Battle o' the Pine - Part Deux

Disclaimer #1: I have *no* idea what in the ever-loving monkey-piss is wrong with this blog. Every time I put my pics in, it removes formatting...if I re-do, everything gets jacked up all over again. This lame-o computer will NOT win the battle....so if this post looks jacked up for a while, it's a computer conspiracy.


Disclaimer #2: I am *way* behind on the blog. I'm always behind, but even for me...I'm way, *way* behind. I just seem to get all my good ideas in the day, when blood is still flowing through my brain, but I don't usually get to write 'til the evening, because...well, just because of normal insanity. Just take a pill, smile, and pretend like you like it. Or else.

I can dance and slide across the kitchen floor *insanely* well…. until I eat the side of the refrigerator… with the back of my head… after an attempted tap-dancing-burlesque-lindy-hop move. I *totally* had it going on for a second there. My compliments to So You Think You Can Dance, Dancing With the Stars, and good genetics.

I’m almost certain my most recent bout of insanity began when I threw the universe itself into shock. I’ll have you know I cooked – like *three* nights, in a R.O.W. Yes, go ahead…take a minute to collect yourself. I *practically* made filet mignon with a hollandaise sauce, but for the sake of being humble, we pretended it was Hamburger Helper Beef Stroganoff and Chicken Teriyaki. You say to-may-to, I say to-mah-to.

Note to self: Get Duke a helmet. The boy falls on the ground and throws his head back at a moment’s notice. Because I’m a concerned (read: selfish) parent, the only plastic surgery I care to pay for is for myself. I digress.

Last week was straight out of a horror movie. Maybe a horror-comedy. Hell, nearly *every* day is a horror-comedy movie for me.

We were fortunate enough for Byron to start his new job that Monday, and the sky was full of sunbeams, sparkles, rainbows and butterflies. And rabid demon bats. I only *thought* things were stressful after dropping the 2 younger heathens off at their new school. >> Obligatory 1st day of school pictures with the “look how happy we can pretend to be if Mom bribes us with candy and trips to the pet store” smile >>




That night, Gracelyn decided to start coughing up her lung, spleen, entrails and whatnot – so I gave her some of Dimetapp, played reruns of Dancing With the Stars, and got some hilarious video of her dancing right along. She’s got her mother’s mad skillz, yo. *Mad* skillz. I was up *all* night with her.




Tuesday I was dragging, even with my super shots’o’bat piss (5 hour energy drink). I had been joking about the fact that the 1 year anniversary of the Attack of the Pine Tree was coming up.

The next morning I was determined to be on-time, with a plan, on-schedule – everything I’m usually not. Just remember when things seem too good to be true, that’s probably the case. *Apparently* the pine tree family still had pent up anger issues from last year, and just after I uttered the words, “Quentin – call DeeDee – because I don’t need to talk on the cell phone while I’m driving”, the pine tree’s Dad spit on the road, made a tire slip in the mud, and our van spun around and ate pine again. What. The. Hell.


Fortunately this time didn’t involve me being carted away by ambulance, with my life (and arm) hanging by a thread. Ha. Everyone *still* had to go to school and work. Even Quentin, with his 5 bazillion self-portraits on my camera and phone. No breaks in *this* bid’ness.


Thursday *had* to be better, but no, no, no. Why ruin a perfectly bad week by making it better? Not in *this* household, no sir. After Violet ran to the bathroom a good 20 times before we left for school, I decided to take some pee to the doctor for a test, and voila! Yet *another* UTI for VioleNt. Oh, what’s that? Only 50 pair of underwear in a day, *and* a bazillion dollar antibiotics?

Puh-leese. Thursday wasn’t through was us. About 20 minutes after I left home, Byron called with a message. Funny enough, his car would only go in reverse. I explained how if he were *truly* dedicated to his new job, he’d drive 30+ miles in reverse, no big deal. Good thing for him I’m practically a saint, so I turned back around and took him to work. We found out a few days later all his car issues were due to his *hospitable* introduction of this unfortunate hog to the after-life via the Corolla.


I have to go. Byron has officially scared the piss out of me. The man? Knows the lyrics to Laverne & Shirley, and is belting them out, with the show. He. Is. Somethin’.

Side note: The wreck this year happened on the 1-year anniversary of last year's wreck. I also ran my mom's car off a small bridge when I was 16, which *also* happened in October. If any of you kind, generous people would like to start a fund, where I can stay at home the entire month of October 2011, you'd likely be protecting humans all over the earth. Just sayin'.

We do NOT drink piss in our family!

So it’s been a coon’s age since I last blogged. We’ll just say my unfortunate run-in with a pine tree gave me writers block for a bit (or 3 months). The pine tree *finally* met it’s ultimate demise a few days ago, when I saw it being chopped and loaded into a trailer, and the rest being put into a wood chipper. Suck on *that*, pine!

You may not have any idea of what I’m referring to with all this pine tree talk. In October, on my way to drop off my girls at school, a pine tree smite me in the SUV, so to speak, and I nearly met Jesus up close and personal. Fortunately the girls were unharmed. My SUV died and went to junk heaven, and I was taken to ETMC. I don’t remember a thing, but I got 8 liters of blood (thank you very *much*, donors), and spent 6-8 hours in surgery for them to save my now-gimpy left arm. After a few days on a ventilator, and some good drugs (from the best parts I recall, of course), I was released about a week after the accident. I’d also like to extend a *very* personal thank you to the suckbag pine tree, who forced me to have to drive a minivan now.

I had to have spots on my biceps closed up a few times, because it kept coming open, so *that* was nice. My stupid arm is still numb, and burns all the time. A few of my fingers won’t bend, and that pisses me off when I need them to help button my pants, but honestly I shouldn’t complain. I *do* have one of the best scars EVAH and it instantly makes me 10 times hotter. I’m lucky I’m alive and that I have 2 arms.

Now, on to *more* important things.

I’ve come to the conclusion that Duke should live in Japan because he likes to drink piss. Piss is, after all, sterile. If you’re stranded out somewhere for a long while, and need something to drink, you can drink piss if you need to. It still doesn’t make me a fan of it. I’m not sure how long I’ll have to wait before I can kiss Duke on the mouth.

Fa’real yo. He managed to escape the carefully planned out trap doors we have put up around the house; this particular one made up of about 7 pillows. He was able to squeeze his little fat body underneath them to the other side of the couch, and made a beeline down the hall. I wasn’t worried, since I knew I shut the doors in the hallway. No problem. Until a few minutes later when I hear Gracelyn screaming, “NO Duke! You can drink that! Oh my gosh, Mom! Come here!! Duke is drinking pee and sucking on toilet paper!!!” LOVELY.

Apparently Gracelyn went into the bathroom earlier to wash her hands and forgot to shut the door. It was *also* disgustingly apparent that Byron is in 3rd grade and *still*, at 34 years of age, doesn’t know how to flush the toilet. Duke was standing at the toilet, leaned over with his arms in it, and covered in piss water. Holy piss indeed ma’am. Needless to say, Duke was bathed in GermEx.

Later, in the bat cave, all was relatively calm. Duke was upset because he didn’t think I’d ever kiss him again, so he crawled over to one of his favorite parts of the house. The Liquor Cabinet. He took out his favorite old bottle of tequila, started beating a spoon on it, and chewing on the lid. It *was * pretty cute, so I even ran to find the camera to take a picture. I switched over to look at it, to make sure he wasn’t all goggle-eyed, and noticed something more important. The lid was sitting behind him, on the floor. The cap to the bottle. A UWS (unidentified wet spot) was on the floor behind him. It seems Dukers took it upon himself to get the lid off, and washed his mouth out all antiseptic-like so I’d feel better about kissing him (he *knows* I love margaritas). Fortunately I was only gone getting the camera for 15 seconds, so he wasn’t *totally* soused. We’re SO waiting for his 1st birthday party for that!!

PS: I got extensions, so I look like this now: