Carpe medications!

It’s just *gotta* be a good day when you wake up, covered in pee, that *doesn’t* belong to you (thank you Duke, and those lame-o UNnight-time pullups!)…..then roll outta bed to get cleaned up, *only* to learn you can’t walk – because remember yesterday? All those squats, presses, curls & extensions – so you could become the *monstrous* in-human-looking body-builder that’s inside you? Raawwwrrrr!! I mean, *ahem* (unenthusiastic) Yeaaaahhhhh.

Walk with swagger (?) to the kitchen for some sort of medication, only to continually imagine you’re being eaten alive? Oh wait. You *are* being eaten alive - by ants? Sense of déjà vu (see devil-bug post). Look down in kitchen floor to see what looks to be a ball of a furry mass, some dead animal of sorts, with black fur? Blackish fur with orangey parts? Ooooohhhhh…..like when the kids played ‘chef’ last night, & threw a buffalo wing in the floor because it was far *too* tiresome for their delicate arms to aim it at the trashcan 2 feet away? Guess they take after Byron. Ant massacre ensues.

Try to go back to bed, set down drink, then knock it outta the park (or in the hallway, at least) when I shake the new, clean blanket out. The now dirty, Dr. Pepper covered blanket. Oh, and the DP covered floor. How I’ve managed to get through all this and not say 1 foul word could only be God’s work. I’ve only been awake 15 minutes, and I can already tell….it’s gonna be a *fantabulous* day.

Think I’ll sneak out and go fishing before anyone else wakes up.

Beer Makes Hair Healthy! (i.e. Piss for your Hair)

After the ‘bout-with-the-bug’ yesterday, *surely* nothing but boredom would ensue for the remainder of the day. Wrong.

That’s when you decide to see what that watery noise is – that’s clearly NOT someone peeing – coming from the loo. Ahhh, Duke – ever the metrosexual – is already into taking care of his beautiful blonde curls. He’s standing by the toilet, with the measuring cup – from the sugar bowl? Yes, the sugar bowl. Because haven’t you heard? Everyone who’s anyone exfoliates with sugar at the toilet – and rinses off with cup-fulls of liquid from it.

I *finally* figure out what’s going on.

Duke, has heard – from countless years (what? 2.5 years – that’s 30 months) of media bombardment, that beer? Is good for your hair. Being the genius he is, he’s determine from the best of all sources (read: me!) that beer…. Smells like horse piss. Tastes like horse piss. If you look up beer in the dictionary, it shows a picture of – you guessed it! Your Mom. Kidding. It shows a piss-laden horse stall.

It’s *obvious* the boy wanted to take care of his hair – knew the horses were on the *other* side of the ranch – and used what was available at the moment.

Kinda like when you’re in the mood to do some stained glass artistry – and out of supplies – so instead, you throw a marshmallow in a glass bowl, put in a fork, and voila! It catches on fire, explodes, and creates the most interesting looking stained glass bid’ness I daresay I’ve ever seen.

I (almost didn't) DOMINATE, YO.

You know that moment...when you're waking, wishing whatever kid with their foot shoved up under your rear would remove it….or at least have the *decency* to take their scratchy socks off their feet.....or, remove stickers (from previous sticker-overdose)…. even shave, perhaps? But wait....shave? It could only be one of my children, and none of them shave. Except for Q – who’s 15 – and if *his* foot is up under my butt while sleeping? We have FAR bigger issues.

Only *2* hairs? When was the last time their foot was 1"x2”? In utero? A foot that seemed to be struggling, wiggling ... it *IS* a foot...RIGHT?! Suddenly the thought crept into my mind….WHAT in the holy monkey piss is up under my bid’ness, yo?! Somebody call for back-up, SpecOps, NARCs, NARC-Anon’s, The Fab 5 (where *are* they these days?!), HELP!!!!!!

Now that I mention it, go ahead and call for paramedics. There *seems* to be a head-sized hole in my bedroom ceiling. Then again, maybe that’s just a dent in the ceiling….and the hole’s in my head.

I *knew* I should’ve been a high-jumper!!! We could’ve been living the high-life off the money made from my superb, nay – SUPREME – high-jumping skills. I’d have commercials, promo deals for Nike and Gatorade, my face would be on the box of Wheaties…..oh! The things I would’ve *loved* to know long ago. Alas, it wasn’t meant to be…..

*The* MOST GINORMOUS DEVILBUG (waterbug) in the HISTORY OF MAN just tried to EAT ME ALIVE!!!!!!!!! He could’ve had the integrity to cook me first. I know I went off and broke my dermis or something important….what’s it called? Your spatula? Spectrum? Speculum? (Wait, I’ve heard that somewhere before……) Sternum! That’s what I broke, when my head hit the ceiling and my body bent in unnatural positions.

Insects? Sure. Snakes? Love 'em. Had a 6-footer named Rutherford. Skydiving? Of *course*. WATERBUGS?! Suck it!

Note to Waterbugs: Remember the fate of the pinetrees, dude. I won. Both times. They might’ve had me looking trashy for a hot second, but I? DOMINATED.

Here I Are

Lots of stuff has happened since 1950. People grew up. Got a few cooler cars. Got rid of some *way* cooler cars (uh, 1949 Mercury Led Sled, chop-top, black with flames & suicide doors, OR 1951 Chevy Pickup? Need I say more? Well *that's* a stupid question.) People got color TV's. Plastic surgery. They made freezable pb&j sandwiches with*out* crusts. Cell phones popped up, and so did blogs. Then around 1957, (January 2011 my time), my computer bit the dust and my 5th child - What-in-the-Sam-Hill - died. Sigh! Blogging world?! Where *have* I been without you? Lots of places. Most I didn't even wanna go to. Like the high school cafeteria. I digress.

I have *so* much to ramble on about....at least a good 6 months worth of stuff that's happened...as well as complete randomness that pops into my mind Every. Single. Day. Like how after 33 years on this earth, I've *finally* decided what I wanna be when I grow up: Eva Mendes or Lady Gaga. Don't judge me.

Guess I'll just start with today and see where it's takes me. Hm. I'm syncing my new iPhone right now, after my most recent one got syphillis, played in the dirt, had an exorcism, ate cement, and was permanently buried in the trash can. I got so excited after learning I could re-download all my past apps and 20+ hours of music that I had to take a xanax. (Okay, the xanax was just for fun. Suck it. You know I'm kidding. Maybe.) Future tip for all you freaky-deaky 15 year olds out there: Do NOT download a gazillion different free Kama Sutra apps to your Mom's phone while bored (or looking for geniune info). While I *do* appreciate the fact that they were ALL free, it's inappropriate. Do it on your Dad's phone instead. Kidding. Just don't do it. I still have a 2 year old. I don't want grandkids for another 20 years, and if I can find a place to have you (il)legally sterilized, I *will* do it. Don't tempt me. Fa'real, yo. I *love* Mexico. Don't give me another reason to have to make a trip there. Then again.....that *might* not be a bad idea.....

This evening I got to (re)meet some people from church who are part of my Supper Club group - which is exactly what is sounds like. A club. For supper. All I had to do was provide some chairs, half-clothed screaming children, and my *stunning* personality. We had a great time...or *I* had a great time. Everyone I wasn't related to was pleasant, I learned new things about some neato-bandito people, scared them with info about me, *and* ate some of the best food ever (that I will totally copy and claim as my own invention at future family get-togethers).

I take after my Mother. Although I complain about having to clean before people visit, and then froth at the mouth like Cujo-on-crack, I tend to work better under pressure....so, about 2 hours before people were set to arrive, I got into a cleaning frenzy. Oh! I'm also *always* late. After 19 years with Mr. Late himself, it's rubbed off on me.

When everyone got to my house at 6:30 on the dot, as planned, I sent Gracelyn to the door and ran to the bathroom to do a wash-cloth bath and change clothes. Think I managed to spray on enough sugar-lime refreshing spray to cover an army, threw on some different (and probably dirty) clothes, and ran back out to pretend I'd just been sitting around all day. I did, however, have to give a few excuses of why/how things were broken or unacceptable, so no one got hurt. Like the guest toilet. It doesn't flush because the Anti-Christ lives in it, so you have to fill the tank with water every other flush. Or the master toilet - how if you lean to the side you might slip off and bust your head on the table, because a hinge broke - when I stood on it - to see if dust was on top of the light-fixtures. Or maybe it was to take a full-body pic of a new dress. At this point - who cares?! Or the stained remains of innocent smashed earthworms, chocolate milk, jalapenos, dog food and dirt on the kitchen floor - because the flipping Swiffer Mop ran out of batteries while said guests were coming down my driveway....and *somehow* NOT ONE of the 15 remotes I emptied had batteries that wanted to cooperate? Or if they tried to sit on the futon couch, they might as well kick off their shoes and pretend they were visiting China, because my kids busitificated it so one side touched the floor? I finally realized it Just.Doesn't.Matter. This? Is *SO* the real me....and if they can't manage to handle the real version, I'll kindly offer the meds - because, hey! I'm a people-pleaser!

Now that it's 4:02 a.m., and I've officially been up all night - I think I'll take a shower to smell better for the dentist tomorrow. I hope I haven't overdosed on Orajel by then. Is that possib