Okay Folks....

Okay, so.  This will most likely be my last Blogger post.  I have moved everything over to Wordpress and can now be found at mouthybarbermom.com.  I've been kind of flying under the radar over there since I'm still feeling my way around Wordpress and tweaking my site.  I don't know if I'll EVER be done fiddling with my site!!

Anyway, thanks to you all for following along with me here.  I hope you'll follow me over to my new site and keep reading!!

I'm Moving!!!

Okay, so.  I learned a few things this weekend at Non-Con.  One of them is that I REALLY need to find another hosting site so I'm going to be switching over to mouthybarbermom.com.  Hopefully, things will go smoothly and all my stuff will import properly.

I'll be sure to let you know when the new site is up & running.

Wish me luck!!

Non-Con (or How I Discovered I'm Not a Total Dork)

Okay, so.  I SURVIVED NON-CON!!  I didn't exactly take it by storm but I survived and I met some incredible people. People who took me in, took me under their wing, and made me part of their tribe. The incredible Don't Speak Whinese even let me take business cards out of her cleavage with my teeth.  See??  My tribe!!

This wasn't the easiest thing I've ever done.  I talked before about how I never, EVER go anywhere by myself. I'll admit it, I like having a security blanket person with me.  Someone to walk into a room with me so I'm not walking into a room alone.

I didn't have that person with me at Non-Con.  I had myself, a cute dress, and some sparkly shoes.  They almost weren't enough.

Friday was day one of the convention.  I went down to breakfast and talked to the people at my table. I then went back up to my room to take some medicine and brush my teeth before I headed down to the roundtables.

My first foray into the conference room was very nearly my undoing.  I walked in. I was late. All the tables were full.  SHIT!!

So I fled.  I fled back to the safety of my room and my laptop.  I pulled up my e-mail and sent TWH the following message:

"I don't know what I'm doing here.  This was a bad idea. I've made a mistake and should just come home."

I did all this while weeping in both fear and frustration.  Fortunately, it didn't send.

I eventually pulled myself together, re-did my mascara, put on my big-girl panties, got over myself and went downstairs. I got a cup of coffee and sat down at a table by myself. Partly because I was raised not to interrupt and partly because I was no where ready to engage.  The awesome Anissa came over to me and started talking to me as I sipped my coffee.  She somehow managed to keep me in the room until someone at the closest roundtable looked at me and said "Get over here woman!!" as she scooched her chair over to make room.

My time  at Non-Con had begun.

I had the most incredible time once I took a breath, let my guard down, and ENGAGED.

These people were kind, funny, smart, and encouraging. They got the whole thing in a way that members of the non-blogging community don't.  Like I said, I found my tribe.

And I can't wait for the next opportunity to get together with them.

I'm gonna be all over it.

*Thank you to all the awesome people at Non-Con who showed me that being who I am is enough.

TB is a Jeff Dunham fan

Okay, so. We're watching crap on the DVR.  Real TV is still on ESPN because TWH watched LSU beat South Carolina last night.  Anyway, we are in between shows and ESPN is playing NASCAR.

TB looks up from whatever he's doing on his phone and says "Oooooooooo..... Racing". Then, in a true geeky moment he quotes Bubba J.  "They're making a left turrrrrrn!!"

Yep, we love us a grown man playing with puppets in this house.

TWH one day hopes to be as grumpy and assoholic as Walter one day.

He's dreaming big guys.  Dreaming. Big.

This One Time, I Made Dinner

Okay, so.  I don't cook.  I don't cook because my children actually asked me to STOP cooking.  TWH is a brilliant cook.  He enjoys it. I HATE it. I suck at it.

Unless it's a casserole.  I ROCK the oven and all things that can be made in it.  The oven is where I rule.

But yesterday...  Yesterday, I made dinner.  From scratch.  And to quote an apron I saw yesterday in the kitchen store, "Hardly anyone got sick".  Really No one got sick.  It was edible.  Like go-in-for-seconds edible.

I made cheese soup.  Yesterday we had out first official "Fall" day.  It put me in the mood for soup.  We were heading to the store and I looked up a recipe for cheese soup on my phone, bought all the ingredients, came home, chopped stuff up (TWH helped), put it all in the pot, followed the directions, and MADE SOUP.   I. Made. The. Best. Soup. EV-ER!!

And I'm totally having the leftovers for lunch.

Because I can.

And I don't want anyone else to eat it.

I'm kinda selfish like that.

One day, I might be able to rock the stove as well as the oven.

Maybe...

My Birthday Purse

Okay, so. Last weekend was my birthday. We were travelling so we didn't really do anything.  We celebrated this weekend instead.  We went out to dinner last night then saw The Importance of Being Earnest.  Today TWH took me to get my birthday present.  When he asked me ( all FOUR times) what I wanted for my birthday, I told him "A new Coach Purse".  I had one I'd bought last year that looked like this:

And I managed to cram it FULL of THIS:

So today we went down to the Coach Outlet (because I'm not willing to pay full price) and I picked one out.   It's a good size & has a ton of pockets.

Aaaaaaaannnnnndddd.... I bought a Diaper Bag.  Yep, you read that right. My brand new full of awesome purse turned out to be a fancy, schmancy, diaper bag.  My first clue was THIS:

A CHANGING PAD!!!  There was a changing pad in my new purse!!  That coupled with the weirdly unfashionable shoulder strap you see hanging out of the bag led me to look more closely at my new purse.  See those pockets in the picture above??  They're for BOTTLES!!  There's also a pocket for my cell phone, and other pockets for crap like wipes and a change of clothes.

Did I care??  HELL NO!!  My new purse IS full of awesome!!  It's big & has a shit-ton of pockets for all my stuff.  I LOVE to have an organized purse.  A pocket for everything & everything in it's pocket.

The best part is, I still have extra pockets!!  I can cram more crap into it!!  With my trips to Non-Con & Virginia coming up, that's gonna be a huge bonus!!

I'm gonna rock my diaper purse like a BOSS!! Like. A. Boss!!

Me & ECB

Okay, so. Next month I'm hopping on a plane to Virginia for my East Coast Bestie's XXth (redacted to protect my ass) birthday.  Why??  Because she sent me a text message asking me to.  I'd actually been thinking about flying up & surprising her anyway.  It's been a couple of years since we've seen each other & we need some face-to-face.

This woman has been my friend for 20 years now.  We've been friends this long despite distance because I can do things like text her the link to The Bloggess' latest post and she GETS it.  I don't get any questions. There's no lengthy discussion, just "Yeah, I think I'd have to pass on that".  Then when I text her back with "It does NOT seem full of awesome".  She responds simply "No awesome at all".

Yes, in 20 years, there have been arguments.  We'd go months without speaking then one of us would call the other one up and be all "What's up Sugartits??" and things would be fine.  Now, thanks to smartphones, we can just send each other ecards and memes with gratuitous use of the word "Fuck" and everything will be okay.   We're awesome like that.  And kinda lazy & vain. Holding grudges causes wrinkles people!! And it's WORK.  We avoid WORK as much as possible.  Mostly because it's hard & distracts us from the important things in life. Families, shoes, purses, coffee, & wine. Not necessarily in that order.

ECB has seen me through TWO divorces, TWO weddings, THREE childbirths, several moves, Miss A moving away, The Darkness, and trivial bitching when necessary.  She has always been forthright in her opinions. Never shying away from what really needed to be said. She has also been the first person to tell me "I hate him/her!!  I hope he/she DIES!!".  She'd also be right there helping me plan their demise, if necessary.

ECB & I got off to a rocky start but that woman has my back any day of the week, no matter where in the world she is. She'll cut a bitch.

And THAT'S why I love her.

Is It Bad When...

Okay, so.  TWH & I are home this morning.  Since we're both home, we're trying to take care of some of the "During the Day" kind of stuff that we can't normally attend to.  Setting up Dr. appointments, & things. One of those things is me calling to book rooms for The Parade.  I know September SOUNDS early to be booking something that happens at the end of March, but trust me, I'm WAY behind on this.

Anyway, I need the rewards number for the Hilton, which TWH has.  I'm loading the dishwasher while TWH fiddles with his computer.  This is the conversation that happened:

TWH: What else did you need to do this morning??

Me: I need to call the Hilton.  I need the reward card number.

TWH: Okay, that's on a card in my wallet.

He's still fiddling on his computer.

TWH: (Blurts out random number)

Me: (Grabs pen & paper & jots down random number)  Is that the reward card number??

TWH:  What??

Me: That number you just blurted out, is that thr reward card number??

TWH:  No, THAT number is on a CARD in my WAL-LET.

Me: Well, I didn't know!! I thought you'd.....  Oh. My. God.

TWH:  What??  (eyeballing me suspiciously)

Me:  We sound like your parents.

TWH: YOU sound like my parents. I sound like ME.

Me: Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.

I know people say that as an adult, you begin to sound like your parents (in my case my Mom & Step-Mom) but is it bad when you begin sounding like someone ELSE'S parents??
In this case, I'm sure I could do worse.


(Note: TWH's parents have been married for 38 years & love each other fiercely but if you were to over hear a conversation they were having, and didn't know this, you'd SWEAR they were either headed for divorce court or needed to head for divorce court.  I struggled with the personal anxiety this caused me, as a child of divorced parents, for YEARS when TWH & I first got together before TWH assured me it was just their way.  If you sit back and observe those two, you can see the love and respect they have for each other in the small things they do for each other.   TWH's parents are a  prime example of actions, not words.)

Stepping Into the Unknown

Okay, so. Next month is the first ever Aiming Low Non-Conference and I'm going. ALONE.  I can't think of the last time I've done something like this.  Wait....  It was.... NEVER!!  I NEVER do stuff like this ALONE.  I usually drag someone along with me because I like having a built-in person that I know. Someone to talk to.  For an Introvert like me, getting on a plane to go someplace full of people I don't know is so far out of my comfort zone, I can't even begin to imagine I can see it from where I'm sitting.  

I was on the phone with TWH earlier confiding how the thought of this actually makes my stomach hurt a little.  I'm kind of a dork y'all.  Okay, I'm a really big dork y'all.  I've said before that I suck at small talk. I'm also the queen of the Random, Ill-Timed, Inappropriate Thing To Say.   I am so afraid that I'll be the chubby loser in the weird looking clothes sitting in a corner just waiting for someone to talk to me because I'm damn near incapable of starting a conversation on my own.  Sort of like High School when I was the really skinny, gangly, bespectacled, buck toothed loser in the weird clothes sitting in a corner waiting for someone to talk to me.  Because I was incapable of starting a conversation on my own then too.

If you're going to Non-Con and you see me sitting around looking a overwhelmed and maybe about to cry, bring me a Vodka & Cranberry & say "Hi". Once the ice is broken, I can take it from there.  

The first step is always the hardest.

And So It Begins (OR My Dowwnward Spiral Into Geezerdom)

Okay, so.  I'm going to be 41 on Sunday.  My eyesight is shit, my joints are starting to ache, and underneath all this color, my hair is mostly white.

And yesterday, I saw my first "Specialist".  I realize I've seen specialists before. My Gynecologist, the doctor who reconstructed my ACL, those are specialists I sought out of necessity.  This is the first specialist I've sought out because of an intermittent problem.  Not something immediate, but maybe becoming a bigger problem.

Yesterday, I saw a Urologist.

Yep, it seems that some of my parts are starting to rebel.  Or, as the nice Doctor put it, "These things happen as you get older. And I hate to tell you, they're only going to get worse."  He was just a little ray of fucking sunshine, that one.  Also, he DIDN'T hate to tell me. He had a big ol' shit eating grin on his face when he said that.

He basically informed me that because I was "Pre-Menopausal" (lying Bastid) I would have more & more difficulties of the UTI kind and that unless I did my exercises that the two, count 'em TWO full-bladder-sneezed-on-my-way-to-the-bathroom incidents that necessitated a wardrobe change would also happen more frequently.  Fan-Freaking-TASTIC!!

THEN he said the thing that I ALMOST could have kicked his ass over: "Yeah, you ladies have it really rough as you get older with all your parts. That's just proof positive to me that God is a Man".  Really Mr. Doctor Man??  No words of comfort, no magical pill, just "Yep, you're screwed, you're gonna get even more screwed (but not in the good, fun way), aaaaaaannnnnnnddddd I'm gonna use this so solidify in my mind that I'm genetically the more superior of the species"

Rotten Braggart Asshole.

I go back to see him in 6 months.

I Just Want My Damn Shoes

Okay, so.  As I've mentioned before, I go to Jackson, Mississippi every March to Participate in the FUN-raising weekend known as The Sweet Potato Queens Zippity Doo Dah Parade.  While it's only ONE weekend, I shop for it all year.  It could almost qualify as a second job.

Last week I ordered THESE:

These are my new Big Hat Luncheon shoes.  I ordered them from an online store called Starlets & Harlots. They are my go-to store for SPQ weekend outfits & accessories.

When the Postal Worker, a woman, delivered my package today, I had to sign for my shoes. As I was signing the slip, she looks at the box & says "Starlets & Harlots. You getting ready for Halloween??".  I coolly responded "No, when I'm not painting cabinets in yoga pants and a ball cap, I dress like a tramp. These are for your average Tuesday."  She stammered "Uhhh....Oh....Okay...." as I closed the door in her face.

Nosy bitch. That'll teach her to question ME about the origins of my deliveries.  Or give her something to gossip about. Whatever.

Ch ch ch Changes

Okay, so.  T hired a new guy to work in the shop.  I don't know that I'm entirely thrilled.  I KNOW that I should give the guy a chance.  I just don't know that I wanna.  My first impression of him was that he's kind of a kiss-ass with a sob story. I have zero patience for either.  (Yes, I realize I do my share of bitching, but I am NOT a whiner)  Also, I like MY space and after nearly 14 years, I consider the entire shop to be MY space.  I'd piss all over stuff if I knew it would effectively mark my territory.

I'm effectively unsettled.  I am unsure of how this will change the shop dynamic. The shop dynamic being me acting like a pseudo-bratty-know-it-all-lovable-scamp-with-a-mouth-like-a-trucker and T sometimes playing along, sometimes scolding me, and sometimes just staring in slack-jawed wonderment at my overflowing awesome.  You see where the new guy's gonna fit in??  Me neither.

TWH suggested I walk up to him, punch him, and tell him "Now you know!!" and walk off, prison style.  I may just unleash my inner Bon Qui Qui.  We'll hafta wait and see.

If I come back tomorrow and tell you all I'm unemployed, you'll know it ended badly for EVERYBODY.


P.S.  Speaking of coming back tomorrow, go check out my guest post on The Family Pants.  Mama Pants is doing a guest posting series called Fancy Friday.  We're getting our Fancy back & we're sharing how we're doing it!!  Stop by and tell her what makes you feel Fancy!!

Yep. I'm THAT Mom.

Okay, so. I was just looking at my FB feed and I saw where my friend Marti posted the harrowing total she shelled out for school supplies for her 2 kids.  In the comment section, someone mentioned all the "Community" supplies you have to buy these days.  Wipes, I get. Kleenex, I get. Germ-X I will supply for the classroom by the GALLON.  The classroom is gonna go through those in no time flat and they're not cheap.  I'll happily send some around the first of the year just to help teachers replenish. God knows they have to buy enough crap for their classrooms out of their own pockets.  I have no problem helping with those expenses.

Having said that, when you ask me to buy 3 blue pocket folders, 3 red pocket folders, and 3 purple pocket folders and NOT put my kids mane on ANY of them??  I'm just gonna have to ignore your request, take my fattie Sharpie marker, and write TB's name right smack in the MIDDLE of every damn folder. I write it in the middle so the teacher can't cover his name with a label with some other kids name.  I'm sorry, but I bought my kid the GOOD, will-hold-up-all-year-a-dollar-a-pop folders. Why in the HELL would I want to send those to school just so they can go in the "Community" pile so some other kid can walk around with them and my kid can come home with the fall-apart-in-a-week-bought-for-a-quarter folders??  Not gonna happen.  Sorry Teachers.  I bought the awesome folders. My kid's gonna GET the awesome folders.

I'll buy some Ziploc bags to make up for it. M'kay??

Don't Swear in Front of My Kid!!

Okay, so.  Thanks to Hurricane Isaac, we don't have power so I'm sitting at TWH's office typing this.  Everyone is comparing stories of how bad their lives are at the moment.  (Let me digress for a minute by saying not only do we NOT have power, I haven't had coffee in over 24 hours. So now, not ONLY did I have to take a cold shower this morning, I've barely slept, I'm uncaffeinated, and it's SHARK WEEK for me. I win mofos!! I motherfucking WIN!!)

Anyways, I'm set up in an empty cubicle at TWH's office with TB on his laptop in the next cubicle.  From over the wall, I hear some guy telling his tale of woe and he says "Fucking".  For some reason, THIS makes me cringe.  I started to stand up and give him The Death Glare while pointing to TB and saying "My KID is in this cubicle!!"  Because I'm a big ol' hypocrite. Obviously.

I've said before that I write like I talk. EXACTLY like I talk.  I can be heard at my house swearing like a sailor simply because I can't get some schmutz off a dish. Or I dropped something. Or I tripped over one of the Dawgs. Or it's a day that ends with "Y". Whatever. My point is, for some reason, I've decided it's perfectly fine for me to swear in front of my kids but for someone else to do it??
Oh. HELL. NO!!  It drives me batshit crazy.  Don't talk like that in front of my kid!!  I'M the only one that can talk like that in front of my kid!!

Inconsiderate Asshole. Watch your damn language already!!

Hurricane Malaise

Okay, so.  We're STILL waiting on Hurricane Issac.  I've gone from kind of nervous to flat-out bored.  I have dubbed this Hurricane Malaise.  I keep thinking about all the crap I COULD be doing around here with the two free days I have found myself with.

I keep thinking "Hey!!  We could re-hang the mantle!!  No, SHIT!!  TWH's drills are in the storage room."  I know that doesn't sound like any big deal but we piled ALL THE THINGS in front of the door to the storage room.  Then we parked my Jeep in front of all THAT stuff.  There is NO running out and grabbing something.  At. All.

I woke up and told TWH this morning  "Y'know, I didn't prepare for this for shit.  I could have had the cabinets painted, the mantle re-hung, and the shelf put back up above the bench. As it stands, I'm not doing jack shit".  TWH reminded me that he suggested we leave some stuff in the house but none of it was stuff I was gonna use.  I need stuff for NEW projects. Not ones I've finished.

So I have Hurricane Malaise.  I am wandering around the house, trying to find shit to do.  I'm bored out of my skull.

I guess I can go clean the bathroom.  AGAIN.

Then maybe a nap.

This waiting for a hurricane stuff is HARD!!

My First Big Storm

Okay, so. I have a confession to make.  I have lived in SOLA for 14 years and this is my first Hurricane.  I know, I'm a weenie.

Katrina would have been my first real storm.  We lived & died by The Weather Channel that week and I had a pretty good idea of the SIZE of the storm, but had no idea what any of it meant. TWH, who was our resident Hurricane expert having gone through Hurricane Andrew, kept telling me it was no big deal and so I continued on with my life. I cleaned the bathrooms. I did laundry. I fielded phone calls from friends & family. The first one being from my friend Marti who lived in Japan at the time. I answered the phone to her yelling "WHY IN THE HELL ARE YOU STILL THERE!?!?!".  I STILL didn't think it was a big deal.  TWH said everything was FINE.  I tend to take everything my husband says at face value so I thought everything was cool.

Until about 3 in the afternoon.  That's when TWH comes into the bedroom where I was folding clothes and sheepishly says "Y'know... I just got a good look at the storm...  It's a LOT bigger than I thought...  Maybe we should go to Mom & Dads".

I stood there staring at him for a few seconds before I yelled "Pack a bag!!  We have to leave!!"

In hindsight, I could have handled that better.  TB was 6 and kinda freaked out.  He packed his suitcase with nothing but shirts & underwear & I packed like we were never returning.  I checked TBs bag.  TWH checked MY bag.  We finally got everything we needed to leave and jumped into the van.

Out normally 4 hour drive took 8.  We arrived safely in Minden around midnight.  We watched the horror of Katrina on the news.  We swam in the pool when we weren't riveted to the television. We were safe. We were lucky.

Now we're facing down Issac.  We're not going anywhere.  Again, TWH says it's no biggie.  Again I am taking him at his word.  Because that's what I do.  I'm kinda nervous though.

I hope I have enough alcohol...

DIY Meltdown

Okay, so.  We want to sell our house.  In order to sell our house, we need to do some updating.  The key word there being WE.  Not "We need to HAVE some updating done".  "WE need to do some updating".  You see the distinction??

We redid the counter tops in the kitchen. In order to take off the Formica counter tops, we had to take down the upper cabinets because the folks who did the kitchen originally thought Formica would make an AWESOME back-splash and when they were done, they mounted the cabinets over the Formica. They also mounted the cabinets off center for the openings for the stove and refrigerator. So they had to come down anyway.

Cabinets & counter tops GONE

I now have boxes of dishes, cabinets, cabinet doors and everything off the counter tops taking over my dining room & living room.  I just got done cleaning AROUND the piles because the Dawgs still shed like crazy and we still track stuff in the house.

My DIY mess & the Crackhaid Dawg

Yes, this IS in front of my fireplace. On TOP of a newly painted cabinet.

I am about to lose my shit.  I can't really, because this was pretty much all my idea, but still...
AAAAAUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!

My bedroom is nice and neat.  Maybe I'll just hide out in there for the next few weeks...

Is it wrong to hope (not really) that a tree falls on my house during the hurricane??  At least THEN all this would be someone else's problem.

I have to go move some boxes now.  I just spotted a small fur drift I need to vacuum up.

There's a Hurricane a Comin'

Okay, so.  I live in SOLA (South Louisiana) and there's a hurricane coming.  I knew there was a hurricane tracking into the Gulf of Mexico but until TODAY, I didn't realize it was HEADED RIGHT FOR US.

We went into the Home Depot once yesterday and twice today and it wasn't until our SECOND trip today, after I saw no less than FIVE people walking out of the store with portable air conditioner units on those little flatbed hand trolley thingies that it hit me.  The Home Depot was PACKED.  So I brilliantly asked the lady behind the counter "Has the Hurricane tracked further west since yesterday??".  She looked at me like I was stupid for a second before she replied "As of 10:30 this morning, it was headed right for New Orleans".  Typically, when there's a storm in the Gulf, I live and die by The Weather Channel but we're STILL working on our kitchen and I had it in my head that THIS was the weekend that I BY GAWD got the upper cabinets painted.  Those fucking things have been a huge pain in the ass and I'm sick to death of plastic cups, plates, & cutlery.  I used a real fork tonight for the first time in a week and I can honestly say I was GIDDY with joy.  GIDDY I say!!

Needless to say, I hardly watched ANY television, much less The Weather Channel.  I of course, hopped right on my laptop when I got home and began looking at the latitude and longitude of the storm (N.O. is 30 & 90 BTW) and all the potential tracks for the storm.  Sure enough, we're right in the MIDDLE of what I term "The Cone of Doom".

As I painted the rest of my cabinets this afternoon, in the bright sunshine, one thing kept going through my head. It was a take of the song the Billy Goat sang in Hoodwinked.

"There's a Hurricane a comin' and I do not feel prepared"

Guess I'll make sure we all have clean underwear & a full tank of gas should we have to get the hell out of dodge.

Like I'm gonna stick around for that shit!!

We're SO gonna spend a week at Camp Grandma & Grandpa lounging in the pool.

I Get the Giggles

Okay, so.  I am not athletic. Every attempt at sports I have tried over the last decade or so has landed me in the ER with some God-awful injury or other.  I am also not a whiner.  I am, however, the happiest ER patient you will ever, EVER meet.  I am a giggler.

I will enter the ER/Dr's office making quips & jokes about EVERYTHING and laughing at my own funny.  Poor TWH has had to explain to any number of Physicians & staff that I am NOT high, nor did I recieve any type of head injury.  That is my coping skill. I laugh.  I laugh because for some reason, it never occurs to me to cry.

I tell you this as a lead in to THIS.

My mutha-flippin' big toenail is about to come off.  It has become a sacrifice to the renovation Gods.  I have NO idea when I actually broke the toenail. I noticed it last Saturday when I got out of the shower.  I was applying lotion when I noticed something was "Off" about my big toe. I bent over for a closer look and noticed it was crooked so I pushed on it.

It. Moved.

I absolutely lost my shit.  I started yelling for TWH who came running into the bedroom to find me giggling and babbling about my toenail.

(Side note: This is # 3 on the List of Things That Will Freak Me the Hell Out. #1: Spiders  #2: My own blood  #3: Partial/Whole loss of a toenail/fingernail.)

TWH has me get on the bed so he can look.  I lay down with a pillow over my head giggling hysterically and trying to be at least 6 inches taller than I actually am so as to put MORE distance between my head & my foot.  It was awful.

T wanted a look too so yesterday I took off the THREE Band-Aids that are holding my toenail on & showed him.

Oh. My. GAWD!!  He was fascinated with that shit!!  He kept trying to fiddle with it until I was SCREAMING with hysterical laughter, sweating, & shaking.

It wasn't pretty.

Now I'm afraid the nail has FINALLY come all the way off.  I think the Band-Aids are ALL that's holding it on.  I'm terrified of taking the Band-Aids off.  Leaving them on until the sticky just gives out is okay right??

RIGHT!?!

I may have to be sedated.

50 Shades of BFD

Okay, so. I know I'm late to the book porn party but I FINALLY started reading 50 Shades of Grey.  I had avoided reading it simply BECAUSE everyone else was.  Everyone was also talking about it nonstop so I almost felt like I didn't have to read it. I had a pretty good handle on it.

My hairdresser read this book on her cruise and foisted her copy off on me while gushing about how awesome it was.  You guys, my first book porn was Ann Rice's* Sleeping Beauty when I was 19. I found it stuffed in the backseat of a used car the guy I was dating at the time had just purchased.  Never one to pass up a free book (or any book, really) I dove right in.

50 Shades ain't* Sleeping Beauty.  This isn't even close.

The book sat on my counter for 2 days mocking me before I sighed in resignation and began reading it.  Almost 100 pages in, TWH asked me how I liked it.  My response was "So far, it's 50 Shades of Big Fucking Deal".  His response "Oh..."

I think he may be waiting for the porn part to kick in.

I can't believe how unrealistically Ana is written.  Never masturbated??  Really??

I'm going to finish this book.  One of my quirks is that I can NOT put a book down unfinished. I will hold on to the thought that it will get better until the very end when I have a total "What the HELL??  That's it??  I spent DAYS reading this book and it sucked from beginning to end??  Sonofabitch!!" moment.

It could always get better...  Right??  RIGHT!?!?


* Ann Rice wrote the Sleeping Beauty trilogy under the name A.N. Roquelaire. (Spelling??)

*Yes, I used Ain't.  I'm Southern. I only use that word to indicate extreme derision. It is NOT part of my daily vocabulary.