It's EVERYWHERE.

Christmas music is at the dentist's office.

Christmas lights are on my parent's neighbor's houses.

IT IS NOVEMBER 10th, PEOPLE!!!

Six under six

I confess that this post is referring to how many children my friend will have in December when her (gulp) TRIPLETS are due.

Prozac, you said? I'll take three please. And one for what's-her-name...

Halloween Is Here-

-And my confession is that all I can think about is Christmas. Know why? Because EVERY SHELF IN THE STORE IS CHRISTMAS STUFF. I barely have my children's costumes and candy ready and I'm feeling guilty for not being stocked up on my wrapping paper and ornaments.

I don't need this stress. Anyone else want to boycott the holiday with me this year?

I confess that I am CRANKY.

You know when you wake up and just know that it's going to be a bad day?

Welcome to my morning.

FREE STUFF.

I confess that I love anything I don't have to pay for. This website has free handbags HERE. I figure, why not? I'm too freaking broke to buy my OWN handbag...

In-Laws...Who Needs Em?

I confess that I really am putting that question out there, WHO NEEDS THEM?

PTA FUNDRAISERS, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I confess that I am IRRITATED. Today was my children's first day of school. FIRST DAY. They came home with "All about me" papers, were excited about being able to eat in the lunchroom for the first time, and handed me a 5,000 page brochure full of things to buy for their "BACK TO SCHOOL FUNDRAISER!" Attached was a letter trying to guilt all the parents into buying magazines, Happenings Books, cookie dough and who knows what else?

And here's the kicker: The kids only get prizes if they sell more than ten items. TEN! COME ON! A roll of wrapping paper is 15.00!

NOOOOOO. It gets better: Only 45% of the proceeds go to the school. So my children come home excited about harassing our elderly neighbors into buying crap they don't want so that MY kids can get a fifty-cent kaleidoscope out of the deal. And their school gets 45%.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I have a headache. I knew getting the kids back into school would have a downside, and I think this is IT.

I just don't understand...

I confess. I read it. I did. I read THEE book, the one all women are talking about. Much to my chagrin. I'm not sorry that I read it, it's a good story. I just fear that some one might lump me in with the ridiculous masses of women who are swooning over a vampire. I don't want to spoil anything for anyone, but I feel compelled, NAY, a duty to inform you that...brace yourself...vampires aren't real. I'm sorry. Have I now destroyed all hope? Tainted your once hopeful look upon humanity? IT'S A BOOK. Stop lining up in droves for the next installment, stop talking about how much you love Edward in chat rooms, stop wearing effing t-shirts proclaiming that real men suck blood or sparkle or whatever. Come ON. I cannot in good conscience insist that some friend read this for fear that they may fall victim to it's unnatural tendency to cause women to lose the ability to think reasonably. Everyone take a deep breath...and stop being stupid.

BUGS BEWARE

I confess that I'm just not a bug/arachnid person. Ants, spiders, mosquitoes, creepy-crawlies of any kind- I'm just not a fan.

But the absolute number ONE bug on my hit list is the fly.

Flies. Why???!!!!! They are doing us no good, they're contributing in NO WAY. They're landing on poop, hovering around garbages, flying in buzzy circles around our heads, flying into computer monitors like the COMPLETE morons they are, and then suddenly I'M the bad guy when I pull out the swatter and take aim. I've had more than one person tell me I should gently help it outside to preserve it's life.

REALLY?
To all those I've offended, I offer this: "HA-HA-HA."

I'm going to kill those bug-eyed little buggers and I'm NOT going to feel bad about it. They came in MY house, ruined MY dinner, and they are going to pay.

I mean really...it's not as if I just go around outside snatching the poor things out of their habitat and kill them. We're talking about MY space, MY home, MY choice.

So bugs beware: ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK. This woman is going to play dirty.

WIPE OUT.

I confess, I LOVE watching people fall down. I feel like it's so wrong to enjoy it so thoroughly, but I can't make myself care. It's so funny!! Usually, if I see it in person I feel more sympathy and look away (but there was that one time in high school that that girl fell down the stairs and I was laughing so hard that my friend covered my eyes and guided me away before anyone could see what an ass I was making of myself. She was a good friend.), but particularly if the biff is on t.v., I guffaw unattractively like I've never seen anything funnier. Something about an adult losing control of their bodies and flailing like a rag doll being thrown down the stairs is frickin' hilarious. If they break a bone I don't laugh- I don't wish pain on people, just abject humiliation.

One of my favorite shows of all time is MXC (most extreme elimination challenge). Real Japanese game show + lots of mud + people dressed like idiots + sarcastic American commentary + lots and lots of falling down = ha ha funny. And now there is a new show on ABC called Wipe Out. This show is falling down GOLD. People face plant every 20 seconds. It's one of the very best reality shows of all time. At one point they give ten contestants a big lunch, then they put them on a spinner, get 'em real real dizzy, and then make them race across a balance beam over a pool of water. Genius I tells ya, genius. My husband and I laugh ourselves sick. (Side note: "I Survived a Japanese Gameshow" is totally lame, don't waste your time.)

I'm actually gonna go watch an episode right now on ABC.com- join me : http://abc.go.com/player/?channel=114932&campaign=DIS05isajgs&pn=index&cid=rm+summer+google+ABC

Hahahahahahahaha, sigh...... don't fall down in front of me, or you'll realize I'm not as nice a person as you once thought.

Don't call me Ma'am.

I confess that I almost killed the poor guy at the grocery store today for calling me Ma'am. I just wanted to shout, "Hey, grocery store man...DON'T CALL ME MA'AM!"

-

No really, DON'T. (Dirty glare.) I think the only time I've hated something worse is when a man I adored and saw on a regular basis (I'll add that he was just a few years older than me) used to call me "Kid." I was not a kid then and I AM NOT A MA'AM NOW! I am young and vibrant and just because I have a few children does NOT mean I fit into the category of a ma'am. Let me show you why being called these names bother me so much:

Ma'am:

Old Lady.

Mother of twenty.

Completely frazzled.

Bags under her eyes and nurses shoes.

Says things like "Sonny" or "Here's a nickel for your trouble."

Kid:

Someone you will never have any romantic interest in.

A girl you don't think has curves or is good-looking in any way.

Someone you don't see as an equal.

A girl that couldn't possibly have an opinion or point of view that matters because even if she did, she's too young for it to count.

See? I may be irrational. I may even be ridiculous. But I am NOT a Ma'am.

Shuttup-a-your Face, Miss Q

I confess that I don't understand what it's like to be shy. I'm very outgoing and love love LOVE to make friends. I still know people from middle school. I like old people. I enjoy the company of my neighbors. I make chit-chat with total strangers in the grocery store and in the dentist's office. So maybe I'm SLIGHTLY biased while writing this.

But when people refuse to be friendly, act alienated and complain about not being part of the crowd, I have absolutely no sympathy for them when they make NO EFFORT to be included.

Situation 1: I invite people for a get-together in the yard. Miss Q decides that her invitation was a "pity invite" and doesn't show up. While we're at the BBQ, the group of us decide to go to a movie the following week.

Situation 2: We go to the movie. Miss Q finds out and is horrified and offended she wasn't told about the event. She thinks we're rude and she rolls her eyes at us at the mailbox. But she doesn't tell ANYONE her feelings are hurt. We figure she's just having a bad day...

Situation 3: This same group of neighbors/friends get together for last-minute late night smoothies a week later. We get a booth in the back of the smoothie place and laugh like teenagers because we're having such a good time. Coincidentally (really a coincidence, she wouldn't have known we were there otherwise...) in walks Miss Q and her husband, Mr. Dirty Looks, and they stare us down as if we have committed some sort of a crime against them. Dirty Looks makes awkward chit-chat with some of the husbands and tries to play it cool before his wife leads him out in a huff.

Things just go downhill from there.

(ahem...)

Dear Miss Q:

YOU WERE INVITED TO THE BBQ! WE WANTED YOU THERE! Stop acting so damn picked on and either come when you're invited, act like you're still our friend, and reciprocate the invitation! Friendship is what you make of it, and you've made a MESS of this one, sister.

Holy hell.

Love, "WHY?"

HEEED, MOVE, NOW.

I confess, I love my baby. I think he looks so cute with his fly away hair and big head. But seriously, why the friggin' big head? WHY? That thing is the poor kid's downfall in almost everything he attempts. Why did God find this particular trait necessary in the design of new people? Every other part of their bodies is tiny and grows with them, some things faster than others, so why not let the head grow at a more adult-proportioned rate? It's ridiculous, they start not being able to hold up that giant bowling ball head, at first because their little rubber necks don't work yet (and admit it, if you spent nine months curled up in a tank of water your muscles might be a tad weak, too), but later, their necks are plenty strong, but the poor things are unfairly top heavy.

I fully understand that humans are the slowest intellectually developing species on Earth, we have the most to learn. But the giant head is completely unnecessary, and frankly quite dangerous. Babies find a nice supply of water to splash in, but in all their delight at their seemingly harmless discovery, they unknowingly run the risk of drowning in the toilet, because were they to fall in, there is no way they could lift that bulbous noggin out of the pot.

Moments ago my little numb-skull fell end over end down the stairs. Poor, poor big headed baby.

He needs a nap, I'm going to lay him on his "gargantuan pillah".

Summer is overrated.

I confess. I think it's too friggin' hot outside. I remember all winter (there was no Spring this year) thinking that I couldn't wait until summer so that I could wear shorts and get a tan and be outside all the time.

This has not happened.

It's TOO HOT.

I go outside with a book, unable to find shade in my ill-shaped yard and return sweaty and frustrated. I'd make a comparison to other times I've been sweaty and frustrated, but this is intended to be a family-friendly blog. So I will instead go on...

Parks always seem like a good idea, but are over-run with children and people who shouldn't be allowed to go out in public, wearing clothes that are too small and letting it "all hang out" simply because it's hot. I can't handle it. Parks are out.

I'm too poor to frequent water parks, and seriously, who cares about the middle school crowd anyway? I've tried the zoo, our city's outdoor concert series, they are still too humid and warm. But because the sun is out I hate being indoors, and my basement is freezing anyway, why is there NO MIDDLE GROUND?

Don't even get me started on Autumn.

FUNNY

I confess. I think I'm funnier than I am. I'll write a letter or an email or a comment on someone's blog. It SOUNDS funny in my head, I WRITE it the best way I know how, but still, ineveitably, it loses it's humor once I've hit "enter" and stopped to think about it. I think this started in the 10th grade on yearbook signing day...

"That's one doodle that can't be un-did."

Hypocrite

I confess. I preach and preach against things that I actually do in my own home. Nothing serious, just chit-chatty advice I share with friends and coworkers while we're going on and on about nothing...

...I bring this up because right now my hands smell like a dirty dish rag.

I HATE sponges and dishrags in the kitchen sink. I've told people this for years and given them pages of reasons why. I hate the smell of them, I hate that once you use them you have to wash them immediately, and I HATE HATE HATE the thought of all the germs attached to them.

I currently have a sponge AND a dish rag in my sink right now. And quickly, before coming up to the computer I washed off the counter and table. And as I threw the rag back in the sink my hand passed my face and it stunk more than anything I can even describe. You all know what smell I'm describing, come on, admit it. It's old and rank and musty and is disgusting. I've washed my hands twice and I can still smell it through the Bath and Body Works "Lovely Cherry Jubilee Carnival of Delight" soap. (No. That's not the name. I'm just guessing.)

Look, all I'm saying is, hypocrite or not, you should take a girl's advice and NOT use disease-ridden sponges and dish rags. Stick to Clorox and Lysol wipes, throw them away and call it a day.