Aww Memories...

So, with Christmas just around the corner I've been thinking about when my sister and I were little and the lengths we would go to just to catch a peek at our presents. The older we got, the more creative we got too. I didn't earn the nickname Mrs. Kravitz for nothin folks!! In no particular order, here are some of our better ploys...

The rookie - trying to sneak in our parents closet where we knew the goods were. Got caught, probably flicked in the head

Getting a bit better, but not much - Noticing that our parents came home with a huge brown box, we waited until our parents were sleeping off the previous nights bender, did the army crawl into their bedroom, peeked under the blanket covering the huge brown box and tried to make a mental tally of what the contents were. Then we went into my room and made letters to Santa listing the entire box's contents. Unfortunately, we couldn't really see what was in there very good and we also didn't know whose crap was whose.

The professional - This one is bad. This one is probably one of the many reasons why I'm pretty sure I'm going to hell. Here goes. One time I pretended to be sick so I could stay home from school. I should probably mention that I might have been a freshman in high school. (remember I warned you that this one was bad). Ok, so I stay home from school by myself and proceeded to unwrap all of my presents so I could check them out before hand and then I wrapped them back up. I know, I'm rotten ain't I?? If it's any consulation, that was the shittiest Christmas I remember having. It was a lot of work to act genuinely suprised at receiving a John Cougar cassette tape and a gift box of socks, let me tell ya!!

After that we sorta stopped with the whole peeking before Christmas coupe. It wasn't worth it...if I'm going to get a John Cougar cassette as a gift then dammit I want to be suprised!!

My eyes, My eyes...it burns

So, I'm hopping you haven't eaten yet. Or drinking anything. Or go farther than this sentence. Ok, I warned ya. I've recently discovered the website people of walmart and, well, boy-oh-boy, there are some freaks with a capital FREAKS that are unlucky enough to have their pic snapped in that joint. But, out of all of the crazy crap that I've seen on that site, this one takes the cake...without further ado...

Nice back rack right??

You're welcome. ;) Excuse me, I need to go rinse the vomit taste out of my mouth.

Why I'm Pretty Sure I Need a Cleaning Lady

Welp, I was going to start off by apologizing for being MIA all summer long. I realize that I haven't blessed you with my pressense since early-mid-late July. So sue me! I quit smoking and got fat! Bigwupwannafightaboutit? You may or may not remember me telling you on several occasions that I'm the person that shit ALWAYS happens to and you may or may not think I'm exagerating a wee tad-martin. Well folks, get comfy 'cause I'm about to let you in on why I should never be allowed to handle anything that shoots out steam...

So a while back my hubby purchased a steam cleaner that looks like so:

Harmless looking enough right?

WRONG! That sucker is a death trap! Yesterday I had decided that I'd had enough of my kids dirty bathroom and decided to give it the ol' scrub down myself. I busted out the steamer, lugged it ALL THE WAY upstairs and proceeded to scrub the toilet and sink while the fucker, I mean steamer heated up. Once it was ready to go I started steam cleaning the bath tub/shower area when I started to run outta steam (no pun intended, well, ok, pun intended). I unpluged the pice of shit, I mean steamer and let it cool off while I finished up the bathroom. About 15 minutes later I wanted to add some more water to the bastard, I mean steamer so I proceeded to bend over and unscrew the lid to the son of a bitch, I mean steamer. Well, I'm pretty sure I probably shouldn't have bent directly over the area where you poor water in, in fact I'm fairly certain that there is a picture of me in the manual that says "do the opposite of this asshole" because once I got the lid to that dickwad, I mean steamer off it shot a stream of boiling hot steam all over my face and lips! Seriously, not even exageratting! Now I look like this:

Well, almost like this

Ok, ok. I look NOTHING like Harvy Two-Face. But my lips are chapped and they "hurt real bad"! And I cried. And I said fuck really loud. And no one came to see if I was ok because I always cry and say fuck really loud.

So, in a nut shell, that is why I'm pretty sure I need a cleaning lady.

Did ya miss me??

Somebody please tell me...

Why our arms are too short to reach that spot on your back that itches but you can't reach it?

Seriously, WTF?

7 days today since I quit smokin. Still feel like punching someone in the neck.

Not the witty one I forgot

But funny. Well, at least to me. Anyhoo, I am back on the lovely and talented nicotine patch. I don't know if any of y'all have ever had the pleasure of quitting smoking, but these little bastards work. Sorta... I think I've determined that it's not the patch's fault perse that I fell off the wagon last time. I'm pretty sure it was my wanting a smoke and thinking that I could be a "social smoker", which apparently I cannot. Go figure!! Ok, ok...enough about me and my smoking, it's making me want one a little bit. The point I'm going to eventually get at is that if you wear the patch when you go to bed you have these crazy ass dreams. The box tells you not to sleep with them (I think, to tell you the truth I just pulled that outta my ass) but I do anyway because I love the crazy dreams. I don't normally remember them but when I wear the patch I do. I was thinking that I got a bum batch of patches because I didn't have or remember my dream on Tuesday and was a little disspointed when I woke up yesterday. But last nights dream more than made up for it. Ok, you all know that I'm pretty wacked out right?? Good 'cause keep that in mind...Last night I had a dream that Michael J. Fox attacked me with my Ikea knife!

Well, he didn't actually look like this in my dream. This is from when I had his Tiger Beat poster on my wall. Brought back memories....

This was the version of Michael J. Fox that attacked me with my Ikea knife.

I have no idea why he starred in my dream and I certainly have no idea what I did to him to make him take my Ikea knife out of my drawer and try to cut me. That's my favorite knife too!!I remember that I had to try to grab the knife out of his hand and I accidently cut him. For some reason I felt bad. I'm pretty sure he had the Parkinson's in my dream and maybe that is the reason for the guilt. I even have a guilty conscience when I'm asleep, great!!

So yeah, one minute I was wrestling a knife outta Alex P. Keaton's hand and the next minute my alarms going off. So that all I got. Love it?? Or was it too much build up with no satisfying ending? Well, too bad. That's how I felt after watching the new Harry Potter movie so suck it!

Sorry, had to throw in the HP remark...anyone see it? What am I saying, of course you did right?

So I had a good blog post planned...

But as usual my short term memory, or lack thereof, made me forget before I had time to type it. So in the meantime, please enjoy one of the funniest reviews I've read in quite a while. We are having Chinese food for dinner this evening and I lost the menu. So I googled it and found a website called Yelp where people leave reviews and shit. This is what one patron had to say about the restraunt:

Yummy Yummy Yummy, I've got Pearl House in my tummy. I've been going to this place for years. It is the Chinese food that I compare all others to. It is a little bigger than a "hole in the wall" but not much. The General Chicken is amazing and their Chow Mein is the best I've ever had and I've been to China. The Hot and Sour soup is also out of this world.

The only downsides are the service for one. There are two mainstay waitresses that are good if you're lucky enough to get them. Otherwise you might get a girl that is just off the boat and wondering what happened to her life. The language barrier can be a bit of an obstacle with these girls as well. They may even forget that you are there. I have been eating there long enough I feel perfectly comfortable getting my own to go box.

The prices aren't bad, but their math sometimes is. I always get the same thing and my bill never is. Like I said I've been going there long enough they are willing to work it out with me.

Here comes a major beef of mine. The bathroom. Try to hold it if you can. I sometimes wonder if handling my genitals is healthier than touching the door knob, and it's a round one so opening it with your elbows is out of the question.

Overall the food is awesome, the price is fair if the math is correct, the people are friendly if they can understand what you're saying, and the atmosphere resembles something that would make the Queer Eye crew shutter.

I'm there for the food and love to argue over the bill so I give them a little higher rating than you might.

Things that give me the "News Feeling"

When my sister and I were little we hated Sunday's. That was the day we were shoved on the Church bus so my parents could recover from their night of doing god knows what. Sunday evenings were even worse because nothing good was on the TV. Whenever we would hear the stopwatch ticking intro to "60 Minutes" we would instantly get that pissed off feeling in the pit of our stomach. You know what feeling I'm talking about. The one where you wanna scream and slap the shit outta someone? Yeah, that's the one. Well sis and I coined that the "News Feeling". I'm in a mood today so I thought I'd compile a list of shit that gives me the "News Feeling". I wrote a song about it, wanna hear it, hear it goes.....in no particular order:

1. Nerd Herd from BB6. Seriously, they made me want to vom in my mouth!

2. Turtleneck anything. I heard a comedian say once that wearing a turtleneck was kinda like being strangled by a really weak person. True dat!

3. The Shamwow douche. Why do I feel like he is berating me into buying one of those pieces of crap?

4. Meatheads. Nothing attractive about that. Big muscles usually mean small pee-pee anyway.

5. People who don't understand The Far Side. It's funny, what's not to get? Geesh!

6. Finding the Watch Tower shoved halfway under my door. Really J-Dubs? You can't hear us trying to not so quietly hide from you? I swear I made eye contact with you when I peeked through my curtains to see if you were gone. You really thought I'd enjoy reading the Watch Tower?

7. Paul Shaffer. The dude makes me want to punch a baby.

8. The I.T. guy that assumed I was a retard because I'm not an I.T. person. Go home to your Jergen's dick. I only asked a question.

9. People who fish for compliments. You know you are beautiful or talented or athletic or creative or musical or whatever the hell else you are great at so just shut the eff up already!

10. This ass.

The evolution of a clutz

I am a clutz. I own it though. I have to. That's not something you can really hide. How long have I been living with this afliction you ask? Well peeps, my whole life. Don't believe me? Well, let me break it down for you. Here is the evolution of my rise to clutziness:

April 22, 1974: The day I was born. That in itself is not that big a deal. Women have given birth for years. This was no ordinary birth my friends. You see, at the last minute I decided to spin around and come out of my mother telling the world to KISS MY ASS! That's right, my poor mother crapped me out while I was in the "Pike Position". Nice huh? And, she did it with NO EPIDURAL. I think she's still pissed at me to this day.

1976/1977: While standing on top of my vaccuum pretending it was a microphone and doing my best Stevie Nicks impersonation I fell face first onto the ground and killed my front baby tooth. It turned brown and stayed like that for years until it finally fell out. I switched from upright vaccuums to canister vacs for my microphone choice shortly thereafter.

Summer, 1982: Finally able to "pop a wheelie" on my sweet bike. I had been working on that move for a long time. There I was, coasting down the street on one wheel having the time of my life. Then the handle bars started going all screwy and next thing I know I'm falling head first over the handlebars, landing on my ass in the middle of the street and my face smacked the blacktop. Killed the adult version of the same baby tooth mentioned above. Didn't necessarily turn brown, but it just hung out in my head with a crack in it until I got that bitch crowned when I was an adult.

4th grade, 1984: Spending the night at my friends house we decided to sew Brownie outfits for our Barbies. I'm crawling around on my knees looking for thread when I put my knee down on a thimble. It hurt like a bitch but I didn't think anything about it. The next day it still hurt and my dad, being the loving overprotective father that he is said, "Suck it up and walk it off, you're fine!" So I did, I had no choice. When it STILL hurt a couple months later he finally took me to the doctor for some x-rays. Yeah, I had a fucking SEWING NEEDLE stuck in my knee! I had to have that bitch surgically removed. My dad still feels guilty. *smirk*

April 22, 1985: My 11th birthday. I'm at my best friend Alice's house wearing my brand new birthday outfit that DIDN'T come from K-mart. I'm thinking my shit don't stink I look so cute. Me and Alice were going to make ourselves a sandwhich, sounds innocent enough right? Well, I went to shake up the mustard when I discovered too late that her a-hole brother didn't screw the lid on. Friggen mustard ALL OVER MY NEW OUTFIT THAT DIDN'T COME FROM K-MART! I cried. Then I had to go home and change into an outfit that did, in fact come from K-mart.

Halloween, 1987: We have a Haloween dance at school. I'm in 7th grade and, well, ok, I went through a phase where I really wanted to be a cheerleader. Please don't judge me. The girl who used to baby sit me was in highschool AND a cheerleader so she let me and Alice borrow her cheer outfits. Cool right? Yep...except she had two outfits BUT only one pair of those little undergarmet things. You know what I'm talking about right? Those little numbers you wear under the skirt so you can high kick to your hearts content and not show your actual panties? Well, as usual Alice called dibs on the panty-things and I got screwed. I realized how screwed I really was when I was running around outside, tripped and fell on my ass and the skirt flew up. Good time, good times.

Summer, 1989: My first road trip without mom and dad. The same former babysitter above was now dating Alice's a-hole brother (he was an a-hole, trust me). They decided to go on a road trip to Washington State and I got to come along. Yay for me!! This particular summer a new shoe fad was going around called "Chooze Shoes". Remember those deathtraps? They were a piece of slick plastic sole and you would thread shoe laces in any color you wanted through them to make them a sort of flip flop contraption that would wind up your ankle. Those bastards were slippery! Well, we went to some museum in Seattle. The exit was a steep staircase than ended on the sidewalk outside the museum. So of course I would take one step, lose my footing and slide down the rest of the staircase on my ass and land on the sidewalk. I have to give myself credit though. Everyone around was totally freaked out that I hurt myself and I just got up and took a bow. It was that or cry man!

Sometime in 1991 or 1992: I caught my arm on fire, fell down a flight of concrete apartment stairs, and made out with a dude wtih the roughest 5 O'clock shadow until my chin was raw and bloodied. We call that one the "Tom Chin Incident". Never accidently spill Jim Beam on your sweater and then bend face first into a Zippo trying to light your cig.

Fast forward to July 4, 1996: I'm about 18 months pregnant with my first child. We're at the outlaws having a birthday party for the hubs. I go to lower my huge body into one of those piece of shit resin chairs when it decided to buckle and tip over backwards with me in it. Thankfully I didn't break anything or anyone. It was funny to me...probably because everyone looked to horrified. They were so freaked out!! LMAO

June/July 2000: We take the kids camping in Bodega Bay. My son is just a baby at the time. At night we would turn on the car and put him in the carseat with the heater on until he fell asleep. I'm sitting in the front seat with the window down and I have my arm out the window. I might've been a tad-martin tipsy, who knows. Anyhoo, I ended up rolling the window up completely with my hand stuck in the window. I have no idea how I managed that one but my husband still laughs to this day when ever he thinks about it.

I don't know, 2002, 2003: It's my dad's birthday so I invite him and my would-be Evil Stepmother over for dinner. Everything started out well enough. We were bull-shitting, drinking wine and whatnot. I was making a salad and went to put the dressing on it. Well, I have this thing with shaking shit..I do it to everything. I shook the bottle of salad dressing not remember that I just did that and undid the lid. This was worse than the mustard incident of 1985, WAY worse. That shit was a full bottle and it went all the hell over me! From my face to my feet. I thought my dad and evil step mom was going to shit themselves they were laughing so hard!! To this day I'll be visiting them and out of nowhere she'll giggle because it pops into her head. Glad I'm here to amuse you Evil Stepmom!

Sometime last year: I try to be cool at work. I mean, I AM cool, don't get me wrong, but I try to be extra careful so shit won't happen to me during working hours. This particular day my co-worker and myself had to go out for something so we got to take one of the work trucks. I don't drive at all if I can get away with it so she said that she would drive. The truck was parked next to this dirt mountain kind of on an incline. The passenger side door was next to the mountain. Instead of having her pull away and then get in, I figured I could just stand on the side of the montain, open the door and climb in. Well, a normal person would've had no problem with that. But not me. No, I lost my footing and in an effort to keep from falling I grab the sideview mirror. It was too late though. My feet kept slipping and slipping and I finally lost my grip on the mirror, fell and slid UNDER the freakin truck! The whole time this is happening my coworker is watching from the drivers side laughing her ass off! It was pretty gosh darn funny I'll admit that!

So there you have it. I know there must be more but thankfully I've blocked them out. Funny thing is that I see some of my "gracefullness" shining in my daughter. So my legacy will live on!!

The pic says it all..

Kinda my motto. That, and I'm draggin ass getting my day started.

You A-Holes Asked for It...

So, some of you have asked about the apparent "bars in my shoes" that I had to wear when I was a baby. Well, I couldn't really remember because, um, I was a baby. So I emailed my dad and asked him to tell me the story. So, in his own words, here you go....



Question to my dad: Ok, please tell me the story about my baby shoes and the bars in them. I can't remember and now that you've put it out there in Brandyland, everyone is askin 'bout them.

Please, enlighten me...



Reply from the King Smart-Ass himself: My pleasure,
you had very large feet that pointed out like clown shoes, (no pun intended), so we took you to the doc at Kaiser. He said to take you to a specialist and long story short, the doc made a pair of baby shoes that had a metal bar attached on the soles to keep your very large feet pointing forward like normal feet. You would scream and cry, then try to crawl and it really looked funny. I would put your shoes on just for amusement when I got bored. We finally said this is BS and threw them away. That's probably why you don't like to wear shoes to this day. But people, if you thought her feet were very large then, you should see those suckers now. It takes almost a whole cow just to make one shoe and Brandy, you need to stop wearing flip flops (sleeeeepas) you're creating a rubber shortage.
Love ya,
Dad

I would be offended if I wasn't crying with laughter right now. This, I'm sure is true, because shit like that happened ALL THE TIME when I was little. I remember one time my dad was making fun of me because I might've worn my shorts up around my neck. He made me pull them down beneath my belly button and then drew two eyes, my belly button for a nose, and a mouth and forced me to walk around outside. Nice huh?

So I made my first scratch cake yesterday...

I'm not really sure if it was a hit or not??

God Speed Little Buddy

My beloved has gone away. Hopefully for only a short while. For you see, my Wii has taken ill and had to go in for repairs. Even worse than my precious sitting lifeless on my entertainment center is the fact that my Guitar Hero III disc is stuck inside of him. WHY ROCK GODS, WHY??

Lets all have a moment of silence and hope that he comes back to momma soon. I'm already missing The Seeker, 3's and 7's, Story of My Life, Miss Murder, well you get the gist right?

Free at last, free at last...

Ah, summer vacation! I may not get them anymore, but I can sure as hell live vicariously through my children. The best part, wait, the second best part of summer vacation is not having to drop the kids off (no, not "drop the kids off" as in dropping a deux). I can just get up and go to work. YAY ME!! But, the first best part about summer vacation, (and this summer vacay in partic) is that my sentence of PTC Treasurer is O-V-E-R!! Can I get a holla?? I gotta tell ya, the PTC (that's Parent Teacher Club for those of ya wonderin) was a drama filled year of "WTF's" and "No you di'ints"!

Piece of advice from ol' Aunt B: If you are a mother, prospective mother, friend of a mother, mother of a mother or a mother lover and you or someone you love gets asked to join the PTC, PTA, PTO or whatever the eff they call it at your kids school...RUN. RUN FAR, FAR AWAY! FAST! DON'T DO IT. I'M SERIOUS.

Ok, I feel much better getting that off my chest.

TTFN

How Brandy got her Land

It basically boils down to one thing. I have my head up my ass. All the time. I'm SO not even kidding. The term Brandyland was coined when a coworker from my previous job used to give me shit about spacing out during meetings. One of us would have to take notes during and she always would have to do it because I can't pay attention long enough to write down what's going on. In my defense though, I was a sales administrator for an office supply company and was forced to listen to "suits" B/S their way through it. B-O-R-I-N-G with a capital BORING! She would always elbow me and whisper "Dude, get the fuck outta Brandyland and pay attention asswipe!". Brandyland had a nice ring to it so I use it to this day. Now, let me list the ways in which I can prove, without a doubt, that I'm a friggen idiot:

1.) My husband once shaved his chest and I didn't notice for over a month.

2.) I once lost my baby boy only to discover that I was actually holding him in my arms.

3.) Every once in a while I forget to rinse the conditioner out of my hair and I don't notice until I go to blow it dry.

4.) I totally forgot that my dad has a dog named Zoe and I named my youngest daughter Zoe. I say "I" named her because apparently there is a rule out in the universe that whoever cuts the cord gets to pick out the name (I'll tell that story another time). I didn't realize what I'd done until I was talking to him on the phone and he started laughing when I told him Zoe's name.

5.) I put the wrong birthdate on my oldest daughter's newborn baby pictures. She was born on 9-1 and I put 8-1. Didn't catch it until AFTER I sent out all the birth announcements. But...I DID just crap out a kid and I WAS maybe just a SMIDGE high on vicodine. Why didn't hub fill out the form?

6.) Really, do you need any more evidence? 'Cause I got more except my son REALLY wants to go watch Star Wars Episode I and who can resist that?

Sometimes being a whiny-smartass-crybaby pays off!

For reals!! Remember this little diddy I wrote a while back? Well, my smart ass self decided to enter my "photo journey" into this little picture contest my boss decided to set up. I did it more as a joke since, besides myself, everyone I work with has to work outside...and they actually enjoy it! Weirdos...anyhoo, guess what? I WON!! Exciting right? Wanna know what I won? Hold on to your hats and glasses folks 'cause this is a doozy. I won......lunch with my boss and my parking spot back for a WHOLE MONTH!! Told ya it was exciting!! I'm having a hard time containing myself this morning!! not really (BTW, I don't think I told y'all but I got evicted from my parking spot at the beginning of May because it's the stupid beginning of the busy season).

On a slightly different topic...can we please have a moment of silence for my gal Tonya?

Poor broad got let go on Friday. Come to find out peace officers have a hard time standing in front of a person aiming a gun at them and since this little lassy was on the wall next to me, she gave my big-beefy-park rangers the heebs! LMAO!!! So, now she gets to come home with me and be "Tonya the Chore Enforcer". See if she'll light a fire under my kids ass to pick up their "area"!!

I'm finally finished re-vamping the friggen Twilight Saga for the I don't know how manyieth time so I should hopefully be posting more. Did yas miss me??

Testing out my new trick..take two

I'm trying out a new trick one of my blog broads learned me. Mostly because some of you peeps didn't discover my witty ass blog until a few posts in and I'm guessing your too lazy to scroll a few pages in to check out my early work. I know, rude right? My bad...ok, lets see if this works.

Do clowns freak you out?

Bet your closet monster wasn't as cool as mine?

Hopefully this'll work. If it doesn't, well, I guess it's not the end of the world, right?

Why I should NEVER drink wine in public

I end up doing shit like the Macarena that's why! Thank GAWD the Chicken Dance didn't get captured on film.

Why I'm pretty sure I'm a 14 year old boy stuck in a 35 year old broad's body

"Mom, you're a GIANT child, ya know that dontcha?" Those are the words that came from my 12 year olds mouth not too long ago. I'm not even sure what exactly prompted that exclamation, but as I started to protest, I stopped. Know why? It's true. I own it. I guess I could be called worse (and have). I can't help it. I have the sense of humor of a 14 year old boy. I find farts way funnier than I should. I appreciate a good "pull my finger" gag. Burps are given a score of 1-10 in my house. Here are just a few of the many reasons I should, for all intents and purposes, be a 14 year old boy:

1. I LOVE, LOVE, LOOOOOVVVVVEEEE Guitar Hero. My dad asked me what to get the kids for Christmas and I told him Guitar Hero. Not necessarily because my kids actually wanted it. I did. I already know that I'm going to hell, so no need to remind me. For those of you not familiar with mini-Edward, here he is accompaning my GH styilings with a little piano backup. Ain't he sweet? Notice how I'm rocking out lefty style...Lefties represent!

2. I'm awesome. Yep, I went there. That picture you see above is the Treasurer of my kids elementary school PTC (kinda like a PTA but not). I can rock it and still support my school.

3. Kenny-Fuckin-Powers is the SHIT. If you don't know who I'm talkin 'bout, get HBO STAT.

4. I've watched Family Guy religiously since it first aired. Actually, we watch it as a family too. My kids can re-enact whole episodes verbatim. Some might frown on that, but tuff. My kids are friggen awesome kids who excel in school, have awesome manners and have been told by total strangers in restraunts that they are angels. We love Family Guy, it's funny, so there!

5. Grandma's Boy is one of the funniest muther-freakin movies I've ever seen. Dante and the monkey made me cry laughing. And don't forget about Shirley Jones and the chick from Everybody Loves Raymond!!

6. Adam Sandler. Happy Gilmore, The Wedding Singer, Piece of Shit Car and my fave...Sloppy Joes, Sloppy, Sloppy Joes...

7. Beavis and Butthead rocked my world back in the 90's. I saw an episode at a film festival way before they were on MTV. Holy crap my friends and I used to load the bowl and die laughing while watching that and MST3K (remember that one?).

I'm sure I could think of probably a billion more reasons why I'm pretty sure I'm a 14 year old boy, but I gotta pee and I'm dying to see the new episode of Family Guy...

Oh yea, I have a question for ya, Do you like fishsticks?

So I finally got it...

Yeah, for those of you who actually read this, you know I'm a Twitard who has an inappropriate crush on the child who plays Edward Cullen. Today I'm now officially 13 years older than him. But that's ok, really. Really? I'm fairly certain I'll never meet him, and I hope to hell if I ever do I won't fart twice and crap myself. Since I'm the person who shit ALWAYS happens to, I'm sure if I ever find myself in the same space as my boyfriend Robert Pattinson, something embarassing is bound to happen.

Anyway, a while ago I pre-ordered my copy of the soundtrack to my boyfriends upcoming movie, "How to Be" and it came in the mail over the weekend. So I was listening to it on my drive in to work this morning, and, well, the best I can give it so far is that it's just ok. Maybe I'll like it more after I've watched the movie. Which I plan to do when it comes to my On Demand channel sometime next week.

I'm hoping I like it more after I've seen the movie. Otherwise I'll feel a little bad. I didn't intend to NOT enjoy it, maybe I'm just not in the mood for it today. I'll try again after work. I'll keep y'all posted because I'm sure you'll be wondering.

Why you should NEVER eat Taco Bell when you think you might possibly be going into labor.

Ok peeps. This post hopes to educate those of you who have not yet experienced the miracle that is childbirth. To those of you who have, well, here's one to tell the grandkids...


When I was a wee young lad of 22, my husband Eric and I found out we were expecting our first baby. When you're pregnant for the first time it's pretty friggen trippy. You have, like, a person growing inside you and it does crazy shit like move around, make you pee A LOT and give you what could very well be the WORST heartburn known to (wo)man. Don't get me wrong, it's so VERY worth it in the end, but the getting there part, well, is pretty ok for the most part. Forget about what I said about the crappy stuff just now. I don't want to freak out those of you who haven't gone through it yet. It's wonderful and magical.


Well, on with the story. About two weeks after my due date had come and gone, my doctor had said that if I didn't deliver by the end of the weekend (which happened to be labor day weekend, go figure), then they would induce me on that Monday. Sunday (Labor Day) afternoon started very normally. I felt huge and behemoth, but other than that, ok. My husband, who is a big disc golf dude, wanted try to get a game in. Since I felt fine I told him to go ahead. Cell phones weren't too popular back then and we didn't have one, so his buddy borrowed his sisters beeper to take just in case. Remember beepers...





A little while after he left I started to feel weird. Having never been in labor before I wasn't sure how I was supposed to be feeling so I thought maybe I was coming down with what my son likes to refer to as the, um...splats. It came and went and I was feeling fine by the time my husband came home from his game with Taco Bell. Being the hungry, pregnant broad that I was I scarfed down my Taco Supremes like there was no tomorrow. Well a few hours later those weird stomach pains came back and I started thinking that maybe these were actually contractions and not shit cramps like I thought originally. By 11pm they were really kicking into high gear so I heaved my fat ass off the couch. When I went to stand up, I heard (yes, that's right HEARD) a slight "pop". I wondered what the eff that was, but when I stood up, all was fine. But, when I sat down a minute later, my water broke. Imagine, if you will, someone dropping a water balloon between your legs. That's how it was like. For me anyway. After that, I knew we had better get on the road. That was when the husband went into full "Ricky Ricardo" mode. Couldn't find the keys, put his clothes on over his PJ's, the whole nine yards. I was like, "Dude, I'm not gonna drop this kid right this second, calm down". Watching him all but crap himself was probably the funniest thing I can remember seeing, the exception being the movie Grandma's Boy.

Finally we get to the hospital and I get checked in. I have a nurse named Joan who was built like a brick shithouse who proceeds to check to see how far I've dilated. Mmmm, there's nothing like having a paw the size of a linebacker shoved up your hoo-hoo, just sayin. Anyhoo, I was barely at 1cm so they got me all hooked up to the monitors and were on their way. A short while later hub falls asleep on the little couch right about the time I'm starting to feel a wee bit nauseous. I try calling to hub, "honey, I think I'm gonna puke" two or three times, but I don't get a response. I just knew I was gonna blow chunks any second so I had to drag the cart that I was attached to over to the bed, unhook the wires and try to heave myself off the bed. I only got my feet on the floor when I yakked that Taco Bell all the frig over the place. The only place puke wasn't on the floor was under my feet. Gross right? Sorry, if I'm making y'all sick right now...but this is a funny story. :^) Eric wakes up mid-ralph and goes to get the nurse. Nurse "wide-receiver" comes in, gags, and goes to call the janitor. She tell us to wait in the hallway while the poor little janitor cleans up my Taco Bell mess. We decided to walk up and down the hallway because that was helping with the contractions. We were on our third or fourth lap down the hall when an orderly comes up behind me, drapes a hospital gown over my shoulders and whispers, "ma'am, we kind of frown on our patients walking around with the back of their gowns open". Yeah, apparently I had been marching up and down the halls with my ass hanging out for everyone to see! At that point, all I could do was laugh...whatcha gonna do?

Finally my room was ready again, I was dilated enough to have my epidural and everything went smoothly. Three pushes and my little Ocean was born. See, easy!!

But, seriously, don't eat Taco Bell if you think you might crap out a baby at some point that day! I'm not even kidding!!

Sorry if this one grossed any of y'all out. Aside from being a smart ass, I really love to gross people out. It's how I roll.

A mini rant about 1-ply

Ok, I'm a Californian. As a Californian I am painfully aware of how broke the State is. Because, not only do I LIVE in California, but I WORK for California. I understand that we are in a cash crisis, we have had our spending all but cut, and I'm now "forced" to take an additional two days off a month. (That part I'm not complaining about, being lazy and all) But what I don't understand is why, why, WHY do we have to cut back on the quality of toilet paper we have to purchase? I will gladly use generic pens, shake my toner cartridge till the cows come home and lick my index finger in order to sort papers. But I cannot condone the purchase of this crappy (no pun intended), thin ass 1-ply that has turned up in our restroom. I can't even describe how thin this ass wipe is. Seriously.

Ok, rant over.

For the love of 13 year old boys...

Ok, I just had to share the BEST pick up line I've heard in a long time. As told to me by the grandmother of a 13 year old boy:

"Did you just fart because you blew me away"

Classic right??

I'm so wishin I was single at the moment so I could try that out on my boyfriend RPatz...or maybe I'll try it out on the hub tonight.

I Can't Think of a Smart Ass Title, What's Wrong With Me?

Well, the fam and I went on a nice vacay this week. We got the hell out of SacO'Crapmento and went to one of the most purtiful places on Earth, Fort Bragg. No, not the military place in one of the Carolina's, Fort Bragg California. I love it...ain't it purdy?



It's located on the Mendocino Coast surrounded by all of these bad ass looking Redwood trees...(ok, not sure if these are actually Redwood trees, but for this story they are m'kay?) They are pretty and tall so that's all that matters! The best part of the whole trip was that for once shit didn't always happen to me! For reals! Honest!

I think that the people we rented our house from might have possibly been what I like to refer to as "fun suckers" as demonstrated by the sign on the fridge. I gotta say though, that bird sure knows how to roll one up dontcha think?!?

Too bad I didn't see that sign first though...;^) Note the "oops, my bad" face. (I am going to have to ask you all now to please not look at my lunch lady elbow)

We went to this really cool botanical gardens but I think it has some kind of freaky ass LOST vibes going on though because either my daughters arm grew HUGE or I accidently ate a weird mushroom and got all little and shit.

My oldest daughter's name is Ocean. Yes, you are pronouncing it right. Ocean. Like the Ocean. Ok, over it yet? Good. Anyhoo, we didn't know she was so famous...it's like the gardens knew her and had been waiting for her to come visit. She's cool. She's my "beard" for when I go to Hot Topic to buy my Twilight shit. Sometimes she plays along, most of the time she calls me out on it in front of the Hot Topic people.

One of my favoritest parts of the trip was when the hub and I paid homage to the very plant whose magical elixir aided in the creation of our children...

You guessed it...the Agave plant. Oh Agave Plant. How good you taste with a little salt n'lime.

A good time was had by all. AND Pukey McPukerson didn't yak on me this time! Definitely a step up from the last trip. Our youngest gets a tadmartin car sick and one time she puked on me while I was stuck in the middle of one of those half-circle booths at Perko's. Talk about friggen nasty! But, none of that this time, although we did have a few close calls. Now we're back home and can successfully spread out and not even look at each other if we don't want to.

Sorry it took so long between posts, not sure that y'all give a rats ass anyway, but sorry all the same. :)

Just wanna say that I swear I have more than one shirt. I just realized that I had this same shirt on when I post my phot journey from the car to my office. In my defense, it's a really comfy shirt.

Damn you FanFic!

Damn you to the deepest bowels of hell! I had FINALLY cleansed my soul of all things fanfic until I stumbled across this blog that had been talking about one particular story non-stop: http://inappropriatetwilightobsession.blogspot.com/

Well, needless to say I got sucked into its "lemony" goodness and stayed up all friggen night reading it. Now my eyes are itchy, stinging and blurry and I'm not even up to chapter 34 yet! AND, the friggen bastard isn't even complete. WTF is wrong with me?!?!?!?!

So now I'm off to try to finish reading it because it's so goddamn good that I had a goddamn nicotine patch acid dream about it. Lord I need therapy! And a smoke because some of those chapters are just, well, I'm blushing just thinking about it...

Wallier Things Have Happened...

Ah, my youth. The crap that my girls and I would get into back in the day! One particularly crazy, alcohol fueled summer we took up rafting. Not the kind of rafting that you see on TV and what I currently enjoy participating in. No, this type of rafting occured on a stretch of the American River that has pretty much no rapids so the only thing to do (for us anyway-we were idiots) was to paddle around in a circle and drink Bartles and James wine coolers. This particular rafting trip was born because my friend Michelle and I were bored and wanted to kill some time before we had to go to work that evening. So, we load up our two-person second hand raft, ice chest full of wine coolers and Miller High Life, a pack of Marlboro Reds and head out. We decide to take two cars; she would follow me to the place where we would take out at, leave my car there and drive back up to our starting point. Easy no? Well, since you've been reading my blog you know by now that I'm the person shit ALWAYS happens to, 'nuf said. Anyhoo, I lock my car and hop into hers and we set off the four or so miles back to the beginning of my story. (yeah, yeah I sure can talk can't I? Well, just imagine sitting in the same room as me while I'l tellin it. Feel better now dontcha?) We get to our destination and gather up all of our gear and get ready to go down to the river. As an afterthought, I casually throw my keys into her glove box as I was afraid I would lose them in the water. To give you a better visual I have generously included a map for your reference. Please note where Michelle's car is in relation to where MY car is.

My friend and I were crap rafters. We spent the first half hour or so just paddling around and around in a circle. We couldn't figure out how to make the piece of crap raft go straight. After a while we gave up and cracked open our wine coolers and took a smoke break when a group of two dudes and a chick came up next to us and asked if we wanted to tie a rope to their raft. We decided 'what the hell' especially since one of the dudes was obviously single and looked a little like Uncle Jesse from TV's Full House (Have Mercy):

Ok, ok. Maybe I'm exaggerating a tadmartin. But he was good lookin from what I can remember. His name was Wally he was tan and he had long hair - a must have for any good lookin dude from the 90's. He had a t-shirt tied around his head which I imagine was keeping his head cool cuz it was a friggen hot ass Sacramento summer day. We all enjoy a fun afternoon drinking and bs'ing and I'm pretty sure a doob was passed around at some point. My friend and I were slyly tring to call "dibs" on Wally when around mid-point in our trip (refer to 'OMG Moment' on map above) Wally decided to jump into the river to cool off. Oh Wally. You so shouldn't have done that dude. When he came back up from the water his the t-shirt that was tied on his head fell off. Wally went from looking like Uncle Jesse to this:

Not that there's anything WRONG with it! We quickly decided that Wally really wasn't either of our types and we spent the rest of the drip in awkward silence, trying not to give away the real reason for our giggles.

We FINALLY make it to the end of our trip, untie ourselves from what we are now referring to as "Dad's" raft and make off to my car. It's hot, late afternoon, our buzz was wearing off and all we wanted to do was go home and take a little nappy before work. Think that was gonna happen? Nope. Know why? I'm sure you've figured it out but I'll tell ya anyway. Yeah, MY keys were locked in the glove box of Michelle's car. Thankfully Michelle had some cash on her so we booked it over to the Shuttle wait area intent on riding the Shuttle back to her car. That bitch Karma wasn't going to let me have my way! Turns out the last Shuttle had left 10 minutes before so there was only one thing for us to do. I'm sure some of you youngin's might me asking yourself why we just didn't pull out our cell phone and call someone? Well, we would have smart ass if they didn't look like this and cost about a million dollars:

We had to MOTHER FREAKING WALK from MY car to HER car! On foot! In the HOT! And HALF DRUNK! Well, there was NO way in hell we were going to lug all of our crap back so we decided to eff it and left it by our car. If someone took it, screw it.

All in all I think that trip bonded us. We coined the popular phrase "Wallier things have happened" and "foot travelers use left shoulder". Of course they didn't catch on like we had hoped, but we still giggle about it. We're still friends to this day. We were in each other's weddings and if something God forbid ever happens to her and then in turn something God forbid ever happens to her sister, I become her kids gaurdian. It took us I don't even know how many hours to get back to her car. But we made it. In one piece. And no one even asked if they could suck my toe*.

Good times. Good times.

*story for another time.

I've reached a new level of Twitardation

I have a serious problem. Not since Ralph Macchio, Kirk Cameron, River Phoenix and Tim Stapp* have I had such a crush/lust/whathaveyou on a person - real or otherwise. Yes, I realize that Rob Pattinson is a real dude...you know what I mean right? Right? Anyhoo, since I've become so Robsessed I've pre-ordered my movie (which FINALLY came in the mail yesterday btw), the Director's Notebook (no offense, but I probably coulda done without that) and now this: (he's still adorable even with his little Dorothy Hammil haircut)





Hell, he was yummy when I first laid (layed?) eyes on him as Cedric Diggory...

This...not so much. Nips were covered 'cause they gave me the heebs. But, he was a kid who had that girly look to him so I'll let it slide.

This one, well, I'm without words. mmm, mmm, mmm comes to mind. He's scruffy, manly and well, I can't tell you the rest of my thoughts for fear my daughter might one day happen upon this blog and tell on me. It's bad enough I got teased by my husband and kids for hanging my Edward poster up in our office. I told him he could hang up his old Farrah Fawcet poster if he wanted to. I'm fair. I could even score another Pregnant Lady Holding Gun poster if that sort of thing does it for him. Just let me have my Edward poster!!

So now I've pre-orderd the How To Be soundtrack (the movie looks pretty good too) and get to wait foreva for that to come now. Oh Rob, why can't I quit you?? I know us old broads give you the heebs, but that's because you don't know us. Well, me at least, I can't speak for the other old broads since I haven't met most of them but some of them are pretty cool too. You'd like me, I've been told I'm pretty cool for "my age".

There needs to be some sort of AA for Twitards. Or a patch. Or maybe they can do what they do to herion addicts and put me out for 3 days to get it out of my system.

*Tim Stapp was this poor dude that I had a crazy ass crush on my Freshman year in High School. I'll share the story one of these days...it's a doozy lemme tell ya. ;^)

Drool if you want to

If there's one thing I hate it's douche bag boys. In my 34 years I've encountered many a douche bag, but non as douchey as, oh...I can't remember his name...we'll call him Massen...Gil. In 1991 when I was a Jr. in high school ol' Massen was one of those "pretty boys". You remember those dudes, with their Vanilla Ice hair cuts, turtlenecks under their oversized Cosby sweaters listening to the latest song by Color Me Bad. He thought his shit didn't stink. To prove my point further, mommy and daddy bought pretty boy Massen a brand new Mustang GT convertible. That in itself wouldn't have been so bad; it was the vanity license plate that sealed ol' Massen's fate. It said something to the effect of...

Really? WTF! Thinking about that again made me throw up in my mouth a little. So anyway, this douche just irritated the crap outta me and my girlfriends. I'm not sure whether or not he did anything to us in particular, it was just his very being that pissed us off.

Here's the part that as a grown mother of three I probably shouldn't be bragging about, but it's central this story. Shortly after school ended the summer of my jr. year, a couple of my girlfriends and I were sitting at my house looking at our yearbook. We were doing what normal high school girls do - "ooo he's cute", "he's a geek", "it's so trippy how much like Jesus that dude looks like", "I hate that skank", well you get the drift. When we got to young Massen Gil's picture I said, "Lord I'd love to egg the shit out of his dumb ass car!" The three of us all looked at eachother and three light bulbs went off over our heads. I'd love to say we spent the evening merely fantasizing about going to the grocery store, purchasing god knows how many dozens of eggs and egging the crap outta that convertible Mustang GT, but alas kids that would be a lie. Well...my girlfriends did, that is. The ones I threw just bounced on the stupid-ass white leather seats and just sat there...unbroken. I'm telling you, shit like that happens to me ALL THE TIME!

And all was right in Brandyland once more

MY SPOT was taken by ME today. Me in MY SPOT = I'm happy. Me not in MY SPOT = Everybody suffers.

'Sides this broad's got my back now! Would you take HER SPOT? I sure the eff wouldn't. I mean, check out the meaty man hands on that lady. Geeze toots, at least don't paint your nails red to draw attention to them.

I'm sure you're wondering to yourself, "is that a pregnant broad with a gun?". Yep, sure it. That is an actual law enforcement target. I had to order a bunch of various targets for my rangers at work. I was dumbfounded that they made such a thing so of course I asked for one. This is what was hanging on my wall when I came in this morning. I've got the BEST job!! Now I just need to come up with some witty talk bubbles to stick up there....hmmm. But now I want to be a shooting target model. I wonder how one lands a job like that.