Monthly Archives: May 2007

Seven Things

1. Jack and I spent three hours in the ER last Sunday getting his chin stitched up after he smashed his face into the jungle gym. It was Power Ranger related.

2. My mom the nurse is taking the stitches out today. In a couple hours.

3. The boys are with their dad and stepmother and new* baby brother at the hotel.

4. I am too hungover for the work I have to do this weekend and next week. Projects loom. Big projects. Huge.

5. Coffee is good.

6a. My children’s stepmother is, while a bit overly protective of her son, a nice person.

6b. My ex is a dumbass who brushed his fingers down my arm in that weird way when we were alone and loading things in at the trunk of the car.

7. Ew.

* The baby is almost a year old, but this is the first time they’ve seen him

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Filed under Divorce, Freaking Out, Kids, Parenting, Stories, Weirdness

Alrighty, Bruce

Wow, this morning I woke up from a dream in which I was kneeling in front of Bruce Willis (wtf?). Not the blond, Fifth Element Bruce, but the bald, infinitely hotter and sweaty Armageddon one.

Again I say, WTF?

Right, so he was naked and maybe so was I, and it was clear that I was about to blow him, and as I licked my way down past his balls, I flicked his ass with my tongue and he totally freaked out. Not in the good way. Like, maybe he cried or something.
The End.

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Filed under Dreams, sex, Stories, Weirdness

Three R’s

This morning, Miles was getting dressed and I was reviewing proper handwashing technique with Jack.

“Get your hands wet, pump the soap and get it bubbly. Spread the bubbles all over your hands . . .”

“Between my fingers, too, right, Momma?”

“Right, between your fingers, too. Then start singing the ABC song.”

“Then I rinse and dry with a paper towel. Where are the paper towels???”

“At school you dry with a paper towel. At home we don’t use paper towels. Use a clean hand towel from the basket.”

“But why don’t we use paper towels?”

Miles poked his head around the corner, pulling up his shorts, “Because, Jack, we Reduce.”

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Filed under Kids, Parenting, Stories

“I Know All the Words to Every Charlie Daniels Song”

Someone’s mother commented a few weeks back about how I am like part of the family, because I’m a redneck, too.

She said this as a compliment, and I took it as one. Because, while I am not a “Redneck Woman,” I certainly live in that part of the country where one is more likely to hear that song on the radio than, say, Soundgarden. It’s not who I am, but it’s part of my existence. I understand it culturally and frankly, I am nothing if not chameleonic. My redneck mama gets this about me.

I can sing that Gretchen Wilson song, thanks, followed by a serpentine, choreographed Shirley Bassey number. Hey, hand me that cello and I might play Shostakovich for you. I will discuss public health policy on a date and diss Jeff Gordon with my brother. I don’t tolerate narrow mindedness and the fact that Miles describes his new friend as having “dark brown skin and her hair in braids with lots of beads” makes my heart melt.

I’m on the PTA and I like getting it up the ass.

I had my abortion and my children by choice.

I don’t spend time with mean people. Excellent choice, that.

Perception’s a funny thing. I’m glad when it works in my favor, like with my redneck mama.

When I told a friend about that comment, she cackled:

“Dude, how can she think you’re a redneck; you have multi-hued hair and a nosering.”

Hell, yeah.

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Filed under dumbassery, Friends, Stories

Cinco de Mayo

Last night I set some kind of record, I’m sure. Puppy sitting for my parents, I had the luxury 0f eight million satellite channels, a 62-inch flatscreen DLP TV and full control of the remotes.

I watched movies.

The boys and I watched The Nightmare Before Christmas, which they loved and then fell asleep on the couch. I stayed up and watched Shopgirl, Como Agua para Chocolat and Memoirs of a Geisha.

Uh, hmm. Tales of forbidden and unrequited love. Nice job, Starz and Encore channels. Every girl knows that it sucks if the one you’re with ain’t the one you want.

Man, that’s a lugubrious start to the day.

Excuse me while I go listen to Liz Phair.

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My Favorite Snarks

wonkette_logo.gif


For the up-to-the-minute breaking political news reported in a fabulously sardonic tone, but also for the deft use of tags and archives. It’s like they were librarians or some shit over there!

Scan the dozen or so posts tagged Tim Johnson (remember that Dem senator from SD who had a stroke and stuff?) over at Wonkette and you’ll know why I totally love them. The headlines alone should be evidence enough.

Here is a favorite.

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Filed under Blogging, Internet, Politics, Writing

mama said knock you out

Last night at Tae Kwon Do I was throwing some badass punches.

Master Kim goes around the room and holds his hand in front of students while we’re doing sets of ten punches. I was the last one he came to. So I punched: 123456789hah. Like that. Again and again.

Maybe it was because my kids were in the row behind me and I don’t want to look like a sissy. Maybe it was because I have a teeny crush on Master Kim and I don’t want him to think I’m weak. The way he kept standing in front of me, not releasing me or the class from our exercise, all the while saying “good, good! excellent punches!” The slap slap slap of my curled fingers onto his palm. Wanting to keep going because I was completely in the moment, legs spread, feet planted, abs tight, focused.

At any rate, we did five more sets than usual. Then Master Kim walked away with a very serious face, brow furrowed, and nodded his approval to me, palming one of his fists and making that unintelligible Korean grunt which means, “you did well.”

Because I am fierce, yo.

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