Nothing makes me happier than checking the search log on this blog and finding this:
Search: query for ‘fart’
Search: query for ‘fart’
Search: query for ‘fart’
Search: query for ‘fart’
Search: query for ‘gas’
Search: query for ‘poop, mexico’
Which reminds me of the time Erika emailed me to tell me she couldn’t access this site at the hospital because it had been categorized as “TASTELESS”.
True story! My blog has been deemed “Tasteless”!
Awesome.
Last night was Aerobic Dance Class. I was more excited than usual because I was under the assumption we’d be continuing with The Hip Hop and, not to sound cocky, but (once again) I NAILED it.
I arrived to class early to do some stretching. (Which is a complete and total lie. I do not arrive early to “Stretch”, I have been FORCED to arrive early to claim “my spot”. Recently, a group of Annoying Old Wimmins started attending Aerobic Dance class and they are starting to act like they are the bosses of Aerobic Dance class. On Monday, they stole “my spot” and I was stunned. Everyone knows that’s my spot. So now, I must get there early, to mark my territory. (Tony says I should squat and pee, to show them I mean business. I’m not sure, but I think he was being a smart ass.) I pretend to be “warming up”, but really, it’s my way of of saying, “Wimmins, please. I was here long before you and I kinda think that I OWN this class, so step off and GET OUT OF MY SPOT!” Seriously, I have a “spot” and that spot is in the front left corner of the room.)
Bitches better RECOGNIZE.
Anyway, I got there early and was prepared to GO OFF on the Gym Dance Floor with my CRAZY MAD aerobic hip hop dance moves. I was stretching and concentrating. Telling myself things like “You are an awesome aerobic dancer. You own the aerobic dance floor. You are the hip hop master.”
Then, The Instructor entered and announced that we’d be doing “Latin” dancing.
One would think I’d be happy about this because, hello! I’m half latin! But, I wasn’t happy. I was actually a little pissed off. How dare she go and switch it up on me like that.
I got a grip and was like “I can nail this, my dad is from Mexico! There is Latin pumping through my veins!”
There’s a little saying that my father used to preach from the pulpit. “Pride comes before the fall.”
Let’s just say last night, I got served a big ass plate of “Humble enchiladas.”
I could NOT get the steps right. I mean, I had them NAILED in “slow motion” but as soon as she said “faster”, I was lost, man. COMPLETELY LOST. How does a 1/2 latina get lost in a latin dance class?
To make matters worse, The White Girl behind me was nailing it . Thoughts of tripping her on purpose ran through my mind because hell to the NO SHE DI’UNT just shame my half Mexican ass on the aerobic dance floor.
Normally when I get home from dance class, I’m all haughty with my new found dance steps and I walk around the house, spontaneously busting into My Moves and saying things like “You LIKE that, don’t you?” Or “You wish you could do that.” I don’t even care when my kids laugh at me, or say things like “Mom, that was the dumbest move I’ve ever seen” because I know deep down, they’re just jealous. But last night, when I walked in the door, I was distraught and all “I don’t want to talk about it, no MOVES FOR YOU!” To which, they were like “haha, THANK YOU! We hate having to watch you dance!”
It’s not easy for me to admit that I failed at Aerobic Dancing, because in my mind, I truly believe that I am the best Aerobic Dancer to have ever Aerobic Danced, and yet here I am, admitting that I failed. And I failed on the night I should have nailed it because it was the dance of My People.
I keep telling myself that it’s ok, we Aerobic Dancers are human, we have good classes and bad classes. We don’t have to nail it everytime, we just have to give it all we’ve got and try to nail it the next class.
And trust me, that is what I’m going to do. I will NOT let The Non Latins win!
Titty Cheese.
Last night as I was nursing G-unit before bed, my husband asked me how long I was going to continue to nurse her.
“Why? Does it bother you that I’m still breastfeeding?” I asked him.
He said it doesn’t “bother” him, but he thinks I should stop at two years old. Obviously, it does bother him, or he wouldn’t have brought it up.
I’ve felt as though it was time to stop for awhile now. (Well, ever since she started getting all demanding about it.) I just haven’t had “The Heart” to stop. I know she’ll be devastated, but I also know that I can’t do it forever and that the longer I continue to do it, the harder it will be to wean her.
This morning, I made the decision to stop her morning “BOB” sessions. I was worried that All Hell Would Break Loose when I layed her in her crib without having given her The Bobs.
As I was getting ready to lay her down, she looked at me and said “BOBOHS? BOBS? BOBS!” I said “No BOBS, it’s time to go night night, ok?” She shook her head and shouted “NO! NO!” I felt like crying, I felt like I was being cruel. But, I stood my ground. “No BOBS, baby girl. It’s time to go to sleep.”
I hugged her, kissed her, layed her down and braced myself for the screaming that would surely take place as I walked out of the room.
To my GREAT SURPRISE, there was no screaming, nor was there any crying. Instead, she giggled and said “Bye Mom.”
Within 5 minutes, she was out cold.
Operation Phase Out The Bobs is in full effect.
I have mixed emotions about it. On one hand, I know that it has to end sometime and it feels like that time is now. On the other hand, knowing she’s my last baby, that the beautiful experience of holding my daughter while she drinks (Cheesy Version) the milk of my breasts (Non-Cheesy Version) my awesomely nutritious Tittymilk will no longer be a part of my life, knowing that this part of my life as a mother is coming to an end is hard to accept. It’s painful in ways that I never imagined.
I know some women who are THRILLED to be done with breastfeeding. They’re like “I’m SO over this! I want my boobs back!”
WHY CAN’T I BE ONE OF THOSE WOMEN?
Wait! I WAS one of those women when I was nursing my boys. Why is it so different this time around?
Why do I have to be The One Who Cries and Feels Guilty for quitting? THE GIRL IS ALMOST TWO! She has molars! And! She asks for them by name! And pulls up my shirt to check up on them. And then, kisses them and says “niiiiice boobies.”
It’s SO time to stop.
I just wish it wasn’t so damn hard for me. (Because, obviously, I’m the one with the problem here, since my daughter is snoring away, totally not upset at ALL about not having partaken of The Bobs. Which, I suppose I should be happy about! But, instead, I sit here slightly traumatized that SHE HAS CLEARLY MOVED ON.)
(I don’t blame her, she’s growing up and has more important things to do with her time, things like, you know, “Go Wee”.)
DUCK THIS, MOTHER DUCKERS
Yo. Internet. G-Unit here.
My mom has been dying to get on the computer all day long to tell you all about her BEAUTIFUL new look that her BEAUTIFUL friend, Joelle designed for her, but! TOO BAD, SO SAD for her because I am in Pure Drama Queen mode today and ha! ha! if you think I’m going to let her sit down for any length of time without having an Emotional Breakdown.
Also known as “A Tantrum”
Also known as “What makes My Mommy cry and say words that sound just like ‘DUCK!'”
Since I’m giving her a break at the moment (but, seriously, only because I must go find a place to hide to take a dump, which, only takes like 2 minutes… MAX!) she wanted to tell you that if can’t see the font on the sidebar and you are using Firefox as your browser, you need to download the most current version in order to see the site the right way. (You can find it HERE)
IF YOU CARE ANYTHING ABOUT HER, YOU WILL DOWNLOAD IT NOW BEFORE I THROW MYSELF BACK AND HIT MY HEAD ON THE WALL AGAIN, BEYOTCHES.
E!X!C!L!A!M!A!T!I!O!N! P!O!I!N!T!S! AND BEEEEEES!
First of all, I have to thank you all for the advice on how to solve my computer problem.
I downloaded a few of the free programs y’all suggested and once I was able to get them to run, they seemed to have fixed the problem. At least for moment. There are no more “BIG TIT” photos being imported, nor is there anymore renaming of my photos.
Now, I must make a confession. I know EXACTLY where I picked up the precious little virus/spyware from and as TOTALLY EMBARRASSING as it is, I’m going to tell you where.
I got a “friend request” from some radio station on MySpace. I clicked on over to check the site out. Oh man. This is where it gets really embarrassing. There was a section on their page with a bunch of what looked like “Profile pics”. Just about the photos, it said something like “Send us your photos and we’ll feature them here.”
There was one photo that stood out to me. It was a Very Large Half Naked Woman. Curiousity got the best of me and I wanted to see her “page” so, I clicked on the photo! WORST MISTAKE OF MY INTERNET LIFE!
Instead of being taken to her myspace page. A little x came up on the screen and the photo downloaded to my computer and the next thing I know, a ton of pictures started pouring into my computer. At first, they were advertisement like photos, then, all of a sudden BAM! Look at this here very large cock! And look at this here, um, very shaved vagina! And then, and this is where I started to cry and panic, MY photos were being renamed to things like “Cocksucker” and “Tittay lovah”.
I won’t go into anymore details, because… BORING. But! I was able to download a few programs and apparently, they removed whatever the hell it was because there are no more pictures being imported and all of my pictures are back to the way they were.
I really hate hackers.
I give them The Double Bird!
Now! Let’s move onto some exciting stuff!
I am not feeling good today (translation: I’m hemorrhaging like a MOFO) so, I thought I’d treat myself to a Green Tea Frappucino. I got G-Unit dressed, put on a bra and off to Starbucks we went.
It was the most perfect Green Tea Frap that I’ve ever tasted. Just the right amount of Melon Flavor, perfectly blended, no huge ice chunks… It was truly perfect.
When we got home, G-Unit wanted to “WEE” on her “WEE”, and I knew that was what she wanted because she said “WEE! WEE?”. I was on a high from my Perfect Frap and even though I had a million things to do in the house, I was like “The housework can wait! Let’s WEE!”
Not two minutes into the Wee Session, I hear this strange buzzing sound. Chills ran up and down my body because it sounded a lot like a bee. And I’m scared of bees. Terrified, even. I look up and HOLY SHIT OMG BEEEEEES. EVERYWHERE. COMING RIGHT AT ME AND MY DAUGHTER.
I dropped my frappucino to the ground and I screamed something like “OMG! BEES! MUST GO! INSIDE! DON’T! WANT TO! DIE! MUST SAVE GABBY! OMG! BEEEEES!” whilst trying to get my daughter out of the swing.
I was telling myself to “stay calm” because “OH MY GOD THE BEES CAN SMELL MY FEAR AND THEY ARE GOING TO KILL ME!” But, “OMG THE BEES WERE GOING TO KILL ME!” So, staying calm wasn’t an option.
Yes. I thought they were “Killer bees” and yes, I thought they were coming to kill me and my daughter.
Now. I have a “history” of over reacting to things, but, in this case, I think my reaction was completely justified.
I got her out of the swing, ran to the door and tried to unlock it, but I was shaking so violently, I couldn’t get the key in the slot. I finally managed to get the key in, opened the door and shut it behind me.
G-unit was screaming, I was crying and not quite sure what to do.
“The police must know so they can warn The Citizens about the Killer Bees!” So, I called the police department.
The phone call went a little (or, maybe, just maybe EXACTLY) like this.
“Hi! OMG! I was outside with my daughter. OMG! Sorry! I’m so scared! I could have died. Ok. Um, So, I was outside with my daughter and OMG! Bees! They started coming towards us! I could hear them and OMG! I’m sorry! Bees! They came at us, hundreds of them! And! Omg! I’m so sorry, I’m freaking! I thought they were going to kill us! OMG! Help! They’re still in my front yard! I can’t open my door…”
“Maam? Let me give you the number to Vector Control.”
Vector control? Was she serious? Shouldn’t she be dispatching policemen and firemen to my house to figure out how to stop the vicious Killer Bees? Shouldn’t she be telling me things like “Oh my GOD! Keep the doors locked and do not go back out there!”
I call Vector Control and basically give them the exact same story and the lady was all “Ok, ma’am, do you still see the bees?”
“Yes! OMG! They’re in a huge pile in my tree! RIGHT NEXT TO MY DAUGHTERS SWING!”
Apparently, it was just a swarm of bees “resting” and they just happened to choose MY tree and um, they weren’t Killer Bees trying to kill me and my daughter and ha! ha! like always, I TOTALLY OVERREACTED.
And by totally overreacted, I mean “dropped my Perfect Frappucino and left it there to melt away.”
In all seriousness, I am always amazed at the intense and powerful instinct to protect my children from harm. The truth is, I was worried more about my daughter getting stung then I was about my own safety. I actually thought of how I would lay over her body and take the “stings” so she would be safe, but then got scared at what would happen to her if I died whilst being stung and she was left all alone there in the front yard where she could do things like “run into the street”.
And even though I was overreacting and the bees weren’t trying to kill us, I would have offered myself ALL OF THIS up to those bees in a second if it would keep my daughter safe.
But ha! ha! They were just regular ol’ bees looking for a place to rest.
Man. I really do need to learn how to Chill The Hell Out.
)$)^*(&)*&@*^#!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ( And, also, Y IS BEING OVERLY DRAMATIC ALERT )
I do believe my computer has been hit with a virus or some sort of nasty spyware.
Photos and porn videos are being imported into my photo editor and it’s exporting MY pictures and renaming them with things like “Gayporn” and “big tits”. I feel sick to my stomach because the ONLY thing that matters to me on this computer are my pictures and it would seem that they are being destroyed as I type this.
Also? My computer is freezing up and getting a bunch of error messages, so, I’m pretty sure it’s only a matter of time before the entire computer is gone.
And, once that happens, it will be the end of this blog and of all my flickr-ing because a new computer is out of the question.
I’m trying not to cry, but, yeah, that’s not working because I can’t imagine all of the pictures of my children being GONE. I am so pissed off that this has happened and nothing I’ve tried to do to stop it is working.
I suppose if you don’t hear from me in the near future that, well, the computer crashed and it’s so long for JoyUnexpected. (Until we could save for a new computer, then it’s BACK TO BLOGGING FOR ME!)
Ugh. My pictures. I can’t believe this is happening.
The one where I end abruptly because I just heard Dr.Laura give “sex advice” and at the end, she said “horny” and so, I had to go throw up.
I had such an interesting day yesterday, one that included my daughter, “gettin’ jiggy with Jesus” during my dad’s Easter service.
(No. Really. I’m serious.)
(And the best part wasn’t even that there were old-ish ladies Dosy Doe-ing in the isles, nor the men jumping up and down and doing what looked curiously like the “Funky Chicken”, nor the fact that my daughter “bounced” with them. No! The greatest part was that it all went down to Jewish music.
My dad actually said these words. “Feel free to get up onstage or to dance in the aisles, but be careful not to knock down the small children.”
Ha! Ha! Ha! They were gettin’ ceraazy, Church Style.
My dad’s church is very much what one would call “Spirit Filled.” Let’s just put it this way. If his church were Gay, people would call it “Flamboyant.”
But, for the record, his church is so not Gay.
The Singing With The Background Tape went well. I did mess up once, (forgot the words) but, seriously, I didn’t care. I did it for my dad and he was so very happy. So was my mother. When I was finished singing, I saw that she had tears in her eyes. My mom rarely shows her emotions, so that was nice to see.
But not as nice as seeing my DAD DANCING TO JEWISH MUSIC.
The day also was filled with Panic attacks (over having nothing to wear after having discovered my shirt was COMPLETELY SEE THROUGH and deciding I didn’t want people looking at my stretched out belly button all day long.), Rejoicing (over finding my camera in the pile of laundry that Tony had thrown from our bed into the clothes basket) and of Tantrums (over Ethan being pissed off that I was taking pictures because he’s “Sick of the stupid camera” and “OUCH OUCH OUCH, THE SUN IS IN MY EYES! AND IT HURTS! WAAAAHHHHH”)
You probably think I’m exaggerating, but, I have photographic evidence, people.
Can you see the look of intense, horrific pain from having to look towards the sun?
No?
Surely, you see it now.
It was at that point that I Officially Lost My Shit. I grabbed him by the arm in the most loving, caring way and in doing so, FREED him from THE PURE HELL of having to pose for a few Easter pictures with his brother and sister.
“OMG! Go away! I don’t want you in the pictures if you’re going to act this way. GO! NOW! LEAVE!”
The kid had THE NERVE to get pissed at me for removing him from the photo! How dare I even THINK about excluding him from the Easter pictures.
Even though he was whining the entire time. Even though he repeatedly told me how much he hated me taking pictures. Even though he was acting like THE SUN WAS PHYSICALLY HURTING HIM.
He went all DramaQueen and started crying, which, AWESOME! More crying! Only, this time it’s from his “feelings being hurt”, as opposed to flaming, hot, brutal sun burning his eyeballs!
God. My kids are SO exactly, totally like me dramatic.
The greatest part of the day? Had to be The Food. (And that’s saying A LOT because, The Dancing was pretty darn great.)
Carne asada, ham, chicken, spanish rice, baked beans, refried beans, potato salad, salad, spaghetti bake, tortillas, rolls, candied carrots, taramisu, jello, cookies, chocolate…
Do I need to tell you that I overindulged? Or that I was sick as a dog last night? Or that ha ha! I skipped Weight Watchers today? Or that, I am afraid to light a match today because, whoa, The Gas.
Because I did. I was. I did. And, seriously, make it stop.
So, um, how was YOUR Easter?
I’m going, are YOU?
Because of my inability to make the easiest desicions, there is a pile of shopping bags sprawled across my bed filled with three different “Easter outfits” for my daughter.
Dresses. Skirts. Sweaters. Hats. Shoes. Purses. Gloves.
Tony just about crapped himself when he saw me walk in from my shopping trip to get “A” dress for her. “Chill. I put them on credit and plan on taking everything back after I decide which one I like best.” He still wasn’t happy, but once he saw all of the beautiful little girl clothing inside, his heart melted a little.
I called my sister and asked if she’d decide if I sent her pictures of Gabby in each outfit. Unfortunetely, my camera seems to be “missing” at the moment. (I’m trying not to panic, but how does a camera just “disappear” off of my bed? I suspect The Starting Over Gnomes are involved, because this makes no sense! It was on my bed last night!)
Looks like I’m going to have to actually make this decision on my own because my husband is no help AT ALL on this matter.
I put on one outfit on her, he’s all “Ohhhh, I love that one!”
I put on another one on her, he’s all “Ohhhhh, I love that one TOO!”
And so and so forth. When I ask which one he likes best, his response?
“I love them all.”
Men.
I’m thinking of doing an “Susan Lucci” during Easter service and taking her to the bathroom every few minutes and putting a new outfit. Think of the gossip that would generate amongst the people!
(Yes. We’re going to church. And, yes. I’ve finally agreed to sing a song for my dad at church. With a background tape,people. A back.ground.tape. I do believe that qualifies this entry to be titled with something like “Church Cheese.” The truth is I don’t want to do it because a) it’s been years since I’ve sang b) I don’t feel right singing at church when I don’t even attend church regularly c) BACKGROUND TAPE. But, my dad has been asking me for years to sing on Easter, so, I’m going to do it. For him.)
I’m not sure what stresses me out more. The fact that I can’t choose an outfit for my daughter, or the fact that my CAMERA IS MISSING.
Boy, I sure have my “Easter” priorities in order! Because we ALL know Easter is about “Getting Photographed in The Perfect Easter Dress”!
And let’s not forget bunnies! And chocolate! And the decorating of hard boiled eggs!
Speaking of Eggs…
We’ll be doing decorating our eggs tonight. I’m hoping this year we get a little “Daddy Participation” because last year? Um, daddy just wasn’t that into it. Infact, daddy was SO not into it, that he actually FELL ASLEEP! WHILST HOLDING THE BABY!
Now comes the part where I post a little photographic evidence (but only because HAHA, it’s my favorite easter related photo EVER.)
In all seriousness, he will never, for as long as he lives, EVER live that moment down.
And with that, I wish you and your family a very Happy Easter. May your day be filled with peace and love. Also? May you not fall asleep during the coloring of the eggs, nor may your camera mysteriously disappear off of the face of the earth.
Only Flickr addicts will understand the excitement.
This photo made the front page of explore and also #1 for 4-13-06 for interestingness.
Not many of my photos get recognized in Flickr, because there are so many incredibily talented photographers out there, and, well, you know, I’m not one of them. So, to say I was happy about the reaction to this picture is an understatement.
This is ALMOST as great as getting recognition from my Aerobic Dance Instructor.
But not quite. Because, like Sara said, THAT is the ULTIMATE.
The one in which I leave you a gift at the end as my reward for reading all the way through my weirdness. (But you can totally scroll down and not read it, because what’s important is that you watch.)
When The Queen of Everything (And fellow Meat Club member) tags you to do a meme, you do the freaking meme.
So, I’m supposed to list 6 weird facts/things/habits about myself. I could only think of 3, which in itself is weird, so I asked my husband to help me out.
“If you had to make a list that included weird facts about me, what would be on that list?”
Here are his answers and I am not making them up.
a) You don’t like peas.
b) You won’t use sponges becaues you’re afraid of germs (which, TOTALLY A LIE. I will use sponges, but only ONCE, then, I trash it.)
I think his list of things that make me weird actually make HIM look like The Weirdo. Not liking peas makes me WEIRD? I thought that made me Very Normal. Who in the hell LIKES PEAS?
So, because he was of no help whatsoever, I have been forced to come up with my own list. Here goes it.
1. During an earthquake, my first reaction is to run to the toilet to pee because OH MY GOD, what if the toilet system breaks and we are unable to use them for days? I MUST GET THE PEE OUT NOW! Obviously, now that I have kids, the first thing I do is check on them, bring them to a “safe place” and THEN I go pee. But, before kids? Straight to the bathroom I’d run. Infact! In 1992 there was a pretty large quake and I was on the toilet through most of it. PEEING!
2. I am scared of raw chicken. Any raw meat for that matter. I hate touching it and sometimes I’ll dry heave when cooking it. I am also very paranoid that the meat isn’t “cooked enough” and almost ALWAYS end up overcooking meat. For instance, last night, I cooked meatloaf. The instructions said to cook for one hour. I cooked it for 1:45, JUST TO BE SAFE. It tasted like Meatloaf jerky. BUT NO ONE DIED FROM ECOLI, SO THERE.
3. I HATE the taste of beer, BUT! The smell of beer? Makes me horny.
4. I am overly concerned with “Safety Issues” and whenever I am out in public, I am always “planning an escape route, just in case of emergency” and am also “scoping out possible safety hazards.” Example: when me and my sister went to see my brother’s group perform, I noticed there were candles on the tables, right next to dried out flowers. I panicked inside and started asking the people to a)either blow out the candles or b) move the dried flowers away from the candles because HELLO PEOPLE? Fire hazard. Another example? The club we went to on Saturday night was packed out and all I kept thinking was “OMG. What would we do if there was an earthquake?” I asked my sister if I was the only one worried about such a thing and her response was “Um, YES.” I played it off like “haha, I’m not really worried” but I secretly had scoped out the table in which I would dive under to “duck and cover.”
5. I’ve never admitted this one out loud to ANYONE. Oh man. Ok. Hello, my name is Y and I am afraid of wearing sunglasses when I drive because what if I get hit and my air bag goes off? Will the force of the airbag not push the sunglasses deep into my face, possibly pentrating my skull, leaving me a huge ass gaping hole in my face, or quite possible DEAD?
6. I take videos of myself doing aerobic dance moves named “The Monkey” and then add a little of my own choreography called “Da Butt” because I think I am such a great aerobic dancer (even though, haha, I really am a horrible dancer) and then POST THAT VIDEO ON MY BA-LAWWWWG for The Internet to see just to prove that I would SO BEAT YOU in a dance off.
I almost forgot! I am supposed to tag 6 people and I’m SO tagging people.
KristyK
Tipsy.
Aj
Debbie
Itchy
Daniel