Nuttier Than a Frickin’ Fruitcake…

Seriously. I am about three steps away from becoming a homicidal maniac. The hormones this pregnancy are raging. I have issues. My issues have issues. It’s one big, frickin’ roller coaster ride from hell. And it’s still January.

I’m sure the fact that I have become an Oompah Loompah overnight has very little to do with it. And it’s certainly not that my parents have moved in with us and my normally lovely children have turned into the demon spawns from hell. It can’t be my almost potty trained new puppy who has gone back to having a nervous bladder because my mother keeps yelling at her. Or my ever charming husband who has taken to hiding in our room playing Oblivion for hours on end. Now that I think about it I am also certain it can’t be the fact that they have taken over my entire house with their frickin’ crap, causing me to move vast quantities of my own crap into our already very crowded room. We won’t even mention all the well meaning advice…

It’s a stumper alright.

Advertisements

That’s Ms. Bitchy McBitcherson To You…

Jeebus. I’m not even sure where to start. Umm, maybe with the Geico Gecko…

Anyone else wishing for a big, screechy hawk(or eagle)to come swooping out of the sky and snatch that little annoying bastard right up?Thereby snapping his weaselly spine in the process and also inflicting unspeakable pain upon him? Anyone?

*************************

What do the words “freshly laundered and laid flat in a laundry basket(or something comparable), fall and winter clothing only, please limit it to ONE basket per visit” mean to you? Do they mean throw them in a garbage bag? Without washing them. Or maybe bring in your entire house? Again, without washing one damn thing. I honestly am just about done with the sheer stupidity of some of these people. What really kills me is when they call to ask what the procedures are before coming to the store. And then don’t follow a single one of them. I also enjoy being bitched out for not taking spotted or smelly clothing. That’s my favorite. Especially when they get all offended.

**************************

Living with your parents.

**************************

Not being able to watch my shows. Oh wait, that goes with the last one.

**************************

I miss my girlfriends. I don’t get to see them nearly as much right now. My mother doesn’t believe that I should have any sort of a social life. After all, I am a mama now. Mama’s don’t do that. And by social life? I mean any sort of social life. Right before my last knee surgery Jimmy and I had made a date to go to dinner and bowling with my BFF and her Honey. My mom was going to keep the boys overnight. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. Yeah, she let us know that they would NOT be keeping them overnight after all as we were dropping them off. Good times. Fast forward to the next time I made plans to go out with my BFF to celebrate a little thing I like to call her COLLEGE GRADUATION. A minor event in a person’s life. Two hours before I was set to meet her, my mom backed out. Her reason? She forgot. Even though I had reminded her every day. For. A. Week. Bah.

I am still mad.

************************

And now I am done. I think. I do reserve the right to add to this later. I am going to relax and read one of the bajillion books I picked up whilst Yard Sale-ing yesterday. Y’all remind me to tell you all about the Steal ‘o’ The Century. Truly.

Why Starch Is No Longer My BFF…

Or, Sweet-Baby-Jesus-Don’t-Make-Me-Eat-Anymore-Starchy-Foods…

Take your pick. Anyway you cut it, boil it, bake it, fry it, whatev, I am DONE.

My beloved husband is considering divorcing my ass if I continue to eat starch. Not really. But I would not blame him one bit if he did. I am, how shall I put it, a bit gaseous. And, um, slightly stinky. Well, hell. If I can’t talk about it to you guys, who do I tell? Anyhoo. It’s pretty bad. Really bad.

I don’t really have any idea how to broach the subject with Mummy Dearest. She has always prided herself on being a good cook. And she is. Truly. But if I eat another potato I may throw myself off the deck. The thing is? My Diddy will only eat certain veggies. Potato’s being one of them. I know. It makes me nuts.

Why don’t I cook, you ask? Because my Diddy doesn’t really care for what I cook. He doesn’t say so in so many words, but I can sorta tell. I use a lot of olive oil and fresh garlic in my cooking. I also make a lot of things he will not eat. Things involving turkey sausage, fresh veggies, whole wheat pasta, etc. We generally eat healthier food. We like lots of fresh fruits and veggies. I fry nothing. I am the opposite of my mother in the kitchen in every way. The one night I did cook? Was okay. The boys loved it. But I didn’t feel like it would be something I would be doing again while we were here.

Which really sucks. I miss cooking. Very much. I am already planning the things I will be making the first week in our new place. And the good news is that that looks like it will be happening sooner than we thought. Like maybe in the next few weeks. We are going to look next weekend. If everything goes as planned, we will be moving at the end of the month.

Keep your fingers crossed. And maybe your toes, too.

Week 3…

It’s not going so well. I am very angry with my mother. I resent being treated like I am still in high school. It is really pissing me off and making it very difficult for me to remain civil. I am a grown woman. So is she for that matter. Jeebus…

My husband deserves some sort of medal. Or something. He has the patience of Job. Truly. He has always been sort of quiet towards my parents. Us living here has not cured him of that habit. He spends a lot of time with the boys outside or in our room.

We are just ready to be back in our own place. The kids are okay. The excitement has kinda worn off now. They don’t really have anywhere that is their own space. Plus, if something is on that my parents want to watch,then they can’t be in the living room.

I feel so stifled and resentful. I keep telling myself that it is only for a little while longer and “serenity now, serenity now”, but I don’t know how much longer I can bite my tongue. I am on the verge of exploding. And to make matters worse? I am off work tonight. Yikes.

Serenity now, serenity now…

Bitchin’…

Mary Mother of God, are you people all frickin’ morons? No, really. I’m serious.

I work in a children’s re-sale store. It is almost SUMMER. WHY WOULD YOU THINK WE WOULD BE TAKING WINTER CLOTHES? THIS IS THE SOUTH. USE YOUR BRAINS.

Sorry, it just gets very annoying on a daily basis to have to say the same thing over and over and over again. What really kills me? When they get offended that we are no longer taking fall/winter clothing.

Morons.

Don’t even get me started on the spots/smells,etc.

Catch ya later, Gator…