Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Oh, so I was at the playground (another in the f*ck post saga, I'm crabby)

today again, and I was doing my shadow-Alex routine but trying to modify it so he felt like he had a little more freedom. He was running in front of this lady, and he tripped and fell (in the sand) and laid there for a second, checking out the ground. In the meantime, the lady looked at me with this look of disbelief on her face, and said 'are you going to help him up??'
I wanted to reach down and pick up a handful of dirt and throw it in her judgemental, sour face.
No, he can get up by himself, he's not hurt. Are you going to be wiping your kid's butt when he's 23? I'm not planning on it.
What is up with other mothers? Mind your own goddamned business. Unless you decide to be a little tiny bit friendly, then please feel free to speak up. Douche bag.

The f*ck post

I don't know if I have a cold or allergies or what, but I am getting Goddamned sick and tired of swallowing snot. It is fucking gross, and I want to puke. Not to mention the fact that I can't lay down w/out feeling like I am going to drown.
I have nasty fucking cramps and I'm tired.
I am tired of these stupid fucking commercials, all of the stupid ones - go fuck yourselves stupid commercials.
Crash is a really good movie.
Why didn't Joaquin Phoenix win an Oscar for Walk the Line?
If my dog gets any closer to me he'll actually be in my butt.
Alex was a real peach tonight - a real little gem, just a non-stop laugh festival. I think this tooth that is coming in has a shitty attitude wrapped all around it or something.
If my uterus had a name this week, it would be Rico. He'd be hairy and swarthy, and his breath would smell and he'd have bad teeth. He'd wear a dirty whitish-grey t-shirt, and he would use language almost as bad as mine. He'd yell a lot, and kick puppies, and his feet would stink. He'd have hair coming out of his ears and he'd only eat food that comes wrapped in wax paper. He'd come to visit and fart on your couch, he'd use all of the toilet paper and not say anything about it, he'd use just about all of the milk and just leave a little sip in the carton. His visit would feel like it would never end.
That's where I am. BAAAAAAHHH!!!!

Wednesday, April 2, 2008


oh Spring - for the love of God, when are you going to get here? Sure it's sunny, but these gale-force winds are getting tiresome. I'd like a little warmth, I'd like to take a walk without having tears streaming involuntarily down my cheeks in my eyeball's desperate attempt to keep themselves moisturized against the obnoxious hurricane that no matter which freakin direction I am walking is ALWAYS dead-on in my face.
Beer, I want beer outside. I want burnt grill food (cause I'm a better-safe-than-sorry kind of meat cooker) and I want the coconut smell of sunscreen.
Now don't get me wrong, when it's hot out I'll be longing for the cooler weather and the first shades of fall. I will always bitch about something. But for real, this has been the longest stretch of ass-cold weather in recent memory. I needs some sunshine and outsideness without chapping.

Choosing a haircolor

This has become such a process for me. It is almost as bad and it takes almost as long as picking out which kind of tampons I want. My hand wavers between dark blonde and light ash brown, with a only little quiver betraying how big of a decision I consider this to be. I eye the home-highlighting kits, and pick one up with a rebellious flourish. I read the back, and put it down. I go back to the 'safer' colors, and think - what image am I trying to portray? Do I want to come across as serious, classic, understated? Or fun, wild, down for anything cool girl? Do I want this to be a life-changing haircoloring experience, or merely something to hide the pubic-hair-like-grays I am now getting (don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about)? Should I get the box with the young sexy girl pouting on the front and the metallic lettering, or the one with the woman in a business suit, swinging her hair in a jaunty fashion? What to do, what to do?