I Needs Me a Chicken....

So, thanks to another blogger, I am in dire need of a Giant Metal Chicken.  I will be 40 at the end of September & I have decided that's what I want more than ANYTHING IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD.  Conveniently enough, there happens to be a store that sells just such items in the Old Downtown area where I live.  I KNOW, it's totally Meant to Be.  Last night, TWH & I were sitting around talking & the subject of my Birthday Gift came up.  Actual conversation between myself & TWH:
TWH: What do you want for your birthday??
Me: A Giant Metal Chicken
TWH: No really, what do you want for your birthday??
Me: A. Giant. Metal. Chicken.  I am NOT playing around here...
TWH: (Makes face of either Disgust or Defeat) That's REALLY what you want??
Me: YES!!  I have gone downtown & looked at them. I want the one with the giant blue head & the yellow wings. I'm gonna name it Gwenyth!!  It's gonna be so freakin' awesome!!
TWH: I can't believe this....   Then what do you want for our Anniversary??
Me: They also have these Metal Winged Pigs...
TWH was so overcome with my Vision for our backyard & the sheer awesomeness of it that he had to leave the room...

I am SO getting me a Chicken!!

I am an (Accidental) Asshole

Yes, it's true.  I mentioned before that I seem to be missing the filter between my brain & my mouth. That and I just plain old don't pay attention sometimes.  A few years ago, I was hobbling around on crutches shopping with my family. We go into a store and lo and behold I see a bench!!  I plop myself down with a sigh of relief  and hear a voice from my right say "You seem to be having a time of it" to which I respond "Yeah, thankfully though, it isn't anything permanent". I turn to my right and discover the guy I'm talking to is IN A WHEELCHAIR.  Yep, I'm an (Accidental) Asshole AND I'm going to hell to boot.  Well...today, I did it AGAIN.  I have a client who is a slight, tattooed, guy who buses tables at the bar & grill across the street. Super-nice guy. Anyways, he was telling me about some training he's going to do and some really big job changes he's about to make. He's going to Dive School so he can work for an oil rig/platform.  I ask some questions about the school & new job then ask "So, are you going to have the silver on your bottom teeth removed for Dive School??".  See, I mistakenly thought he was sporting a "Grill".  He paused for a second before he responded "These are my teeth. I was in a car accident a few years ago where I was unrestrained and my teeth went through my lip knocking them out. This was all I could afford to replace them with."  Oh yeah, I'm a sensitive bitch. To add to my Asshole-ness, I was involved in a similar accident as a teenager and am standing there with my straight, white, teeth that were saved because my Mom came to school every day and brought me broth & bread until my teeth firmed back up then graduated me up to real food slowly just so they WOULDN'T fall out of my head, asking about HIS teeth.  Before you ask, I WAS nice enough to share that story with him. Remember, sensitive bitch, right here.  I ought to call my Mom...

Cupcakes are the DEBBIL!!

Okay, my friend and Esthetician Extrordiaire, Erica recently moved her awesome business...  Three doors down from a Cupcake Shop.  I go in for my appointment Saturday and Erica, ever thoughtful, came in with a "Pupcake" for the Crackhaid Dawg.  Now, I just got done maiming The Boy last Monday and there's NO WAY I can show up with just a cupcake for the Dawg. So, after my appointment, I walk over to the Cupcake Shop with the intention of buying ONLY 3 cupcakes for the 3 people in my house. Sadly, the cupcakes come in packs of 4 and that last little,empty hole just looked so sad & lonely, I had to buy just ONE more. For The Boy, of course.  These were normal sized cupcakes so eating one wasn't exactly the end of the world.  The cupcake I ate Sunday at our local store however, was not. It was a giant sized chocolate mint cupcake that was absolutely wonderful & frightening to behold.  I ate the whole thing with TWO glasses of milk.  Now I am in full Cupcake Frenzy mode. We went out for dinner tonight  (because TWH got some good news, he didn't feel like cooking, it's a day that ends with "Y", whatever) and for dessert, you guessed it. CUPCAKE!!  Now, tonight TWH & I split the cupcake...with a scoop of ice cream each.  I rode home holding my stomach in agony, took a shower just so I could put on my jammies because they have an elastic waist and at this point I desperatly need the room. If I can't quit them soon, say before I outgrow my emergency fat pants, we may have to move to another city. I say again, Cupcakes are the Debbil!!

AND Now I Have a Limp...

Okay so. Yesterday TWH & I got into something we're BOTH allergic to and have a wonderful case of Contact Dermatitis, also known as an ugly assed rash, over our torsos, legs, & arms.  Today we dragged our behinds to the Urgent Care to get this shit looked at by a Medical Professional. We go in, fill out the forms, & are shown to an exam room. We got to go together because we have the same cooties.  In the exam room, we both perch on the table so we can answer the standard questions & have our vitals taken. Blah, blah, blah, the Doctor comes in. Now he's looking at us and trying his damnedest to listen to us breathe & take our pulses while actually touching us as little as possible. After looking us over & telling us all about his College Son Gone Wild, his Kleptomaniac Daughter, & his Belligerent Youngest Son he tells us the Nurse will be in shortly with some shots & prescriptions.  TWH & I are all "What the HELL??"  TWH declares it must be me because no one ever talks to HIM when he goes places. I respond that the Doc was looking at HIM the ENTIRE TIME he was telling his tale of woe.  We agree that those kids were just the products of their raisin' & move on. The Nurse comes in & we expose our asses to get our shots. I would like to note that we were both VERY brave even though I debated for a second screaming my lungs out for the benefit of any little children within earshot. I know, I'm not right...  After a few minutes we have a conversation that goes a little like this:
TWH: Mine's starting to burn a little...
Me: Mine too, I think that's normal.
TWH: Now mine feels like a cramp or a knot or something.
ME: So the shot has given you an ass cramp??
TWH: It is NOT an ASS CRAMP!!
Me: Now, mine's doing it. I now have an Ass Cramp.
Me again: Oh SHIT!!  Remember how they asked me if I'm taking any medication?? I just remembered I'm on the last of that antibiotic from last week.  I guess I should tell them that.
TWH: It's too late now. Besides, they'll have the Doc come back in and we'll have to listen to more stories about how his kids are shits. We'll come back if your face swells up or you can't breathe or lapse into a coma or something.
Me: Oh hell NO I don't wanna hear more of that guy's stories. We'll just wait to see whether or not I have Death or Death-like symptoms.
TWH: You sound a little wound up. Maybe we can ask for tranquilizers. I don't know if I can take this shit all afternoon.
Me: Owwwwwwwww.......
TWH: Are you touching your ass & saying Ow??
Me: Yes. This is one HELL of an ass cramp!!  Why is mine worse than yours??
TWH: Beats the shit outta me.
So we are eventually discharged. There's some girl in the waiting area all leaned over on her Hubby/Boyfriend/Put Upon Male Companion crying & generally making a fuss, I assume to get seen faster. Or because Misery loves Company and she was playing Misery. Whatever.
TWH: Good Lord!!  I'm glad we got seen before SHE came in. I couldn't have put up with that shit for long!!  ME: I wonder if she thinks... OW MY FREAKING ASS!!! This just became the Ass Cramp from HELL!!
TWH: Get in the car!! Are you LIMPING??
Me: Yes, my Gigantic Ass Cramp has given me a limp!!
TWH just shook his head. I'm guessing he was marveling at my ability to work through the pain & continue on with our errands. Because I'm awesome like that.

I'm. Umm.. Well....

So, I have to say, I am happy, proud, humbled, and a little intimidated that you guys seem to like this. I'm happy you guys think this is funny. I'm proud that my ramblings are considered worth reading and amusing by ANYONE. I'm humbled by your comments and support. I'm intimidated by the fact that you guys are reading this, like it, and seem willing to read more.  I have to wonder at the level of obligation here.  Daily?? Weekly?? Twice weekly??  Whenever I feel like it??  See, now there's a little panic....  I don't always have a hissy fit at work. Or an accidental maiming of my only Boy Child.  Or some little smart assed kid in my chair.  Or another conversation with TWH (The Wonder Hubby aka my husband Shawn) about my great need for my very own Giant Metal Chicken so I can name it Gwenyth & make our house a neighborhood landmark.  My dog Bentley (The Crackhaid Dawg) mostly sleeps & sheds all over everything.  See??  Panic!!  I need to go breathe into a paper bag now...  I've given you a topic to discuss while I curl into the fetal position & freak out.  Talk it out & let me know...

Today I Broke

The air conditioning went out in the Barber Shop today.  In this heat, the A/C giving up the ghost is not an uncommon occurrence. It was 108 today in Baton Rouge and we were Balls-to-the-Wall busy with the back to school crowd. Did I mention the A/C went out??  Just checking...  We found out the A/C was broken about 10:30 or so this morning. My first comment was "So we're done at lunch right??"  Troy just gave me THE LOOK.  Lunch came and went and we returned to our little box. It was still Hot as Hell.  Troy set up the fan to promote a convection oven like effect and did little to alleviate the heat.  At around 3:00, I Broke.  Troy, God love him, moved the fan to what he thought might be a better position in the room and asked me "Is that better??" to which I responded "NO!!  That is NOT BETTER!!"  "You know what would be BETTER??  AIR CONDITIONING!!"  "You know where I can find AIR CONDITIONING??  HOME!! That's where!!"  "You know who else has to work in shitty conditions like this??  Little kids who work in sweat shops assembling celebrities designer fucking couture!!  THAT'S WHO!!!"  Like I said, I. Broke.   I then apologized to the Marine sitting in my chair for my tirade.  "Sorry for my language, I have a Potty Mouth when I'm happy and I am EONS away from happy right this second."  He stopped laughing long enough to tell me he wasn't offended.  Gotta love the Marines. Not much fazes them. Not even their Barber having a hissy fit in the middle of their haircut.  I stuck it out. I didn't die, despite my dire predictions to the contrary.  Now I am sitting here with my favorite Mommy Drink and soaking up the working A/C from the comfort of my living room.  Tomorrow I'm wearing shorts!!

On an Accidental Maiming of The Boy note, he's still whining about his head. Apparently, someone hit him with a ball and threw a shoe at him today. They both hit him in the exact spot I did with the car door.  I am NEVER gonna live that down....

I. Am. The. Worst. Mom. EVER.

Yep, you read it right. Worst Mom EV-ER.  I know every Mom has these thoughts but until you have almost knocked your child unconscious with your CAR, you don't even begin to qualify.  Here's the scene.  We pull into the driveway & It's POURING rain. I have a carload of stuff that needs to be unloaded so TWH comes out to help. We make a couple of frantic trips back & forth in the downpour. My son grabs the last load & is trying to close the back of my Jeep but isn't quite tall enough to get a decent grip on the hatch/lift gate. I tell him "I've got it" and grab hold and yank downward.  I hit my son in the head. I HIT my SON in the HEAD with part of my CAR!!  God, I'm almost crying typing this.  He stumbled, grabbed his head, and began screaming. TWH comes out, guides our screaming child inside as I follow behind screaming "Oh God!!  Oh God!!  I thought he was CLEAR!!" in that uber-helpful panicked Mom way. Thankfully, there was no blood which means no trip to the ER & the ridiculous amount of Guilt Gifts that would have followed. He's gonna have a pretty good-sized bump though.  He is currently in his room with an ice pack balanced on his head playing on his computer (which I take as a sign that he is not concussed) and using my guilt to have me fetch him things. All is right with the world...