Ranting and Such an All

I have been doing my daily radiation and fighting exhaustion and a bad attitude to boot-hence my blog slacking.  Basically I've been in my bathrobe hunkered down watching those trashy, slutty Bravo Housewives act the fool for to our endless delight.  Not a pretty picture, mind you... of me or them, frankly.

But I did have a recent resurgence of my former sharp tongued glory when I found myself picking a fight with a couple of preachers over gay bashing and pulpit politics...and then hit the send button on a scathing email which totally made me look like a liberal, gay loving, yellow dog Democrat.  Sigh...  And that's pretty much the truth of it although I generally try to keep my political vitriol off the Internet.  Well intentioned preachers have been banging the pulpit and waving the bible in futile attempts to keep blacks and women out of the voting polls for ages-all in the name of the High and Mighty.  Yet, look where we are now.  Baby, we've come a long way...!   I just want to punch stupid white men in the head sometimes-while smoking a Virginia Slim, mind you.

I even told Mr B that I might even put a gay rainbow sticker on my car just so the gays would know that I've got their back in the upcoming election-and to piss off those snooty, small minded preachers!  Mr B was wise enough to say nothing-which means that I currently do not want to punch him in the head.  Miracles can happen...

See you at the polls!

Fall Break Project

Our big project for fall break has been mucking out the boys' bonus rm/man cave.  Laws...  what a dusty, dark, nasty hole!  So I give Mr B fair warning, grit my teeth, ask my MIL to pray for her son and heirs' safety (this kinda project makes me wanna go all Roman and crucify deserving folks), and pull the trigger.  Natch'rally.  And it is a catastrophe-with fair results.  Mr B and I bicker the whole time; lil brother goofs off and doesn't listen or help much; big kid turns every job into a throwing athletic contest while mosey-ing around oblivious that his padre is snarling and foaming at the mouth and his mother has turned into a vampiric ice queen with psychotically narrowed eyes.  Mr B did eventually apologize (vaguely), and I did eventually warm up (slightly).  And the boys continued to be clueless that their parents nearly d-i-v-o-r-c-e-d and moved into one bedroom apartments on the wrong side of town. 

Big kid said it best: "Hey mom, did you know that 98% of marriages end in home renovations?"

Big kid (who's getting a lil big for his britches) keeps at it: "Hey dad, remember in that movie when that guy said, 'Marriage is like a rickety bridge.  Just don't put any stress on it and it'll be fine?' " 

Hells bells!  Ain't that The Truth?!?

After I have my chuckle over this touchy (yet truthful) metaphor, I banish big kid to the bonus rm/man cave.  Natch'rally.

D-Day

Sonofab*tch!

It's time to put down the cigs and get this gdmf'n radiation show on the road.  I am a day or two away from having the trigger pulled, but whatcha gonna do but do it...  Sigh...  That's called being a grown-ass woman, I guess...

Of course 'mokin' is sooooo tenth grade...and stupid, stupid, stupid...  Not even I can deny that.  ...Sigh...  So in that vein, I'm totally rockin' the tenth grade attitude
bout it-as in eye rolling, mumble b*tchin' and the like...  i.e. being a TOTAL BRAT.

People who prefer exercise and yoga and healthy eating and meditation for stress relief can just go FUCK OFF.

GDMFC!

Bow Chica Wow Wow!

Mr B has got the crazy eye.  And I mean crazzzzy eye...  Poor man-he has been as long suffering as a  Jewish grandmother while I have been dealing with GDMF! cancer.  Essentially I shut down the bow chica wow wow shop at even the threat that folks were gonna be stabbing me in the boob with needles-which indeed did happen.  Having your boob filleted  and charbroiled just dampens the mood-like for eons.  So I had to recover from that....  then I started back to work....  then I started my period....  then I got a sinus infection...  and then...  y'all, I just lost my nerve, honestly.  Knowing that I was going to have to perform the most biblical and epic BJ of all time for a man who has been as patient as Job... well, laws y'all, that takes courage.  I'm just gonna have to take a page outta of Moses' book and free the people and part the seas...  Pray for me!  I just hope to survive the rug burns.

Hero

Lil brother had to write a hero paper for homework.  So he and Mr B had a convo about what makes someone a hero.  Mr B said he was a little worried that lil brother was going to chose some assassin hero from a video game, and he was gearing up to veto that idea when lil brother announces that he's choosing.....big kid!  How cool is that???...considering that lil brother likes to torture, tattle-tell, and otherwise drive him crazy on a daily basis.  According to lil brother's paper, big kid is his hero because he wrestles and plays video games with him.  Lil brother acknowledges that he often loses to his big brother and gets mad (natch'rally) but not for long.  It's nice to see lil brother appreciating his big bro who will hopefully have his back for life. 

Speaking of heroes, those men and women who lost their lives on 9/11 are trapped in our hearts forever.  Their sacrifice is unimaginable, and I am so glad that lil brother (who was born on 9/11) will always have these Americans as his role model.

God bless the USA!

Back to Normal

My hater-rade is in full lather.  And my friends are thrilled (one is terrified).

My bff commented on this at 7:42 AM on Thursday after I had already labeled three misinformed folks "IDIOTS!"-all before even quaffing my first cuppa joe.  "Thank God you're BACK!" she rejoiced.

And sure enough, I was foaming at the mouth the next afternoon over a STUPID! STUPID! email.  And this time the f-bombs were flying with GD force.

My crazy eye has also warmed up.  I found myself scanning a group of squirrely kids while little clicks and whirrs and buzzing sounds prepared a WTF! torpedo launch.  Saved by the bell... by a nanosecond.

This whole going-back-to-work gig is just irritatin', y'all.   Evenly applying my Cover Girl foundation e'ry freakin day, accessorizing for the younger crowd, packing boring lunches, and frantically kicking the copier's ass and deleting stupid as f*ck emails while politely answering 97,251 questions every 3 minutes through clenched teeth ain't no lil thing, y'all.  I guess I got a little too comfortable with lounging in my bath robe, cradling my left boob with pillows, and popping oxy's while watching Housewives from 10 AM-9 PM.  Cancer does have its perks, is all I'm sayin.' 

Mr B is gonna have to buy me a lottery ticket...  TODAY.  Or I just need to be a chain smoker. 

Whatev...

Dating

I took lil brother on a lunch date to practice his "dating" skills.  He chose Olive Garden (which I hate!)  because he says its "romantic."  I'm not sure my having to drive and pay for a place I don't like is very "romantic," but he did beg to pump gas which I was more than happy for him to do (I hate gas stations!).  And he casually remarks, while coolly leaning on the car's bumper, "I'm working on my man card!"  ...INDEED! 

So to prep him for our lunch "date," I ask him to tell me three things he needs to remember on a "date."  "Give compliments.  Have manners.... and das it."  And I can live with that-three is such an overrated number anyway.  In the car I prod him a little-just to get the "date" rolling along.  "So how do you like this outfit?" (flowy yellow paisley shirt with cuffed jeans and brown/gold leather sandals-totally cute!)  And he turns in his seat to intently study me.  "Your shirt really goes with your hair and your eyes," he seriously concludes.  I'm not sure what that means, but it is an awfully nice and sincere thing to say and I can tell he put some effort into it, so I'm totally taking it!

The rest of the "date" was sweet and lovely, and we had interesting conversations that covered about 5,792 topics that only a mama could really enjoy.  But whatev...  he's all mine for long as I can keep him-even If I have to keep going back to Olive Garden and pay a pirate's ransom for a plate of tepid lasagna. 

Silly, stupid girls can just stay away!