Because I Have Nothing To Offer...

I say that we find some funny, which will be in pictures. Which will be where some are not for the wee ones to see. So I suggest that you view this post at a later time, or in a place where the kiddies can't get a gander. Because sometimes, we just need to have some ADULT humor.

Wordless Wednesday

I think that I should use Wordless Wednsday as to express myself, seeing as I am obviously having the week from hell. Between the school problem, my cooking problem (where I have ruined SOMETHING from the last two dinners) and a host of other "problems", the following pictures should help you "get" where I am this week...

(Yes, my husband has fallen victim this week. Even with medication in the bathroom.)

(My children LOVE a messed up, shitty looking home. God forbid we look like we live like clean, normal people that value our belongings.)

(Refer back to previous picture's explanations, seeing as I don't care to repeat myself twice. It's a "mom" thing.)

(Thanks to two major screw ups in the kitchen, two straight nights in a row, and not listening to my "gut instincts" of just going out to dinner, this will be my line tonight or I'll damn well get to go out to dinner as to avoid another catastrophe.)

(I say HELL YEAH! Bring it on, bitches.)

Because...

I Think I Was Given Bad Shrooms, Man!!

You know, it's bad enough that Dominos Pizza has now given my husband the WRONG pizza (we use Delivery Service) twice out of the last five of our orders. He ALWAYS gets the Meatza (where it is ALL meat, not a speck of veggie on it because he's a typical man and just rolls like that).

When Dominos last messed up before this, they gave him the one with BOTH meat AND veggies. I specifically said (seeing as I had a brain fart and couldn't remember the actual pizza's name) ALL MEAT, not with ANY veggies. I trusted the girl on the other end of the line to KNOW what I was talking about, seeing as she IS an employee and all.

Last night we went ahead and ordered pizza, seeing as my plans to make a spaghetti dinner were kind of ruined.

See, I have not one, but TWO big refrigerators in my kitchen as I type this. One is the pretty new (but barely used) one that we set up last night. This one has a WORKING water/ice dispenser. But Scott had to clean it really well with Bleach Spray. That alone sent me to tears and in to burning breathing...Even with windows OPEN.

The other of course, is the old one that also too needs to be cleaned. Scotty wants me to clean it BEFORE he moves it. Riiiight!!! I can barely get around in that tiny kitchen with those two giant fridges up in there. I'll wait until he and his brother MOVE IT out of my way, even though it means lots of trips up and down the basement stairs.

And I have totally gotten off track..Back to the bad mushroom pizza and the screw up. (=

The kids got their pizza and started munching right away. As did I with my green peeper, onion and (apparently Psychedelic) mushroom pizza. Poor Scott got a Pineapple and Bacon pizza. And the box (after looking at it) said the CORRECT pizza with chicken and bacon added. But the WRONG pizza was in it. Niiiice.

Poor quality, but this as close to "Psychedelic" as I can get to, let alone WANT TO get to...



My poor husband had to wait yet an extra thirty-five minutes to get his CORRECT pizza and chow down.

We got to keep the Bacon and Pineapple pizza, so I took a piece and tried it. Pretty good, actually!

At first all was fine and dandy for me, sleep wise. But then about an hour or two of being in bed, my youngest comes in in semi-tears and said she had a bad dream and asked if she could sleep with us. So, I became "monkey in the middle", squished between her and her Daddy.

Sometime after that, began the uber scary dreams of zombies, gross and gruesome violence that ensued from being chased by the undead creatures, and other manic and weird dreams.

I think this one best describes the look on my face in the vivid dreams of being chased..



Here's to a much better, zombie-less filled tonight. I'm done with being chased thanks to mushrooms that give me more than a kick.

Want some FUNNY with your signs?

A "Chew It Over With Twix" moment & A Special Memory.

You know kids. They are some of the most free-spirited, care-free people that you will ever meet in this old world.

And believe me when I say that I have three kids that certainly fit the bill. Primarily my youngest, Skyler, who will be turning six years old tomorrow *cries*.

Skyler had decided that last night, Dad's surprise trip to the McDonald's that has a play area was her "Birthday Dinner" (we each get to choose to eat where we wish to for our birthday). So be it. No biggie there.

As Skyler and I sat together in the two-person booth (by her request), while Bryce (her big brother) and Scott (my husband) sat at the table adjacent to us near the middle of the aisle, Skyler and I began a conversation that she started.

The very first thing out of my (soon to be) six year old's mouth is, "Mama, can I drive when I'm ten?". Quickly I replied that driving will not be a skill she will learn until she is sixteen, so she has another ten years to go. To which she stated that this time frame would take "forever".

But then without missing a beat, and with such a straight face, that she would be an awesome Poker player one day, Skyler suddenly blurts out, "Can I have a baby when I'm SIXTEEN?".

I swear that the crickets started chirping. And the look on my face I'm certain was beyond priceless. And in that brief moment, I honestly had the "chew it over with Twix" dude pop in my head with that freaking slogan.

After the shock of hearing that question, I (in what seemed like an eternity) suddenly shot back with, "No! Not until you are AT LEAST eighteen. That's the safety rule".

The gloomiest look came upon her face. And in the aftermath, I honestly had to bite my tongue as to be able to keep a straight face and not laugh manically at what just happened.

Well folks, it doesn't stop there, though. Later on after getting home, I decided to lay on the couch with my (old school) Walkman listening to all kinds of different tunes.

I'd turned to one station where the DJ was talking live to a little boy of maybe ten to twelve years old that had called in with embarrassing stories. And boy dandy was it a good one!

He said that one evening, his mom and he were out doing some Christmas shopping, and in the midst of it all, stopped and bought a couple of Chocolate Ice Cream cones. Afterward, they got back on road along the Interstate.

Suddenly, she felt the urge to go to the bathroom. And I'm not talking tinkling here, people. This woman had to G-O! So, she pulls off the Interstate and goes to (of all places) Kroger (my husband works for the grocery chain).

The little boy says that after getting to the parking lot, his mother jumps out and makes a beeline for Kroger's front doors, only to turn right back around and get back in.

All she says to her son is...

"Too late".

Yes. Your assumption is correct. The woman crapped her pants. So they get back on the freeway and head the rest of the way home.

After listening to this hilarious story unfold, it suddenly sprang to mind of the time when I was about fourteen or fifteen, riding in the car with my dad. We were in fact on the way home from doing some errands. Suddenly, he had the urge to pass gas.

But he knew that if he were to do so, then there would be one hell of a mess to clean up. So, needless to say, being a man in true form, he held it in with all of his might.

But all the holding in the world, even at no more than five minutes away from our house, was going to do. Nope.

Instead, he unwillingly let one rip. And that was all that she wrote. And of course it HAD to be on a cold day where you don't want to roll the windows down.

Next thing I know, my dad is sitting in the driver's seat, squirming like a baby in a car carrier. Then the odor hits me like a slap in the face. I literally must have turned in to Kermit the Frog, because man did I feel ill. And hence, I had to freeze my ass off thanks to needing FRESH air.

I asked my father if he felt better. When I heard the word "no" I about wanted to smack him. That's when he let me know that sadly he didn't make it (at the two minute mark of almost being home). Next thing I know, I'm sitting there almost having an Asthma attack from laughing so hard, that I start crying streams of tears and trying my best to breath.

Every time that my dad asked me to stop, I would only laugh harder. When we got home, he rushed in and showered. I was the lucky sucker (and as my "punishment" according to him for laughing)that got to take his crap-filled, streaked undies (they just HAD TO BE tighty-whities that day) and pants out to the garage and prep them for washing.

To this day, once in a blue moon that memory will hit me and I will just burst out in laughter. Or it comes to me from hearing some other poor soul's tale of incontinence, like it did for me last night.

When my father is long gone, that will be one of the happiest, funniest and most embarrassing moments that I will cherish for the rest of my days. Right next to Skyler's outrageous baby question.

Saturday Slapschtick

I have NO idea as to what I want to write about. And let's face it, the last couple of posts have been kind of a "Debbie Downer" so to speak.

So, instead, I feel like not saying a whole lot, and let the pictures and/or videos do all the talking for me.

WARNING!! Some of the materials below may not be suitable for little kids. So it's on you if you are still having them on your lap and you get asked some really off the hook questions.

WIMTS (What I Meant To Say) with Angel.

HAHA!! Seems that today, where the blogging world is concerned, I am....




This is (to my knowledge)my first WHAT I MEANT TO SAY post. And if you were to ever ask Angel over at http://singedwingangel.blogspot.com/ she will tell you I'm not one to sugar coat things. On MANY different subjects. And believe me when I say, some are HEAVILY laden with expletives. So, if you don't want to know what is *truly* on my mind, then I suggest you back it up and go somewhere else. Cuz my mind (at times) can be pretty mean and bitchy.

So without further ado, here we go!

What I said...

Let's see how I can correct this problem with my son's payments. < To the lady at the SSI office concerning my son's SSI Disability payments.

WIMTS.....

WTF is this shit? If I had that much money coming in to my home, I wouldn't need your damn help! My hubby would have to make almost four more damn bucks an hour to make this pay. What kind of damn math do you people use?!


What I said....

It's okay. We will get this all fixed. I have enough meds to get B through. < What I told the "Office Manager" at the doc's office while doc was on leave, and trying to fix insurance problems.


WIMTS....

Look here asswipe! My kid NEEDS his medicines. How many times shall we jack aouund and how many times you plan to play this off? You best be glad I *have* back up bottles or my kid would be screwed. Even your damn NURSE who has NOTHING to do with this shit of dealing with insurance has done a BETTER job at *YOUR* job than you obviously are. She actually GOT SOMEWHERE!!


What I said...

Emails are sent to ALL members by the group's co-founders. And they are not sent very often. If you wish to not receive them, there is truly only one way to stop those...That is to leave the group.

If you are not happy here, then no one is forcing you to stay. Are you new to the group? Because this is the FIRST time I have ever seen you post anywhere on this forum. < EXACTLY word-for-word to some punk in a TRANSPLANT SUPPORT group on FB over his smart ass post.


WIMTS....

Look you little fucktard! You have NO IDEA what it is like for ANY of us, you little asshole punk. You are not a Recipient, nor are you a Donor or Donor Family. Who gives a flying monkey's ass if you are pissed over some emails that are sent GROUP-WIDE. Remove your sorry-ass self from the group and GROW THE FUCK UP!...FYI don't call on us in the event you need an organ or tissue transplant. With your smart ass attitude and "threats" I sure as hell don't want to give a single piece of myself to a piece of shit such as yourself.

Warped Wednesday

New Wednesday theme ahead!! Proceed with caution. On Warped Wednesdays, I will post some warped, funny, off-the-hoozle pictures.

Just to make you smile on Hump Day! (=