December 27, 2010

Musical Monday - Mix CD

I haven't bought a CD in years. I prefer to buy tracks from iTunes and make nineteen mix discs a month. My mix cds are epic in musical range as you will see. Here are the songs on the one I'm working on right now.

Love The Way You Lie by Eminem, ft Rhianna
If I Die Young by The Band Perry
Fidelity by Regina Spektor
Let It Be by The Beatles
Maybe by Sick Puppies
Secret by Seal
Toy Jackpot by Blackalicious
Party In The USA by Miley Cyrus by the way, you're welcome for that video link *wink*
Secrets by One Republic
Possibility by Lykke Li
Gravedigger by Dave Matthews Band
Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri

December 26, 2010

It's That Time Again

Time to make New Years resolutions. Last year I made a few and then promptly failed most of them. I did manage to keep Aidan out of juvenile detention, Asher isn't eating address labels anymore, and I ignore Twitter Bitches rather than tweet what I think of them. And my ass size is diminishing since October when I started running. Who'd have thought?

I didn't exactly conquer the laundry timetable and instead of buying Aidan a toy at every store, now I buy both of them a toy. So I guess that one's a half and half.

I wanted to read 50 books this year. I didn't quite make it. But I'm gonna try again in 2011. 

This running nonsense is apparently going to continue providing I don't die of a hip injury so I signed up for the 1000 miles in 2011 challenge. Yes, you are still at My Kids Might Be Martians, this is not an alternate universe. 

Speaking of My Kids Might Be Martians. I bought yet another domain to correspond with what I want to rename this blog. Amandapalooza is no longer on the table, although I now own that domain as well. Sometime in 2011, I will get it together and launch the new one. Maybe.

I will stop reminding Aidan to read for his Book It program. If he doesn't get his time in for the month, he doesn't get a damn pizza. I have enough of his crap to keep up with - spelling words, snack days, early outs, poem booklets, T-shirt orders... the list goes on and on. And on. I didn't expect Aidan's school life to be so much work for me.

I will not allow Asher to bully me into letting him sleep in our bed. I'm planning a big redesign of the master bedroom and bath and I will go out of my way to make it as non-kid friendly as humanly possible. It shall be an adult only space never to be peed on, pooped on, farted on, eaten in, spilled on, puked on, or otherwise damaged by a small person. They have every other inch of the house, our space is sacred.

That's about all I should commit to. Knowing myself as I do these few things will take the entire year to accomplish. What are your resolutions? 

December 23, 2010

Christmas Prep

Somehow the boys and I have managed to accomplish a few Christmas prep activities without one or all of us dissolving into tears. We made gingerbread houses

They went to see Santa

Asher cheesed it up in front of the Christmas tree

We even made sugar cookies, Buckeyes, and Ritzy Peanut Butter Cookies via Beth@I Should Be Folding Laundry. Although if I'm being honest mine look like the Frankenstein of the Ritzy Peanut Butter Cookie world. But they all eat the same, right? Also my sugar cookies were blah enough that I went back and iced them with the leftover white almond bark and added sprinkles. Surely that'll spruce them up, yeah? 

Tomorrow, Christmas Eve, we will be decorating the big dog gingerbread house, eating the crap out of the Mr's 'pizza snacks' which are not at all pizza-like but they're yummy to my tummy, and desperately trying to maintain some level of decorum while the boys lose their minds as they wait for Christmas morning. I think blasting Toy Jackpot and I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas all day should help, don'tcha think?

December 21, 2010

Think I Won't Do It?

Then you don't know me very well. Cuz I'll damn sure do it.

We are discussing the possibility of Santa not bringing gifts for Aidan this year. Yeah, yeah, poor Aidan *eyeroll* bullshit! The little snot informed us last night that he doesn't believe in the Naughty List. I don't even think there is a Naughty List because every year you say I'm naughty and Santa is going to put me on the Naughty List but every year I gets gifts from Santa. I think they just made up the Naughty List so kids will be good. Oh yes, that's pretty much word for word. And the truth is, he's right. He acts like a complete asshat virtually every day of the year and on December 25, he gets rewarded for it in grand fashion with tons of presents, none of which he needs and very few of which he even appreciates. I'm of the mind that Christmas should be more about Jesus. Let me tell you, Aidan needs Jesus. 

I think this year Aidan will wake up to a full stocking and a strongly worded letter from the fat man in red. It will say

Dear Aidan,
Thank you for the cookies, I ate them all. I went ahead and ate everything else in the house that I thought you might like. Now listen up, you little shit. I've been watching you and I heard you say you don't believe in The Naughty List. Let me assure you, it's real. And your name made it this year. I took mercy on you and filled your stocking but I am leaving you no other gifts. You better watch your attitude from today on because I've got my special Look Out Elf reporting all of your behavior to me each day. If you want off the Naughty List next Christmas, you better shape up. Now what do you believe, smart guy?

December 20, 2010

A Christmas Confession

Much to the horror of my mother and probably some of you I have never sat down and watched It's A Wonderful Life from start to finish. I'm not sure how this was accomplished considering my mother watched that movie year round and at Christmas time it was on a never-ending loop at our house. Kinda like how TBS plays 24 hours of A Christmas Story, only in black and white, therefore making it unacceptable for viewing to my younger self. I much preferred watching that numb-skull kid stick his tongue to the pole and getting stuck. 

Now, in what I can only explain as payin' for my raisin', my kids start booing and running away at the first glimpse of a black and white movie. Just like a dumber younger me, they prefer to watch A Christmas Story. I almost can't take it anymore, I find myself tense up, willing Flick not to do it this time.  Don't do it dumbass! You KNOW it's going to stick! You KNOW your little punk friends will leave your ass out there! Just walk away!!!  But he never listens to me. He puts his tongue to the pole and Aidan and Asher roll into balls of laughter at the sight. Before you know it, Aidan is daring Asher to stick his tongue to the neighbor's flag pole. Asher, not one to back down from a dare, grabs his coat and boots before we stop him. We have to cancel out the dare with  We know you're a big guy, of course you would have done it, of course you would have been able to get your tongue off the pole...  So thanks a bunch TBS, it's gonna be a long 24 hours.

December 19, 2010

From December To March

I guess this is what the hallway from the garage into the kitchen will look like that entire time. 
The boys seem to have no knowledge of that room to their right. The one they go into to get all that crap on, the room where there are hangers and place to dry their boots. The towel there is just for catching snow, it was not meant to serve as an invitation to dump their crap in the middle of the hallway. 

December 17, 2010

Again? Really?

Dear Sick, Twisted, Dumbass, Son of a Bitch in Germany,

Making the word  n a k e d  cutesy like 'nakey' doesn't fool me. It doesn't change what you were looking for at all. When will you idiots learn that the internet is not anonymous? Start thinking with the head on your shoulders once in a blue moon.

Grossed Out, Pissed Off, Mama Blogger with StatCounter

Search term - when I hold my nose shut the chatting in my nose stops - Hmmm, are you sure that "chatting" isn't in your head? Does your shrink know about this chatting?

Whoever is perusing the internet for the whereabouts of Lisa Martini and Christopher Swanner of Prescott Valley Arizona, I don't know these folks but I imagine you didn't get a We've Moved card for a reason. Just a thought

Also? I'm feeling a tad nervous about someone in Washington, D.C. at THE SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES viewing my blog. Dear God, let it be a clerk browsing the internet and not official business... involving a suit against me... you know, in a case that has somehow made it all the way to the Supreme Court without my knowledge. Yeah, okay, I'm feeling better about it already.

December 16, 2010

A Fierce Hunter Raising Little Fierce Hunters

This year the hunting got a little ape shit crazy thanks to our neighbor, the Skinny Bitch's husband. Now that I think about it these husbands of ours wield quite a lot of influence on us. Good thing they're not drug addicts or kleptomaniacs. Anyway, in a few months a new buck will be adorning a wall in our house. See? Best damn wife ever. 

Aidan and Asher are walking the same bloody path as their Daddy. Aidan has been on it for years now as illustrated in this post from a few years ago. Oh well, as long as they bring home meat I'm good with it. And if they are out hunting that means they are with their dad, not me! That's reason enough for me to encourage the sport, don'tchathink?

December 15, 2010

What Must It Be Like

... to be Asher? I imagine it's somewhat like being a cat. Cats don't have owners, they have staff. Asher doesn't have a mom, he has his own personal bitch.

Let's take this from the morning. Most of the time he wakes up in our bed, having either snuck in at 3am or he's been there all night because his mother bitch couldn't take the crying at bedtime anymore. We'll get deeper into the bedtime shenanigans later. The first words out of his mouth demand food and drink and/or put forth a direct order for me not to close my eyes. After he's been properly served to his satisfaction we fight over clothes. I, the ultimate pain in his ass, think that being as it is 5 degrees outside he should wear long pants. I know, how completely unreasonable of me. He wants shorts. Or nothing at all. Most often he winds up wearing shorts under long pants and this is only accomplished by taking an oath promising he can peel off the top layer of clothes when we get back from taking Aidan to school. 

Speaking of taking Aidan to school, every single day Asher asks if he can sit in the middle instead of behind me. Aidan is the ruling body for this and his answer hinges on whether or not Asher has pissed him off during the morning. Then Aidan is either Asher's "besth friend" or a "mean jerk". 

Once we've returned home my work really begins. He demands a snack, a cartoon, a drink, and a blanket. Then and only then am I allowed to open up my laptop and do something that doesn't revolve around Asher. This lasts about 4 minutes. The rest of the day is a plethora of demands, orders, and instructions from the little terrorist.

By the grace of almighty God in Heaven bedtime eventually comes. 8pm is my favorite hour. Sixteen kisses and hugs later Asher begins to cry. Mama, me need you! Mama, me needa asth you a questhion! Mama, me sthared! Me stherious, Mama. Can I sthleep wif you guys? This lasts several minutes until I admit defeat and hand it over to Daddy who is somehow immune to his tears. Sometimes he wimpers a little longer before falling asleep, sometimes he wails before falling asleep, and more often than I care to admit he cons me into letting him sleep in the guest room or worst case scenario, in our bed so that I get zero time away from him in a 24 hour period of time.

Like I said, his own personal bitch.

December 14, 2010

Some People Dream of Getting a Sitcom

Who wants to lay bets on if/when I will end up on Dateline or 48 Hours? And let's be honest, it's coming. I've pictured the episode in my head many times before. I don't imagine there will be interviews with my friends claiming There was never any indication she was going to go off on a homicidal rampage like that because let's face it, this entire blog hints at just that. I'm pretty sure I'm also out of the running for a public office, the PTA, any job where I carry a gun, and supervising other people's children. There go all my plans for the future! Or not.

Maybe I'll just fall of the face of the earth and it'll be a national mystery what happened to me. I will be severely missed. The whole country will put black bows, yes black, on trees and big banners with my smiling mug and an 800 number on them. Scenes of hundreds of people walking side by side across fields searching for me or my things will run in loops during the evening news. Candlelight vigils and all that jazz will ensue. Of course the husband will be suspected in the beginning but he will be cleared when it becomes obvious that there's no way in hell he would dispose of me leaving him alone with Aidan and Asher. 

I'm thinking my best chance of making it to prime-time will be on one of those What Would You Do episodes with John Quinones. I'll be the one who gets up in the offender/actor's face screaming but you can't understand what I'm saying due to the near constant beeps to cover the profanity. Quinones will have to run out and save his actor from me. The police will surely follow and at the end of the show the announcer will tell viewers that they can see the trial of the crazy lady when her story appears on next week's Dateline.

What? Any of these scenarios is entirely plausible. 

December 12, 2010

Barbara Walters Inspired This Post

While watching this Barbara Walters takeover of my Thursday night TV, a thought crossed my mind. How'd you like to be Oprah's duplex neighbor? My heart quickens at the thought. And not because how fucking cool would that be but because I don't know what it is about that woman but she terrifies me. I may have mentioned this before, my fear of balloons and China are one thing but the way I feel about this person I have zero chance of ever coming into close physical proximity to is as real as the Spanx in my underwear drawer. It's not rational and I don't understand it myself but there it is, another shining indication that maybe I should be throwing the $.86 per day I'm raking in from this blog into therapy rather than ordering more paperbacks from 

Another thought? Is it just me or did Barbara seem a tad jealous of Betty White? Go back and watch it again, there's some animosity there. Also, I couldn't possibly care any less about Justin Bieber and I'm kinda proud that I've never watched an episode of Jersey Shore. I'm feeling pretty smug about that Jersey Shore part. For real. 

December 10, 2010


You know, the one in her curlers, bathrobe, and slippers at the bus stop? 

Only worse.

Aidan was being a sweetheart and riding the bus to school "because Mama's leg hurts and she's kind of a baby". Several minutes after he left I noticed his lunchbox on the counter. So Asher and I jumped in the Jeep and tore down the road to the bus stop. The last of the kids were getting on the bus, Hell yeah, I made it! so I slammed it in park and ran, waving the lunch box and hollaring as only a woman who absolutely does not want to have to drive all the way to the damn school to drop off a lunch box can run. As the bus pulled away and I was feeling all smug Score! I'm freakin' fantabulous!  and then it dawns on me, No, Amanda, you're a sad stereotype. Let me make the rest of the picture clear for you. It's 11 damn degrees, not only am I not wearing a coat but just a very thin t-shirt with a 3 day old hot chocolate stain and no bra. I feel the need to reiterate here that it's 11 damn degrees. No shoes, not even slippers, only goofy striped toe socks. There were no curlers but a hairbrush had yet to grace my scalp either and I'm pretty sure the jogging pants I was wearing had a big glob of toothpaste on the left ass cheek. Whew, I was smokin' hot, ya'll!

December 8, 2010

One Thousand

What should my 1000th blog post say?

I guess it's going to say What should my 1000th blog post say?, hu?

December 7, 2010

Great, I'm Elderly

I've been running pretty much every other day for just over two months - a few times 2 or 3 days in a row but certainly not excessive. I even managed to live through my first 5K, which turned out to be more than 5K and it's my firm opinion that Nazi's designed that course. On the plus side, it turns out I've actually got some leg muscle and unless my scale is simply trying to keep me from forging headlong into a bulimic rage, I have lost a whopping 21 lbs. I haven't completely turned to the dark side, there's no high that makes me feel like I could run 25 miles or something crazy like that but I do kind of enjoy it. I suppose the added bonus of fat melting off my backside encourages my fondness a little bit. 

Aaaaand, now that I've delved into something healthy, I've broken my hip. Okay, it's not broken, I've got Bursitis in my hip. MY HIP! Aren't hip injuries for 89 year old women? My hip for crying out loud! It has hurt on and off for the last couple of weeks after I would run but when I was done yesterday, I kinda thought I was going to die. It's possible I may have even cried about it. Maybe. There was no sleeping last night and sitting, standing, laying down - it all hurt like hell. I bit the bullet and went to a dr this morning. I was perfectly pleasant, despite wincing when she jerked my leg around. In fact, I was very polite when I refused to get on the scale as well. Because let's be honest, it was only going to lead to more tears and I didn't need a referral for a shrink. She gave me an x-ray and determined I'm basically elderly. I came home bearing anti-inflammatory and steroid medication and orders to stop running for a minimum of a week. So bring on the lazy, ya'll!

December 6, 2010

Did He Just Spell That?

I must find a way to make it clear to Aidan that spelling a curse word is as big an offense as actually uttering it. He honestly believes saying I'm gonna kick your ay-ess-ess, Asher! isn't going to elicit a negative response from me. Yet he glances over at me to be sure and when I start in he says Mama! I didn't SAY the bad word! I'm a good speller, hu, Mama? Nice try, punk. Go get the soap.

Also, Asher won't quit calling Aidan a bitch. Really, where did he get bitch? 'Fuck' he would have heard from me but 'bitch'? No. Yesterday morning I was still in my room where they clearly believed I was asleep. Asher wanted in the fridge and Aidan was blocking him. A shoving match ensued and Asher lost his shit and screamed STOP IT BITCH!!! Plain as day. He sounded pissed! But he came hanging his head when I called him to me. Probably because I sounded pissed.

Why can't kids abide by the ol' Do as I say not as I do? 

December 5, 2010

Here's What $200 Got Us At Wal-Mart Portrait Studio.

Studio, puh-leeze, it was more of a cubby hole. But I digress. I picked up the photos Friday morning and even though Asher acted a fool and Aidan hogged the camera, there were some freakin' fabulous photos! Take a look-see!

Kid Sister, I dare you to comment on Asher's jeans. They are NOT too short, they pull up when he sits, ya freakin' fashion ninny!

December 4, 2010

That's It, I Have To Stop Cussing. Damn It!

Asher - You emember asth-hoe?

Me - What?

Asher - Asth-hoe.

Me - I don't know what you're talking about, Asher.

Asher - You know, that bad word, asth-hoe! 
Aidan's one cuz he pushed me off the white couch.

In What Universe...

...does cut my bangs to about the bridge of my nose so I can swipe them over if I want translate to this?
I look like a six year old only not cute. And I was just saying I was growing it out so that means I can't even go get a trim because I'll end up chopping it all off. And I basically did. See.

Then I came home and dyed my hair within an inch of it's life - rich mahogany brown on top, bright red underneath. I swear there are 2 different colors, but it sure doesn't look like it here. I think teenage rebellion color goes nicely with six year old bangs, don't you? 

December 2, 2010

I'm A Traitor To Myself

In spite of all my blasphemous thoughts on Black Friday and those who participate, I must confess something to all of you. 

I got up at 4am on Black Friday to go to Wal-Mart to get a damn Nintendo DS for Aidan.

Oh the shame! And also the satisfaction that comes with proving myself right.

Let me just say this - Every year on Black Friday, inside the Super Wal-Mart in Mena, Arkansas, a portal to HELL opens up at 5am. So if you're looking to go, now you know where to find it. 

November 29, 2010

Aidan's List


The B word is bitch
The SH word is shit
The S word is stupid
The P word is piss

then he just went on and practiced his spelling words.

That kid cracks me up! 

November 27, 2010

Pannin' For Gold

The info from StatCounter is a freakin' gold mine lately! From the semi-illiterate - funny shite, who bawgt altel?, and what is randim mean - to the truly disgusting - I said it was disgusting and I'm not about to repeat here - and the what the sam hell would possess you to search the internet for that - taste of camel poop and lose weight so I can suck my own toes - it's really almost more than I can handle. 

Beyond the obvious conclusions one can come to based on the searches - that they are sexually perverse sick bastards - there are a number of other things I think I know about these people. For instance, in many cases it's pretty clear English isn't their first language. I'm guessing third, fourth? Also, whoever taught these people grammar should be mortified - celebs before their famous, I seen Jennifer Aniston yesterday, your on the shitlist, and so on and so on. And so on. Really, there are hundreds of them. Some may have been living under a rock - what is Twitter, is facebook a photosharing site? who is Jennifer Aniston. And it's entirely possible some left their computers on and a five year old got online - mamas mean, I like bee movie, sister smells like farts.

Now that I've made fun of people for misspelling and bad grammar, you are all forbidden from making note of any similar mistakes I may have made. No, really, I'll kick you off the blog for that shit.

November 26, 2010

Why Bother?

This post is likely to not get seen since so many of you are out selling your soul to consumerism shopping. Not me, because, well, I already told you about that. I gave my list and some money to a friend who was already planning to be out at 3am throwing elbows to pick me up a couple electronics for the boys' Christmas gifts. Brilliant strategy if I do say so myself.

November 25, 2010

It's Thanksgiving Day!

So what the hell are you doing reading blogs? You're supposed to be playing board games merrily with your family or in front of the big screen TV obnoxiously cheering for or against some football team. Oh, you're hiding in a closet with your laptop, too? Yeah, that's way better than all that togetherness and family bonding shit. 

November 24, 2010

I'm Thankful For Yeast Rolls

This Thanksgiving we are traveling to Arkansas. Now providing we actually make it there - doubtful as this will be the Mr's first 10 hour car-ride with the boys in, oh, two years - I'm going to be confined in a house with a 3yr old, a 5yr old, and two 6yr olds, my semi-anal-retentive husband, my step-father, my sister, my mom who will have been cooking for the previous 32 hours, and anyone in Polk County my mom talked to within the last week and a half. Which of those do you imagine I fear most? I'll give you a hint, I get crabby baking a single pie. 

Every year my sister and I tell our mother Just buy some damn store rolls. We don't need 4 different types of stuffing. For the love of God, mom, one of each kind of pie is plenty! And every year she says Yeah, maybe I will. And this year, like every year we walk into the house and she is, well, like this

surrounded by 14 pies, 3 pans of rolls, a gallon of mashed potatoes, and a turkey the size of a small horse. She will glance over at us and without uttering a word very clearly say I might kill somebody and it is up to you to save their lives and ultimately your own. Now get the fuck out of my kitchen, I'm trying to cook. We will back away slowly and hide until she calls for someone to set the table and find 16 extra chairs to seat everyone. 

Eventually she'll emerge from the kitchen having shed her psychosis and we will devour the best damn yeast rolls on this planet, perfectly whipped mashed potatoes with just the right amount of lumps, and chocolate pie that will make you see God. 

While we really meant it when we told her we didn't need all this food, it was mainly said to spare her the mental and physical breakdown that comes with creating the meal because we truly don't want to live in a world where my mother's yeast rolls aren't on the Thanksgiving table. Sure I'm thankful for my kids' health, friends and family, safe traveling and all that jazz but damn if I'm not thankful for those yeast rolls. Yes, I'm thankful for yeast rolls.   

November 23, 2010

This Is A Must Share

Oh my God, ya'll, Asher is making my face hurt today! He's in some kind of mood - mouthy and animated and defiant and silly. He comes out from the bathroom sans underpants talking about Mama! There's little balls in here! Wanna guess what he was man handling at the time? Yep. Then he wants to know if I'll help get them out. When I decline to assist he says Fine! I bet I can get 'em outta my butt! Yeah, probably son, you work on that and let me know how it goes. 

The Annual Black Friday Rant

In a tradition I started last year, I bring you a rant about Black Friday that is as true for me today as it was when I wrote it 3 years ago.

Let's talk about Black Friday. 

Granted, I've never actually been in the midst of madness on Black Friday so I can't be absolutely positive but I'm pretty sure it sucks. I've never had my fingernails ripped out with pliars either but I'm not gonna volunteer to find out for certain. I'm just gonna trust my gut on this one. I don't play well with others. Specifically with the unwashed masses we call the general public. I can't imagine it going well.

Why must this all occur at O Dark Thirty? Great idea. Let's add another element of pissy to the whole thing. If I am up at 4am, I am not happy about it. Anyone in my vicinity will be made acutely aware of this fact. Maybe it's just me but I think 2500 reluctant early birds trying to squeeze through a 4 foot opening to fight for flatscreen TV's with a 'kill or be killed' mentality has potential to end in violence. I'm just sayin'.

Parking issues alone are reason enough for me to skip it. I come mere seconds from committing a felony on a normal day at Target when some prick in a Mercedes-Benz swoops in and takes the parking spot I've been waiting patiently for. I have to fight the urge to find out if that fancy hood ornament would look quite as impressive sticking out of his or her tight ass. Bet not! It'd sure make me feel a whole lot better though. 

Then, there is this insanity that apparently sweeps over the shoppers that makes them think they have ninja skills or something. If you and I are eyeballing the very last Suck My Toes Elmo and you snatch for it, I will whip your ass. Not because I want Elmo particularly but because you have challenged me for it. I'm 5ft 10, essentially an Amazonian Princess. Odds are that you are not physically up to this fight. Now unless he actually will suck your toes, that little red bastard is not worth it.

Legend has it that the best deals of the year are on Black Friday. Oh, the sales, the incredible one-time only deals! you say. Do you mean except for the after Christmas sales, the after New Years sales, the sales that follow very single other holiday and season of the year? Puh-leeze! There are 5 year olds who have the sense to know better than that crap. As if there will be no restocking of merchandise before Christmas. Whatever extra I have to pay or time I have to wait to not be out shopping on Black Friday is totally worth it. 

I know this goes against nature or some girl-code but I rarely do anything traditionally. I see no reason to start now. But hey, if you're feeling froggy... Just don't come cryin' to me when you end up with stitches from a mid-aisle brawl over the very last Baby Alive Fart 'N Hurl Doll. Happy shopping!!!

November 21, 2010

Books I want Under My Tree

Over at A Tapestry of Words I got the idea for books I'd love to find under my Christmas tree on that magic morning.  *AHEM!*  Hint! Books are easy to wrap and fit nicely into stockings as well.

Or anything on my Goodreads To-Read list. You almost can't go wrong with books for me. Can't go wrong with a MacBook either. Just sayin'.

November 20, 2010


Yes, this is a repost because nobody commented on my witty brilliance the first time and I'm kinda offended by that.

Messy Mommy does a semi-regular People In Review post where she writes her responses to headlines on I've long been jealous that I didn't come up with this idea because I've always got some smart-ass response to entertainment headlines. So I thought what the hell, I'll just stay away from and cop to borrowing the concept from her. Hey, all's fair in the search for blog fodder.

Yeah, because Kanye's the one who needs to be forgiven, hu, Dubya?

How about you, I don't know, complete a rehab before opening your own? Puh-leeze! And Dina, who the fuck taught you to be a mother?

Oh, just one? Except for that Heidi Fleiss hooker stuff. And that whole pulling a knife on your wife thing. Oh and the beating up your girlfriend in 1996. Let's not forget trying to kill your ex-wife, forcing her to get a restraining order. And didn't you shoot Kelly Preston back in 1990? Oh yeah, you denied that but you two split so I'm guessing you fucking shot her. You are an infant, grow up.

For crying out loud! Yes, we love Betty White. But Honorary Forest Ranger? You know lots of celebs get Honorary Degrees from Harvard, Betty White gets to be an Honorary Forest Ranger. Hmmm.

For a custody hearing. Bwahahahahahahaha! You don't really think a judge is going to give you full custody of a kid, do you, Mel? So in addition to being a racist and a bigot and a spousal abuser, you truly are delusional as well. Good to know.

Not I!!! Toke up, dude!

I'm a bitch. You, Nancy Grace, are a vicious, wretched, nasty, hateful talking head. There's being tough and then there's being a fucking bully. 

Well congratulations on dodging numerous venereal diseases. That boy is just dirty!

November 19, 2010

Stuff I Don't Care About

I don't give one shit about Prince William and Kate Middleton or their wedding. I don't care when she's going to have a baby. I don't care that he gave her his mother's ring. I just don't care. You've seen his father, right? That's what he's going to look like so don't get too excited, Katie. Also, I'm irritated that I even know all that stuff about them.

I don't give a damn about Michael Douglas' ex-wife trying to get money for some movie he was in 600 years ago. Don't you have enough money already, Mike? You can't take it with you, ya know?

Don't care that Eva Longoria Parker and Tony Parker are divorcing. Another Hollywood divorce, I'm shocked! Or I was right all along, whatever.

Don't even care that Gwyneth Paltrow is going country. I didn't even know she had gone music.

I'm not interested in the Gosselin girls getting expelled from school. Like, who didn't see them being the mean girls? Although to be fair we thought it would be in high school, not elementary.

Lindsay Lohan's drug problems, Snooki's antics, Bret Michaels banging Achy Breaky's Wife, and Katie Perry in a constant state of cleavage - I. don't. care. Which is odd because usually I'm all over that trash. 

November 18, 2010

My Favorite Search

Whoever searched for Help! My kids are ungrateful brats! You don't know how happy that makes me. I mean I hate it for you that your kids are brats but I'm happy as hell that it's not just my kids. Moms like us got to stick together, ya know?

Who needs drugs when you have kids? Um, me. An absence of my crazy pills would likely lead to an absence of my children. It is through pharmaceuticals that I am even remotely effective as a parent.

Kuwait ass. I can't even begin to fathom where you might be going with that.

Happy Birthday Sexy One. Yeah, Happy Birthday to someone whose other half thinks you're sexy.

Why won't Verizon leave Alltel alone? I don't know! They're kinda like the big bad school-yard bully.

November 17, 2010

March of Dimes

Samantha over at Mommy to a Princess is a big supporter of the March of Dimes as her daughter was premature. November is Prematurity Awareness Month and today is the day for bloggers to help raise awareness of the cause.  

Aidan was 4 weeks early but luckily he was perfectly healthy. Anna was 10 weeks early and obviously was not healthy. We have no doubt Asher would have been early as well had I not had a transabdominal cerclage placed at 13 weeks gestation. I belong to a Yahoo! group called Abbyloopers. This group is a support group for people who need this procedure, most of them have lost at least one baby to prematurity, some have lost several babies. 

So this is me telling you to support the March of Dimes and be aware of how many premature babies there actually are in this country alone. Do whatever you can to help.

November 16, 2010

It Started Out Simple Enough

We were not those parents who had monthly pictures of their kids taken at a studio. Not necessarily because we didn't want the photos but because our children are defiant, uncooperative, stubborn ass little mules and the odds of getting even one good pose before we were escorted off the premises weren't good. That's the information that is vital to appreciate the rest of this story.

Daddy wanted a professional photo of Asher for his office now that he has Aidan's school photo. I blew him off for a couple of weeks but he wouldn't let it go. So I booked an appointment at JC Penny. And then promptly cancelled after research revealed that I likely wasn't getting out of there for less than $200. We ended up at the old standby - Wal-Mart. Gag.

I changed the boys' clothes eleven times thanks to Aidan's aversion to jeans or anything that doesn't scream drunk, color blind hobo. Also, he talked the whole morning about refusing to take a picture. Asher was excited. Then we get there and we couldn't get Aidan out from in front of the camera. Asher, my less-asshole kid, gave. us. hell.  Finally, FINALLY we got some shots, whittled them down to the favorites, and began getting raped talking price.

$200! Really, Wal-Mart? Isn't your shtick some shit about low prices? Do you forbid employees from mentioning promotions or specials? Because as I'm whipping out my card I look up to see 30 Portraits for only $7.99! Oh, well that's just for one pose, no enhancements. says the rapist photographer. Oh, so it's only for  e x a c t l y  what I came here for? And now I've got 10 sheets with 10 poses, a CD, and 10 Christmas photo cards for two hundred fucking dollars. Oh, I see. Soon the Mr calls and I tell him the story, including price, and wait for the wrath. Only I heard no wrath because he couldn't speak. As we were leaving the store I am just seething. How did I let this happen? So I went back and said I want to pick one pose of Asher and get 30 of them for the $7.99. 

Oh, no can do. 

Why the hell not? I know they haven't been printed yet. 

No, but they've been processed. I can give you 10% off. 

I want all but $7.99 off. 


Give me a break, it can't be impossible to cancel my order. 

It is. How about 15% off? 

How about 40% off? 




I got $50 of my dignity back. I hate Wal-Mart.

November 15, 2010

Anything But A Backflip

Me: Aidan, can you get me a fork?

Aidan: I can do anything but a backflip.

Um, good to know. I guess. Where does he come up with this stuff?

Hey, look at that! I can write a blog post without the word fuck in it. 

Maybe not.

Musical Monday - Haunting

A few of the most haunting songs I know.

November 14, 2010

What's In A Name?

Amanda is a pretty common, normal name. Most people can spell and pronounce it easily. Problem is no-one seems to be able to remember that Amanda is my name. I'm Angel, Amber, Alicia... pretty much any other A name but Amanda. Our lawn guy thinks my name is April, I've quit correcting him. In fact the only one I bother to correct anymore is Amber because I am absolutely not an Amber.

The first name thing is tame compared to my last name trials. My maiden name was hard to live with. It's German, is not pronounced like it looks like it should, it's just really difficult. I spent my whole life spelling and correcting mispronunciations of it. So imagine my delight to marry a Cox. How much easier could it get than Cox? Or so you'd think. I spell Cox all the damn time, always with a tone of 'c. o. x.  you fucking moron'

Back when I was a parole officer, the parolee filled out a form each time they came in. If I was in the office I collected the form, otherwise they put my name on the top of it and left it for me. So I come back from home visits one day to a form with 'Officer Amber Cocks' written at the top. Oh hell fucking no he did not write that knowing I would see it! I immediately called him back in thinking he absolutely did it on purpose to be a dick. I asked him if he liked prison, questioned his sanity, and chewed his ass without mercy. As I was finishing up I notice the look on his face, an expression of pure terror mixed with embarrassment. Then he says "Oh God, Officer Cox, I swear I didn't mean to, I thought about it really hard to be sure I got it right. I'm sorry, really, I'm really sorry!" Maybe he was lying, maybe not. Doesn't matter, I got to say my piece. Unfortunately that's not where the story ends. This incident led to all of my coworkers and eventually my own mother and sister calling me up saying Officer Cocks please, C O C K S (slowly spelling each letter). Bwahahahahahaha! Oh you guys are fucking hysterical!

November 12, 2010

Hey you, the 16 year old idiot

Kim at It's a Beautiful Wreck wrote to her 16 year old self the other day and I thought Oh my God, what I wouldn't give to be able to talk to my 16 year old self! Better late than never I guess. I just wish telling her this stuff would convince her make better decisions. 

Oh, Amanda, you think you know what's going to happen and how it's going to happen and when it's going to happen but you don't know shit. I know, hard to comprehend but it's true, my love. 
You are not fat. Not yet. You will know fat in the years to come but right now, you're smokin'. Wear the bikini!
It's already too late to stop you from getting into it but you should get out of the relationship you're in NOW. You will wish you had. You will waste years. You will postpone things that he is not worth postponing for. I'm right about this. 
You are going to have kids. I know, you think there's no way in hell but they are coming. It's not as bad as you think it will be. It's worse. Just a little something to look forward to.*wink wink*
Sweetheart, do not wear that Peaches-n-Cream shirt. Just don't.
Only a few of your girlfriends will still be your girlfriends in 15 years but you will meet ladies that you will get equally close to in a few years. The kind that holds your hair back while you puke. The good kind.
Your husband is going to be hawt and your kids will be too damn cute. Which is why you don't kill them.
Since I am you, I know you so I know you are not going to listen to anything I'm telling you. You're a stubborn jackass. That's one thing that will never change about you. Just consider it part of your charm. Okay, you are released to continue doing dumb shit now. Have fun! It all turns out okay anyway.

November 11, 2010

I Gots No Style

As a kid I really thought by age 31 29 I would naturally be stylish and trendy and, well, not a goofy, leggy, awkward kid. Didn't happen that way.

Once in 2001 my hair was trendy. Courtesy of a chemical haircut, I donned short, short hair for the first time since elementary school when my mother took me right before school started to a butcher who apparently thought I was a boy based on the "style" she gave me. Yes, I'm still hung up on that, Mom. Since then it has not gotten below my shoulders and has been very close to pixie cut a few times. It's close to my shoulders now and I'm trying really hard not to chop it off. I do however, change the color quite often so it's not totally boring.

I still wear boot cut jeans because I despise skinny jeans. I know they are better to wear with snazzy boots but I don't wear those either. I know they say skinny jeans flatter any shape or size. I'm betting "they" are skinny little shits and therefore have no idea what flatters my fat ass and what doesn't.

I don't wear dresses. I have exactly 2 skirts - a khaki one but it's maternity and a black one that I did wear over the summer quite often. That is until I saw a photo of myself in it. Why does my mirror insist on lying to me?

I don't wear funky necklaces or gawdy chic rings. I try but I end up looking like a 6 year old who broke into her mom's jewelry box. I almost never change my earrings. I only wear my wedding ring and sometimes a simple platinum band on my pinkie. And by sometimes I mean when my fingers don't resemble sausage links. Which translates to not very damn often! 

I told you that I've been perusing numerous fashion blogs. More specifically, curvy girl fashion. And apparently it is acceptable to call it FATshion. Really? Why do they have to go there? Anyway, a few of my favorites are Curvy Girl Chic, Frocks and Frou Frou, Madison Plus, Fashion Bananas, and God's Favorite Shoes. FATale Fashion is where it all started. How freaking cute is she? There is a down side to looking at these blogs, I become super aware of how un-cute I am. And un-stylish. I'm most comfortable in my black yoga pants and a long sleeved t-shirt. When I leave the house I 'dress up' in jeans.  Could I be any more mom-ish? Will I always be this mom-ish?

November 9, 2010

Somebody Stop Me. Like Now.

I'm finding myself obsessed with fashion blogs. Most of them are for curvy girls because curvy is a nice way to describe my obese-ness.  I am following one chic who probably weighs 85 lbs with a heavy coat and boots on. I'm just a fraction of a second from making myself an appointment to get my hair cut exactly like hers. For reals ya'll, you really need to look at her site, so many beautiful clothes. And the shoes, my God, the SHOES!

Talk about super easy - no more ball caps on my runs, no ponytails, no tucking hair behind my ears.... however, my hair is just now getting long and I thought I wanted to let it go to my shoulder blades. I need an intervention, asap. 

Bloggin' On Cue

From the list of prompts, today I chose Are all the stories on your blog true?

Wellllll, um yeah. Kinda. Last week I poured my heart out in this post. For real, ya'll, that first nickname was wretched, I still hate it. This week my mom is here visiting and she called me out. It seems there was no bean shaped birth mark. My father called me Beaner because I ate beans. Oh well, in that case the years of teasing were totally worth it then. *eyeroll* That's not any better an explanation but the eyeroll is more because I swear on my laptop, she is the one who told me that. I mean, seriously, where the hell would I come up with that? Oh, she and my disloyal ass husband had a good laugh at my expense. Then they ate the dinner that I cooked. Who's laughing now, bitches? Oh hell, alright, I didn't cook it all by myself but 2 out of the 3 dishes I did. I'm already sick of this honestly bullshit.

The Mr likes to claim that I completely twist everything to fit whether it is what happened or not. Something about it's like living with a freak tape recorder that twists his words or some such nonsense. Okay, yeah, there are times I give you wittier lines than you actually came up with. Won't happen again, honey. In fact when I was racking my brain for new blog names, he came up with two really good ones. Wicked Embellishments and Literary Indiscretions. Pretty good except the embellishment shit. I resemble that remark!

Overall, yes, the stories on my blog are true. They happened. To me. And I'll tell the story any damn way I want to. Can't fault a girl for being creative, can you? Not when it's that girl's blog. Neener, neener, neener!

November 8, 2010

Musical Monday - Shawn Mullins

I could listen to this man's voice for hours. This is my absolute favorite song by him.

And this is my second favorite...

You should also check out his songs Shimmer and Beautiful Wreck. You might fall in love with him.

November 7, 2010

Just For Penny At No-Reply Email Address

Yeah, Ms Thang, I'd have shared the code with you right away if you had a dang email address with Blogger. Just sayin'! 

Here's the code. Just stick it in a HTML sidebar gadget under the Design tab on your Blogger Dashboard. Be sure to edit your own message that will pop up when someone right clicks.

<script language="javascript">
<!-- -->
function rtclickcheck(keyp){ if (navigator.appName == "Netscape" && keyp.which == 3){ alert(message); return false; } 
if (navigator.appVersion.indexOf("MSIE") != -1 && event.button == 2) { alert(message); return false; } } 
document.onmousedown = rtclickcheck;

Note: This code also renders copying of text impossible so readers who use right click for links are getting the shaft along with the perverts.

StatCounter Is Better Than HBO

When I get low on blog fodder I can always fall back on my stats. You people fucking kill me!

I learn things about myself from my stats. I'm very big in Germany. By my standards at least.

Nobody searches with any other search engine that Google. This doesn't really tell me anything about myself but it does kinda freak me out. Seriously, they own Youtube and Picasa and all this new Droid shit and they are definitely going on my list of Shit That Is Too Big And Powerful And Therefore Can't Be Good. Also on that list? Oprah and China.

To whoever searched for 'whacked out facebook updates' - friend me, I'll show you whacked out facebook updates.

To whoever searched for 'another words for kids' - satan spawn, crumb snatchers, wretched little psychos, tax deductions, mini-terrorists... really, I could go on.

To the 68% of you who stick around reading Martians for an hour or more per visit - you wanna get married? Cuz I lurve you!

This is the most popular post in the last 30 days. That night is still vivid in my memory as proof beyond all reasonable doubt that, best case scenario, the demon that used to control Aidan during times of stress was not a figment of my imagination. Worst case scenario, the damn thing is still in there just biding it's time in hopes of making the national news one of these days.

Sorry, you photo downloading pervert mother-fuckers, I hate that the little HTML code I put in stopped you from right clicking and saving pictures of my boys on your nasty little hard-drive. I think we've talked about this before. I'm watching you.

I notice that very, very few of you exit Martians by clicking on an ad or one of my charity donation sites. You know, I didn't just slap those up there for shits and giggles. Just so ya know.

November 6, 2010

Ranting Comes So Easily

We use electric toothbrushes. Cuz they're just easier. You know you're lazy when brushing your teeth the traditional way is too much for you. A couple things... #1. Why do the replacement heads cost as much as a whole new toothbrush? Does this make any sense whatsoever? And #2. No, I've got nuthin' else, just the replacement head thing.

Ok, the purse is awesome and all but I think I'm taking it back. It's just a freakin' purse! All that build up and now I'm just kinda blah about it. I could use that $80 for new bedding or cute running clothes.
Update: It's already been taken back. I owned it for all of 3 1/2 hours. That was enough. 

Thank you, Cox Cable, for crapping out on Thursday night. THURSDAY night! Of all freaking days to throw a hissy fit, it had to be Thursday? None of my Thursday shows are On Demand and I loathe watching TV on the computer. So thanks for that, really. And I don't want to talk about how productive I was with no internet or cable, that is not the point!

So I bought and was all ready to make the big change. Except I have no blog designer. Which it turns out, is okay because now I no longer want to rename the blog Amandapalooza. I switched to Brave New Blog but some asshat already has that domain and isn't using it. Exactly who did I kill in a past life? I've got a couple new ideas though. I want to ask you guys about them but then some other asshat will grab up the domain and try to make me pay big $ for it. Because people are assholes. And I'm anal retentive so I'll pay it to have the matching .com domain.
Update: Picked a new name, bought the domain. Still don't have a fucking designer.

November 5, 2010

I Kinda Loved Today

For one, because I didn't have to get up at the ass crack of dawn in 20 degree weather to run this morning. Because I ran last night. The whole 3 miles, no stopping or collapsing, no scaring the shit out of myself, and no getting attacked by deer. Things are looking up!

It is 3pm, Asher and I have JUST NOW got home from taking Aidan to school at 9am. There's a story behind this...

Aidan wanted oatmeal for breakfast. Well, of course there was only one package of oatmeal left and he refused to share with Asher. Who, by the way, would never in a zillion years ask for oatmeal any other day. So I gave it to Aidan and took Asher to Mc Donald's where Asher stalked a little boy into the bathroom talking about I like him, Mama, he'sth gonna be my besth friend! . Then we took some paperwork to Daddy's office and hit PetSmart for some ridiculously expensive glucosamine tablets for our elderly, crippled ass dog. Next we hit Target at about 10:45am.

1:15pm we emerged from Target. Two and a half hours. With a three year old boy in tow. Go ahead, I'll wait while you perfect your curtsey.

I just have one thing to say to myself. Self, just because something is on clearance doesn't mean you need to buy it. Who are you? Your mother-in-law?

And finally we swung by the little store that has been holding my Miche bag for me. I have went back and forth the last two weeks about getting it or buying a Nintendo DS for Aidan for Christmas. Okay, let's be honest - in the end the choice was either buy the purse and the DS or just the DS. Okay okay, let's be really honest - we're going to be buying 2 DS's. So it's the purse and 2 DS's or just 2 DS's. Anywhooo, I'm looking at my purse now. BUT, here's the thing, I got the purse and Anna's Christmas ornament for less than I would have paid for the purse alone 2 weeks ago. Thank you little personally owned gift shop Christmas discount.

Now if someone would just come cook dinner tonight, this would be the perfect day. *Reaches for the take out menu folder*

I Might Die

No, I think it's entirely possible. In 3 days I will be running my first 5K. A little thing called The Annual Beer & Bagel Off-Road Run. Only I didn't know about the 'off-road' part when I signed up. Sure, I saw the words 'off-road' but I just figured... I don't know what I figured but now I'm scared.

Also, the flyer I saw SKINNY BITCH! said 3ish miles. Now all of a sudden it's 4ish miles. I'm gonna die-ish. I get all signed up and then someone mentions something about a creek and climbing out of a ravine up a rope in past years. I got an email that contained phrases such as 'You will be running through the woods, in tall grass, and across a small creek, so dress appropriately. Bring dry clothes to change into after the race." 


And, when we leave home on Sunday morning at 6am, because of the damn time change it will actually be like 5am. Fabulous! 

Wait, is that right? Fall back so what is 6 am will be like 7am. Or 5am? Aw shit! Why can't they just leave the damn time alone?!?!

Oh my God, ya'll! And the Mr won't let me ditch it, something about $40 and broadcasting that I was running to the whole internet. 

November 4, 2010

Where The Hell Did That Come From?

Asher and I had lunch with Aidan today. Pizza Hut pizza day - truly it's the only acceptable menu option as far am I'm concerned. Afterward, we went to lunch recess with him. I held back and watched Asher follow Aidan all around the playground. They ran past a little girl jumping rope, Aidan first, then Asher but as Asher passed her he reached over and just snapped the jump rope out of her hand.

Yeah! I was like No he fucking did not! 

He didn't much like coming back to pick it up and apologize. As if I possibly cared! What the? Where the? Is it just a boy thing? Are pen!ses inherently hostile to girls? 

November 3, 2010


I've had precious few nicknames in my life. I've liked exactly none of them. 

My father is to blame for the first one. It seems when I was a baby I had a birthmark on my head, that is mercifully covered by hair now, in the shape of a bean. Or so thought my Dad. Then and there he coined "Beaner". 

Just let that soak in for a minute. Beaner.

Up until I was maybe 10 years old I spent my summers as Beaner. My mom and I lived in Arkansas, my Dad in Minnesota and I went to his place every summer. I remember riding my bike through the streets of tiny Fulda, Minnesota with my step-brother and step-sister and their friends. Their asshole friends. Who chanted Beaner, Beaner, Beaner any time I was near. Which was always. I hated those little bastards almost as much as I hated my nickname. And every time I heard that name I wanted to pelt my father in the face with marbles. I quit the annual summer visits to my dad's when I was 13 and by some miracle of God, the nickname never crossed state lines.

The next one I got during my freshman year in high school. In what I can only describe as one of many horrendous fashion choices in the 90's, I wore a shorts and shirt set with a huge screen print of a couple of peaches. As icing on this particular what-the-fuck-was-I-thinking cake, the words Peaches n Cream where printed on the shirt. Talk about wishing I knew then what I know now! Some juvenile idiot trying to get my attention called me Peaches and as it happens in high school, by the end of the day my first name was replaced in the minds of my classmates by the nickname, Peaches. Luckily it only persisted for the rest of that year and was only brought up after that by the original juvenile idiot. 

When I worked as a parole officer I made a conscious effort not to lose my femininity in the pen!s dominated world of law enforcement. I wore high heels, dress slacks, even skirts occasionally. I never, ever went to work without make-up, kept my nails manicured, and continued to wear all of my jewelry.  If you think it was hard to accessorize with a tacky gold badge and a Glock 23, you'd be wrong. I made it work. The price I paid for being so girly was the nickname Officer Barbie. Another name came out of my time at parole but that's a blog for another day.

November 2, 2010


I said I needed prompts to write about so I could keep up this posting every day. You guys claim to enjoy reading my nonsense day after day so I'm gonna try. 55 posts last month! That's a lot to keep up with. 

I searched around and found plenty of ideas. Mama Kat always has something on her Writer's Workshop. I've never linked up for it but I've used the prompts. Here are some more I came across or made up. I'll probably add to this list as things pop into my head. And when one is used, it shall be referred to as 'blogging on cue'.

Something you hate about yourself.
Something you love about yourself.
Something you have to forgive someone for.
Something you hope you never have to do.
Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Once you've decided to let someone go, how do you do it (tell them or just disappear)?
Something people compliment you the most on.
Something you never get compliments on.
Lindsay Lohan and/or other Hollywood Twits.
A hero that has let you down. 
Last time you did a good deed.
Someone or something you definitely could live without.
A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Your views on gay marriage.
What do you think of religion? 
What do you think of politics?
Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Ever thought about giving up on life? When and why?
What’s the best thing going for you right now?
What were you in high school? Nerd, jock, cheerleader, stoner...
What if you were pregnant, what would you do?
Something you hope to change about yourself. Why?
15 interesting facts about me.
Meaning behind your blog name.
Are all the stories on your blog true?
Why do you blog?
A blog post you regret publishing.
Your parents and siblings.
Your friends.
Something you're afraid of.
Something you're looking forward to.
Something you miss.