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Allrighty then. I'm better now. I didn't talk to a priest, although I probably could stand that on a good day. I just got the majority of chores done to make me realize that last spark of joy in my black lump of coal heart. Also, I got two prayer requests from friends who had or were having biopsies and were scared and worried. Nuff said. Working on the attitude...

Bah Humbug

I'm ready for Christmas to be over. OVER. Not just the day after over, but day come and gone, traveled to family and back, unpacked, laundry done, gifts put away, thank you notes written and sent, decorations stored, and bills paid off OVER. I long for the desolation and lack of decoration of January. I'll get to Mardis Gras later. I'll post on how much I love Mardis Gras later. For now, suffice it to say that I want Christmas over. I don't feel it this year. I could give a fook this year. That's a problem. I think I need to talk to a priest about it and see what I need to do. I will refrain from saying fook when I talk to him. Or at least I'll try...

Cool guy

It is out of the bag. President-elect Obama, our fearless leader is still smoking. He says he quit but occasionally falls off the wagon. His doctors said he is healthy and can run three miles. He was seen with nicorette gum on the campaign trail. He said he WILL NOT smoke in the White House. This has really made news. People seem to care about this. Not the willingness to kill the unborn, or all of the other stuff that makes me nervous about our fearless leader. People care about whether or not he is sneaking off and smoking a cigaratte occasionally. Hmmmm.

Here is the shocker. I love it. It is endearing. It actually makes me like him more. In a world where the President Clinton not only smoked cigars but got a blowjob in the whitehouse (I can't resist the term "getting his pole smoked" hee) the American public is worried about Obama dealing with the crap he has to deal with and not taking a smoke break? That's hysterical. Obviously the guy can handle smoking in moderation. Yeah yeah, its bad for you. So is fattening food, and too much sleep. Anything is bad if you are a moron.

So back to Obama. It makes him cool. You know it does.

Why couldn't I get the boobs?

I think that I'm fairly bright. Not gifted, but able to learn things quickly. I was always a teacher pleaser and thrived off praise and grades. I'm not proud. Its who I am.

Here is the flip side. I'm really dingy. I reinforce that damned dumb blonde reputation on a daily basis. And when I do it in a public way or around people who don't love me I just hate it. I want to scream, "But I'm smart! Really! I have an MBA and I graduated seventh out of seventy on full scholarship and I was drunk at least three nights of each week of that program!" But again with that stereotype - that comment wouldn't help. I used to have no filter. In my brain, then *insert sound effect* out my mouth. My husband has helped me with that. Sometimes with a kind reminder that I should pause before I speak and sometimes with a look on his face that says, "I can't believe I am married to this dumbass for eternity." Both methods do the trick.

The point of my post: I had a dingbat moment tonight, and no one to tell. I was playing solitaire on the computer after putting the kids to sleep (see how smart I am? I could have been watching t.v. or cleaning my kitchen) and it was one of those games where all signs pointed to me winning and having that kick-ass graphic with the cards falling down and leaving little visual echos. *sigh* Anyway, all my aces were up top, all my kings were down bottom, and I was cookin with bacon and then it happened - I was stuck. All because of one card that I couldn't get to for it to all work. Keep in mind this was on the computer. And in my frustration and grasping for straws as to why smart me couldn't win, I actually thought for a second that........................

the kids must have been playing with the deck and some of the cards must have gotten lost.

I'm not proud. Its who I am.

Light Reading

Ok, I did my political thing and got on my soap box and it doesn't really make a difference other than make me feel heard, which is what this little blog experiment is all about. Doing its job, it is.

So here I am with a full belly from Thanksgiving, looking forward to filling it a little higher with some boiled crawfish, and feeling all warm and fuzzy and not at all political. I did just finish The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins and boy was that book disturbing. Good though, and I can't wait for the second one. Is she even writing it yet?

What sent me in that direction was actually the review for Hunger Games by Stephen King. Anything he likes, I will buy. I love Stephen King's own books. If you haven't read The Stand, I highly recommend it. Very disturbing as well, but oh so fabulous and even the mini-series was awesome with a kickin opening scene to the song "Don't fear the reaper." King also wrote The Running Man under the name Bachman and it was made into a movie that was somewhat like the Hunger Games. All this fun election stuff as of late has really gotten me itching to read some of those fun apocalyptic and rise of the anti-christ themed books that I have enjoyed. I can't imagine why;) Maybe when the global economy kicks in, the citizen security force is assembled, and I need to line up for my mark of the beast, oh, I mean identification chip, it will come to me.

Books like these make me thankful that I enjoy reading. M-O-O-N that spells Thanksgiving! (You have to read The Stand to get that joke).

YES HE CAN

"The first thing I'd do as president is sign the Freedom of Choice Act. That's the first thing that I'd do." -- Senator Barack Obama, speaking to the Planned Parenthood Action Fund, July 17, 2007

And here we are.

The Freedom of Choice Act (FOCA) is the most radical piece of legislation in U.S. history. Here are some key points about the legislation co-sponsored by our president elect:

• By allowing and even promoting abortion, FOCA goes beyond Roe v Wade by declaring that women have a fundamental right to abortion and invalidates anti-abortion laws in all 50 states.
• FOCA will require taxpayers to pay for abortions. (So you can't smoke a cigarette in a bar anymore, but you can get taxpayer money to kill your baby?)
• FOCA will require states to allow partial birth abortions
• FOCA will require states to allow abortions by non-physicians. (Will this become a new boutique business like botox parties?)
• FOCA will bar laws protecting a right of conscientious objection to abortion (Catholic hospitals will close their doors and the poor and needy will no longer have that access to merciful care)

Wow. And the biggest problem I have is if there are no restrictions on this, who is to say that abortion won't be MANDATED in the future? Only two kids per family...no down syndrome babies...no cripples...only blue eyes.........Ugh.

Young Love

This is an ode to Sonic. I love you. You make me happy. On some days, you complete me. Happy hour is the best invention EVER. Half price drinks! And if you told me as a 19 or 20 year old that happy hour would mean an $.86 coke ($.83 in Tomball!) and not $.75 Miller Longnecks, I would have laughed at you. First, I was a strictly coke girl. Then I was introduced to Diet coke with lime. Yum. THEN came my newest love (shout out to Allison)....Chocolate Coke. Is a flavor explosion of yumminess in a styrofoam cup.

Sonic is a happy place for me. One of my fondest relationship memories is when my then boyfriend, now husband came to visit me in Ft. Worth and we went to Sonic and it was a cool night and the windows were down and I was eating chili frito pie and singing "Bye Bye Miss American Pie" thinking, "I can't wait to marry this man cause this is probably gonna be how fun marriage is EVERY DAY." Sometimes I wanna travel back in time just so I can bitch slap myself.

Forget those other two and lets vote for Jimmy (warning colorful language)

If you think you like him, here are his views on global warming - he really thinks outside of the box.

Thank you for your presents/presence

When I was growing up, the birthday child was served the last piece of cake. In fact, the birthday child served the cake to their guests. On pin the tail on the donkey and other games, we went last when it was our birthday. At our birthday parties, we opened presents, said thank you and then followed up with a written thank you note.

I've noticed a growing trend these days at birthday parties. People don't open presents anymore. They are piled on a table somewhere and then, I guess, piled in the trunk of the car (if the party was other than at the house) to be opened later at home. Why is this? I'm sure it is to save time, and people think that kids don't want to sit through that. They are there to have fun! But what is it teaching our children? That it is ok to open a gift in private, stew about whether or not you want to return or exchange it? Regift it? Tacky.

As I try to teach my kids the "gift of giving", it involves bringing them to Target to pick out the gift. This is hard with anyone over the age of two. They want if for themselves. They want one just like it. They ask why we are getting it for someone else and not them. This torture must be endured as one step in teaching the gift of giving. Step two is actually giving the gift to the birthday child, seeing them open it, and seeing their joy at recieving the gift. Seeing them like the gift when they open it brings the lesson home. Its fun to give someone somthing they like and see them like it. I consider the thank you note to be lagniappe.

At the end of the parties, my kids then take time to find the birthday child, say "Happy Birthday, thank you for inviting me, I had fun". Then they find the parents (hard to do sometimes) and repeat the process. The sentiments are genuine and this is not done out of some formula for manners. Truly, thank you for having my child. Thanks for providing a fun Saturday afternoon. The expression of these sentiments out loud is what separates humans from the animals.

So the next time I attend a party where step two is not fulfilled and the presents are not opened, I have half a mind to take that present home with me...to regift it. If you can't beat em...

On deck

Since I'm finishing up Pope Joan soon for book club, I will allow myself another fluff book to compliment my new favorite show True Blood (HBO). Its just too weird to even describe, but of course I love it. Its all about naughty love with a Southern Gentleman Vampire (and I thought the Thorn Birds was naughty!) Anyway, I'm so hooked on the show, the music on the show and the whole story, I thought I would go backwards and read the book series upon which the show was based. I just have to get through this long-winded, depressing account of the fictionalized life of the Catholic Church's only woman pope (not that they acknowledge her at the Vatican) because dumb me had to suggest it for book club. The rebel soldier vampire will just have to wait...

Why do I care?

that Madonna and Guy Richie are getting a divorce? Its not like I thought she found her soul mate after the failed marriage to Sean Penn, and the tryst with her trainer that produced Lourdes. So why do I care? Why was I really bummed out when I read that all those rumors for the past few months really did have some truth to them? Why am I worried about how Gwynneth and Chris are handling it? And Apple and Moses -cause they are such good family friends and compadres on the whole "lets marry Brits and live in London and think that America sucks while we make gobs of money off of them!"

Here is why I might be bummed. And I came to the same conclusion when Brad and Jennifer split. If the super beautiful, fabulous and overall kabala spouting, peace loving, tree hugging, genetic jackpot hitting fountains of awesomeness (according to their fans) can't find enough good about each other to stay, then what the hell hope is there for us normal people? With mortgages and kids who interrupt and cars that break, and families that are kooky (that would be mine) and bodies that have taken a beating (mine again) and all of the yuckiness that comes along with children who vomit in our hands as we get them to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and dogs that stink and lick themselves all night, why do we stay? But we do.

Maybe BECAUSE of all that stuff. Because its real. And it may be yucky sometimes but you know if the world turns upside town one day, I'm sticking it out with the one who lets his children vomit in his hands:) That is romance in the suburbs.

Ok, I feel better.

Interesting Commercial

See what the Catholics have done to encourage their 67 million people on election day. They don't tell us how to vote but they sure do get their message across. It got my attention.

Why Feminists hate Sarah Palin

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB122143727571134335.html?mod=special_page_campaign2008_mostpop

For the record: I respect anyone's opinion to vote differently. Just chill on the bile and silly comments about how she needs to be home with her children. WTF? Would we say that about a man? And if you love Obama and plan to vote for him, great, just don't do it because you think he's dreamy.

I drank the Kool-Aid...darn it

Ok, check the box. I have taken my kids to Disney. I had taken to calling it the "dreaded Disney trip". I was so stressed about it. All I could think about was how hard it would be. About the stroller, and the diapers and the crowds and the heat. And making the dinner reservations and etc, etc, etc. And I couldn't figure out what was so great about these parades at night. I grew up with Mardis Gras! Where they threw beads and coconuts! I gave myself a full blown fever blister outbreak over this trip. Not just one but a honking cluster of them all over my chin! I couldn't wait to just get it over with and come home and rest.



And....



I loved it. I had so much fun. More than my kids, I think. I wish I wouldn't have spent oh so much on it (did I mention we had to stay two more days due to Hurricane Ike?) so that I could start planning our return. See, all of those dinner reservations? Well those were for dinners that people COOKED FOR ME AND CLEANED UP AFTER ME. What a concept! I highly recomment the deluxe dining plan. Go for three full on sit down meals per day. Its so worth it.



Oh, and also. Here is another big tip: the Spirit of Ohana luau at the Polynesian is fantastic. There is something for everyone during that two hour show and dinner. Eye candy galore. Hula girls with booties a shakin, Tahitian slap dancers with oh so ripped abs, a fire dancer for excitement and here is the kicker. Bud light on tap included with your meal. Genius.



I'm still not sure about the parades, though. The beads would put them over the top. I should email Disney.

Come what may

It's been a while since my first post. My husband told me I needed to "tone it down" a little bit. He even broke out his manager voice and tried to "handle me". I can tell when he is doing that.

Maybe people would think I'm a whack job with all of my repressed angst and colorful language and such. These are all points that he made. I got pissy and then I simmered down to think about it. I came to the conclusion that he's right (not a conclusion I arrive at easily, I might add). People might think I'm a bit off. People might find me unladylike. People might decide not to like me.




All of those people can go fuck themselves:)

Why

This isn't your typical blog. You know the one...the daily version of the Christmas letter (that's a whole other post) telling everyone who will read what you bought, how much it was, how smart your children are, where you traveled and how fabulous your life is. This is my own personal little journal. Not necessarily meant for anyone's eyes, but just an exercise in journaling. Oprah tells me I should do this, and since I'm a woman between the ages of 30 and 50, I MUST LISTEN. (Note to self...post on Oprah to follow).

I have many cherished friends in my life. Most think they know me. They would be mostly right. Most are drawn to my bubbly personality, and my mostly posititive nature. In fact, I've had people remark to me (my husband in particular) when they first met me, how "stable" I am and how refreshing that is. I have acted as the shoulder and ear to many a friend having a hard time. Only a few friends have seen my inner bitch and and my secret Sylvia Plath side. I hate to dissappoint those who love my stability. Our social mask is all we have sometimes. But there it is.

So I have decided to pour my diatribes into this little blog. Every ugly, hateful and cynical thought will be placed here for safekeeping. Things that piss me off will be turned into chances for my creativity! How cool is that! Wouldn't Oprah be proud.