, that chick that does your washing and feeds you and drives you around and shit? Yeah, well she wants a freaking day off. And that day is gunna be Sunday. And this is the way it is goin’ down. Sunday morning, I ain’t getting up till I am READY to get the fuck up. I don’t care if Boo has painted the walls in his own excrement or has eaten half a jar of peanut butter with a twig he found in the …

You know you are addicted to blogging when…

Hmmm… MPS walked in with tulips and chocolate. I grabbed my phone and took photos BEFORE I said thankyou. Moo turned to him and said ‘She is so blogging your good deed Dad!’ as I downloaded it via bluetooth… See? **************** MPS trying to convince me to buy him an iphone. ‘You could blog about it’ **************** Moo said something totally random while I was dyeing her hair: Me: So this is the random thoughts thread huh? Moo: Fair is. Isn’t it bizarre that we are having this conversation IRL (yes, she said IRL!) and we both know what …