What I am giving up for Lent.

Apparently it is Lent. And people give shit up for Lent. Isn’t that the whole point of Pancake Tuesday? You know using up the good stuff so you can lose a few kilos before gorging on chocolate that the bunny brings you can like, suffer. Like a good Catholic or somesuch. Hang on I am not Catholic. Um. I don’t actually know what I am. Shit, I hope I am not a Scientologist, cause I don’t want no seven degrees of separation from the freaky alien that calls himself Tom. But apparently he is handy around a traffic accident. …

I need a secretary.

hmmmm, that would be fabulous. Someone to wander around behind me, peeling me grapes and making me coffee. And organising my life. I have been so busy lately. Things are slipping. The other day I forgot to make my bed. Man that pissed me off, cause I always make my bed. That freaking Flylady has got a lot to answer for in that respect. And those people that resemble me still keep asking for food and clean clothes and for me to drive them places, unpaid mind you, and shit. Sheesh. Really cutting into my sitting on my arse …

Boo’s homework.

New teacher. New expectations. New person to train in all things Boo. Our first hurdle. Homework. Boo has another diagnosis of Hyperlexia. Basically he could read before he could speak. And he can read any word. AND spell it. He had the kids at Too’s birthday party in shock, when at 2, he spelt Nickelodeon backwards on the wall. And he has memorised Pi to the 30th power or somesuch. And knows the periodic table. And of course every single freaking font. His IQ is off the scales. But he can’t wipe his own arse. Or hold a conversation. …

I have lead a sheltered life.

Last night I was edu-ma-cated. In the horror that is the douche bag. Was minding my own business, having a little break from the monotony that is the life of a mother of 3 lazy fucking bloodsuckers children and wandered over to Boobs, Injuries and Dr Pepper. And was shocked and horrified and laughed so much I peed a little. Probably requiring the services of said douche bag. I am not totally sheltered. I have heard of douches. Just didn’t realise that they came in the handy bag version. That apparently mothers hung from their showers. And small children …

Happy Valentines Day <3

Or not. Meh. I am usually so meh about this ‘holiday’. MPS, not known for his romantic skillz, usually forgets. Even when he was reading the freaking ads and doing outside broadcasts at flower shops. ‘Sorry honey, I forgot’ Yeah, whatever. So this morning I needed heart massage was pleasantly surprised when MPS presented me with a latte in bed. Complete with heart design. Good thing I was in bed. Cause the fall would have hurt. Then as he was walking out the door he called out: ‘I bought you a gift! It is on the kitchen bench. I …

Give up your seat on the bus for the old lady.

It’s official. I am old. I am an old person. Need to start shopping in the old ladies underwear section. Big, brown, neck to knee babies. *     The other day I paid for the pain of a zygote ripping the hair out of my eyebrows. I inquired whether I need to have my lady mo done. She LIFTED UP MY FUCKING CHEEK and said no. Oh the humiliation. Now I just walk around with a strong fan blowing directly on my face like a dog out the passenger side window….. *     I made that ‘ooff’ sound while …

How To Be The Meanest Mom EVER

Eirinn has this thing she wants to do. This thing will require me driving her places and taking time out of my evening and Avery will be jealous. It’s a privilege, is what it is, and in order to deserve these privileges, kids should behave in a certain way. Listen to their parents, be nice to their siblings, tidy their messes. NOT melt into a pile of raging jellyfish at the mere suggestion she pick up the Barbie carpet that they worked two days on laying in the playroom. NOT morph into a 15-year old ‘tude monster when I …

Why I Will Never Be A Fancy Lady

1. My eyebrows are unkempt. Fortunately, they don’t meet in the middle or naturally run ragged all over the northern hemisphere of my face. But my eyebrow maintenance routine consists of me smoothing them with my fingers so that all the hairs are laying in the same direction. 2. Finger nails – I don’t get it. I cut them so that I don’t accidentally slice a bitch, but other than that, I don’t get it. I’ve had two manicures in my whole entire life and the experience was mediocre and left me acutely aware of my giant manhands. I …

Fear.

No, not that movie with Mark Wahlberg playing the incredibly hot psycho opposite Reese Witherspoon and Gil Grissom. Shit, remember that roller coaster scene? OH MY GOD it set my little adolescent hormones all a flutter when I first watched it. Yeah, this is not about that. One day, I’m going to die. Maybe it’ll be a car accident, or a stray bullet, or a aneurysm, or maybe I’ll just get old and fade away. That’s fine, I guess. I’ve never been one to fear much of anything, not even death. It’s never even made me intensely uncomfortable in the …

Rented: A Letter To Her

This is a rented post from Ashley, who asked to use my blog to do some much needed venting. This is stupid. Never have I ever had my blood boil so much by one, stupid, fucking person. If I could write this on my own blog, I would, but you stalked my blog. Visiting 4 to 5 times a day, I guess looking for any reference to me and him. I think fighting over guys is one of the stupidest things a woman could do, but for you to have the fucking audacity to come to me and ask …