Eat Mor Pussy

Once upon a time I had an idea born of way too much free time and copious amounts of something or other. It was likely the fault of Chick fil-A slogan that I grew to love when I lived in Virginia: "Eat Mor Chikin". How could you not love those damn cows? When Chick-fil-A finally made its way out west I realized that even without a bun their charbroiled chicken bacon cheesy goodness of a sandwich was AWESOME. Add Sam friendly (gluten-free) fries and a gallon of sweet tea and I'll spread my er...you know what I mean. Yummy shit that there Chick-fil-A. Now, everything was fine and dandy until I thunk up an idea that involved Dude the cat. You see, Dude walks around with his tail straight the fuck up like a flag pole all day long. It cracks me up (yes, I am easily amused) because you can see him coming around the couch just by the tip of his tail poking up on the other side.

One day I decided that such a magnificent flag pole tail needed a flag. It stands to reason that the flag needed to celebrate the goodness of Chick-fil-A and the badness that is my brain. I purchased some felt and puffy sticker letters and BAM! a flag fit for a Dude. I call it "Eat Mor Pussy" because who can't get behind a slogan like that?

Please excuse what I would love to call a "baby bump" but what is more aptly referred to as a big ole belly full of baby. Also, the chair pictured is Dude's chair complete with his special towel to keep his furs off my dining set. I do not have purple chairs, people. And, do not pay any attention to the fact that Dude is eyeballing the backyard with a "fucking help me please" tone to his body language. He loves the flag. See?

You might also note that I appear to have a smaller belly button above my regular old belly button. (If you click on the picture it will get bigger.) I had my navel piercing removed a few weeks back to avoid a stretched-out, stupid looking hole. Too bad I can't avoid that fate all around, huh?

Awesome

I ate today. While that may seem a little obvious to all you readers out there that eat every day, for me it was amazing. I ate a full lunch, 3/4 of dinner, and then a late snack involving a cheesy chicken cilantro guacamole taco creation and some rice. I even made snow cones for Chicken and myself in the afternoon. I enjoyed something sweet! I have not eaten so much in one days in weeks, people. For someone that ranks the joy of eating just behind wonders of sleeping, the last two months have sucked my ass. But today, I ate. It was wonderful.

Guess what I did last night? I fucking slept. Yes, indeed I slept through the night and into the morning. I had a bizarre dream about Dude, though. He was running around with a human-sized shit hanging half out of his ass, which I pulled out with my bare hands and then attempted to smoosh it back in via his belly. It did not work (imagine my surprise) and I ended up having to bath him to get rid of the mess. I am guessing that the incident with Reina (TB's crazy-assed cat) and her attempting to WIPE HER ASS on the carpet like a dog had something to do with it. The moral of the story? Sleep is awesome, even when it involves poop dreams.

My daily schedule as of late had consisted of the following:

• Feel like shit
• Move from bed to couch
• Whine
• Make sure Chicken eats
• Feel like shit on the couch
• Blog about feeling like shit on the couch
  
• Examine my failings as a wife and mother
• Go to bed and fail to sleep worth a shit

However, today I fucking rocked the world. Chicken had a friend over in the morning, I took them to lunch, we met the friend's mother and 3 sisters at the library, we all went to the pool, I made snow cones, Chicken and I read together while eating snow cones. After all that I planted my ass on the couch, but I felt accomplished. Eating, sleeping, participating in life, how much fucking better can it get? Not much.

Actually, it can get better. I forgot one important thing: today I introduced Chicken to Piers Anthony. I had been searching my Swiss cheese brain for an author that Chicken would enjoy, without him feeling like I was stuffing The Classics down his throat. There is also the problem of Chicken finding an author he likes, reading all the books the author has written and then getting frustrated when he runs out of new books. Piers has been a prolific writer for more than forty years. Chicken will be busy for a long time. The best part is that Chicken is already entralled with the book and has stopped reading only long enough to share a funny pun with me. Go me!

Pretty Is As Pretty Does

Today I injured myself while I was trying to pick my underwear out of my ass. In the crazy twisting of putting my arm behind my back and down toward my ass crack I pulled the muscles in my lower abdomen. For a moment, as I walked to the door of a neighbor's house I was doubled over in pain. From trying to pick a wedgie.

Some of you will realize that it was simply a matter of all the muscles in my pelvic region being all loosey goosey from the pregnancy. In a matter of seconds the pain was gone, but the embarrassment of seeing my neighbor and saying, "Hi. I just hurt myself picking my ass," will live on for minutes. Maybe even hours. You might be tempted to say, "But Sam there was no reason to tell your neighbor." But NAY! I am the Queen of Overshare.

In other exciting How Can I Stand Being This Cool news, I just got back from the grocery store where I purchased regular sized marshmallows for no particular reason. Other than the fact that my hormones screamed for them and I almost ripped the bag open in the store and stuffed them into my face. I am not an eating in the grocery store as I shop kind of girl.

Speaking of the type of girl I am, I was thinking lately that most of you only know the blog side of me. There are things that I don't think to talk most of the time because I'm too busy taking pictures of Dude to post for your consumption. (More Dude coming soon, including the flag I made for his tail and his shameful eating disorder!) Anyway, today I realized that I haven't worn makeup much lately. When I say "much" I mean "not at all" except for things like weddings and fancy TB work dinners. I've never worn makeup every day, and sometimes I look around me and think, "Self, there are people that dedicate time EVERY DAY to the application of makeup." And I just don't giving a flying fucking pig about it.

My mother has an hour long routine every morning involving moisturizing, shaving, plucking, powdering, and various other girly things not necessarily in that order. She does NOT just get up and leave the house. Ever. Now maybe I'm a total slacker but I like being able to say, "Well I just woke up but I can be out the door in five minutes." It is not like I don't brush my teeth or shower every day. I just want to spend my time on this planet living as opposed to primping. The fibro has only exacerbated this, because who wants to use up the day's supply of energy getting ready only to be too tired to leave the house? Exactly.

Speaking of my mother, something interesting happened today. My mother's youngest sister called me and congratulated me on my pregnancy. She was EXCITED. I did not see that coming at all. I mentioned to her that my mother did not see especially thrilled that I was pregnant, she laughed and we talked for a bit. Apparently my mother called up and said, "I have some news," in the tone of voice reserved for death, disease, and divorce. My aunt braced herself for the worst when my mother exclaimed, "My daughter is PREGNANT!!" Imagine, if you will, a pissed off mother talking about her stupid child winding up in jail. AGAIN. That's the message that was conveyed.

However, my aunt called me and did the OMGWTFBBQ!!!! YAY A BABY!!! and I was very happy. She even said, "Pretend I'm your mother," and then said it again for me. We talked a little about the crazy that is my mom, and she mentioned that when she told my mother that she was getting remarried my mother said something rude and hung up on her. I recommended that she break "good" news to my mother in the future with my godmother in attendance. She laughed and it was good. I don't trust this aunt completely because HELLO!? I'm related to her and we have some special history but it was very nice to hear someone be happy for me. YAY ME!! And to Jen who kindly offered to be excited every day for me, THANK YOU. You rock.

Dude

Because I am still feeling the backlash of emotion from the previous post, I figured that a picture of Young Dude would cheer everyone one (including ME!) up a little. Do I miss that 500 year old microwave? Not one bit.

PS I did not put him in there. I just ran for the camera to enable me to laugh at him later.

My Obsession

For a long time I have been a wee bit involved with reading infertility (IF) blogs. My dear husband doesn't understand or approve, but I have my reasons. I think that he viewed it as a way to worry about what could happen when we started trying, but that wasn't it at all. I have lusted for another baby since before Chicken was out of diapers. My baby lust has resulted in a few random things, one of which is the Dude. Chicken was 6 years old and OMFG I wanted a baby and it just wasn't in the cards. So I adopted a cat. Luckily, Dude has allowed me to treat him like my baby, up to and including dressing him up on occasion. Dude is very patient and spends much of him time sleeping on me, sometimes on my head. I love it and it helps take the baby crazies away a little.

Back to IF blogs-reading about women trying to have babies soothed me, because at least they were TRYING. When they succeeded I could silently applaud and when they failed I cried with them. I was vicariously trying to conceive (TTC) through these blogs, and a small bit of me could understand the pain.

My latest obsession has been reading about the adoption triad. For those of you not up on the latest lingo, the triad includes the Adoptive parents, the Birth (or First) parents and the child. I have only posted about my adoption story once, but I am mentally working on the issue. My feelings have changed greatly in the last few years as I have gotten to a place in my life where I can open up the past and poke at it a bit. It is painful, gut-wrenching, and devastating but I am trying to get to the point where I can blog about it.

This is all a long-winded way to explain what has been going on in my head lately, as well as the changes to my sidebar. I've added and moved and deleted links, plus introduced new categories. I am going to continue to fiddle around with my template, and I have a new request from My Brand of Crazy for a purdy blog so my creative juices are a flowing. If I have fucked up your blog link/deleted you/did something else stupid like forgotten you entirely leave me a comment or something.

Annnnnnd... I am thinking about going to the dark(er) side and signing up with Twitter-but for a good cause. You know how I fuss occasionally about replying to comments and such? What if I use Twitter exclusively as a means to reply to you and your comments?

Half-Nekkid Pussy Cat

Dude the Cat says:

"Back off of my tits, yo!"
For more pussy shots, go see the King of Nekkid, Osbasso!

Yep, We're Moving

Day 1 of moving: Done.
Day 2 of moving: Tomorrow.

Oh my fuck it stinks in here. My Dude just took the NASTIEST shit ever in the world of shitting. I think he is stressed out by all the boxes and mayhem, because his ass usually smells like roses. Whew! Stinky! Impressive, but stinky.

Fucking Bastard

Dude killed my laptop while on a mission to wake me up for a 5am feeding. He did this by accidentally pouring a glass of water into the back of it. Fucker. In the insanity caused by my grief over the loss of my dear computer I sat down to watch two hours of 40 vs. 20. There was nothing else to do, don't look at me like that.

Teddy Bear decided that my choice of television show was not appealing, and even though he was content surfing the Internets he had to fucking go and ruin my fun. By Googling 40 vs. 20 and telling me: "Oh, by the way... Jen and Amanda win tonight."

Fucking Bastard.

What's Up?

I know that you are all wondering what I am doing. Here's your answer:

(This was a slide show of Dude The Cat)

You might think I am a little crazy to spend my time taking picture of Dude, however I didn't even take these pictures. I've been so boring that all I did was WATCH these pictures be taken of my Dude. And then I scrapbooked them in a fabulous All Dude All The Time scrapbook session.

THEN I added the captions and created a slideshow of my decent into the hell of crazy cat lady that doesn't even blog. /sigh

Pictures...*

I'm off to my semi-annual scrapbooking retreat. Here are a few pictures for you to enjoy/mock while I am gone!

Dude hearts Gus Greeper.

*Pictures involving peoples removed.

HNT Sleep

I know I'm still guilty of infrequent blogging. However, I've been so busy doing lots of very important things that I'm sure you will all understand. I have even documented the monumental tasks that I have completed with the following picture:
*picture removed*
As you can see, not only am I out there on a daily basis teaching the masses/two people the fundamentals of financial planning, I am caring for lonely house pets all over the globe. This particular cat, whom I shall call "Dude" to protect his identity, was found roaming the house in dire need of a nap. Without my swift intervention, Dude might have fallen asleep in any number of unsavory places. Due to my undying love for animals everywhere, I took this poor creature into my bed and helped him achieve nirvana (AKA afternoon napping).

So for all you selfish bloggers out there complaining about my aforementioned lack of blogging, you should be ashamed. Where would Dude be today without my love and attention? Do you see how he softly caresses my face, a gentle "thank you" for the good deed I performed? Shame, shame on you for demanding that I neglect one of God's creatures for your blogging amusement. Oh, and have a Happy Half-Nekkid Thursday. See Osbasso for more HNT fun.

Spermville and Spermitropolis

Chicken is home sick today (Monday), so I'm at home with him blogging. Uh, I mean I'm at home taking care of him. Thanks to H3.2, I'm sitting on the couch with Chicken on the handy dandy laptop so I can do both at once. Chicken was laying down with Dude on his lap, and looked so darn cute I had to take a picture. Of course, I was told by Chicken I had to post the picture right away. That's my excuse for blogging, and I'm sticking to it.

*picture removed*

Chicken and Dude have an unusual relationship for an eight year old boy and a cat. They adore each other, and if Chicken is still for more than five minutes Dude will plop down in his lap. Dude is a genuinely weird cat. He will only eat one kind of cat food, and if you looked in the dictionary under "attention whore" you would find a picture of Dude. Sometimes I think he is a dog in a cat suit.
One day Dude decided that the usual incessant meowing for a fresh bowl of food wasn't working out for him. So he jumped up onto a dining room chair, sat there and complained. Doesn't he have this "Feed me now bitch" look in his kitty eyes?

Some time ago I promised a post about Spermville and Spermitropolis. The story begins one evening when Ewe Girl and her friend Farm Boy came over for dinner and a movie. Ewe Girl and Farm boy have known each other for years, as their parents are good friends. Just recently, they rediscovered each other and are doing the "I think I like you" dance while spending every possible free moment with each other. As Ewe Girl is my bestest friend, I wanted to meet this Farm Boy. I invited them over for dinner and Chicken decided to put on his best "I'm a hilarious/insane child act".

It started at the dinner table, where Chicken knows that he has a captive audience. For some reason, we began talking about penises. Chicken wanted me to tell the story of how my mother was upset that I referred to Chicken's penis as a PENIS when he was learning his body parts. She wanted me to call it a "pee pee", because the word penis is vulgar. I insisted that pee pee is what comes out of the penis, and Chicken would be taught the correct term for his body parts. I taught him many other body parts, like elbow, leg, ear, eye, etc. I didn't feel that teaching him the word penis was vulgar. Of course, we all know that my definition of vulgar is a bit skewed... however I felt I was right this time.

The next thing I know, Chicken is giving Farm Boy a complete sex ed course on penises, testicles, and their functions.

Chicken: The things below the penis are testicles. They are cities of sperm, so I call them Spermville and Spermitropolis. The sperm leaves the testicles and comes out of the penis. Some penises have a foreskin and some don't.

At this point Chicken pretends to use huge gardening shears to illustrate circumcision.

Chicken: If you aren't careful when you cut off the foreskin, you cut off the penis and you are left with a little stump and just Spermville and Spermitropolis. You have to sit down to pee.

Ladies and Gentlemen, dinnertime at Sam's house!