Aidan's List

Translation:

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! 

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.

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.

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. 

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.   

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!!!

Musical Monday - Seal

Mmmm, he can be my secret.

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'.

Headlines

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 People.com. 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 People.com and cop to borrowing the concept from her. Hey, all's fair in the search for blog fodder.

George W. Bush 'absolutely' forgives Kanye West

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

Dina Lohan: Lindsay Wants To Open Her Own Rehab Centers

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?

Charlie Sheen Had 'One' Bad Night, Folks. Calm Down!

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.

Actress Betty WHite Made Honorary Forest Ranger

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.

Mel Gibson, ex-girlfriend appear in L.A. court

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.

Smoke Pot? Schwarzenegger Says, Who Cares?

Not I!!! Toke up, dude!

Nancy Grace Settles Lawsuit Over Woman's Death

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. 

TV Chef, I Didn't Sleep With John Mayer!

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

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. 

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.

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.

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. 

Can't. 

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

It is. How about 15% off? 

How about 40% off? 

20%. 

25%. 

Ok.

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

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.

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!

It's Winter!

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.

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?

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!

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.

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">

<!-- http://www.spacegun.co.uk -->

var message = "INSERT YOUR MESSAGE TO THIEVES/PERVERTS HERE"; 

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;

</script>

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.

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 amandapalooza.com 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.

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!

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. 

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? 

Nicknames

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.

Prompts

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.

Nicknames.

A Discussion On Running

I've said in the past that I think runners are whackadoos. And I still hold that belief close to my heart. Close to my whackadoo, running heart. There, I said it, I guess I'm a runner. But not that kind of runner. It has come to my attention that the running community is perfectly accepting of a few, um, side effects. The first one is bloody n!pples. Oh yeah.

Thank the running gods it is mainly men who experience this. And while we're on the subject, for once in my life, I am happy to have small bewbs.

Hey girls, like to paint your toenails pretty colors? That's not going to be so easy when they turn black and FALL OFF! I have one black toenail right now.

My very favorite, the one with which I decided for certain that runners are their very own species, shitting yourself. Yeah, apparently it happens all the time. Perfectly normal, no big deal.

Well it'd sure as hell be a big fucking deal to me! It's one thing to have it happen but to not stop to clean up and keep running to the finish? If there's not a mental illness diagnosis for that, there really should be. 

Also? Snot. Maybe it's because it's cold when I run but my nose runs the whole time. I've finally learned to stuff tissues in the pockets of my jacket rather than use my jacket to take care of it. Washing that bastard every time was getting old.

I run in the mornings when it's still dark and at night, also obviously it's dark. This is due to pure vanity. I don't want to be seen. I always run alone, I haven't even run with Skinny Bitch. It dawned on me recently that running in the dark, alone isn't doing me any favors. I'm always the only one out there so that in itself draws attention to me, duh. And if I was worried about my ass jiggling in the light of day, how did I imagine it looks highlighted by headlights? Duh. I won't be running alone or in the dark very soon. Like next Sunday morning, I'm running a 5K in Nebraska. I'm not quite sure what I was thinking but I've already registered and paid so I'm in. God help me and my jiggly butt. 

Musical Monday - Gone Country!

I was a teenager in the 90's in rural Arkansas. I blasted my fair share of Everclear, Third Eye Blind, Tom Petty and Savage Garden but let's face it, country music ruled the airwaves down there. I went to my iTunes and picked the 90's country song that is most played. I'm not a bit surprised either, I love me some Travis Tritt - in all his mullet glory. This is it...