Wednesday, July 13, 2011

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 least a good 6 months worth of stuff that's 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, 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

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