All's Fair In Love And War...

Okay, so we all know I am PMSing right? If you don't know that, well stick around and I am sure you will irritate me enough to tell you to go suck it and then you will be positive that I am PMSing.




Something comes over me at this time of the month. Call it evil, call it sinister, but I call it genius-pure genius.



I like to mess with my husband.



Ugh-I love the big guy so much, but sometimes I like to tease him a little... maybe make him go crazy a little. I can't help it. It is something that I have done since the beginning of time... if you don't believe me, just go to the beginning of this blog and read about what a horrible person I am to him from time to time and see how well he handles me. He is a master at handling me (giggle).



Anyway, one thing I know about my husband is that he would go to the ends of the earth to make me happy. If I said I wanted a candy bar, he would go out and buy me one, if I said I wanted a Dairy Queen M&M blizzard and I wanted him to share it with me so that I don't consume all of the calories, he would go out and buy one and then eat the 3/4 of it that I can no longer look at because it makes me sick even though he would have been happier with a banana split blizzard. If I said I wanted a puppy... he would protest, but give in. If I said I wanted a treadmill, he would buy one for me knowing full well that I am allergic to anything that makes me sweat and feel like I am having a heart attack, and if I said I wanted to go to Timbuktu on vacation... he would call the travel agent.



He is that good. Honest.



So, the simple fact that I know this about my husband makes my evil PMS plan all that much more fun.



You see... I sent him an email today and all it said was:





"I think we should have another baby. Wouldn't that be fun?!"





and then I attached this picture of Mary from the day we brought her home from the hospital:








Now, most of you are probably thinking this is no big deal, but I can assure you... I just sent my husband into a tailspin for the day.


I can see him now, reading the email and then exhaling loudly. Then he will get up and walk around and rub his hands together. Eventually he will run his fingers through his hair and sit down with a blank stare while he tries to figure out just what to do in a situation like this.


He will think to call me, but I have sent this email in the middle of the night so he will not want to wake me for fear of the PMS which is always worse when woken in the middle of the night.


He will think of emailing me back, but he does not know what kind of mood I will be in when I read the email and again, the PMS factor is working in my favor.


Eventually he will convince himself that I am just joking with him and go on with his day 89% sure that I am either losing my mind or pulling his leg.


Oh-don't feel too sorry for him. He does the same kind of stuff to me... like the time he told me that we were moving to Omaha, no Alabama, no Omaha, maybe Texas, no Virginia, Overseas! No Omaha... maybe.


I have to keep him on his toes somehow...

Just my little way to let him know that I am thinking about him-and that I miss his mug.

*Thanks Timmy for reminding me about this episode-sadly I could not find the part where he shows her the tape of herself ranting... but this part right here... this is my life. My husband is Ray-I am Debra (only a nicer, blonder version)-and my mother-in-law is spot on for Marie.

Pre... Menstrual... Shakedown...

Sigh...

Why are men so dumb?

How long has he been married to me? Almost 16 years? You would think he would know. You would think he would be able to read the signs. You would think he would go out of his way to make life a little bit more tolerable considering that most of my frustrations come from him-at this time of the month-when he just doesn't let up.

I mean, don't I go out of my way the other three weeks of the month to make him feel loved and as if he is the greatest thing since sliced bread?

Why is it that he waits... like a lion about to pounce on an innocent gazelle, who, when stalking its prey (me, the innocent gazelle), the lion(my husband) changes its posture by lowering its head and body staying low to the ground while keeping a visual lock on the target prey (me). Whenever the prey (me) looks away or looks down to eat (or is suffering from PMS), the lion (husband) creeps closer, and if the prey(me) is to look in the direction of the lion (husband), the lion(husband) will cease its movement and remain still. This “red light-green light” type of interplay continues until the lion (husband) gets within striking distance. After the lion (husband) has entered the striking distance, it pounces and ends the chase rather abruptly (and I somehow look like the lunatic).

The only difference is that when my husband pounces on me during these few, brief, torturous days of PMS (and don't even give me the whole-"Oh but he has to live with YOU during PMS, the poor guy" because I am not buying it. PMS is hell I tell you-hell! If you happen to be near a woman with PMS, do not think of yourself as a victim to her moods... because my dear male readers out there... you are more than likely the cause of her mood. I promise. Do not argue.)

Anyway, when my husband pounces during these few days, I pounce back and then all hell breaks loose and my head explodes and gaskets are blown and tires are punctured... and the worst part about it... THE WORST PART ABOUT IT... is that my husband isn't even HERE! No... he just calls me on the phone and stirs up shit and then hangs up-leaving me to rant and rave by myself, so the next time he calls he has no idea why I am so angry and "irrational" which does not help his case in the least.

Yesterday's phone conversation went something like this-and remember-I am in the throws of PMS so what may sound like a perfectly logical and normal conversation to you, does not sound that way to a woman on the verge of looking for a clown suit, a shotgun and the nearest water tower to climb.

Carl: Hi babe!

Me: grumble

Carl: I miss you!

Me: grumble

Carl: You are so pretty!

Me: grumble

Carl: What are you wearing?

Me: Why? Do you think I am fat?

Carl: No, I think you are beautiful.

Me: Do you need beer money or something?

Carl: No, but if we are talking money, I noticed that the plane ticket to Chicago came across the bank account and it was higher than you had originally mentioned it was going to be. It must have been an over site on your account.

Me: So what are you saying? That I lie? There is something called TAX-look it up.

Carl: No big deal.

Me: And just what are you doing looking at the bank account? You don't even know the value of a dollar where you are!

Carl: I just wanted to see how much the tickets to Nickelback were.

Me: Why? Is there a price on my happiness now?

Carl: No. I was thinking of buying you flowers but wanted to see how we were sitting first-money wise.

Me: Well we are sitting fine-because you have us on such a tight budget that I can't even buy beer this month... and don't give me that "flower" crap.

Carl: Uhm... it was you that set the budget.

Me: Don't try and place the blame on me.

Carl: Okay, well don't forget that Friday is payday.

Me: I know that. Do you think I would forget to pay the bills? I have been paying your bills for years now-I think I am capable of remembering when payday is.

Carl: I know, and you are doing such a great job babe. I am so lucky to have you.

Me: And another thing...

Carl: Wait babe-I have to go! I love you-don't forget payday is Friday! Try and add more to savings this month. Send me a box. I haven't had many letters lately, and can you have the kids email me? Oh, and pictures... you haven't sent any since last week and I need some more. Oh, and can you file the taxes, clean the garage, call my mother, and get moving on finding someone to put in the new counters, paint the house, install the new carpet and move us across town? Spring will be here before you know it! You need to get going with this stuff... but I gotta go-I have to go fly! I can't wait! Love ya babe!

... and then he hung up and I threw the phone across the room.

Do you see what I am talking about? Do you see how he just waits in the brush like a lion waiting for the right moment to pounce?

I hate PMS.

Welcome To My World...

As you all know, I spent the weekend in the Chicago area getting disgustingly drunk on Friday and then paying the price for it on Saturday. I did not have a hang over, I just had an overwhelming need-urge-nagging to fall asleep the entire day.
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At one point Cousin Steve and I did fall asleep-when we went to go visit little Aunt Rose-who is 3 foot 6 on a good day. We called her midget Rose, but that is not politically correct so we changed it to Aunt Rosie. Midget Rose-er, Aunt Rosie is Steve's mom. I know. It is like when I was a kid and we had a toy poodle named Mandy who weighed all of 5 lbs. and she went and got herself pregnant (actually, my parents paid some lady to let her dog have sex with my dog-poor Mandy, she just wanted to find a warm spot to curl up and nap in and her masters go and pay some dog to have sex with her. I would have been so pissed.) Anyway, Mandy had a great big puppy-just one-who was 3/4 the size of her when he was born. Mandy never spoke to my parents again after that. Every time I look at Aunt Rosie and Cousin Steve I think of Mandy and her big puppy. I don't know why...

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A-hem.

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A while ago I took pics off of the Six-Pack because of some of you wackos out there-you know who you are-but seeing as my family is made up of attention getting whores, I decided to post some pics from Cousin Steve's Birthday party Saturday night.

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No, I do not have any pics of Friday night. We didn't even bring our cameras along. Pffft. We aren't stupid.

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Here is a unusual moment between Steve and I where we are both calm and standing still. This does not happen often. Notice how I have my hands in a death grip on him-that was to hold him down.

Do you see this? How old are you Steve? Seriously. Do you know that I have no less than 142 pictures like this from my childhood? You see... I am the cool one-so he always had to try and make me look bad. Nice try pansie.

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Here is the famous Aunt Barb-you all know her and love her-ain't she beautiful? Next to her is my Cousin Heather who none of you know... but I could change that real quick. She is some big shot in her hometown-runs it or something like that. Maybe I should change her name before I go on seeing as she does not want to get fired.... let's call her Cousin SugarTits. That is a good one.

Here we are again... Aunt Barb made us take every picture at least three times all night but we had to change our positions each time. Something Uncle Don taught her I am sure. *wink*

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AND... here we are again, Aunt Barb, SugarTits and myself. This photo was Aunt Barb's idea too. She said that if we turned around and the whipped our heads back right as the camera was taking the picture we would look like supermodels with our long flowing hair. I don't know where Aunt Barb comes up with these kookie ideas.

"So a Priest and a rabbi walks into a bar...."

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Another photographic genius of Aunt Barb's. Cousin Steve's mannipples actually are in the shape of clovers-it is something he was self conscious about in high school--locker room bullies and all--but he has learned to embrace his clover mannipples and can laugh at himself now, which is a good thing because we have been laughing at him for years.

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Here is my Aunt Judi (with an "i") why do I always say it that way? Well... it seems Aunt Judi was born a Judy but didn't like the "y" so one day she decided to change it to an "i". True story-crazy as it sounds. Aunt Judi wears more gold on her fingers than King Tut himself and she has the prettiest nails around. I make sure I am always nice to Aunt Judi-you never know what she is going to do with all of that gold.

Here is the Cousin Steve family-aren't they just adorable? If I ever get so drunk as to get a sex-change, I would marry a girl just like Christina. She is a superwoman-and she does it all with a smile on her face. If anyone should have the title "June Cleaver" it is her. She made the most amazing beef sandwiches that yes, my vegetarian ass ate and moaned in ecstasy the entire time. I knew I was back home when food was turning me on.

Can you see the affect of no sleep and 17 beers starting to set in on this picture? Aunt Judi gave Steve a dollar for his birthday... score! It's the little things that mean the most.

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I would post more, but you do not want to see SugarTits dancing on the table or our Cousin Johnny tossing Steve out the back door and then telling him that he is using the wrong gasoline in his truck and what was he thinking? "Just deal with it and quit being a pansie." That is what Johnny said-honest. He talks like that and we all listen because he is bigger than us and he has the nicest smile this side of the Dan Ryan. I am going to do an entire post on Johnny soon-just because I think he is that cool. He is a man's man, a tough guy, a loner, a rebel... and when his wife calls on his cell phone he rants and raves about having a "leash" and slowly puts his boots on and heads home to his house full of boys-all boys, and one wife who rules the roost. But he is in charge. No doubt about that. Uh-huh.

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Sigh.

I Can't Believe I Forgot The Monday Swoon...

I apologize, I truly do. I don't know what came over me. I don't know where my head is at. I need to get back in the game.

I promise to do better next week-honest!

Alicia nicely pointed out to me that it is Monday and the only man she has to look at is her husband and the old guy that works next door so how could I have dropped the ball on the Monday Swoon worthy man?

So, I may be a little late, but here you go ladies-in honor of my weekend in the Chicago area, I chose a good ol' boy from the neighborhood.

Oh yeah-come to mama.

And since we had such a great time this past weekend I thought I would add this one as a "celebrities are just like us" with a Us Magazine spin to it.

I hope this helps kick start your week~I promise to never forget again.

And just to show you how committed I am to the Monday Swoon---feast your eyes on this little yummy dessert.

Thanks for the Matthew McConaughey reminder Texa-Mercy!

Ahhhh... I love being a woman.

What I Did On My Mental Stabilization Weekend, By June Cleaver...

Hello?

Is this thing on?

zzzzzzzzzzzzzz... OH! Sorry, I dozed off there for a moment. It is hell getting old let me tell you.

Well, I am back-actually, I was back last night but my bed was calling my name and it held me captive until well over 10am this morning! Can you believe it??? 10 freakin' a.m. Wow. It was better than sex and I can say that because it has been a long time since I had sex, but an even longer time since my body was in a coma past 6:45 a.m.

Thank goodness I did not have carpool this morning and the kids have discovered how to use their thumbs so getting dressed and making breakfast is easier for them now and they were up and out of the house before I was able to stumble to the toilet and pee. Side note: if you do not have a 14 year old daughter who keeps everyone in line like a drill Sergeant, I highly recommend you getting one.

The baby must have needed the sleep too because when I woke up at 10 I ran to her room to make sure she was still alive-don't tisk your tongue at me-you know as well as I do that when you are the mother of a baby and they sleep longer than usual the first thought that goes through your head is if they are still breathing. The second thought is usually if you should take a shower before you go check on their fate or not.... because if it is true that they are not breathing, do you really want to head off to the hospital without showering? Admit it-I am not the only one who wonders these things.

Anyway-I woke her up. The little boogie was still soundly sleeping. I smiled, pointed to the Heavens and winked at God thanking Him for loving me more than most today.

But you don't want to know about my morning do you? No, you want to know about the weekend-the weekend where all of the stars were aligned and we fended off hangovers simply by the sheer luck of our heritage. I feel sorry for people who are not Irish-I mean, how else could you drink 11 or 17 beers in a night and wake up ready for more? Poor sub-heritages.

Cousin Steve picked me up Friday night (after I sat between two twin college boys on the plane-thank you Spring Break 2009!) and he may or may not have had beer in the truck that we may or may not have drank a few before we headed out. Hey... this is Chicago people-there are no police officers.

We went straight to a local favorite bar/pizza place/restaurant/smoking section/old people hang out/young people hang out/middle aged people hangout. It was GREAT!

Steffie (a life long friend and old person) came and hung with us for a while and said more curse words than I had heard her say in my entire life and I have known her since I was 9 months old. She was just happy she could light up her ciggy indoors.

We saw many friends and spent the night laughing... and drinking... and eating. Good Lord I ate more in this weekend than I have eaten in the last month and I am afraid to step on the scale today. But, everything we ate either had cheese on it or it was fried so at least when I have my heart attack I will know who to blame... my mother in law (just because).

At about 2 a.m. we headed across the street to another local favorite establishment-they only served alcohol there so I was safe from pizza bread overload. We walked into the place like we owned it... because this is MY hometown man-I was born here... We DO OWN IT! The younger crowd liked this bar so I got to hit on kids 10 years younger than me... and then tell them I was married after they bought me three drinks.

Pffft... youngsters can be so naive.

At 3 a.m. we closed the place down, stirred up some shit in the parking lot with a guy named "Tony" who had stripped his shirt off and was thumping his chest like he was George of the Jungle. "Go Home Tony" became the saying of the weekend... so along with "WTF Jimmy" we now have "Go Home Tony!"

When the crowd grew bigger we were the smart old people who left before the cops came. Those youngsters were all still there waiting to get arrested. Again, youngsters are so naive.

The party moved to Cousin Steve's garage for another 2 hours and after many drunken tip toes through the house to go to the bathroom and loudly whispering and saying things like "DON'T WAKE UP THE WIFE!" or "I'M NOT EVEN TIRED AT ALL STEVE... STEVE? WAKE UP STEVE!" by 5 a.m. I was in a twin sized bed with butterflies and princesses all over me snoring and drooling.

So, if you are wondering... I started drinking at 8 p.m. and finished at 5 a.m. The Friday tally totals:

Steve: 17 beers, 2 shots, 3 packs of second hand smoke, and no one hit on him.
June: 11 beers, 2 shots (but I spilled one before I could get it up to my mouth). 3 packs of second hand smoke, and all of Steve's friends hit on me... and a few youngsters.


I will be back later with a recap of Saturday-when we went to my Aunt's house under the rouse of visiting when all we did was camp out on her lazy boy chairs and napped for an hour and then left.

I also have photo of the famous Aunt Barb that I would like to share.

And I need to tell you about all of the meat that my vegetarian ass consumed.

When in Rome right?

But right now I have to go change a poopie diaper, get in the shower, finish the taxes, pick up the kids from school, figure out something for dinner, vacuum, do some laundry and balance the checkbook.... but you can be sure I am doing it all with a smile because my brain has been rebooted and I am back to being as pleasant as June Cleaver can possibly be, which isn't very pleasant, but let's just say I am not feeling the urge the lock myself in the bathroom and hide away from my kids any time soon.

Ahhhhh.


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Then close your eyes and tap your heels together three times. And think to yourself, 'There's no place like home'

Well folks... I am outa here. I will be back Sunday-but in the meantime, I want you to be extremely jealous of the fact that I will be laughing my ass off for an entire weekend-paused only by the sipping of an alcoholic beverage.

Chi-Town Urban Mom ... I am not sure we will find ourselves in your neighborhood, but if we do, just how late can we call? 2a.m. sound good? Do you have eggs in your house?

wankette... hold down the fort my friend. Keep em' high and keep em' tight. *giggle*

Cousin Steve dances JUST LIKE Elwood!

Peace out.

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Things Like This Just Piss Me Off...

Group Of NJ Insurance Workers Wins Mega Millions.

That's right... some insurance workers in Jersey won MILLIONS. Sigh. Nine people won a $216 Million Dollar jackpot.

Why does God love some people more than others? Hmmm.

If I won millions... well, I wouldn't write this mother loving blog anymore that is for sure! Oh, who am I kidding-of course I would still write it. I am a glutton for punishment.

Actually, I would like to think that I would not go crazy with the money and still live pretty much the way we live now-only with nicer clothes, a bigger house, new cars with pimped out rims and I would get that tummy tuck and boob job I have been dreaming about since I gave birth to my first child.

See-you would hardly see the difference.

If I won all that money-I could probably PAY a publisher to publish my book and not have to worry about this whole "literary agent" thing. I could probably even pay someone to write it as well! Ahhh, how much easier life would be.

If I won all that money-I would have a personal chef, a personal trainer and a nanny seeing as I would want to spend most of my time laying by the pool and sipping fruity drinks that make me feel like I am spinning around in circles when I am actually sitting still (kind of like the gas the dentist used to give me as a child-that was great stuff). Oh-and before you start to think that money would make me enjoy working out... the personal trainer would be for my husband because he is one of those weird people who doesn't feel like his day is complete until he is sweaty and panting... come to think of it, I am the same-only different. Ahem.

eh, maybe I wouldn't have a nanny-my kids like to swim. We would just hang out at the pool together... and the fruity drinks would make me forget that they were mine and I would yell things like "Hey Lady! Can you pay a little attention to your kids?" or "Someone call the manager of this establishment-kids are running everywhere!"

I would go back to homeschooling my kids-or rather I would pay someone to school my kids at home. That way I would feel less guilty about laying by the pool all day.

My eyebrows would always be waxed and I would have my armpit hair lasered off.

My feet would never again be dried or cracked-they would feel as soft and smooth as the day I was born. That alone is worth the purchase of a lottery ticket.

I would pay for my mother to go to rehab for that nasty wine addiction she has-or I would at least buy her wine that does not cost $19 a box.

But most importantly... if I won the lottery, I would NEVER go on television and tell the world that it was me. No, I would have some obscure lawyer anonymously claim the prize a month or so after they have determined that there was a winner. That way all of my high school friends who I never talk to anymore will not be calling me and asking for money... the same goes for my mother in law.

So if you hear of a lottery winner that has not claimed the prize yet and I start to tell you things on this blog like "we had caviar with our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches yesterday" -you may start to wonder if it was me that won.

But you'll never know, because I fully intend on changing my name and living happily ever after.

So... what would YOU do with all that money-and don't tell me "I would donate it all to the poor" because you are a big liar.

Just To Give You An Idea...

This weekend I am heading to Chicago for a girl's weekend... well, not really a girl's weekend, as I will be hanging out with Cousin Steve. We will be going to bars, eating White Castle Sliders, farting, making crude jokes, and probably saying things like "Get me another Beer!" to his wife (although I will put a please on the end of my request, and I will thank her and buy her flowers when I leave to show my appreciation for putting up with Steve and I for an entire weekend)...

Oh My... I just realized that I am going to Chicago for a guy's weekend.

Damn!

I wonder if Steve will be up to getting our toes done on Saturday. Hmmm.

Anyway...

I will be able to see my relatives while there-you know who I am talking about... the little old ladies, Aunt Barb-other wise known as "anonymous" and Aunt Judi (with an "i"), who comment on my blog so religiously that I have to write them thank you notes every week for keeping my numbers up.

Now some of you may wonder why my relatives come to my blog day after day to read it-many of you who have blogs do not even let your husband know about it let alone your mother, but I figure that these people know me. They know my humor and they get it.

Just how much do they get it?

Well... Aunt Barb sent me this video the other day:



Hands down, I have the greatest family in the WORLD!



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Do You Like Free Jewelry?

Then head on over to see Jess... she is having a GIVE AWAY!!!!!

Amy's Friend Jess

Go on... no girl can pass up free jewelry!

Ahhhhh... Mondays.

I had to post this photog today simply because a friend and I went out to a "local establishment" on Saturday night for a little girl time and "refreshments" and there was a guy there who looked spot on to James Bond-otherwise known as Daniel Craig... or the only blonde that I am actually attracted to.

We stopped talking for a moment and gazed at him across the "bar" (I don't know why I just put that in quotes... because we were at a bar-yes, a bar. It is a great bar. One that the 21 year old children have not discovered yet and you can actually go in and have a "drink" without feeling like you are in a episode of "The Dating Game")

Anyway, we gazed at him across the bar and smiled at how good looking he was in his Daniel Craig-esque persona... and then we went back to talking about our children, the economy and whether or not we should wash our bras by hand or in the washing machine.

It is a wild and crazy life I lead here people-especially when you consider that fact that I was home by 10:30 and asleep by 10:32.

Enjoy the photog, and please... enjoy your Monday. You are now one day closer to the weekend.


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And yes... since it IS Monday and Monday's suck-I thought I would give you this little reminder of how much we sometimes enjoy things that suck.

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*wink*