What the hell happened to me for the last year? I just up and quit blogging? That’s lame. Let’s see if I can do it for real this time… (I can’t but, hey, minimal effort is better than no effort, people!)
Of course, everyone knows Army guy was a complete loser. Im sure it was no surprise to any of you. For some reason it was a huge shock to me? Whatever. I’ve dated a couple other douchebags since him, but we aren’t gonna talk about THAT.
Breakdance is still breakdancing, but slowpoke is no longer slow. In fact, he isnt all that mellow like his big brother is. You people weren’t kidding when you said my second would pay me back for having an easy first, eh?
I still have an animal under my bathtub. We’ve tried covering the hole on the OUTSIDE of the house to keep it out, but it still gets in? Anyway, I ‘fixed’ the paneling so it doesn’t fall off at least. (by ‘fixed’ I mean put some HEAVY DUTY velcro on the inside of the tub. Inside. You cant see it. I’M NOT THAT GHETTO, PEOPLE.) But that bitch still watches me bathe, I just know it.
I never did wax myself. Or magic cream, for that matter. I guess I just feel safer with my handy dandy razor? I don’t know, folks. Someone needs to toughen me up.
My car is dying a slow, painful death. The slower the better because, well, I need my car. I hate my school. Annnd I got my lip pierced.
Other than that nothing has changed because I am just that boring.
Oh, wait, before I go… two more things. ONE: Featherbutt just said she liked me over on the board. I know someone saw that. I think that means I’m better than 90% of you or something. TWO: April is a loser.
SO good to be back.
Instead of posting about the drama and confusion that is my life, I decided I will share my other rat story. (I told you I had more than one!)
So, Im a city girl. Grew up in San Diego, lived here all my life, except for my brief time testing out the south…and the country. I. do. not. like. the. country. Keep that in mind.
So, Im living in the south, and I meet a man. He was perfect blah blah blah (totally not gonna go into all THOSE details)…I move in with him. He lives in the country. Like, the kind of country where he lives on 15+ acres, complete with a small freaking lake in his yard…the town has a ‘volunteer’ fire department, a gas station and a tiny little corner store…if you want McDonalds, you are outta luck- hop in the car and take a road trip- kind of town. But it was ‘soooo cuuuuuute!’ I think to myself.
Until I was home alone one day.
All I know is, I hear animals. Like, surrounding me. Under the house, in the house, all over. I think they were having an animal circus. I cant leave, because if I get to the front porch, there are wild turkeys waiting for me! Not to mention the deer…and whatever else lives in the fricken boonies. This country thing was a bad idea.
I call him…”babe, I can hear something under the house. Its freaking me out.” He replies “dont be such a baby. its part of living in the country” <— yeah, he is as much help as my mother was in my recent animal fiasco.
So, he comes home that night, we’re sitting at the dinner table minding our own…when all of a sudden he looks at me and says “BABY. Dont. turn. around.” I look at my one year old who is sitting in his high chair, looking behind me, and WHIMPERING in fear. “Umm, what the hell is it?!” I ask. (I seriously think its either a thief, or a bear. I cant decide which)…He says “its nothing. Just keep eating, Ill be right back” as he gets up and LEAPS through the kitchen.
I still dont turn around.
I hear him go to the bedroom at the end of the house and slam the door. “THUD. THUD. THUD. CRASH. THUD. BOOOOM. THUD.”
I still dont know whats going on. Im just sitting there staring at the wall, trying not to move (in case he left me alone in the kitchen with a bear- you’re supposed to play dead, you know?) and trying to keep my child from having a heart attack. Then I hear the door open…
And there he is. The man I am planning to marry in 6 weeks…holding a dead rat (the size of a small dog, I might add) in his hand, by the tail, and screams “BABY! I GOT THIS MOTHER FUCKER’ as he is panting and practically foaming from the fricken mouth.
Really? Reeeeaaaaalllly?! I couldnt decide which was getting to me more, the fact that he just killed a rat in my BEDROOM (he told me later, by beating it on the floor, swinging it by the tail, and by beating it with his flashlight), or the fact that I actually cooked that night, which doesnt happen, and then none of us could eat.
All I know is that that just cemented my view on living in the country. I do not like living in the country.
I started a blog and then disappeared. Who does that? I do that. Sorry.
Lets see whats new…
One of our turtles died today (actually yesterday. I just figured it was sleeping. Its not.) So, we now have three. I’m one of those people who really thinks I want a pet, and then get it and realize I just liked the *idea* of a pet, and not actually having one…So thats why I dont have a dog or something. At least I dont have to take turtles on walks. But, I obviously am not very good at keeping things alive. Im lucky my children can speak (or one of them can, anyway).
Breakdance and Slowpoke are wearing me out. Normally, they are the sweetest most absolutely adorable children. And Im not even just saying that cause they are mine. They really ARE. But lately- not so much. Slowpoke puked all over me today right before naptime. All over my shirt, pants, shoes, his clothes, the floor, everywhere. And then he was fine. Like nothing ever happened. He then decided to somehow fall/climb out of his crib. HOW can this kid- who wont even WALK- climb out of a crib?! Ugh. So I go in his room because I hear him a liiiiiittle to close to the door, open the door and there is an entire box of cheerios poured all over the bedroom floor. I mean, all over. Like, if he moves you hear ‘crunch, crunch, crunch’. Why were the cheerios in his room you ask? Good question. I’d like to know that too. Apparently Breakdance is a food hoarder and Slowpoke just found the stash.
We followed that up with Breakdance insisting on blowing bubbles. Great. Blow all the bubbles you want, kid. Entertain yourself for a second while I clean up these other messes, right? No. Not right. The bubbles got dumped. In the carpet. How do you get bubbles up out of the carpet? They just…bubble up. If anyone knows the secret, please, fill me in.
School is kicking my ass.
I played beer pong last night for the first time ever. For anyone that knows me, you know I dont drink. A) Im not old enough B) people arent cute when they are drunk and C) when I drink (the few times that I have) I puke or pass out. Well, last night I was in such a ‘fuck it’ mood that I played beer pong with some military guys at my girl friends house. For one thing, I kicked their ASSES (I played 5 games and won 5 games. Take that mother fuckers), and for another thing, I didnt even get slightly tipsy. I dont know how that happened, but it did. I did have such a raging headache afterwards that I wanted to stab my eyeballs out with toothpicks…but did I get the fun, drunk, I cant walk straight feeling? No. What a bummer.
For anyone on CBBC following the drama that is my boyfriend, we are working on it. I know my friends think he doesnt deserve me and isnt worth my time, and Im sure his friends think I am a crazy bitch…but when it comes down to it, I love his crazy ass. I dont know HOW he got me to care about him, because like I said in my previous post, I can be a cold hearted bitch. Really. I can shut my feelings off in an instant. Just like magic. But not with him.
But next time he fucks up (if there is a next time) hes out. I just hope there isnt a next time. I’ve made my feelings clear. If hes smart, and he wants this to work, he knows what to do.
Still no wax.
For one thing, I cant find the right brand of wax, so I have nothing to report back with. I was told not to use the Sally something or other brand…which is the only one I can find. I would rather not be scarred for life, so I am still hunting for the right wax.
Second thing, I’ve learned I am a BITCH. Everyone is bugging me lately. Everyone. I dont even have anything funny to blog about because Im way too pissy to be funny. Sorry ’bout that.
Third thing, and then I’ve got nothing else…I went outside today and slammed the gate that encloses my porch…and three little rabbits ran out of the side of my house. So I have decided my peeping tom was really a rabbit. It makes me feel better anyway.
Sorry I’ve got nothing interesting…I cant help the pissyness (pissiness?).
I figured I should let you all know about us, so when I speak about people you arent confused. (Im confused a lot, and it sucks…I dont want to do that to you!)
First, theres me. I’m Shrek, Shrekie, AddictedToShrek depending on which site you’re on. (NBBC, OBBC, CBBC)…There is nothing interesting to say about me, really. However, if you are ever in San Diego, driving down the freeway and see a girl that looks about 14 (Im not 14, I just look it) singing her heart out to the radio, not paying a damn bit of attention to the world…its probably me. I would tell you to wave, but instead, (since I love you) I’ll tell you you should just switch lanes immediately. Im a terrible driver, and I dont recommend getting too close.
Next theres Breakdance. Breakdance is the attention whore of the family. I call him Breakdance because…he breakdances. All the time. In the middle of dinner, in the middle of parking lots, stores…he’s even been known to stop his entire preschool and get them all to circle around him to watch him while he ‘teaches’ them some new moves. (I dont know WHERE this child came from, I hate to dance). He keeps me on my toes with the random things he says (like the other day when he said ‘mom you REALLY need to find a husband.’ because we were discussing the rat in the bathroom and me not wanting to go in there) or when he tells me that he has dumped his old ‘girlfriend’ and gotten himself a new one because the new one kisses him more often. Did I mention hes only 3? Im in for it.
Then there is Slowpoke. Slowpoke is absolutely gorgeous. He is 16 months, pale skin, piercing blue eyes, white blonde curly hair, delicate features…you could just kiss his sweet little face all day. But I dont recommend it, because hes mean. He will probably claw your eyes out. (actually thats a lie…he really only does that to me, but if he wont let me kiss him, then nobody can kiss him). I call him Slowpoke because the child still wont walk. Yes, 16 months and still not walking. He CAN walk, he just wont. In his defense, Breakdance didnt walk till 17 months, and I didnt until 16 months, so it kind of runs in the family. I cant help it. We’re lazy.
The only pets we have are turtles. We started with two- Frost and Flash. And then we ‘fostered’ my mothers two for the weekend while she got her aquarium figured out…That was in July. I refuse to name the other two because I do NOT want four turtles.
Lastly, the boyfriend. He is the newest addition to the fam. If you dont know the backstory- here is the quick version. I knew him in high school (barely)…he went off and partied and joined the army, I went off and had two kids and became a soccer mom. He has been in Iraq for 15 months…a few months ago we were both on chat one day and just happened to start talking and havent stopped since. I was NOT looking for a man. I didnt want a man…I still dont want a man. But I find myself falling in love with this guy a little more everyday and its just…strange to say the least. I’ll see him for the first time (in 5 years) next month, and I’ll probably shit my pants from nerves. I dont know HOW people meet and fall in love online…this would not have been my first choice (had I actually been LOOKING for somebody, of course). I make no guarantees on this guy, I tend to attract weirdos, so we will just wait and see. 😉
There’s a quick rundown for you. (Even though this SEEMS like a long post, I swear I completely struggled to summarize about all of us).
*Sneak peak for the next post*- I am going to try waxing myself tonight (for some freakish reason waxing scares me less than magic cream) I will report back with the results…and possibly a warning to never try it for yourself.
I should warn you, I dont summarize well. This will be long, but I promise it is necessary for the full effect.
I have one bathroom in my house. In this bathroom, I have a jacuzzi tub. The jacuzzi tub has this little panel that is removable so you can get underneath it in case it breaks (Im assuming. I didnt design jacuzzi tubs, so I really dont know the reason).
Well, one frightening morning, I was in the bathroom straightening my hair, the house was silent, not a creature was stirring, not even a…EEEEK! There is something SCRATCHING on the panel in my bathtub! I immediately jump up and down (I have this insane fear that a rodent will run up your legs and into your open screaming mouth if given the opportunity…so I can NOT leave my feet on the ground) and fling my hairbrush towards the bathtub, run out, shut the door, and call my mom. (I have no idea why the hell I called my mother. She is no help. Anybody that knows my mother would know she would just tell me to grow some balls and get over it) Gooooood thing my straightener shuts itself off after a certain length of time because I was SO not going back in there that morning.
Fast forward to…this morning. I am in the bathroom, this time brushing my teeth, and whatever that thing is FLUNG its body into my bathtub. I mean, I practically heard the fucker crack its back. I swear on everything you have never heard a grown woman shriek like I did this morning. That thing sounded HUGE. I mean…for all I know, it could be a coyote living in there. We do have those in California, you know? I run out, shut the door (again) and did not go in there all day. Left the bathroom light on and everything. Just couldnt do it.
So, its now 10 PM. About two hours ago, I realized I have to pee. Like…bad. I also kind of have a funky smell going on, and realize that showering is probably a good idea. I have GOT to get in that bathroom…but how? So, I call my mom again. (I’m thinking I need more people in my contacts on my cell phone).
‘Mom…remember the rat/coyote/peeping tom/rodent thing? Its in my bathroom again. Can you stay on the phone with me while I go in there?’
I grab a mop. (That would be Shrek’s weapon of choice, you know, in case any of you crazy asses decide to break into my house…watch out…) I crack open the door, just a tad, and Oh. My. Lord. The panel is knocked off and on the floor. Shut the door.
‘Mooooom! I cant go in THERE!! The paneling is knocked off! What do I do?’
‘Pee in the kitchen sink and wash your hair with dish soap. Good luck. (Click)’
^^^ Told you she was a lot of help.
So, I get online and browse the BHB…try to keep my mind off my bladder, you know? Ok…Seriously…its really getting hard not to pee my pants now. Im doing a little dance while I read. ‘Dont pee. Dont pee. Im not gonna pee my pants…okay, I AM gonna pee my pants…’ I have GOT to get in there.
Apparently my pee jig was disrupting my childs sleep, because the older one woke up. I’ll call him…Breakdance (I’ll explain later). So Breakdance wakes up, and says ‘I’ll protect you from the rat’ as he grabs two plastic hammers and walks towards the bathroom door. ‘Im Sharkboy and you are Lava Girl…we can do this…’
YESSSS! I’m thinking. I knew I raised him right! (Its probably really awful of me that I was willing to sacrifice my first born to a rodent, huh? In my defense, I am DEATHLY allergic to rodents…he could have maybe gotten bit…where as I would have probably died).
We get to the bathroom door, he looks at me, raises one eyebrow and says ‘Are you CRAZY?! I’m not going in THERE! I’m just the kid…YOU’RE the mom!’ (did I mention Breakdance takes after his momma, and is a total chicken shit? No? Well he does, and he is. *sigh*) I try for another 10 minutes to convince him to man up and go in there (awful, I know. Im allergic though…remember that) but he wont.
Here goes nothing, Im going in…
BUT FIRST, I have to protect myself. I need full body armor for this mission. I put ugg boots on (to protect my feet), tuck my jeans into them (so the rodent cant run up my jeans), take my hooded sweatshirt and pull it over my hands (I dont want that fucker to bite off one of my cute little fingers!) and put the hood over my head. For the final touch, I take the little drawstring things on my hood, and pull them as tight as possible, to protect my gorgeous face from any crazy rodent teeth. The only thing visible on my entire body were my beady little eyes. (note to the readers: in case you *god forbid* ever find yourself in this situation, do not pull your hood so tight over your eyes that only your eyeballs are exposed, it completely blocks your vision, thus making you even more likely to get attacked by the animal). I take my hands (that are wrapped in my sweatshirt) and grab the mop…I open the door…
Nothing. Where is the rat-coyote? Nowhere to be found. All of the waiting and miserable hours holding my urine for nothing. I put the panel back on the bathtub (which was a whole ‘nother adventure in itself) and take an entire case of steno paper (which I am certain weighs at least half of what I weigh) and block off the panel so it cant be knocked off again. I defeated the rodent!
And I peed. Holy urethra! I peeeeeed! Ahhh, it felt good. Next I should shower.
Oddly enough, this isnt my only rat story. I have another. I will write about it in the future. Brace yourself.
Aww, damn. I’m gonna blog. Let’s hope I can at least be funny.