Just Another Day

So Hubba-hubba went swimming at the gym the other day, and because I have a toddler that exhausts me, I asked him to pick up some dinner for us (not the kids) at Chik-fil-A. I don't know if you have heard of them, but there is some excellent chicken-y goodness that happens there. I try to overlook the fact that they are owned by people are right wing Christians, so much so that they are closed on Sunday. But my stomach apparently overrules my ethics. Hubba-hubba drives up to the menu sign and starts ordering. They have lots of sauces for the chicken, and today he apparently wants a wide variety. However, his vision is a little blurry due to the chlorine he has just swum in, and as he tries to read the sauces, he comes to one that stumps him. Hubba-hubba: Uh, and I'll have Sweet and Sour, and uh, what is that? Burlesque sauce? You guys have a Burlesque sauce? Worker: Sir? No, we don't have a Burlesque sauce. Do you mean Barbeque sauce? Hubba-hubba: (laug...

It's been quite a week, let me tell you. To spare you the verbosity that usually comes with my complaints, I will break them down into bullet points. Because nobody likes to read complaints that are a full paragraph long. Well, if YOU do, let me know, and I'll write something up special for you and email it to you. Freak. Kidding. I love you, really. All three of you. See?! I already wrote a ton of crap that had nothing to do with my horrible week. That, my friends, is how I get into trouble. - Babygirl is having exploding diarrhea diapers at least twice a day. Poor baby. No, POOR MAMA who has to a) smell them b) clean poop off of whatever surfaces it runs onto, which are MORE THAN YOU WOULD THINK and c) all that extra laundry and showering that comes with exploding diaper territory. -I may be out of a job soon. Boo. -I have come to painfully realize that my mother sort of hates me. Not totally, but actively tries to fuck with me. Boo times two. -I hate Bank of America...

It's just late on a Saturday night, and everyone else in the house is asleep. I find myself staying up later than I ought to because when everyone else is asleep, it is the only time I have during the day to be "alone." And I require at least two hours of "alone" time to recharge and be ready for the next day, even if that means being short on sleep and thus apparently eventually shortening my life. Whatever. When compared to sanity, sleep is underrated. But seriously, not a whole lot going on over here, thus the lack of posting. One day flows fairly seamlessly into the next, and the routine around here is locked in pretty solidly. My daughter refuses to speak, instead using her index finger and a catalogue of grunts to make her wishes known. It's annoying, to say the least. Also, my daughter is loud. Like, really loud. Like, loud enough that if she is standing at the front bay windows and sees something on the sidewalk or the street, then her screeching ...

If you haven't read me lately at my other blog, then this will be the first time you find out that I am now homeschooling the Munchkin. This was a fairly agonizing decision, and my family (especially my sister, the teacher) fought me every step of the way. Even though I've been doing it for almost a month and a half now, my sister refuses to speak to me about it. Anything having to do with school or homeschool is verboten with her. Boo to that, I say. But that isn't really what I'm here to talk about. I'm here to vent. Because isn't that what blogs are really all about? A place to vent? Now, anyone who's ever met the Munchkin knows that he is a very smart boy. His former teachers thought so too, and recommended that he be tested for the gifted and talented education program in our district. Great, exactly what I was hoping for because damn, homeboy was really starting to hate school. He was bored as hell, and due to the class size increase and the fact ...

Well, most of you know that I have been writing for the Orange County Metblogs for the last five years or so. Good lord, has it really been that long? For whatever reason, unbeknownst to us lowly writers, the powers that be that ran (and yes, the past tense is deliberate) the site could not make it work and so have shut down the entire network. So, all of my writing, poof! Gone! I didn't even have time to save my stuff that was on there because, hello, I barely have enough time to write, much less sit there and copy and paste all five hundred or so of my posts. Boo. But, one of my former Metblogs colleauges and I are possibly cooking up something new for ourselves, which doesn't require us to stick to someone else's (rather arbitrary) rules about what we can or can't write about. I'm excited (not just because I love parenthesis, apparently) because it's been a while since I was excited to write about where I live. I so LOVE living here, and I've always t...

Hubba-hubba works in the line of public safety. One day he was interrogating someone, apparently in a more aggressive manner than usual. Truly, my husband is an easy-going kind of guy. Which explains why we are still happily married. Anyhoo. His co-worker looked at him in amazement and said, "What, did your wife let you check out your balls today?" Now, this co-worker is a woman and a lesbian, so I forgive her for not knowing how the whole thing works. You see, balls are to be checked out every weekday at 8am, and returned promptly at 5pm. Check-out on the weekends is prohibited. And the late fees? You don't even want to know.

Yes, yes, I know. I cannot pull my head out of my ass and post here, can I? I don't know why but putting up a post on this particular blog is one of the last things I think of doing during the day. Compare that to the heady days of 2006-07 when I was so wrapped up in this blog I couldn't stop thinking about it. Well, I'm thinking that I have a healthier attitude about this blog compared to then, but even the crickets are getting lonely around here. What have I been doing with myself? Well, chasing a toddler around, for one. You know, when I was raising the toddler version of Mr. P, I thought he was fairly challenging. He was clingy and a high needs baby. So I was full of woe is me and my god, my life is so damn hard. So when we found out Ms. P was coming along, we thought to ourselves, finally! Our easy baby! Well, the joke was certainly on us as this little girl is quite frankly hell on wheels. As underweight and tiny as she is, she DOES NOT STOP. She is constantly, ...