Tag Archives: humor

I Quit the Stick


Yes everybody, it’s true.  I have quit the stick.  What stick? you may ask.  Well…it’s not my addiction to certain sticks, I can assure you.  I have not quit using drum sticks (because they’re loud), dip sticks (because they’re useful), broom sticks (because I need to keep my house dust free with the added bonus of alternative transportation) or beating people with ugly sticks (because they deserve it).

Out of guesses yet…?

Well I will tell you.  I have in fact quit killing myself willingly with “The Tobacco Death Stick!”

Ah yes, otherwise know as coffin nails, ciggies, cigs, smokes, fags or cancer sticks.

I truly loved that burning, smokey, smelly, smooth, son of a bitch cigarette that dangled from my mouth and fulfilled almost every need that I had. Yet, like the lecherous lover that sucks the oxygen from your soul and all goodness from your heart, I got rid of them, albeit sadly and reluctantly, just like all girls do in bad relationships.  So these days have been filled with the wonderment of withdrawal, anger, crying and insanity among other things.  I thought I might share them with you, as my friends are sick of listening to my pathetic whimpering nicotine addiction drivel anymore. And let me please assure you, it is really pathetic.  So, let’s all get out our ice cream and tears as we go through my last 50 days of saying goodbye to my  ‘ol friend Nicotine.  The love affair that lasted 22 years.

The first thing I have realized is that smoking was my answer to everything in my life….and I Mean Everything!

Happy? Smoke. Sad? Smoke. Bored? Smoke. Lonely? Smoke. Stressed? Smoke. Had a good day? Smoke. Finished a chore? Smoke. Feel Fat? Smoke. After sex? Smoke. No sex? Smoke. Need something? Smoke. Hungry? Smoke. Feel Bad? Smoke. Feel good? Smoke. Feel cool? Smoke. Writing? Smoke. etc…etc…etc..

Now that I am not smoking, how am I filling all those freaking voids you ask? Well here’s how…

Happy? Cry. Sad? Cry. Bored? Yell, then hate your life, then cry. Lonely? Cry, then eat, then cry. Stressed? Furiously walk while crying like a lunatic and yelling to yourself in the street. Had a good day? Think of your tight pants, then yell and follow it up with pathetic sobbing and ice cream. Finished a chore? Do another chore and another and another and another then cry on the floor when you’re tired. Feel Fat? Cry, then buy new pants, then a doughnut and follow that up with hating your life. After sex? Resume sex as there is no relief. No sex? This is a dangerous one… there will be a combination of crying, yelling and cursing while consuming a banana, followed by a kick in the nuts to a random male. Need something? Go and buy it and if there is not enough money, then cry for hours while cursing your pathetic existence.. Hungry? Eat the entire contents of your fridge and then cry. Feel Bad? Eat the entire contents of your fridge and then cry. Feel good? Eat the entire contents of your fridge, which should change your mood to bad and then cry. Feel cool? You no longer feel cool, unless feeling cool means large muffin tops and crying.. Writing? Cry, then write, then cry, then eat the entire contents of your fridge, and cry then write then cry too much to write. etc…etc…etc…

I have realized that I am now a very Large Asshole!

The fact that I am a cranky bitch asshole motherfucking dick 99% of the time now really pisses me off!  I mean, I was a bitch before and a smart ass and honestly a bit of an asshole, but I did not hate every fucking thing on the face of the earth, every damn minute of my life as I do now.  It is insanity.

On T.V. I witnessed the reunion of long-lost relatives who were separated by war and famine. I watched them run towards each other with yearning and tears.  Mother and child, husbands and wives, together again after so much pain and I literally thought…


I saw some Girl Guides skipping down the street happily and I thought..

What? No Cookies for me? I HATE YOU!

I won $10 with my lottery tickets and I thought…

10 Bucks? What a Piece of Shit Crap Assed Prize That is. (Until I realized I could buy two bags a chips with these winnings)

I saw two people holding hands in the park and I thought…

What a pair of Fuckers!

(now this was probably a true statement, but I did not mean it literally. I did mean it with hate though).

I wake up and think…


I’m sure you get the picture. It isn’t pleasant on a good day. I am a miserable bitch.

I have a 10 Pound Pooch

A pooch is what my daughter calls a little tummy and due to quitting and excess eating, I now have a 10 pound pooch that despite exercise, is making my pants tight and my morale low.  I figure my only chance of embracing the pooch is to become a super hero with a pooch.  I will name myself either Super Pooch or Poochahontas, and I will slap the criminal element of the world down with my excess pooch ponch and knock them unconscious.  Could you imagine flab fighting crime? It would be impressive and creative and I wouldn’t have to buy that Bow Flex. If I give the pooch a job, then maybe I can accept it for a little while. Maybe.

Now, I  have to Go…

As I write this I have literally started crying.  I will now drink water and chew gum while crying.  It seems that I cannot even finish a blog post, as this was the time of night I smoked and so now I am insane.  The tears are making it hard to type and I still have to eat the entire contents of my fridge tonight then lay on the floor and hate even breathing.  So I say, wish me luck. I think I am going to need it on multiple levels now. If I can only turn my love of nicotine to hate and this pooch to an 8 pack, life may again be livable.  Maybe.


My Top 5 Terrific Time Wasters


Well, it seems it has been a year since I have written in this blog due to my excessively over dramatic life and so I am glad I am back.  I’d like to add that  almost ALL of the dramatics I have been experiencing  within my life, have absolutely nothing to do with my actions.  I was simply existing and people full of tomfoolery and hijinks, randomly jumped into my life like half-witted ninjas.  They created excessive  dramatic chaos that  a 12-year-old girl would be proud of, tried to disassemble my life and generally tried to repeatedly wasted my time. Oh…and did I mention that the main culprit of this excessive dramatics was a 40-year-old man?


Yes…I said a 40-year-old man, who is really a 12-year-old girl at heart.

Since he has the heart of a 12-year-old girl, I tried to pass him a note 5 years ago that said “I don’t like you anymore. YOU STINK!!! Our marriage is over because YOU are not my soul mate and you have the COOTIES!!.”

He ignored that note unfortunately…

Along with that, I have been trying to raise three teenagers into adults.  Raising three teenagers, mostly on your own will make you feel like tap dancing around a nuclear bomb on a wobbly glass table is a good day. Still, when I wasn’t  dealing with the tap dancing, molding young minds, keeping their asses in line, keeping their asses alive or the 40 year old’s girly dramatics… I did manage to waste my time, avoiding my reality, in various vacuous ways that I will now describe to you in detail. I am simple-minded and therefore easily amused and so here are my Top Five Time Wasters from the past year…

1) I Read 50 Shades of Grey…and Survived with my I.Q. Intact!!!

I had been listening to the whispered gasps of women, huddling together and gossiping about the naughtiness that was apparently 50 Shades of Grey,  E.L. James’ BDSM “romance” novel.  There was flushing and blushing and tales of “not being able to put that book down!”.  So…I was having a slow week in the dating world and thought… okay, let’s just see what this book is all about.  I was actually looking forward to reading some hot sex scenes and possibly picking up some tips…

Instead, what I found when I opened the book was this…

All this talk about steamy scenes, wild sex and then to find, there was absolutely nothing within them that was shocking or really enticing.  I mean…I do those things on a Tuesday when there’s nothing on T.V.  The lead character Anastasia Steel was about as exciting as cardboard and as intelligent as oatmeal. This also lead me to thinking about the ratio between the number of women that liked this book and their average IQ. Which I’m assuming goes something like this…

2,435,675: 65

This then lead me to thinking… man, there are a lot of dumb asses out there.

2) I Saved a Naked Soupy Alcoholic From Being Homeless

Now I  don’t want to say too much on this subject as it involves someone I care about, but I will try to summarize.

One of my best friends had an altercation at her home with her spouse and his family.  This was a naked altercation that also involved fighting naked in soup on the kitchen floor, being very intoxicated (which I think is a given), at one point using the phrase “CLEAN IT UP!” which I think is a fantastic statement in general, but in this case was directed at her spouse and the floor soup and then finding that she could not return to her residence until the “domestic situation” was resolved.  So, she came and lived with me.  Within the next 30 days we laughed, we cried, we kept our clothes on, avoided soup and she stopped drinking. So, within my year, 30 days in May were occupied with her well-being and housing her, until she could fly again with clothes on and without soup or alcohol.

Before I move on though I have to say… Fighting naked in soup is something you should be proud of. Not many people could say on their deathbed…”And I’ll always remember that time I fought naked in soup.” It may be weird, but  it is impressive, my dear on the wagon  friend.

3) I Used “Wunderbar” at the End of all of My Sentences. 

This I have done to amuse myself here and there as I go through life.  The Wunderbar at the end of the sentence must be stated with dramatic emphasis or it is no longer fun.

My favorites are as follows…

“What a Bitch! Wunderbar!”

“Go fuck yourself! Wunderbar!”

“Is that a man or a woman? Wunderbar!”

“I think it’s infected. Wunderbar!”

“Who trained that weasel? Wunderbar!”

and lastly…

“Do you have a large box of Super Absorbent Tampons? Wunderbar!”

4) Created New Songs, from Old Ones and Sang Them to My Dog, About my Dog

This is something a do unconsciously and often. I mortify my 15-year-old daughter whenever any of her friends are around when I do it.  Still, if I have mortified her, I always continue, as that is the type of mother I am.  I have sung such favorites as:

 1) Little Stinky Monkey Won’t You come Out Tonight? Come out tonight? Come out tonight?  Little Stinky Monkey   won’t you come out tonight, and dance by the light of the moon. (Original song: Buffalo Gals)

2) I love dogs, I love dogs.  Does everyone know that I love dogs? (Original Song “I Love Fudge” from PBS Show Arthur).

3) If you love stinky bitches and getting caught in the rain (Original Song : If You Like Pina Coladas)

5) Created New Species Names for my Dog as Being a “Dog” is Just Waaaaay Too Boring

I often create new names for the type of animal my dog is, because she is crazy and therefore, I believe that being a dog is just way too normal for her.  I often walk around my house and when I find her in my bed asleep state….

“Why, is that an African Pigmy Bed Weasel?”

I’d like to add at this point that the strange species names have the same effect on my 15-year-old daughter as the singing if anyone is around and so is just that much more amusing.

Here are some other names I have given my dog over the past year to amuse myself:

Stinky Monkey

Goggles Pizano

Goggle Eyed Platypus

Stinky Duck-billed Bed Weasel

Dutch Dimensional Carpet Croucher

Squirrely Eyed Pig Weasel

Google Eyed Stinky Elephant Chaser

Grouchy Stinky Covert Farter

and these are just a few of my favorites…

That, dear readers, was just a window into the distractions I have entertained to make my life more livable. I hope you have enjoyed it.

I will leave you lastly with a picture of my Yodameister as she deserves some more recognition and love.

I’ve Got a Bat and it Ain’t a Louisville Slugger


Well it’s been a busy hectic summer and I’ve been working through most of it, so I decided to take the family up to the cottage for a much needed break.  I closed up the house, packed the kids and the dog, took them up to the lake and finally relaxed!  It was a little chilly that week but the break from the grind was just what the doctor ordered.  Little did I know what was waiting for me at home and how it would make it’s appearance!

So after a week, I reluctantly packed up the kids and the dog and headed home.  We got home, unpacked, and settle back into our house as I mentally prepared to head back to work.  As we all settled in for the night, a very furry unwanted vistor lurked somewhere in the house, just waiting for his grand entrance.

Around midnight I was feeling sleepy and decided to go to bed for the night.  I fell into a blissful slumber with my dog sleeping at the end of the bed. All the teenagers in my house decided to stay up, as they do in the summer, much like the undead or freaks on meth.  

While I was sleeping, I thought I could hear the phone ringing and ringing and ringing and ringing and ringing.  It would stop for a few seconds and then it would start to ring and ring and ring and ring and ring again.  This began to pull me from my blissful slumber.  I was soooooooooooooooooooooooo tired and it took me quite a while to be coherent.  There was no phone in my room, as the kids leave them all over the house, so the ringing was distant, although still very annoying. Here is the part where I learned the lesson electronics and self-preservation mean more the teenagers than assisting your poor old mother. 

Get ready for the fun that I experienced with only my googly eyed dog to save me, which by the way absolutely did not happen, as she was looking for me to save her.  Typical. You’re on your own when it comes to kids and wimpy dogs.  Zombies at your door? You better load that fucking shotgun, because the kids and the dog will be running for the hills and there will be no help for you. You will have to take them out all by your little old self.

After one million rings of the phone, I completely wake up.  I get out of bed and turn on my bedroom light.  I KNOW the kids are awake in the house and so I walk out into the hall and yell…

“Why the hell is nobody answering the phone?????!!!! It has been ringing and ringing forever!!! Also, where the hell is the phone, so I can answer it if none of you will???”

The response came from my youngest daughter,  from the bathroom on my right.  This was the response…

“Mom! It was me calling from my cell phone! We’re all in the bathroom!  There’s a BAT IN THE HOUSE!!!!!”

At this statement, I turned and looked towards my now lit bedroom and this is what I saw…


This was the moment when I shit my pants.  After the shitting was over, I screamed a scream that would make Janet Leigh proud, grabbed my google eyed dog by the collar, as she was cringing behind my legs and ran down stairs. I actually never stopped screaming the whole time I was running.  It was the longest scream of my life!

I had enough sense when I did run downstairs to open my screen door wide.   I somehow remembered in my panicked state that someone had told me in the past, bats can sense air movement and may fly outside if you open a door.  Then Yoda dog and myself hid in the downstairs bathroom and watched until the bat actually flew out.

I then spoke to my kids and this is what I found out:

They saw the bat flying around the main floor like this

This was the moment that they shit their pants and then ran insanely to the upstairs bathroom to save themselves.  Let it be noted, my youngest daughter, as terrified as she was, remembered in her terror to bring her cell phone, which should give everyone an indication of how important her cell phone was to her and how close to her heart it must have been as she took it with her and saved it from the bat.  Let it also be noted that as she ran upstairs, she ran PAST my bedroom door, which was OPEN and she did not close it!!  Showing just how much she cared about myself and Goggles Pizano (my google eyed dog), how she worried for our safety, while we were sleeping unaware of this crazy flapping rodent in our midst.

Now that they made it to the bathroom, they were terrified, but now safe and so they devised a plan to help me and the dog, as they had left my door open (I still can’t believe this!!!) and were not willing to venture out again to close it.  They decided that they would call me to warn me of the impending disaster from my daughter’s cell phone. 

So, the kids called and called, and I of course slept and did not answer.  They left me a really helpful voice message at first that said

“Bat Emergency!! Bat Emergency!!!!! Mom! Wake up and get out of your room there is a bat in your room!!”

as we all know I slept on..

My daughter ran out of minutes on her phone as so could not directly call anymore. So they began sending messages to my phone via text to land line,which would make the phone ring still.  The next message was left in a robot voice saying…

“Get out of bed there’s a bat in your room”


“Oh my God just wake up and get the hell out of there!”


“Mom! You need to wake up and run.  Get out of your room!”


“There is a bat! Get out!”

All of these messages were left on our answering machine, which is nowhere near my bedroom. They were left in a soft robotic voice, that wouldn’t be able to warn anyone of any impending disaster as its pronunciation was phonetic and it sounded like an insane Stephen Hawking. It was also hard to decipher as the insane Stephen Hawking robot left the message so quickly, it would have made Speedy Gonzales proud! (I’m showing my age at the last comment) I’m surprised each statement did not end with “Arriba! Arriba! Ándale! Ándale!”

I asked them, why did you not open the door a crack and scream?  God knows that any Mom would wake up instantly upon hearing one of their children screaming!  They answered that they were too afraid to open it even a crack in case the bat got into the bathroom. Really? As if the bat would sense a slight crack in the bathroom door and say to himself,

“There hasn’t been enough shitting of pants upon my arrival. Let’s just take this up a notch, shall we? Chances are, I will fly right into the door and injure myself, but I’m a bat that likes to live dangerously, because let’s face it… I’m a masochistic and evil bat that’s in this house to give these people a reason to wear adult diapers!” 

I’d like to note, that statement would only have been uttered, if my ex-husband was the bat!

So basically as the kids were calling and leaving their messages and not screaming, my bedroom looked similar to this…

It was the most action my bedroom had seen in months!!!

Just not the type of action I’d like to see again. The feeling was similar to dating a normal man and finding out he likes to wear pink girly thongs in the bedroom.  Not a good thing or anything your eyes would like to witness a second time!

At least the bat that was in my house, was not wearing any women’s underwear.  That might have pushed my terror over the edge!

And so, this is the story of how a survived a good batting. Good night all! I wish you rodent and transvestite free homes, unless of case you are partial to either of these things and in that case enjoy!

Buona Notte!