The other day I was sittin’ in the salon, getting my purple fabulosity put in. I was flipping through a Maxim men’s magazine. Very interesting and funny stuff in there, and as expected, lots of girls.
There was 1 section on a lame-o smelly pirate hooker named Aryanni. She’s a stupid UFC Octagon girl. I would so smack her teeth on the octagon. Anywho, I turned the pages to see her stats (she might as well be 13, like *negative* 5 foot, 4 pounds, ridiculous business) and low and behold that huzzy had the *gumption* to be frolicking in the flippin’ grass, in just a pair of panties by Honeydew.
How, you ask, did I know the designer of the fab little panties? Because. I own them. I may have looked like Ary-puky-anni in the 5th grade, but alas…not now.
I’m dieting now…on Dr. Pepper and lemonheads.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Saturday, May 8, 2010
A bunch'a (un)important crap.
I just overheard Gracelyn saying, "I’m gonna tell you for the *last* time, Violet! You don’t say it like “damn it, shoot”, you just say *damn it*"!!!!
Are the cattle driven to have relations when they’re directly in front my glass door? Bunch’a flipping exhibitionists. I don’t drive out in the middle of them in the pasture and have relations where *they* can see. Okay, so maybe I did *one* time, after going to the Jaycee’s Haunted House in Tyler when Byron and I were 19-ish, but they *so* weren’t the same cows!!
There’s an electric fence out away from our house, in the pasture by the pond. We use it when the cows are in the pasture by the pond, so they’re not gator bait. The kids know they’re not allowed to go by the pond outside, and our house alarm even beeps every time a door is open or closed, so we know when they go out. Long story short, the girls were playing out in the yard, in front of the same glass door the cows had relations by. Violet ran towards the pond, with me yelling, “Violet, stop! Do *not* run to the pond! The fence is on! You’re gonna get shocked! Violet!!!!” ZAP. Well, so much for that. Don’t get all huffy with me, it’s not that strong, and didn’t even leave a red mark on her hands. Not even an hour later, Quentin set his gun on it to aim better. ZAP again. Moron. Wasn’t supposed to be shooting *towards* the cows in the first place.
Hmmm….what else.
OH! I got supah-fab’lous new purple hair, and I’m rocking it *all* up in your business. The countdown to September 18th bald-dom is *on* like donkey kong, and if you haven’t signed up to brave the shave and conquer kids cancer, we will *have* words. Go sign up. Now. Or else. http://www.stbaldricks.org/events/easttexas or if you live further away, find another event (they’re world-wide!) at http://www.stbaldricks.org .
One last funny thing to mention. Quentin is 14, and *way* too involved in thinking about girls. He’s been dating a girl for a few months now, and I found out they had their first kiss a few weeks ago. Since then kissing has been in high demand, from what I gather. Quentin told me recently that they were “like, you know, making out”. Hmph. I asked him what the definition of making out was. He was all “Whatever Mom. You are *so* lame. You know!” I’m figuring it’s still the same ol’ business….kissing, hugging, basic making out. A bit later I got a text message that said “consecutive kissing with occasional tongue”. Oh I laughed and laughed. I told Quentin that while I *did* appreciate his use of 2 large words, I’d prefer that he find something more productive to do. Not productive like making trouble, or babies…but productive like reading.
Holy. Piss. I just did the *longest* most *best* burp ever! Guess you’d have to be here.
Are the cattle driven to have relations when they’re directly in front my glass door? Bunch’a flipping exhibitionists. I don’t drive out in the middle of them in the pasture and have relations where *they* can see. Okay, so maybe I did *one* time, after going to the Jaycee’s Haunted House in Tyler when Byron and I were 19-ish, but they *so* weren’t the same cows!!
There’s an electric fence out away from our house, in the pasture by the pond. We use it when the cows are in the pasture by the pond, so they’re not gator bait. The kids know they’re not allowed to go by the pond outside, and our house alarm even beeps every time a door is open or closed, so we know when they go out. Long story short, the girls were playing out in the yard, in front of the same glass door the cows had relations by. Violet ran towards the pond, with me yelling, “Violet, stop! Do *not* run to the pond! The fence is on! You’re gonna get shocked! Violet!!!!” ZAP. Well, so much for that. Don’t get all huffy with me, it’s not that strong, and didn’t even leave a red mark on her hands. Not even an hour later, Quentin set his gun on it to aim better. ZAP again. Moron. Wasn’t supposed to be shooting *towards* the cows in the first place.
Hmmm….what else.
OH! I got supah-fab’lous new purple hair, and I’m rocking it *all* up in your business. The countdown to September 18th bald-dom is *on* like donkey kong, and if you haven’t signed up to brave the shave and conquer kids cancer, we will *have* words. Go sign up. Now. Or else. http://www.stbaldricks.org/events/easttexas or if you live further away, find another event (they’re world-wide!) at http://www.stbaldricks.org .
One last funny thing to mention. Quentin is 14, and *way* too involved in thinking about girls. He’s been dating a girl for a few months now, and I found out they had their first kiss a few weeks ago. Since then kissing has been in high demand, from what I gather. Quentin told me recently that they were “like, you know, making out”. Hmph. I asked him what the definition of making out was. He was all “Whatever Mom. You are *so* lame. You know!” I’m figuring it’s still the same ol’ business….kissing, hugging, basic making out. A bit later I got a text message that said “consecutive kissing with occasional tongue”. Oh I laughed and laughed. I told Quentin that while I *did* appreciate his use of 2 large words, I’d prefer that he find something more productive to do. Not productive like making trouble, or babies…but productive like reading.
Holy. Piss. I just did the *longest* most *best* burp ever! Guess you’d have to be here.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
The shovel did it!
I’ve always been a sucker for animals. Like to play with ‘em, eat ‘em…they’re just all around good things to have on hand.
Recently Gracelyn’s school raised baby chicks from wee eggs, and we ended up adopting 2 of ‘em. Did we *have* to adopt them? Puh-leese. The biddies looked at me with big doe chicken eyes, and cheeped, “Pick me! Take me home to be tortured by your heathen spawn, let your dog maul me in a game of chase, and then cut my head off with a shovel, please! Me, me, me!!!!” Okay, so maybe they didn’t say the part about the dog chasing them (who are we kidding, there was never a chase when it started and ended in the dog’s mouth), but you get the vibe. They *had* to live with us.
Fast forward to a week later. Violet decided the biddies needed to stretch their legs, so to speak, and let one down on the ground outside. Next thing I know, Gracelyn busts through the door screaming that a chicken is dying. I go outside to find the biddy by a tree, all lopsided and obviously sporting new body shades...the color purple, ha! It really *was* sad for a few minutes. It was not long for this world, and I didn’t want it to suffer, so I cut his head off. Sucker. Kidding! Sort of. About the sucker part.
Its eyes were closed, but it was still breathing. I thought I’d put it in a small box in a safe place so it could at least die without kids and dogs trying to poke/chew it (Duke tried to bite the biddies heads off the first day…little Ozzy). When I tried to pick it up, it cheeped like “sucka, I would *so* peck you in the eye and flog you in your uvula if I could” and I was all “Piss. This sucks.”
It closed its eyes again, and I waited for it to die for a good 2 minutes. It didn’t happen. I thought maybe I could, um, suffocate it (oh, I feel *so* bad even typing that) if I just held it’s beak-hole shut. It seemed like it was going well, until it’s eyes flew open and it struggled and I just couldn’t do it. It was a flipping baby biddy, suckas!
I asked Byron for a gun, to blow it into oblivion, but he wouldn’t load it for me. I told him to kill it, and he refused to hurt an animal, especially a baby one, and that it was *all* my fault for adopting them in the first place. What a flipping girl.
In the end, it was the flat shovel. I held it above the neck with, asked the good Lord to forgive me, and slammed it down with my foot. Done. And then I remembered (from my childhood), when you cut a chicken’s head off, they run.,,, except this one just turned in circles. He was *slightly* handicapped. Then I laughed.
Obviously God has a sense of humor, because that? Was funny stuff.
On another note... Did you know if you spit on an electric fence and the spit hits the wire, at the same time you realize it's still falling from your lip, you get electrocuted? Well, now you do. But that story's for next time.
Recently Gracelyn’s school raised baby chicks from wee eggs, and we ended up adopting 2 of ‘em. Did we *have* to adopt them? Puh-leese. The biddies looked at me with big doe chicken eyes, and cheeped, “Pick me! Take me home to be tortured by your heathen spawn, let your dog maul me in a game of chase, and then cut my head off with a shovel, please! Me, me, me!!!!” Okay, so maybe they didn’t say the part about the dog chasing them (who are we kidding, there was never a chase when it started and ended in the dog’s mouth), but you get the vibe. They *had* to live with us.
Fast forward to a week later. Violet decided the biddies needed to stretch their legs, so to speak, and let one down on the ground outside. Next thing I know, Gracelyn busts through the door screaming that a chicken is dying. I go outside to find the biddy by a tree, all lopsided and obviously sporting new body shades...the color purple, ha! It really *was* sad for a few minutes. It was not long for this world, and I didn’t want it to suffer, so I cut his head off. Sucker. Kidding! Sort of. About the sucker part.
Its eyes were closed, but it was still breathing. I thought I’d put it in a small box in a safe place so it could at least die without kids and dogs trying to poke/chew it (Duke tried to bite the biddies heads off the first day…little Ozzy). When I tried to pick it up, it cheeped like “sucka, I would *so* peck you in the eye and flog you in your uvula if I could” and I was all “Piss. This sucks.”
It closed its eyes again, and I waited for it to die for a good 2 minutes. It didn’t happen. I thought maybe I could, um, suffocate it (oh, I feel *so* bad even typing that) if I just held it’s beak-hole shut. It seemed like it was going well, until it’s eyes flew open and it struggled and I just couldn’t do it. It was a flipping baby biddy, suckas!
I asked Byron for a gun, to blow it into oblivion, but he wouldn’t load it for me. I told him to kill it, and he refused to hurt an animal, especially a baby one, and that it was *all* my fault for adopting them in the first place. What a flipping girl.
In the end, it was the flat shovel. I held it above the neck with, asked the good Lord to forgive me, and slammed it down with my foot. Done. And then I remembered (from my childhood), when you cut a chicken’s head off, they run.,,, except this one just turned in circles. He was *slightly* handicapped. Then I laughed.
Obviously God has a sense of humor, because that? Was funny stuff.
On another note... Did you know if you spit on an electric fence and the spit hits the wire, at the same time you realize it's still falling from your lip, you get electrocuted? Well, now you do. But that story's for next time.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
I knew you (pretended to) missed me!
I? Am supah-ghetto-fab’lous, and *apparently* my fabulosity ‘twas heard all about the world, and they were all Ex-*cuse* MEH? You *have* to be our employee, and I? Was all sho’nuff.
More easily explained? I’m the newest lucky employee of Hudson Printing. I temp’ed for them for 60 days, and finally started all official-like this Monday. So far, so good. I haven’t dreading going to work so that’s a promising sign. Everyone has been very nice and helpful, so I’m hoping I’ll get to stick around for a while.
Oh-holy-piss, you do *not* even know my business. As you already know (or maybe you don’t, because you’re lame – isn’t there some artsy-craftsy stuff called lame? Like la’me? La-may?) that I’m a *slight* fan of tattoos. I had 2 older ones on my shoulder blades: a stupid peach that said “Peachy” (Honestly. Am I ever peachy about anything?) and a gecko that was pretty for a few days – until I sunburned it into oblivion a week later. Anywho, I had them both covered up with some pretty lilies to match Byron’s name, and the fleur-de-lis in the middle of my back. LARGE-like thanks to Nikki at Garage Art Studio in Longview, for drawing it up, and putting it on.
Since we last talked Palm Sunday and Easter flew by, and we had a *grand* time with family.
This? Is what Quentin looks like on damn near *any* given day. I think he’s attempting an “I’m-so-cool-I-just-happen-to-be-caught-off-guard-and-still-manage-to-look-this-awesome look, but I’m not buying in to it. I’m his mother, and that ol’ dog won’t hunt.
Hmmm…what else, what else, what else? I’m drawing a blank. Guess it’s time to call it quits for this evening, but maybe you fine people can inspire me with something. Or maybe you’re just boring and lame, and will inspire me to sleep. Now *that’s* an idea I’m feelin’ fond of about now.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Good ol' Family Pictures
We had an appointment yesterday to have our family pictures taken. Sounds easy enough, right? NEVAH!!
This *is* the Hast Family, if you recall. Let me preface this by saying these are not just *any* old pictures. We haven’t had a family portrait since only having 2 children. We were long overdue. I couldn’t use just any old photographer, and they couldn’t just be any old photos, so we went with the best: Jennifer Weintraub of Sugar Photography. http://www.sugar-photography.com
Because we were scheduled to shoot in Deep Ellum (in downtown Dallas), we drove up the night before to stay with Jackie and family. I woke up in the middle of the night and checked the weather. Since it was going to be a bit cooler than I had planned for (only 51 at 9 a.m.) I decided to take a 2 a.m. trip to Walmart for necessities. I got coordinating hoodies for the girls, and then realized that *somehow* Violet had made it to Dallas with NO shoes…or rather, her sister’s shoes that were 4 sizes too big. I went head and bought some pink converse shoes for her, and headed back home.
The next morning we were up and at ‘em early, getting everyone bathed and ready to go. I probably don’t need to tell you we were running late. About 30 minutes before we left, Duke was WALKING around upstairs (he can walk now!! Not a pro, really, but he’s doing it.) when he reached out for the railing of the stairs. Guess it was a bit too far, and he ended up falling over, managing to hit his forehead. Now he was sporting a nice red head, which was expected for our pics. What’s a good family picture without injury?
Could that be *all* that happened before leaving? Hell no. Jackie’s dining room ceiling started pouring water after we’d all had showers. I *know* she was more than impressed, especially since she’s having Natalie’s birthday party next weekend at home.
We finally got around to making our first attempt to leave. I was loading things into the car, and kids were running around outside. I told Quentin to pick up Duke and bring him to the car. Apparently he didn’t hear me, so Duke walked out the door unassisted, with Freak-O Ken walking behind him. Ken is a moron and figured Duke could take a cement step alone, and next thing I know, Duke is eating cement. He’s screaming, Byron picks him up, and wouldn’t you know….a *lovely* busted top lip, all swollen, and bleeding on his new shirt. The picture shirt. FIGURES!!!!
We make our 2nd attempt to leave after cleaning him up, get halfway down the road, and realized Violet didn’t have her shoes. After lots of cussing and looking, we couldn’t find the new shoes I bought just hours before. We had to end up letting her wear Gracelyn’s extra pair of hot pink tennis shoes, which matched perfectly, except they looked like clown shoes on Violet. Oh well, we belong in a circus anyhow. (I’m quite certain that while reading this, you just nodded your head in agreement. Suck it.)
Only 15 minutes late, we finally met the photographer of our dreams !! I’m *not* kidding…you *have* to book her. In countless months and hours on the internet, researching, no one else’s work is even comparable to hers. Fa’real yo. Book her or I’ll hunt you down, like the dogs that you are, and slap your teeth out….or something like that. We weren’t ever posed like you’d expect at Olan Mills, Sears, etc. Instead we played, laughed, hugged, kissed, walked, and spun around, and she caught it all on film. Absolutely priceless!!!!
Duke, the hap-hap-happiest baby I’ve ever had, was still pissed about the lip-bid’ness. He decided to show just how unhappy he could be. Violet and Gracelyn acted like usual, and didn’t listen to anything anyone asked them to do. Quentin was his normal supah-cool self, getting confused with his sheepdog alter-ego, with hair in his eyes. By the time we got to the 3rd location Duke finally perked up, and was generally happy. Craziness included, we had a great time!
I absolutely cannot wait to see the pictures!!! Jennifer was nice enough to give us a sneak-peek and I was *very* pleased. She was very easy to work with, and I feel like next time I should supply her with a xanax or 7 for our craziness. Pictures to come!!
This *is* the Hast Family, if you recall. Let me preface this by saying these are not just *any* old pictures. We haven’t had a family portrait since only having 2 children. We were long overdue. I couldn’t use just any old photographer, and they couldn’t just be any old photos, so we went with the best: Jennifer Weintraub of Sugar Photography. http://www.sugar-photography.com
Because we were scheduled to shoot in Deep Ellum (in downtown Dallas), we drove up the night before to stay with Jackie and family. I woke up in the middle of the night and checked the weather. Since it was going to be a bit cooler than I had planned for (only 51 at 9 a.m.) I decided to take a 2 a.m. trip to Walmart for necessities. I got coordinating hoodies for the girls, and then realized that *somehow* Violet had made it to Dallas with NO shoes…or rather, her sister’s shoes that were 4 sizes too big. I went head and bought some pink converse shoes for her, and headed back home.
The next morning we were up and at ‘em early, getting everyone bathed and ready to go. I probably don’t need to tell you we were running late. About 30 minutes before we left, Duke was WALKING around upstairs (he can walk now!! Not a pro, really, but he’s doing it.) when he reached out for the railing of the stairs. Guess it was a bit too far, and he ended up falling over, managing to hit his forehead. Now he was sporting a nice red head, which was expected for our pics. What’s a good family picture without injury?
Could that be *all* that happened before leaving? Hell no. Jackie’s dining room ceiling started pouring water after we’d all had showers. I *know* she was more than impressed, especially since she’s having Natalie’s birthday party next weekend at home.
We finally got around to making our first attempt to leave. I was loading things into the car, and kids were running around outside. I told Quentin to pick up Duke and bring him to the car. Apparently he didn’t hear me, so Duke walked out the door unassisted, with Freak-O Ken walking behind him. Ken is a moron and figured Duke could take a cement step alone, and next thing I know, Duke is eating cement. He’s screaming, Byron picks him up, and wouldn’t you know….a *lovely* busted top lip, all swollen, and bleeding on his new shirt. The picture shirt. FIGURES!!!!
We make our 2nd attempt to leave after cleaning him up, get halfway down the road, and realized Violet didn’t have her shoes. After lots of cussing and looking, we couldn’t find the new shoes I bought just hours before. We had to end up letting her wear Gracelyn’s extra pair of hot pink tennis shoes, which matched perfectly, except they looked like clown shoes on Violet. Oh well, we belong in a circus anyhow. (I’m quite certain that while reading this, you just nodded your head in agreement. Suck it.)
Only 15 minutes late, we finally met the photographer of our dreams !! I’m *not* kidding…you *have* to book her. In countless months and hours on the internet, researching, no one else’s work is even comparable to hers. Fa’real yo. Book her or I’ll hunt you down, like the dogs that you are, and slap your teeth out….or something like that. We weren’t ever posed like you’d expect at Olan Mills, Sears, etc. Instead we played, laughed, hugged, kissed, walked, and spun around, and she caught it all on film. Absolutely priceless!!!!
Duke, the hap-hap-happiest baby I’ve ever had, was still pissed about the lip-bid’ness. He decided to show just how unhappy he could be. Violet and Gracelyn acted like usual, and didn’t listen to anything anyone asked them to do. Quentin was his normal supah-cool self, getting confused with his sheepdog alter-ego, with hair in his eyes. By the time we got to the 3rd location Duke finally perked up, and was generally happy. Craziness included, we had a great time!
I absolutely cannot wait to see the pictures!!! Jennifer was nice enough to give us a sneak-peek and I was *very* pleased. She was very easy to work with, and I feel like next time I should supply her with a xanax or 7 for our craziness. Pictures to come!!
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
A margarita for mommy. and a bloody nose for you!
After the *good* time I had day before yesterday with Duke drinking piss and tequila, I figured it would be at least another week before something note-worthy happened. I should know better. That’s never the case.
Today started out normal enough. I woke up late…as usual. The kids got to school late…again. I picked up my Mom and made the *adult* decision to have some balls and take initiative to continue working out every day, so that’s exactly what we did. After shaping my body into a *true* work of art, we decided to grab a bite to eat, and get something healthy. Fate intervened when some moron pulled into MY parking space in the deli, so we were forced to wait for another. Then I realized that Chili’s was in the next lot over…and we *could* have something healthy there too. Three Southwest egg rolls, 15 chili glazed chicken wings, and *ahem* 3 margaritas later, it was time for a nap. Hey…I earned it!
I crashed at my aunt’s house for a few minutes (or 2 hours), and then we went to pick up the kids. That’s when the *real* fun started. I was pleased as punch that Gracelyn got a green dot, AND a recommendation from the teacher to be placed in the Gifted & Talented program!!
Today started out normal enough. I woke up late…as usual. The kids got to school late…again. I picked up my Mom and made the *adult* decision to have some balls and take initiative to continue working out every day, so that’s exactly what we did. After shaping my body into a *true* work of art, we decided to grab a bite to eat, and get something healthy. Fate intervened when some moron pulled into MY parking space in the deli, so we were forced to wait for another. Then I realized that Chili’s was in the next lot over…and we *could* have something healthy there too. Three Southwest egg rolls, 15 chili glazed chicken wings, and *ahem* 3 margaritas later, it was time for a nap. Hey…I earned it!
I crashed at my aunt’s house for a few minutes (or 2 hours), and then we went to pick up the kids. That’s when the *real* fun started. I was pleased as punch that Gracelyn got a green dot, AND a recommendation from the teacher to be placed in the Gifted & Talented program!!
We were on our way home when Violet started beating Gracelyn in the head with a plastic bottle (to congratulate her on her school achievement). It was innocent enough, I suppose, but Gracelyn was NOT impressed, and retaliated with a punch in the gut. Payback from Violet was served up with another bottle smack to the head, and hair pulling. Gracelyn let out the most high-pitched scream *evah*, started crying, turned around, and slapped Violet in the face. Now both girls were crying and screaming, and I did the thing any *good* mother would do. I started laughing, and told them both they had it coming. ALL while I’m driving!! Another glance in the rearview mirror showed Violet with a bloody nose. About the time I told Quentin to get a napkin, my Mom yelled, “Oh no! She’s bleeding everywhere!”
I try to imagine what people in other cars thought when they passed us….all in my pimped out mini-van, me driving, my Mom’s butt up in the air….because she was standing on her knees in the seat, leaning over trying to help Violet. By this time Gracelyn’s screaming thinking she’s killed Violet. Quentin was absolutely NO help at all. Violet’s nose was literally *squirting* blood, and I was saying, “Wait! Someone get my camera!” Priorities, people. It’s ALL about priorities.
Long story short, everyone in the family survived. The only death was for Violet’s shirt and 5 blood soaked napkins. When I got her out of the car, she had blood all over her legs and said, “But Mom! My wegs is bweedin’!" I didn’t get a picture of her bloody face, but I did get one of some of the damage, and looking perfect 20 minutes later.
This would technically make her *third* broken nose, in less than a year, and she’ll be 3 next month. Anyone want to donate to the upcoming nose job fund? I would be *much* obliged.
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