May 29, 2011

On Raising a Sexist

Oh yeah, I'm talking about Asher. You remember when he realized I do not have a pen!s and therefore concluded that that fact rendered me useless to him. I take that back, I was allowed to keep wiping his butt. That I could do pen!s-less. Pig.

Asher's been in going to a soccer camp every weekend since April, which he loves. 

Loved. He loved it at first. 

Now? He pretty much refuses to play. 

And why? Because his soccer coach is a woman. See, the first time her husband was there helping and Asher stuck with him the whole time. The last few times he hasn't been there so Asher's out. He says he only likes 'daddy coaches' because mommies are not coaches.

Where'd he come up with that shit? Pig.

May 22, 2011

I Lived

Well, since God decided not to intervene on my behalf by ending the world before this morning's race, I had to run it. Clearly I survived. Also? No puking. There came a moment right at the start when I was pretty sure someone was going to be running 3.1 miles with throw up on their back but they were spared that horror.

My out loud goal was to finish in under 45 minutes. My real goal was to finish under 40 minutes. Yes, I have out loud goals and internal goals. See, I don't like to lose. I know I have run 5K in under 40 a few times. Usually it's more like 42-44, depending on whether or not I had to stop to throw down with an old lady over path rights. I figured if I told everyone my goal was under 45, there was a pretty good chance I'd make it  and everyone would think how awesome I am. But if I revealed the actual under 40 goal and finished in 42 everyone would think I'm a loser. Yes, it's all about what everyone else thinks about me. When does that confidence with age shit kick in? Let me tell ya, it's not at 32 29.

So yeah, I finished in 39 minutes, 17 seconds. The Skinny Bitch finished with a fabulous time of 27 minutes - which, by the way, was a winning time in our age group - she's got the trophy to prove it. She kicked my ass but after she kicked it she came back to find me and ran to the finish with me. Almost makes me feel bad about calling her a Skinny Bitch. But then I remember that she gets to be skinny and the guilt fades. 

May 21, 2011

So Much For The Rapture

I heard the world was going to end May 21 at 5pm. Being the glass half full kind of girl I am, I thought to myself Self, if the world ends on Saturday, you won't have to run that race that sounded like such a good idea when you signed up. It's 9pm on May 21. The race is still on for 8am tomorrow. Son of a bitch!!! I don't know what my problem is. I run more than a 5K three times a week, this really isn't a big deal. Still, it's safe to assume I'm probably going to puke at some point before the race starts.

In an attempt to get my mind off all of this ridiculousness I decided to shop for new running stuff. Which led me face to face with my new mortal enemy - the elastic stay put *ahem, bullshit!* headband. These damn things will. not. stay. on my head. Do I have a large head? Is it abnormally shaped? What the hell?!?! I don't want to wear a baseball cap but  can't just wear a ponytail because my hair falls out of it. Like I need another thing to worry about. It'll be all I can do to not come in dead last tomorrow. I feel this an appropriate time to say 'fuck my life'. 

In the event you never hear from me again, console yourself knowing that I died knowing I was right when I said this running shit is going to kill me. And you've got the Skinny Bitch to thank for it. G'nite!

May 18, 2011

I Will Take An Old Lady Down

I run along a bike/walking path, trail, whatever you want to call it. It's paved so maybe that renders it not a trail since I think of trails as dirt paths through the woods??? Whatever, that's not the point. People walk, run, ride bikes, walk dogs... I even saw a man roll a shopping cart along there once... I digress. Again. I'm trying to say that a lot of people use the path and I manage to peacefully share it with all of them. Save one. One wretched old lady. The damn path is 8 feet wide - plenty of room to pass me, the old lady obscenities aren't necessary. Clarification: 'old lady obscenities' is shit like 'move outta the stinkin' way there!' or 'oh for 'crimmeny sake, watch out!'. Seriously, she's wretched! And I've about had enough. You may look like Betty White but you've got all the charm of Hannibal Lecter and I've got a broom handle for your bicycle spokes next time, old lady!

May 17, 2011

Freakin' Brody

I'm standing at the front door watching 3 teenage girls squealing and wriggling around inside a very small car parked in front of our house on Sunday afternoon and I'm thinking to myself What the hell?? Dumb girls. I hope I was never that dumb. Then I notice a large black mass in the mix. A thought slowly creeps up on me Oh shit, where is Brody? Oh sweet baby Jesus, that's him! By the time I tear across the yard he is sitting in the front passenger seat on the lap of an 80 pound girl and she's screaming What do I do, I can't move him, oh my God, what do I do?!?! Freakin' Brody!

On Monday morning we all load up to take Aidan to school - Brody included. When Aidan opens his door to get out, Brody jumps over the seat and hauls ass INTO the school! It was like he was a huge, black bowling ball and the little kids were pins falling aside as he barreled down the hallway. I threw the Jeep in park, chased him down, and drug him back. Meanwhile the drop off line has completely stopped behind me and you know how the drop-off line nazis like that. Freakin' Brody!

May 16, 2011

Just Wondering

Would it be odd if I was the one to petition a court for Aidan's emancipation when he's 15?

May 9, 2011

This Is Some BS

Dear Mother Nature,

I believe you delivered some weather here in Iowa that you meant for the freakin' JUNGLE and I'd like to request that you come back and take it away! Yes, I'm referring to the 300% humidity. I mean, really, are you kidding me? Don't start being a bitch already. I've seen the projected 95 degree temperatures for later this week. That's not funny, it's MAY! 

Just so you know, I will periodically be bitching about the weather from now until roughly September. Take it up with the Skinny Bitch because if it weren't for this running nonsense, I'd just stay inside with the air conditioner set on 68 degrees for the next 5 months, there'd be no issue. During the summer months I am perpetually pissed off. Nothing to be done about it. I hate the heat, hate the humidity, hate hate hate being hot and sweaty... it's just a miserable time of year for me. Sucks to be around me June-September.

Sincerely,
Sick of the Damn Heat and Humidity Already

May 5, 2011

I'll Bite My Tongue No More

I tried, I really tried not to comment on this. I stopped myself from writing smart ass remarks on the walls of Facebook friends who all but announced IN ALL CAPS that they are borderline racist and/or full blown simpletons. If I thought for a second that some of them came to their conclusions after even a fraction of a minute of self exploration rather than just parroting what their friends were saying, I wouldn't take issue. That's the God's honest truth.

The fact is Barack Obama was in office when Osama Bin Laden was killed by US soldiers. Why is everyone blowing a wad about him, the President of the US, coming on air and announcing the news? So he should take the blame for gas prices but how dare he take some credit for Bin Laden? Do you imagine it all went down without his having any prior knowledge? That someone just woke him up, told him the news and handed him a speech? Whether or not you support him, he's the PRESIDENT, he's who gets to talk when big shit goes down. Look at it this way, George W Bush just happened to be in office on September 11, 2001. Who did you expect to see on TV that evening?  Personally, I expected to see the PRESIDENT.

I can't even begin to discuss the conspiracy theories alleging that Bin Laden is alive, that it was all a hoax to distract us from taking it in the ass at the pump, because my head might explode. Also, I don't like to think that the country I love is inhabited by barely evolved neanderthals. Is it a bit odd that his body was disposed of so quickly, that there are no photos? Yeah, it's odd. Doesn't mean it's not true. If we took the energy and brain power some of us use to "prove" Obama is running a scam and put it to, I don't know, fight homelessness or cure a disease, our country might be in a better way today.

Save your emails, I'll go ahead and preemptively label this post Got Me Hate Mail.

May 4, 2011

My Volunteer Career May Be Short Lived

Saturday afternoon I found myself in Petsmart with two little shih tzus at an adoption event with a local shelter. You'll remember that last time I was doing this my dog shit in the store mere minutes after we came in from a bathroom break outside - the little bastard. This time around was a little better in some regards and a little worse in others. 

Better in that my dog wasn't rumored to be a child killer and worse in that this time when my dog shit in the store I actually threw up.

Oh yes, I vomited in Petsmart. Y'all, whatever the substance that erupted from the ass of that sweet looking dog was was about sixteen different kinds of wrong. I'm truly worried for her health. 

I'm gagging just thinking about it. 

This a reoccurring issue with me. In fact I vomited not five minutes after meeting one of our neighbors. Right in front of her.

She came to the door thinking that a large black dog roaming around outside was Lexi. I stepped out into the yard with her while we tried to get him to come to us. Out of nowhere the dog stopped and vomited up what seemed like 6 gallons of thick, mushy, brown puke. We watched in horror as it spread out over the pristine white snow. And that's when I threw up. Right there in our yard, four minutes after meeting the new neighbor. Again, we both watched in horror as the puke spread out over the pristine white snow. I really know how to make an impression, hu? She mainly nods and waves now. I don't think she'll be coming over for any cook outs.

May 3, 2011

Evolution of Fear

Having spent many hours gawking open mouthed at the videos and photos of the tornado destruction in the south, I'm feeling...scared today. 

I lived many a Spring in southern Arkansas being drug into the bathroom by my mother every time the sky darkened ominously, my eyes in a perpetual state of rolling back into my head like any good preteen/teenage kid. I thought she was ridiculous. Even when a tornado did actually develop and our town was damaged in the 90's, I failed to gain that healthy respect, read: fear, of tornadoes. 

Then April 9, 2009 came along and my hometown was absolutely ripped apart by a tornado. My folks' house, hundreds of other homes and businesses were destroyed - not to mention the three lives lost that night. That was the first time I felt scared of a tornado. Yet even that fear was sort of a That was terrible! But that was our hit, what are the chances it will happen again? That is to say, the fear passed.

And then last week 345 people (at last count) are wiped off the planet by tornadoes. Three hundred forty-five people. Numbers like that don't happen in the US. Not with Doppler and advanced warning systems. I almost can't fathom it. You can bet your sweet ass I've got that fear now. So should the rest of you. If you are lucky enough not to be plucking your family photos out of trees 3 miles from the rubble of your home today, go here and give a little something to help those that are.

May 1, 2011

I'm In Like Flynn

Ours is not a marriage that declares war via flatulence. Thank God my husband is not a man who wouldn palm bomb me and I believe he can foresee the violent reaction that would result from a bedroom Dutch Oven situation. 

Aidan and Asher, on the other hand... They are of the 'louder the better' school of thought and if one can manage to be sitting on the other when the urge hits, well, that's like being King for a day.

So the other day Asher and I are on the couch when a sound not unlike a duck squawking came from under me.  Asher slowly turns to look at me and with a tone of utter disbelief asks me Mama... did you... fart?  I snickered and owned up. A sly smile curled up on his lips and he gave me a slow nod that conveyed approval and more than a little pride. I may not have a pen!s but I fart so I'm worthy again.