Because I won't be able to do a post tomorrow

Here's a bonus for today:

It really pisses me off to no end when people feel the need to comment on the amount of time I spend on Facebook. I like Facebook a lot. There are lots of interesting things and it is a great way to keep in touch. I'm on and off it all day, and I a new status update pretty much once or twice a day. It's good times.

But people like to get all snotty about other people's computer usage. I get comments all the time about "Geez, you spend so much time on Facebook! You must be really bored!"

Here's the deal. I don't watch TV. I don't go out drinking. I don't sleep around with random dudes. I don't smoke. I don't do drugs. I don't even overeat. I try to avoid spending money and/or shopping. Plainly said, I have no vices. So with no vices to fill up my time, I spend the time that could be used on stupid pointless activities on Facebook, an equally stupid and pointless activity.

I don't waste my time more than anyone else, it's just that my time wasting is documented on Facebook. It's not even like I'm spending huge chunks of time on it. I pretty much have serious ADD issues at this stage of my life. I'm up, I'm down, I'm in the kitchen, I'm in the backyard. I don't stay in one place long. If I write a status update at 9 am, then take a quiz at 11 am, then comment on someone's post at 1 pm, then post pictures at 5 pm, then write another status update at 7pm, that doesn't mean I've been on facebook for 10 hours straight.

So whenever someone gets on their high horse criticizes me for playing around on Facebook and having no life, I pretty much imagine that they spend their non-facebook addicted life sitting in front of the tv, chowing down and/or smoking and/or drinking, while calling phone sex lines and partaking in compulsive online shopping. That's fine. I'm not judging.

It's a bit of a sore subject.

Warning

The warning on my soy coffee creamer says "Not to be used as infant formula." The fact that the warning is there means someone tried it.

Show them how funky strong is your fight.

I don't want to write a blog, but have committed to this everyday thing. So here goes...

The only thing I can think of that is vaguely funny (to me anyway) is that on Sunday, Mario and I took the kids to see the Halloween Parade in Moline. It was a beautiful day, so there was a huge crowd out to see it. We were looking for a spot to sit, and Mario found a little spot where no one was sitting, so he and the kids sat on the curb and I stood behind them.

Then this big, pink haired, twentysomething biatch started biatching behind me to her man. "I was going to sit here, these people stole our spot, now we can't see, blah blah blah" This lady was standing about 5 feet away from where we sat down when we sat down, and unfortunately I didn't pick up any psychic vibes saying that she maybe kind of probably wanted to sit in that spot eventually.

She was whining and whining to her man right behind me. Her man, to his credit, was rational and didn't care. But she kept going on and on and on.

I'm not a confrontational person. I try to get along, but this lady wouldn't stop. I got pissed and turned around and kind of went off on her about how she didn't own the street and she wasn't anywhere around when we sat down and that she needed to let it go. I pointed out several times that she wanted three little kids to get up so she could sit down. (She didn't ahve any kids with her) What a lazy ass (I didn't say that part) She wouldn't give up, and Mario got involved and told her "Listen, I'll move over 6 inches and you'll have all the room you need. Would that make you happy? Would that solve the problem?" As soon as he said that, she kind of retreated. Mario has a way of making people retreat. He's very polite and charming in his problem solving abilities, but he pretty much looks like any mafia henchman out of any Godfather movie (one time I was dealing with a male former friend calling me all the time/stalking me, and Mario didn't really care for it, and I didn't really either. We happened to run into him somewhere and I introduced them, and all Mario did was shake his hand and give him a look, and I never heard from the guy ever again. He can be very intimidating without saying one thing when he feels like it.)

So the lady went back behind us, and chilled out a little, but she kept bitching about it the whole time. So here's what strikes me as funny...

I am so not a confrontational person, but she wouldn't stop. I was getting very rattled, and I turned around and growled at her "Back off me, lady! Back off."

What's funny about that to me (and probably not to anyone else) is that I apparently learn my confronational skills from Michael Jackson videos

(see 6:40)




It's very surprising I didn't say "You ain't bad! You ain't nothing!" or "You wanna see who's Bad?" or even "Beat it! Beat it! No one wants to be defeated!".

I'm slightly (lotly) ashamed of myself. I should have better arguing skills than just quoting Michael Jackson.

But hey, at least it worked. She did shut up, or at least moved further away so I didn't have to hear her. I'm not sure why it worked, but it did.

So tired, tired of waiting, tired of waiting for yoo-oo-ooo-oou.

So I'm really going to do this everyday, but can't guarantee they'll be long (which is probably good) I can guarantee that many will be boring and pointless, so if that's your thing, read on.

I'm fussy. I haven't been able to exercise all week because I can't leave the house. I'm waiting for people pretty much all day. I've had all these guys running in and out of my house, dealing with this basement flooding thing. All the carpets in our basement had to be yanked out and replaced. Insurance says they'll pay for it, so I guess the silver lining in all of this is that we'll get a free basement renovation forced upon us (the irony is that the basement was already renovated by a previous owner---and paid for by insurance---because of a fire.)

I was really just planning on putting down carpet again, then Mario's cousin got me excited about other options(ha, editor's note: instead of "Mario's cousin", I accidentally typed "Mario's husband" Weird. Anyway...) I've been researching and carpet is really dirty and gross and moldy, pretty much anytime, anywhere. So now I'm thinking laminate? I don't know. The carpet guy is coming today at 11 am. Either that or 1 pm. Either that or whenever he feels like coming. Fine by me. I'm here.

It's annoying having to sit around and wait for people, but it is one nice aspect of being a housewife that I'm able to do that. The contractors will say something like "We need to schedule a time to come in. What would work for you?" Then I reply "Anytime. I'm always here." And they get such a look of suprise and happiness in their faces. They probably get real sick of having to schedule out time windows because they know they'll totally be late anyway (because that's how contractors roll) then the customer will be all pissy that they have to miss work. My work consists of sitting around the house, so it works out well.

Ugh, babies.

Pretty much, I've discovered that I like my kids a lot more now that they aren't babies anymore.

For years, my house was filled with babies and baby paraphenelia. It is a thing of the past. We no longer have to shell out a small fortune on diapers, we have beds instead of cribs and I couldn't find a bottle and/or sippy cup in my house if my life depended on it.

And it's so much better. Babies suck.

I have never been a baby person. A lot of people crumple up into a big wad of "OH my gosh he's so cute can I hold him blah blah blah" when they see a baby. Not me. I would just kind of say Hi to babies, and then they would just look back at me like I was an idiot.

When I was a teenager, I always told myself that I wouldn't have any kids after the age of 30. If I was going to be a mom, I would be a young mom. I think I also kind of made this little deal with myself thinking that there was absolutely no chance I'd find any sort of husband/potential baby daddy material before 30 and therefore I'd be off the hook, reproductively speaking.

But I got married at 22, and actually---to my great surprise---caught baby fever. Again, it wasn't at all about BABIES, but I liked the idea of having kids and adult children who will (theoretically) take care of me when I'm a haggardly old crone (meaning in about 5.7 years)

So we had babies, lots of 'em, and I did like the little buggers, despite everything they did to try to convince me otherwise. Babies can puke on you, have explosive diarrhea on you, drool, bite your nipples, keep you awake all night, pee all over the place, try to choke themselves on any household item, and all ranges of unpleasant things, but I still liked them. Enough to not sell them on the baby black market anyway.

But as much as I liked them as babies, I like them WAY more now.

Pretty much, I throw them some food, and make sure they don't kill each other, and we're good to go. The manual labor years of babyhood are gone. They dress themselves, take care of the bathroom business on their own, and know what they like to do. We pretty much can hang out now. I can have some great conversations with them.

But the number one reason why they're so much better now is because they are freaking hilarious guys. Babies are funny too, but it's like accidentally funny. They don't realize they're being funny when they try to kiss the dog's butt, so when you laugh, you almost kind of feel like you're making fun of their baby stupidity. But as they get older, it becomes a case of laughing with them rather than laughing at them.

You may have noticed that siblings often share the same sense of humor. They might dress differently, or have different careers, or political persuasions or whatever, but generally siblings find the same type of stuff funny. It's that way because the parents get to completely mold their kids into having their exact sense of humor.

Here's how it works. Kids are like stand up comedians. They try out their comedy material on their audience--the parents---and sometimes it flops and other times it gets a big laugh. And kids are a sucker for a big laugh. So they chase that audience reaction by going with the stuff that works, and by the time they're 5, you have your own personal court jester who knows what makes you laugh. My kids can turn me on a dime from screaming at the top of my lungs in anger to laughing my ass off. They know how to work the crowd, meaning me. Hence their sense of humor is molded to fit mine and that makes them fun to hang out with.

Kids are so much better than babies. I am SO glad my baby days are behind me. People still ask if I want more kids, which always shocks me because seriously, I had 3 kids in 24 months. Who would go back for more after that? But they ask anyway but quickly wish they hadn't because my answer usually has something to do with how my husband had a vasectomy and nothing shuts people up like hearing you talk about your husband's nutsack.

People always told me that once I had babies, I'd like other people's babies more. Not true. I still don't get all coochie-coochie-coo with babies. I don't want to hold them. It gives me flashbacks. Plus, because I spent so much time holding two babies at a time, when i hold just one I'm probably too casual and it freaks parents out to see me fling their babies around. So I don't want to hold babies, and parents don't want me to hold their babies and that's how it's going to be.

I really am not going to be able to come up with titles everyday.

Or anything blog-worthy. But that's okay. I'll do the random thing, just as long as I do something.

Um, let's see. Well the main thing going on right now is that our freaking washing machine hose broke and therefore our basement was flooded. It's annoying because neither my husband nor I (that doesn't sound right, grammatically. And "grammatically" doesn't look right, spelling-wise.) are "handy" at all, so we are forced to rely on the schedules and billing of plumbers. We had to turn off our water supply, and the plumber people aren't coming until this afternoon. We're all sitting around our house being smelly for lack of showers, with grimy feeling teeth for lack of a proper tooth brushing, and no coffee. I wasn't smart enough yesterday to take a shower as soon as I was done working out, so I have some pretty old nasty sweat on me right now. I smell like a homeless guy. If I could make some coffee, I might be able to handle smelling like a homeless guy. With caffeine, I would be like one of the stinky but happy homeless guys, one of the high, kind of a hippie kind of vibe. But without caffeine, I pretty much feel like one of the really mean homeless guys who get in your face and yell and curse at you about how the government is trying to control your thoughts.

Mario didn't go in to work today for hygienic reasons, and that's never good. Mario and I can handle about a weekend's worth of family togetherness. Like 48 hours is good. Then he goes back to work and I get control of my turf again. When we have a three day weekend kind of thing, it really just turns into a bitchfest (in this case, a smelly, bad-breathed, non-caffeinated bitchfest). He decided to clean out all the kitchen cabinets because he was irritated with having to sit around waiting for a plumber. That's all fine and good, except that when Mario cleans something, he expects me to help. I'm not cleaning anything without some coffee in my system. So yeah, we're kind of getting on each other's nerves.

We had to spend last night pulling soggy junk out of our junk room. The kids are all excited because I had to pull the Christmas tree out to dry and now they think Santa's coming any time now. I found a box full of old Halloween costumes and the kids are having fun with those but I'm kind of worried about a mouse or a brown recluse spider or something lurking in a wig. A couple good things came out of our forced cleaning of the junk room. I finally got to throw away the boxes and boxes of old magazines that Mario has been hanging onto for his entire life. Like music magazines from 1995, and wrestling magazines from 1988 and a bunch of other random stuff that he socked away like someone from "Hoarders". Also, another good thing is that I found some boxing gloves I completely forgot that I owned. I took a kickboxing class last Tuesday and it was great in that I was sore for days and days and days, but it was bad because I had to borrow some slightly soggy, definitely smelly, nasty gloves from the teacher. I will be much more enthusiastic about returning to kickboxing now that I actually have my own gloves. I will have to check for mice and/or brown recluse spiders.

Okay, that was really boring. Sorry about that. I'm just real pissy right now. Pissy, and really smelly.

I've completely abandoned this thing

I have a goal to make one post a day for the rest of the year. I tend to not really stick to my goals and/or commitments so we'll see how this goes.