Tuesday, October 20, 2009

so, SO WHAT!!! I'm STILL a ROCK STAR, I got my ROCK moves!!!

Yesterday morning's car line at school was ordinary. I danced to the rock-n-roll I love soooo much. Younger spawns were banging heads and screaming along, older spawn (more refined) would be floorboard huggin' till the absolute LAST minute of departure. Yesterday we had a tag along. Their older step brother (not mine, but I "adopted" him) came along to be dropped off at the middle school. We'll call him SilverSpoon (cause he looks like Ricky Schroeder before his head and nose grew waaay out of proportion with his body,, I know,, weird). In the mind of MY kids, if you are older than they by a year or two, you know all. Even though I am like two times their age, (I had them so young) I still, by comparison am an idiot of magnituded levels (just made that word right up didn't I? I like it,, it stays,, calling Webster). If your age has sumthin-teen in it, to a "non-teen numbered" aged person-----YOU ROCK!!! So, as I was dancing in my seat being hot MILF on campus (laughing,, she said MILF) I was hindering their popularity for at least 7 years.

But something beautiful happened. I asked SilverSpoon if I was embarrassing him (at this very point a rousing collaboration of Linkin Park/Jay-z was playing. And I WAS feelin' like a pimp so I went on and brushed my shoulda's off). He says "No. You're not embarrassing me AT ALL,, I'm gonna do the same thing with my kids, your cool." I was a bit shocked that God took the time to open up the heavens and send down a choir of angels to sing just for me in my moment of joy,, but whatever,, I WAS good all of 2008 and MOST of 2009 and 2010 is looking good for behavior as well (except for July 12th). So I relished my happiness hot dog.

MsDebate slowly came up like a prairie dog after a hawk attack and looked at SilverSpoon with surprise. Her face clearly said "this popular teenager just said MY dancing schizophrenically mom was COOL????" Just then Dramagirl piped in "I told you that thousands of times!! Your fun AND HOT!!" I lept out of the car, jumped on the hood and dropped it like it was "Hawwwwt" RIGHT THEN!!! (not really). But it did feel good to be a bit justified.

My dad was the Emperor of embarrassment. He would take me to the mall with the SOLE intent of ruining my chances of dating,,, EVER. One day he was walking beside me down the main drag (see,, I was even nice enough to LET him walk beside me as a teenager!!). He all of the sudden started to drag one leg, swing one arm (as if it had no bone mass AT ALL) and stutter my name loudly. He even threw in drool just for good measure. I was horrified. But I got him back. I snapped into "I'm a Teen Volunteer" mode loudly proclaiming to "Skippy Joe" that we needed to get him back in his helmet and back in the short bus to the group home before his bed time at 8.... And "YES" I would allow him to have ONE "Rocket" ride in the play place first because he had been good.

My dad was a comedic genius. Back then I thought of him as just a liability of my popularity. Now I'd give anything to see him come around the corner and walk into something,, just to make me laugh. He committed to his humor and his love for me full on.

I will do that for my kids. They will thank me later (maybe)!

Monday, October 19, 2009

Which one are YOU???????????

I followed a Lazyboy furniture truck for about thirty minutes today. As my mind often does it wandered to a distant land of singing, sparkles and L-O-V-E!!!! Not sure what I mean??? Well here's a written visual for ya (ha, see how I did that...written visual,, I'm a tricky one!):

-----truck,,,,, truck,,,,, furniture,,,,,, he-EY,,,, I likey likey that chair,, hmmmmmm,, chair,,my house stat,, gee I wonder if truck driver is cute,, (rear view glance,, smile),, I look alright,, uh HULLLOOOO,,,, LIP GLOSS,, (pucker,, smack,, lick teeth to removing stray lip gloss remnants),,OK now,, (smile!!),, truck,, truck........HEY!!!!!!!! WHAT THE HALIBUT?????? What are they trying to say,,,, uh,,, RUUUDE,,, I'm hungry!!!

****Thank you for joining me on this short episode of "The Invisible Seductress Sporadic Thought Bonus" Join us next time when the Seductress sees ANOTHER random object and totally ignores her driving responsibilities ONCE again!!****
(Side note: The lip gloss was totally justified in this situation,, don't judge me)

So,, what was I upset about you ask (confident that I will share because I can't stop blogging for you and because I love you so much I want to personally feed you Circus Peanuts,,,,, what??? I do,, really!!)???

You DID ask didn't you??? Of course you did!! Here you go:

What you can't see in the picture (that I almost killed myself to take for you) is the written part of the advertisement. Above the first chair it says "BLONDE" the second "BRUNETTE" and the third,, (yes you are soooo smart ****GOLDSTAR****) "RED HEAD" (my personal favorite, not sure why,, flipping Auburn hair, winking right at YOU!!).

This bothered me because if you scrutinize at the ad you notice things, at least I do because I have issues (the first step is admitting).

The "BLONDE" chair and the "RED HEAD" chair are both so unique and nimble. They are fun fabric pleasure portals. Sexy thin seats, smooth lines, cool contemporary colors and ACTION!!! (yes ACTION!!!)....Hours of fun and relaxation there -AND- you can "switch it up" with the flick of the wrist. Legs in -- OK,,,, hey "BLONDE", hook me up!!!!! Legs out-- well hello there "RED HEAD"!!! Thank you for the consideration, I love you!!

Where does that leave "BRUNETTE"???

Poor squat short stubby legged thick seated "BRUNETTE". Now some would argue (even I would have to agree) for that nice homey touch "BRUNETTE's" your seat. She's got that "eat a whole meatloaf with ketchup on top" look. Her feel is comfortable, expected, ordinary and trustworthy. Where she misses the boat is action, adventure and accommodations of chair comfort-nessy-ish-ness (yea, sure, you can use it in Boggle,, you're welcome AGAIN,, geesh,, needy).

You just kind of park yourself and ponder....Hmmmmmm,, wonder what she'll do next (nothing,, great,, meatloaf again??... sigh)...The other gals are exciting and feisty. Oh poor "BRUNETTE"! (I actually own her cousin, the "LOVE" seat,,, bow chica bow bow,,, he's naughty and BOTH sides kick out,,,,,,suki suki now!!!)

So could this be a metaphor you ask. What are you trying to say Invisible???

Nah,, this ain't no metaphor!!!! I'm just a simple chair activist and think "BRUNETTE" got the short end of the advertisement stick. You go where you want with it. My mind is spent..

Sunday, October 18, 2009



Today I have already broken down in tears. The weight of my problems and the severity of situations with which I have no control over too great. My humor still tried to break through, but was lame at best.

Yesterday the back toilet clogged up thanks to a Papa Smurf landing. Try as I did, exhausting every option, I was not able to unclog it. I thought "well OK then, I guess the front toilet will take the extra usage penalty". This morning with yet ANOTHER Papa Smurf landing, the front pot is clogged. I plunged for an hour. I thought I had it fixed. I hadn't, the proof is on the floor.

Your hero was sitting on the edge of the tub yielding the plunger AGAIN, hands callused, water still overflowing. I put my head down on the tip of the plunger and sat sobbing, tears adding to the overflow.

Things have been muddled here. Ongoing financial struggles and serious medical issues dealt with alone. I could elaborate for you but I would like to keep you all as readers. The kids were screaming and fighting and the house is a mess. Where is my control now and how come when I scream for Calgon NOTHING happens? I sat there, plunger steadying me thinking, Cinderella cried on a bench and a Fairy Godmother appeared!!! She cushioned her head with her lap, sang cool Bibbity, Boppity songs and gave her the cloth of her skirt to cry into. Certainly crying on a plunger head deserved SOME kind of Disney intervention!!

Thursday I went to the doctor. I have had 9 (I may have lost count) surgical procedures to correct a situation to no avail. My tests are coming back bad and the time has come to take aggressive action. I have been scheduled for surgery on Wednesday. My joking nature was thwarted in the office by the medical staff. As I joked of my sexiness and the spanxs I wore that day (no one was a SUPPOSED to ask me to pull down my pants WHAT THE HALIBUT!!!), they stood strong, making sure that I knew the gravity of my situation and the immense risks involved with this surgery. "Your home should be in order"..... I fully understood yet did not feel the need to break down and pity myself in front of them (plus, the surgeon is hot and medical students turn me on so the drool got in the way,, slurp). I can dwell at night with no witnesses.

Today as I plunged I had the inevitable bad thoughts. Maybe it would be easier if I did slip through the medical cracks. Would my kids be more financially stable? I certainly wouldn't feel so alone and questioned in my thoughts. Should I visit with Walter in the Flip Flop aisle (they are even on clearance now!!!). I should eat a whole cheesecake covered in Circus Peanuts, thighs be damned! (OK so that last one wasn't soooo bad, I guess).

I wanted to spend this last weekend (with an 8 to 12 week recoup looming) spoiling my kids with love and quality time but I feel so overwhelmed with fear I've yelled at them instead.

The sun is shining through the blinds and is calling me to suck up these tears and press on to the park. We'll have a poorman's picnic (stale bread with a slather of peanut butter and purple mustache Kool-aid). I will buy POP-ROCKS. We'll laugh at our own quirks. I'll treasure them and their phenomenal skills of aggravation and make Kool-aid come out of their little noses. I will also accept my responsibility as "ZAPPED" (the marker did not wash off!!).

{{{{{{{{{{{{{{ I'M A GOOBER!!!!}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

I'll accept any good thoughts and prayers you may have to offer me until I return. Monday is "extreme test" day for me (mental note, no SPANXS!!). I will be busy readying for an extended hospital stay.

I hope to slip in here before Wednesday and bring you some humor instead of this droll offering.

Have your Kool-aid ready!!!!!!!

Saturday, October 17, 2009

The Original Playground Pimp!

I was spending some quality "talk" time with my girlz today. Just a nice time spent laughing and gabbing about out what happened in their lives at school this week. All of the sudden, MsDebate grabbed my hand and tried to write on it. "Uh, Excuse me,, I own that appendage!!" I said questioning her intentions. She just smiled and said "Well,,you've been ZAPPED!!!!" I looked around for Ashton Kutcher,,but alas,,he never showed. So I patiently awaited the explanation of my newly attained title. "It means you are liked Mom!!!" she said, proudly displaying her hand. There on top, in big fat writing was the word "ZAP". It was tastefully accentuated with lightening bolts and squiggles. "So" she asked sweetly "can I ZAP you mom,, puhleeeeease???!!!". DramaGirl laughed excitedly beside us. The big brown eyes and pathetic squeaks grew to be too much and I submitted to being "ZAPPED". I did this before fully realizing the technical aspects of my new position. Now, with the top of my hand fully adorned, I was told to flip it over. In my palm a secret message would be written. I'm a dumb a*s so I followed direction like a Lemming off a cliff. I was warned to not read the message until directed. At this point it was assumed that the green marker inscribed palm message would be special because I was "liked". It was not. It said "I'M A GOOBER!" (I am, but still,,WHAT THE HALIBUT!!!). I was then informed that anytime someone called my name, I was to stand and speak loudly and proudly the message that graced my hand. This game did not last very long, it did however get me thinking back to the "old days".

I remembered the paper puppet hand thingy-jigger with the numbers, colors and scrawled fortunes tucked inside. If you pick the number 5, then pick the color yellow, if when you open the flap, the paper puppet hand thingy-jigger says "kiss Chris Crumbly",,,you KISS Chris Crumbly!!! (full on, behind the tree, got caught, lied, said "we were ONLY looking for marbles!" And kissed him again when they believed me-----suckerzzzz)! The paper puppet hand thingy-jigger knew all and was to be highly respected. It rocked!! So did gullible teachers and cute boys named after the remains of messy food items. That memory sent me drifting back again, this time to the thought of kissing even MORE boys and Doug. Playground pimp Doug.

Wanna hear about him? Of course you do here I go:

[<span class=Doug wasn't unusually handsome, but he did have a strong confidence and a wild spirit that sucked you in. He was the first boy that ever gave me jewelry. It was a piece of thick bark with a hole placed in the top strung with red yarn. A true masterpiece of bark-gemstone artistry. On one side, a heart was deeply inscribed. On the other, (the words every girl longed to hear) "I like you, do you like me?" were scratched. My choices to answer this question were "yes", "no" and of course, "maybe". I was in love. I chose a resounding "YES" and wore my necklace proudly. Me and Doug wanted to start a family so he decided he should get us a house.
The school playground was large and had slight hills. It was spotted with mature pine trees and was perfect real estate for a first time home buyer. Our "house", a circle made out of pine straw, was built under a tree by a ditch. We would happily reside there every recess with our pine sap covered shoes. I was so exultant, I made a lovely pine straw wife. The talk turned to kisses and I was nervous, but would "give it up" to him at lunch everyday. Out of nowhere Doug stopped coming home to our circle at recess. There were rumors of other circles in the trees. One day I found him canoodling another pine straw lover. I was devastated. The next day I strolled the playground and found Doug's other pine wives (there were 6 others !!!! None were as cute as me, just thought you should know). We banded against him. He tried to explain himself and even asked if we could all just play together in a really BIG home (uh, really Doug,, N-O! Don't let the pine straw hit ya in the rear!!! Actually,, in retro-spec that was pretty advanced of him). We all took our bark necklaces off, scraped "NO" on the front and threw them at him (the principal should have cut me some slack,, I mean really,,one out of 7 HAD to hit his face sooner or later, my hand just didn't get the memo to let go in time, I blame the lack of video games in my house). Every time I hear of a multiple wife situation, I think of Doug. He was truly a pioneer of infidelity at the tender age of 8..... And my first cheating experience. It's a harsh world.

I wonder what ever happened to Doug?

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Dixie Dandee Day!

I went to Winn Dixie yesterday afternoon. Not where "shopping is a pleasure" but instead where "things are getting better everyday" (so far,,, service, cleanliness, produce, selection, music, cart wheels and freezer temperatures are NOT included in Winn Dixie's definition of "THINGS"!!..... Still, it's close to home and I heart food store mediocrity!!).

*****Side note: I did find ONE edible banana today. I am thrilled!!*****

I normally don't buy a lot of sodas but was craving some carbonation and settled on buying a 2-liter of Coke Zero. At the Dixie, all of the diet sodas are on the very top shelf. Fat people are taller than skinny people (bet ya didn't know that huh? WHAT THE HALIBUT!!). So I was reaching with one hand while perched precariously on my good leg (the other braced leg lifted delicately for leverage). I wobbled sexily while poking at the bottom bottle nubs trying to dislodge a soda and fulfill my fantasy for the day (uh,,yes,,stop laughing,,,that WAS my fantasy for the day, simple minds, simple pleasures). The frantic nub poking should have resulted in a Coke Zero suicide bomber dive. The bottle would then land either on my sexy blue painted piggies or on my head (I vote head, it's a lot harder than my toes and is also quite a lot more entertaining for the onlookers, and as you know,, I am a giver). Passerbyers passerbyed offering no help. I swore quietly yet was tirelessly dedicated to my cause. I remained focused and determined to beat the damn stock boy's thwart against the short girl (no doubt they were in the back saying "hey dude,,, like totally,,,"head or toes??" Betting at my expense). Just then a ray of light graced the Dixie. A father son duo came strolling down the aisle. The skies opened up and their smiles glowed with angelic purpose. Dad sent son to help. Son was thrilled to be of service and dad was soooooo charming to slave him out to me. He astutely nub rubbed. Supernaturally, the defiant bottle jumped the safety of the soda corral and the camaraderie of his bottle posse' to be caught lovingly in my open arms (we kissed passionately, it was magic,,,, wait,, no,, me and the BOTTLE perv,,, NOT me and the KID,, geeze!). The music in the background ceased to play and the heavenly supermarket voices declared loudly: Hero, aisle 8!!! Hero aisle 8!!!. The boy, nodding sweetly to my thanks, said raucously "WOW!!!!! I'm like 12!!!!! And I'm like wa-aaaay taller than you!!!" Then he used the always precise "hand to forehead" measuring system and smiled adeptly at his dad. Playfully he added "How old are yooou enywaaays?" Everyone laughed (I really do think security was a bit rough on me, I mean if there was a better time for an atomic wedgie,, I never saw it,, but whatever).

How short am I (you ask sweetly, caring only about my happiness and well being)? Well first let me learn you a thing or two at my humble expense (bowing). Did you know to be considered a dwarf you have to be 4'10" or shorter??? I am 4'11" people!!! One inch shorter and I would be considered disabled and be able to receive government assistance!!! Two inches shorter and I,,,, your sexy invisible superhero, would have to sit in a booster chair for optimum safety!!!

Normally, I don't care that I am considered short, it doesn't hinder me in any way (at home I have a trusty long pair of tongs that helps me everywhere in the house. If the tongs ever show up missing my family would be filthy and starve to death). Being short however DOES go hand in hand with being called "cute". I've been called "cute" my whole life. I'm really OK with that, but I do have a very good "cute" proposal I'd like to share.

Wanna hear it? Of course you do, here I go:

It is simply this: Meg Ryan.... She is the quintessentially "cute" girl in Hollywood. Think "When Harry Met Sally",, I mean COME ON........Ca-UTE!!!!!!!....... BUT,,,,, Meg Ryan can be uber-sexy hot at the same time.

So,, I have decided,, if you're gonna call me cute,, pahleeeease think less about puppies and kittens and more about Meg.. And allow me my fantasy of being "Meg Ryan Cute".

The image “http://www.hevle.com/images/meg_ryan.jpg” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors.

**The preceding blog was a paid advertisement for:

"She has lost her mind, she'll NEVER be Meg Ryan Cute.com". Where we bash the dreams of "cute like a puppy" girls worldwide!!!

and by a grant from:

"Hey guys!! Enjoy the sexy chic shot in my blog" Cologne. It not only smells good, IT IS ALL good!! ........(you're welcome)

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Seductress FAQ's

I know that you are pondering an issues. They have been encompassing you since you read my first blog. Eating at you night and day and swallowing your sanity. Making the realization of everyday tasks almost impossible. Well, I want to help, so get up, and get dressed,,,,, for today,,,,,,,,I will answer all of your deafening questions, in a blog I'd like to call:

The deepest secrets of the Seductress that you have been pining to know since you discovered her blog only a few days ago but have been scared to ask because you generally are a nice person and respect people's space and privacy but you feel she is obligated to give you the truth or stop blogging because she chose to put her self in the spotlight in the first place and celebrities are spoiled not that she is a celebrity but if she were she would owe you the answers.(now breathe)

....Catchy huh? Or we could just call it:

I know you REALLY don't care but WHAT THE HALIBUT! (nah)

So you want some answers? Of course you do, here I go:

Why is this chick such a Froot Loop?

I am a Froot Loop because of all the cereals to be compared to a Froot Loop is superior. I mean really, how could I complain? Packed with sweet and crunchy rings, a cool avian mascot, bright "wake the hell up" colors and that awesome sugary milk you suck up with every bowl like a spanking new Bissel. I wouldn't want to be compared to Shredded Wheat or even worse Rice Puffs (who eats that Styrofoam crap anyway?)

What's your deal with Circus Peanuts?

Eating Circus peanuts is like eating sugar infused memory foam. It's spectacular!
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Why the flip flop aisle?

Well, flip flops are uber-awesome. They're the cruise line of shoes. They can wisp you away to foreign places or just reveal the right amount of sultry toe cleavage. They are also the only shoe that after you are done wearing, you can break up in small pieces, put them in a Rice Puff box and trick your family members (of course the taste is so similar,,only YOU will know).

Why the phrase "WHAT THE HALIBUT"?

Why not???? WHAT THE HALIBUT is wrong with it?

Are you crapped on everyday?

Yes, thank you for asking.

What kind of man are you looking for?

I am not currently looking for a man. None of the men I know are missing. But if they do show up missing ( I guess they really wouldn't SHOW UP if they were really MISSING,,who the heck came up with that saying?? geeze) I will let you know.

Who is your favorite child, MsDebate, Dramagirl or Hoover?

None of the above. That would be Fergison, my beloved ant.

and the most asked question is:

Where can I find you, say on a Saturday night if I had dozens of roses in the front of my Ferrari F50, get mistaken for Brendon Frasier on a regular basis and actually have a personality worth speaking of?

You can't miss me,,,I'll be the one in the corner shaking and peeing myself in a really cute Chihuahua-ish way.

Well, I hope this helped you figure out the mystery that is: "The Invisible Seductress"!
Submit your questions for the next edition of:

The deepest secrets of the Seductress that you have been pining to know since you discovered her blog only a few days ago but have been scared to ask because you generally are a nice person and respect people's space and privacy but you feel she is obligated to give you the truth or stop blogging because she chose to put her self in the spotlight in the first place and celebrities are spoiled not that she is a celebrity but if she were she would owe you the answers.

Note: Please submit early as I am still going through the bags of previously sent questions by my legions of fans and YOUR question is very important to me.

"The Invisible Seductress" will be away for a short time while she is being psychologically evaluated for her delusions of grandeur and Circus Peanut fetish. We are sorry for any inconvenience this may cause.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Terror of the frozen kind

I am deathly afraid of Ice Cream trucks. I have been since I was a kid. There was always something disturbing about a grown man with no shirt or teeth buying discounted Ice Cream and spending his nights going 5mph through neighborhoods to make a .05 profit all to the soundtrack of “And Bingo was his name-ooooo” (please allow me this one run on sentence, Thank you!).
When I moved here, I promised myself that I would give this developments mobile Ice Cream purveyor an opportunity to win me over.
It was mid July and I expected him anxiously while unpacking. The spawns, cranked at the thought of sugar, were playing in the yard. I was geared up to attempt something I had never done before. I would actually buy Ice Cream from the truck!

Wanna hear what happened? Of course you do, here I go:

It was around 7ish and I was very hot and weary. I did not have any help, as I am the Bionic Woman (and I can see through your clothes, just thought you should know). The kids spasmodically alerted me to the chimes from a few blocks down. I was breathing calmly and pacing while holding 5 dollars in my clammy quivering hand. The music loomed closer. This damn truck was playing “What child is this?” and spitting black smoke. The next song selection was a twangy “O holy Night”. It was moving at snails pace, sputtering down my street to maliciously steal our chickens and burn our barns. I was not having it. I grabbed my spawns and a pitchfork, organized an angry mob of townsfolk and ran into the house with one child tucked under each wing. “Uh, mom, didn't you say we were getting Ice Cream?” MsDebate quizically muttered. “Yes, we were girls" I astutely informed them, "but there was a tear in the space time continuum and I had to make an executive decision to forgo ONE Ice Cream bar for each of you and instead purchase you both your OWN gallon, I hope I made the right decision, lets get ready to go" (and the crowd went wild)!
I posted at the window waiting for the music to fade. It did not fade. What happened next was truly tragic and cruel on so many levels. The truck, STILL blurting Christmas music--IN JULY—and sputtering skull and cross bone exhaust smoke images, parked right across the street from me. My proud home purchase was directly athwart from one of my biggest fears. For months I had to hear this thang kick up at all times of the day and night. Peeing my pants became an almost daily ritual (God I'm hot!!). Tingles of trepidation traveled my body with each start up. This was a fear I had to conquer, and I did, as soon as his house was foreclosed on and he moved out. Why can’t there be a Circus Peanut and green olive truck?

Monday, October 12, 2009

Department Store Romance

The other day I was shoplifting with my kids (insert a hopeful laugh that I'm joking-here). We walked past the men's section and I glanced over and saw him. He was beautiful. Although he was pale and stoic, there was a mesmerizing quality within him. Garnering a strong fashion sense, he engaged me with his unyielding smile. His hair was plastic-like and unmoving, perfectly coiffed. Notably a very young man, yet not too juvenile for me to fawn over openly. His pose struck me as odd, however this world is whacked and his age group feisty so whatever. Sadly, he never addressed me or ogled me. I yearned for his wolf call and a stupid pick up line. I went totally unnoticed. It was just I, mentally undressing him (and then putting outfits together in my head and dressing him again). My kids pulled me by my hands and back to reality. I did so realizing I would never hold him or whisper sweet fashion secrets in his slightly raised lobes.

My Mannequin fascination HAD to end here in the men's department of Bealls.

I write this laughingly as I am insane and need medication. Yet still I was taken aback at the pose that was supposed to sell clothing to young men. I know MOST men have personal shoppers. Most couldn't care less what their attire consists of, but I can't see one who DOES thinking "Damn, I would look SO good standing straddled in THAT!!". I have never seen a man stand in that pose, EVER. Well,,maybe while laying by my side, champagne chilled, cheese and fruit positioned perfectly on a platter, staring up at the stars, talking about my beauty and forever in a deep hot steamy sexy voice,,,uh,,,sorry,,,,nopo,,,,,,,, NEV'A!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So I took the time to snap these pictures and share with you my thoughts on mannequin posture and lure. I did so ONLY because I care immensely about you and don't want you swept in as I was, in love for a short time with a plastic shell of a man (....not to mention it embarrassed the heck outta Dramagirl and MsDebate!.....and also a little because as previously noted, I really need medication and an "AWWW, I love ME man!" hug shirt)........But mostly for you.....You're Welcome!

Sunday, October 11, 2009

He "gleeked" on me!

On Sept. 4th I had an epiphany. It wasn't about a money making scheme or a cure for the Swine Flu, but something far more ominous. I felt like a mom. A great mom, but, just a mom. Not a woman or an adult that people may ACTUALLY like to hang out with (assuming I don't spit on a napkin, wipe their face and ruffle their hair saying "remember you got big boy pants on!!"). It had been so long since I had put my self in the local meat market, I was doubting which Grade I might be. I called my pretty friend (who from now on in posts will be called "CrimeScene").

Wanna know why? Of course you do, here I go:

Years and years ago CrimeScene and I went out and met cute beings of the opposite brain orientation. After a night of fun, frivolity and a truckload of White Russians, she was feeling the burn. Me, the gotta go girl, delivered her safely to my house from the bar AGAIN (HAIL the ALMIGHTY gotta go girl). I invited the men over for laughs. CrimeScene continued to pickle herself. A few moments later on the way to the restroom,,,,,,"WOMP".......She collapsed face down, half in the bathroom half out, a*s exposed to the gentle glow of fluorescent bulbs. Now, I "enhance" my beautiful auburn hued hair, the last time being a day before. Why is this important you ask (no doubt biting your pinkie nail) it's important because I had a rough dying experience and red dye was still on the door of the bathroom. It was in drippy, bloody red streaks. Her limp exposed body laying under the bloody door elicited a "she looks like a CrimeScene" from one of the gentlemen (and we all laughed and drew smiley faces on her a*s,,no, not really, I covered her with a towel to further the CrimeScene effect instead).

...I have a bonus snippet about that night too,,wanna he---yea, yea, YOU DO, here I go:

I asked the guys to leave so that I could tend to her (because I am tirelessly angelic in my ways). Before they pulled out of the driveway CrimeScene miraculously awakened, ran to the door and screamed: "Hey bring me some french friiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiies!!!!!" (she's so hot).
Well folks there you have it.....CrimeScene revealed (you are so welcome!) .....Back to the story....Already in progress>>>

CrimeScene was delighted I would be going out with her and we laughed and giggled happily in anticipation.
When we got to the bar with her friends (one of whom was madly in love with her and had been for years) I started my stake on an entertaining night. I shot one game of pool (the first in years) and made an impressive first shot called "eight ball gone I lose" (I can teach you, too!). CrimeScene's "but,,,,,,I LOV 'er!!!" friend was trying to make her jealous and asked ME to dance. I accepted my "lower sexual attraction" level with dignity and agreed to a dos-a-dos with him. He was the absolute luggy-ish dancer I have EVER seen. He grabbed my hand and flailed me around with Frankenstein-ish results. This guy had "Dancing Tourettes Syndrome". I think it was a dip gone bad (look at me people!!! I just created the next exciting show on Fox,,"When dancing DIPS go BAD" {{insert menacing music here}}). My foot stuck to something on the dance floor (it was a high falootin' place I tell ya, couldn't see a soul there because they were all in full camouflage,,,,pa-TANG!!!). My knee went backwards with a "POP" (sadly, not a "WOMP",,,I do however do ALL my own stunts,,so mad props right???). Exactly 1 and 1/2 hours into my celebrated "I'm a big girl now!" night, I was in the ER crying like a toddler (backtracked in age and appearance once again!!). I ended up in a full leg brace (the nurses ALL laughed in front of me about that because they had to get pediatric sized crutches and brace,,cold bitches).......and now I await orthopedic surgery.

So,,,, to make up for that failed night, we set up a re-do last night. I would be fully compensated in fun right???!!! (WHAT THE HALIBUT,,,this is ME we're talking about!)
It was a big Gator Game night (we wooped on LSU,,can I get a WOOOOHOOOOO). The bar was packed. She had arrived before me with her new boyfriend (guess who wouldn't be the gotta go girl tonight). She was to call me and let me know if it was worth my hour drive there, I was assured it was.
The moment I spotted her I knew,,she was tipsy,,but still fun. Standing a few feet away was a very young very attractive man, he was very obviously interested and trying to get my attention. A few moments later, I gave it to him. Life was good, until he spoke. The slurring was accompanied by gleeking. I walked away, he looked sad, my tipsy hot friend went up to him and spoke smiling. I sauntered sexily over (er,,I tried to saunter sexily over). He was so cute, maybe it was me, I'll try again I thought. It wasn't me. I left again. He had begun to follow me around the bar so I named him Spot. Spot tried everything in his power to wooooo me (yes wooooo me). One of the wooing statements was, and I quote: "I just stopped selling drugs 3 weeks ago" (SWOOOOOOOOOOOON). I ditched Spot for real but he sat glaring at me from across the bar. I found out later my leggy blonde friend had told him that I was REALLY in to him. He did finally leave.
I made my way over to the pool table. I owned the pool table. I was shooting like a fiend and it was ORGASMIC. Strange men swirled around me. I was scared, but stayed HARD YO (that's how I roll). The number of "Spots" kept growing, and they all acted like I had elicited attention to them in some way. I found out later why that was. I walked up only to hear my friend, ever the gracious drunk hostess, telling a suspect I had not even SEEN yet that I was VERY attracted to him (he shot me a glimmered eye, WTH). So much for my "natural" appeal,,it had all been a malicious set up. No one had even noticed how "INTELIGANT" I was. I scurry home to my green olives.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Hoover talk (with bonus "Spork" dissertation!)

Hoover and I are always together. He smiles with his eyes and shows me a new levels of happiness and frustration . He is at that "tender" age where limits are tested. As a mother I have learned to really ponder the type of punishment I use and the battles I choose to fight. I read a book that said before you punish a spawn, figure out if it was a "childish" act (normal behavior according to age - curiosity of a child) or intentional disobedience (defiance). This has helped as it slows down the pace to make me think before dispensing a judgment /verdict /punishment (duct tape almost always works after thought and consideration of crime, you're welcome! ).
Hoover is now obsessed with being naked. I get run by "butt cheeked" on an hourly basis. I ask jaybird why and he just says "cause". I say "well then, at LEAST put panties on!" (see error in my ways comment below). He continues running and shoots me an "in a nin-it, mom" reply. I wish I was that free (I'm trying it now, nope, not). Luckily he has not done this in public yet ( however, I will allow one free pass: middle of a rival football game, on a dare, in college---- 1 drunk naked field run--don't you wish I was your MILF in college!--stop laughing at the MILF comment).
One of the funniest things I ever saw was orchestrated by Hoover. As a woman the concept of standing up while you pee is a hard one to conceptualize and insert into a potty training curriculum. Luckily at his sitters (and great friend's) house this has been addressed and conquered. When he was first learning, I would stand waiting for him to finish and at the appropriate time say "OK, shake it off now!". This lead to a whole body dance shake move that was hilarious (that now I totally use in Daclub,,chicka,chicka,bowza--yes, you can use it too!!).
I have bought Hoover an assortment of underwear to choose from. He still ends up in his sisters bottoms a lot (he loves dressing and undressing himself numerous times BETWEEN naked tour guide stints). This bothers me a little, but whatever, he's 3!!. Bringing me to that OTHER problem,,, he calls his underwear "panties" (sometimes they are, sigh). Due to raising two girls, this word flub is totally is my fault (his sisters help a little, sorry, kid having 3 "moms" is rough!). I am trying to get out of this habit and "man up" his undergarment lingo. It has been an interesting time.
Communication wise, right now is amazing! He is a very quirky character and has an amusing facial expression to match each statement. He and his faux hawk are local celebrities. People adore Hoover and Hoover adores people. There is no one that can resist those big brown eyes (and if they can,,then a paintball gun "fun run" changes their minds, don't judge me).

My children's boundless energy and gusto for life have given my existence such a boost. I've been having some real tribulations lately and slipping into depression mode seems imminent. Fortunately having kids around makes laying on the ground in fetal position impossible (too busy unclogging toilets and scraping surfaces to remove unidentified matter, WHAT THE HALIBUT!!!). When all is said and done:

......What really is important is WHO is HOLDING your hands, not what THINGS you HAVE to hold in them (as long as I have at least one tube of mascara and an olive).

...now back to my regularly scheduled superfluous post--already in session:

The following spork dissertation is brought to you by:
---KFC Mashed Potatos---
"The side dish destined to be eaten with a spork!"
And by:
---Taco bell Enchiladas---
"The other other white meat, really!"

I love KFC and Taco Bell. It really has nothing to do with their food. You see KFC and Taco Bell are both spork venues. Pepsi, the owner of the chains apparently recognizes what I have for years. The spork is an under appreciated utensil. Dating back to 1874 the spork, also sometimes called a "foon" is used in schools, prisons, backpacking and the like. Because of it's double duty functionality it has also been found in many fast food chains. A spork laying next to the mundane, run of the mill cutlery,, still feels insecure about it's appearance. The fork is always "look at his little tines!!" as the spoon taunts "you wouldn't know the proper bowl size if it hit ya in the stem!!!". The sporks depression is only elevated by the fact that it exists mainly in plastic. Because of it's disposable status it has not gotten the flatware street cred it so desires to gain. Still, the spork remains undaunted and keeps it's elliptically pronged bowl held high. There is room for concern however, as the spork has been seen hanging out with the "strapoon". This drink accessory known for it's stints in Icee's and Slurpee's, is bad luck for the spork. Let us all just hope that the spork can make a turn for better and get itself back on track to utensil notoriety!!!

Friday, October 9, 2009

I'm fired!!!!

Yesterday was a traumatic day. Seeing your kid in pain is torture. Hearing your kid complain about the pain for 16 hours straight, is Inhumane. At first she did fine. She wanted to put on make-up and have her hair fixed up. She was nervous and inquisitive but not whiny or unbearable like I thought she would be. In the office, a dental student came out and introduced himself to us. He was pretty. She noticed he was pretty. He asked if we had any questions and I said no. Dramagirl, in monotone voice said "I would like to have a moment alone with my mother". This made me nervous, a vision of her being strapped down bellowing passed through my head. Not getting the hint she passed to them, the student Doctor and assistant stayed in the room. Dramagirl shot them a look that spoke of their stupidity and they then decided to step outside. She pulled me over and confided, "I can't do this, Mom,,I can't!!" Her whiny tone was fully in effect. I comfort her with a standard edition "it'll be OK " and a rub on the arm. "No!" she said sternly "he's too cute, what if I cry, I can't let HIM see me cry". I agreed and with a smile said " uh,,,Ye-ah,,,then he totally wouldn't marry you!!!!". This comment was slightly more humorous then when I dance in the school car line in front of her friends.
We finally let them return to their jobs and I grabbed the Doctors ass---imilated procedure outline,,(yea that's it) before leaving (you thought I grabbed his rear????? Get ya head outta the gutta! I smacked his a**, I'm a lady people, a smack is legal, it's a nod to my football days). When she came out (they made me leave/I made voodoo dolls and am torturing them as we speak), she was crying. She pretty much did that all day while forgetting how to do menial tasks like drink water from a cup, breath without sucking spit and actually separating her words (everythiiiiinnngsoundedliiiiiikkkkethiiiiiiisssssssaaaa!). Ice Cream helped a lot, I guess I should have given her some too (whatever,,don't judge me!).
We were about an hour from home so I decided to get her pain script filled--immediately--(to avoid further interruption of my sanity). Dramagirl decided to stay in the car. Me, because I'm an idiot and in a rush, turned the key to accessory mode instead of leaving it running. I had also left the lights on. Engine dies. No one in the parking lot cares about me until I strip to my skivvies and dance on the hood to garner "I need help" attention. This apparently looked psychiatrically unstable and everyone fled the area.
I got to a phonebook, found and called a place called "Billiees Tow Service" (join me for the sound effect of the day: a fat loogie being spit into a metal bucket thus simulating that this was a backwoods establishment---PA-tang).
As a single person, you think every contact might be special, and this one was. Short bus special. I couldn't really see his face as he had a beard and mustache with no discernable break between the hair stopping and the dirt and grime beginning. Only his eyes were free of debree. He stared at me, complimented my glittery eyes and proceeded to let me do all the work for him. It took less than 2 minutes to jump the car. I paid him $45 because- I heart- wasting money!!!! I stopped myself from licking my hands and rubbing the dirt off his face. He said two words to me "sign here" and he rolled away phat in his tow truck-hoopdieville.
On our way home, Dramagirl discovered her teeth were missing and the hysterics started. I had been entrusted with her enamels, wrapped in wet gauze (WTH??? why was the gauze wet?? Ewwww). Sadly I lost them (gasp). She reasoned that I had lost them on purpose because I must not want her to have money (I would NEVER lose the teeth of ants because I love them more than her!!!! see previous post on Dramagirl). I assured her that was NOT the case and told her that I have an "IN" with the big TF and things would be OK. I don't think she trusted me because when I checked on her (sleeping angelically, bloody drool falling serenely on her pillow), I found this note (exactly as written) on her dresser:

Dear Ms. toothfarie,
today i got two teeth pulled and mom lost them in my gause i looked everywhere but i couldnt find it can I still get money

yours truely,

moms signiture

Apparently the Toothfairy was supposed to wake me to collaborate this story and make me sign to further attest my parenting cruelty. The Toothfairy left the approval letter (above) laden with sparkles and $5!!!! The TF rocks!!! She totally had my back today!!!!

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Spawn Talk

The following is a play by play conversation with my kids. It shows the randomness of the children I love so much and the patience and humor needed in handling them. The names have been changed to protect the guilty.

Here is a list of characters:
Dramagirl- 9 year old girl who lives for the dramatic acceleration of every moment
MsDebate- 11 year old girl who know absolutely everything
Hoover- 3 year old boy who sucks up food like his namesake
Me- Me

MsDebate walks up behind me quietly and reads part of the blog I am working on about motherhood.

MsDebate: (mouth click noise) O-M-G!!!!! You are soooooooooooo writing about us!!!!!!!!

Me: Yea

MsDebate: That was WORD FOR WORD!!!!!

Me: I know, cool huh?

MsDebate: Well???!!! Are you ALWAYS gonna write down EVERYTHING we say now??????

Me: No, only the intelligent things,, so it's very limited

MsDebate (walking out of room): Nooooo,, (insert louder mouth click noise here) that IS everything I say!!! .......DRAAAAAMAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!! Mom is writing OUR lives in here!!!!

Dramagirl (running): Huh,,why?? What if boys read it,, nooooooo maaaaam, yooooou caaaan't (breathing heavily and gesturing radically)!!!

Me: No one knows who you are, don't worry

MsDebate (sarcastically): Well,,,I saw YOUR picture..hellooo-ooooooo!!! They'll know who we are!!

Dramagirl (palpitating for exposure): Oooooh,,,Mom!!!!!! Put MY picture up!!! (running to get camera)

Me: Where's Hoover anyway? Hooooooover!!!

Hoover: (chewing,spitting crumbs): I eating bagel,,,,, I like you Mom!!

Me: I Like you too Hoover!!!!

Hoover (skipping away singing) I like Mom,,I like sistors,,I li....(voice fading)

Msdebate: Mom,, you should ask for a date there.

Dramagirl (still posing): yeah mom, get a date

Me: I'm fine!

Dramagirl: Remember that guy in the mall?? Oooooh he was cu-UTE!

Me: PRETZEL DUDE??? He was 10!!

MsDebate: Mom's {{{{{OLD}}}}} Dramagirl!!! (laughing)

Me: Away with you I say,, be gone!

Dramagirl: But Mom,,we would be happy forever if you marry him (hands up to face angelically framing it)!!

Me: ..(THE look....) Why?

Dramagirl: Well, EVERYONE loves pretzels!!!

MsDebate: (laughing) you're so stupid!

Dramagirl: You should to--ta--lly get him a MAN RING!! What's for dinner?

*****All of my problems are elucidated!!!! I am marrying the pretzel kid who will make pretzels for us everyday assuring us everlasting happiness and the wealth of a thousand kings! In the blinding opulence of my new life, I won't for get the little people.*****

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Emergency Post-----

Dramagirl is getting 4 teeth pulled tomorrow at 7:45AM.

I am holding a candlelight vigil in my front yard tonight supporting the hope that the dentist and I don't perish from the amplification of pain and circumstances. Guinness is standing by to authenticate the "Longest Continual Whining Session" for the World Record Book. YouTube has sent out a request for video and monetary compensation.

I will keep you posted.....

Olives again???!!!!!!

Lately for dinner I have been having 4 green olives (no Vodka). I know this is not healthy yet I do it everyday because I have exhausted all patience for the kitchen.
There is some law that says you have to feed your children 3 times a day (damn government). My girls boldly remind me of that fact. If for some reason lunch gets skipped,,it's ON!!!!! They could have just finished eating a steamy hot properly rounded meal of gruel and water when I hear: "I'm hungry Mom!!!!,,I didn't have lunch!!!!!!!". "But",, I say calmly, infinitely wiser than they,,,"you JUST ate dinner!!!"
Dramagirl, if she made it this far, collapses in hunger for effect (WOMP). I guess the possum act would get a rise out of some people, I just walk over her making sure my toes hit her square in the ribs or that I spill a cold beverage on her head.
My son, we'll call him "Hoover" will suck up anything that resembles food 24 hours a day. He has begun making suggestions instead of allowing me to dictate his menu (this whole growing up and getting your own opinion thing is over rated). He wakes up early and with stealthy actions, begins marauding the kitchen. Finally he comes into my room (5 AM) making cow chewing cud noises and waps me on the face. I try not to curse as I jump 50 feet in the air (plastic mattress covers on the bed are advisable for parents). A soft sweet voice sings "I awake Mommy,,you awake??? We should eat brakerfast now!!!!"...These words are accompanied by crumbs flying out of his mouth and directly into my face (let us take the time to applaud my patience tick tick tick,,{{{{buzzzzzzzer}}}}}} Thank You!!!).
They say as a side effect from certain medicine, people sleep eat. How freaking scary is that?? Diet all day only to ruin your efforts inadvertently. This is straight from the depths of evil. They should make a horror movie about it. I would love to see someone obsessed with being fit and trim like Jillian ("The Biggest Loser") have this happen (of course she probably has only rice crisps in her house and AIR has more calories and taste,,but whatever). SHE NEEDS TO WEAR SPANXS DAMN IT!!
I actually have experienced this phenomenon one time while on Ambien.

Wanna hear about it?? Of course you do here I go:

It was the night before nothing and all through the house, not a creature was stirring not even a mouse. I in my kerchief,,no man in a cap, had just settled down for a long winters nap (wooolooooolooooo,,the girls lost it!!)

(for real now)...I fell asleep around 11PM, ahhh,,,nice warm soft bed,,,ahhhh,,crickets chirping happily,,,ahhhhh,, dreamt of Walter in the flip flop aisle again,,,ahhhhhh,,girggle, cough, choke,,,,woke up!!!!.....(WHAT THE HALIBUT?????!!!!!) ....BIG can of Chef Boyardee on the night stand,,,,GONE,,,fork bent with a bite out of it (just kidding,, no bite). I even had bread and butter..Let me outline this,,,,I opened a can,, found a fork,, got bread,, buttered it, put it on a plate,, carried it back to bed and consumed it, all while asleep with no memory of doing any of it...HUH??? How does that even happen???? (BIZARRO!)..Then,,,,, as if I wasn't already stunned,,,,Walter walks out of the bathroom,, (apparently I sleep seduce as well).

......Stopped taking Ambien and made Walter go home (for now).

***note: The following portions of this post were embellished for your reading pleasure (you're welcome!).***

.....Rice cakes CAN have flavor (when covered in chocolate and cherries). I do not REALLY feed my children gruel (it's borscht)....and finally, me and Walter are just FRIENDS ( it's not you Walter, it's me..call me).

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Spaghetti Streamers

My son was sick last night. Apparently I had a bull’s eye on my chest because his spews all landed on me, and I felt sexy AND "hot"! My son is a powerpuker. If you measure the distance and velocity of his average "previously digested offerings", you would see the same potential I do. He is well on his way to a gold medal in the Mommy Olympic sport of Distance Powerpuking. As I measure his current qualifying runs, I discover the "companion" Mommy Olympic sport, Sympathy Distance Powerpuking.

My mind is like a highway of absurdity so in every moment it treks off to another experience or rationality about the situation at hand. This time is no exception.

I thought back to the days of old when puking was subsequent to hours of dancing, flirting, and fun (I have not been out since 1902, so these are ancient ruin memories I am sharing with you, you’re welcome!).
I have a friend who can not go out without discharging sick juice at me. Still, she is pretty, blonde and very fun so I would weigh my options and almost certainly still go out with her. I never really drank when I went out because I knew the babysitting and transport job were imminent. If we went out to eat before, I would dissect her meal as to have the most pleasant afterlife effect (Drinking tip #152: plain spaghetti noodles have a nice fun streamer effect when extracted at you at warp speed). Her mom loved me because I always got her home safe. I also had the role of bodyguard and beat up men that were too aggressive with my leggy, limp, giggly, supermodel drunk girl friend.
I was the quintessential "GOTTA GO" girl. If she was dancing with a caveman (she was so easy a caveman could do 'er-----laughing---I have issues...), I walked up, nudged him,"GOTTA GO"!!! (If he didn't listen, I would pull his knuckle hair). When her lipstick was smeared, mascara running and boobs vertical instead of horizontal, I would say "GOTTA GO"! If the T-Rex at the bar was flailing his little arms to touch her and squelching come on lines, "GOTTA GO"!!!!! Many a night it was a mad dash to the door as the men running in slow motion, yelled "noooooooooooo,,,,dooooooon't gooooooooooooo!!" (For effect, say this in your best slow motion voice while moving your arms and legs slowly, further animating the sentence for maximum interactive post enjoyment, thank you). Now I'm no slouch, (I know it sounds as if I have a unibrow and should be called "hairnet Helga”) but that wasn't the case. I was the "pretty" - "GOTTA GO" girl (at least that's what I tell myself). Still, because of my job description, I didn't get much play while out with her and I got called B to the itch regularly. (What The Halibut!!!???)

........Just then, when all my fun young day memories were climaxing, another round of Olympic Powerpuke commenced, and I was back to "mommy" reality, and again I felt sexy!!!!!

(****** Hey, my beautiful friend, if you're reading this, it’s not you I'm talking about, I love you man!!!! Drinks on me (literally, they are after you party!!!)...But seriously, it’s not you...)

Monday, October 5, 2009

Romancing the "Walmart Greeter"

****We're all adults here and this is adult content so I hope that's ok. It's not too graphic (only because I don't remember anything too graphic,,,sigh,,snort,,sob) and I certainly don't want to offend anyone, but I promised to be open and candid about things happening in the moment so here I go:

In my first post I explained a little about how long it's been since I have dated. I am glad I took this time to myself but it has not been easy. I know the EXACT date of the last time I played Red Rover, Red Rover with a boy. I may be the only one in the world when asked about the last time, can head nod at my son. He is my little sexual time line. I really hope that at his graduation, I am still not pointing at him as a reference.

Going to the big Mart always leads to an interesting people watching situation. This is even more painfully true where I live. I'm not sure why, but our town's Mart visitors tend to feel pajamas with the words "Hot Mamma" embroidered on the rear screams class, and slippers are the new high heels,,,, Still THEY always have a man,,so maybe I'm missing the boat (get right on that!).
Yet in all the madness,,missing teeth,,screaming children,,(uh....sorry,,I'll shut them up) and roller clad mismatched ladies (...you care enough to put rollers in, to look nice when you GO somewhere,,aren't you somewhere??? ...WHAT THE HALIBUT??). In all of that,,there is the greeter.
We'll call him "Walter. Walter was close friends with Moses, they shat together in the desert. He always smiles and opens his arms wide when he sees me. He is a bit scruffy and smells of Old Spice, which travels home with me after a warm pat on the back. We never get to exchange a conversation, just a few "is everyone ok?" updates and jokes for the kids. I never had an unclean thought of Walter. In my dream last night Walter "greeted" me differently. It was in the flip flop section (WTH?????). It was not real vivid,,but I definately knew what was happening!! This totally ruins my Mart greeter and flip flop aisle experience as I will now blush when I see Walter and fidget when he hugs me.

Mart will never be the same.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

All I learned about dating, I learned from my daughter

My youngest daughter (we'll call her Dramagirl) is getting made fun of in school for having a beauty mark. This humors me because the same thing happened to me growing up. All through high school I used concealer to hide mine so I wouldn't stand out. It was then that Cindy Crawford hit the scene running and she was uber-fab!! Madonna also was popular and even she had a strange "traveling" beauty mark on her face (WTH?). I thought they were both hot so I finally embraced my unique feature. I even started darkening it in a bit when I was fully made up. It became a trademark of sorts for me as it will for her. My daughter's beauty mark happens to be in the perfect spot next to her mouth. Her dark skin and almond shaped eyes give her a Brazilian look which is getting noticed by her whole football team (yes, she is the bubbly, slightly aloof, quintessential cheerleader). Luckily she hasn't noticed being sought after and is oblivious to the amount of mudboy attention she gets,, YET,,,I think..
I shudder each time these boys run up and stutter and sway as they talk to her. She has started with the multiple boyfriend talk and I have started perfecting alibi stories. You can tell by the name I dubbed her that my daughter is a drama queen. Where she gets it from I don't know but it's developed quite prominently and it both amuses and annoys me to no end. She is also very sensitive and gets her feelings hurt if you look at her wrong. I worry about theses heathens breaking her heart daily. She will be the death of me yet.
At a recent game, 3 boys walked by and fumbled over themselves gawking at her. They were laughing and conversing with "Beavis and Butthead" flair. It may have been inappropriate to shoot them with the paintball gun but whatever. After the game one of them, a little boy named Tanner, ran up and did the patented "Dramagirl sway". He was a rough edged blonde with blue eyes and "trouble" stamped on his forehead. He stood there in full uniform, scoping her right in front of me. I fully expected a well thought of sentence but instead he stammered a "HI!!" and ran. As he escaped, she bee-bopped beside me and I asked her if that was ONE of her BF's. Her answer choked me..."noooo,,not yet.." WHAT THE HALIBUT????!!!!! Not YET????!!!! So now she is actively PLANNING future relationships?? I must have looked funny because she countered me with "what???,,, did you SEEEEEE him????" Sure enough by the next game Tanner was her boyfriend,,he even brought his mom over to meet me (again,,,WHAT???) They blossomed... (it had been a week-- years in tween love life time). I asked Dramagirl what having a boyfriend actually meant,, she said "it means respecting each other" (insert angelic music here and bow to my masterful parenting skills). There were many occasions I overheard her talking to him on the phone saying things like,,,,,,,,"nooooo,,you're MY pumpkin!!".
A few days later there was party and things grew tense. She was all dressed up and was fabulous. The evil jealous bone welled up in Tanners little body. Dramagirl broke up with him that night because she said ..."he kept putting his arm around me and trying to hold my hand!".. Tanner, overwhelmed with hurt, kicked my daughter and hit her in the stomach. My sensitive dramatic daughter did what I never imagined she would do. She turned right around, marched in the room with the adults, found his mother and in front of the room said calmly yet severely "Get your son and take him home, it's OVER!!" (I'm welling up, gimme a second). I was very proud of her, but, this wasn't HER home or HER party so the effect was a tad jaded (but still awesome!). We had to see Tanner on a regular basis after that. He tried to get her back through gifts and many a secret message delivered through her "annoyed by the hassle" older sister. He went on for weeks like this to no avail. I thought she would crack when we spotted him with a new girlfriend but instead she commented on how stupid they looked together and how she hoped she didn't look THAT stupid (I didn't tell her she did). As for me,,,I am secretly jealous that my daughter's love life is better than mine when I pluck, shave, paint and polish myself everyday, and all she does is shake her hair out (sniffle,snort). And I await the next "love" journey, paintball gun cocked and loaded.

Friday, October 2, 2009

The size of my rear -and- Potty Talk

I am in the process of potty training a very intelligent and fiesty 3 year old. This may possibly kill me....(if my 9 year olds drama (she once told me that I love the ants more than her--yes--the ANTS--welcome to my world!!).....and my lack of a social life don't do me in first)!!!!
In my efforts to guide him in the right direction, I bought a fun little padded kiddie toilet seat. It's a "Thomas the Train" seat that fits over the regular seat for #2 duty. Assuming it is not ON his head (it doubles as a hat along with Underoos and Fruit of the Loom's) it works pretty well. I just have had one request to God about it. My prayers of late go something like this: "Dear God---Thank you for my wonderful life and children--please allow them to rest their vocal chords this week and you will simultaneously save me from bleeding eardrums and looming insanity........also could you please shrink my a*s so that it fits perfectly on the "Thomas the Train" toilet insert, I would be eternally grateful..get it God??--eternally---- (hey,,,u made me!!)--wink--did I just say a*s out loud to you God? dang!!!...amen".

It's been a "crappy" week to begin with. Let me explain in a non-graphic way (who am I kidding-it's graphic, but stick with me please, I need the support!).

My daughter has BM's the size of Papa Smurf. She also feels her microscopic sized butt needs a whole roll of paper to properly clean it. Papa Smurf and the tidal wave of TP do not share the swishing water slide very well. It was before school and before 7AM that the last episode of this saga happened. I heard the familiar squeaky "oh noooooo!!!!" and ran in with superhuman speed to rectify the situation. I fervently fumbled with the razor sharp water cut off handle thingy (most conveniently located just out of reach and tightened by the Incredible Hulk...WHAT THE HALIBUT is that about?!?). The water, in clear defiance, flowed right over top edge soothing me with its chill. A few more moments of "cut the damn water off" struggle had finally netted results, but not before Papa Smurf escaped and landed squarely on my foot with a strange WHAP.......The offending child had the nerve to laugh, and I felt sexy.

And..... There is yet ANOTHER fun installment----Wanna hear it----Of course you do!!!..... Here I go:

Me and my son were having our normal "gotta go" potty races. He has been having difficulty understanding the dynamics of a BM (ie: what part of the body it comes from and how to control the poop demons). He ran in the bathroom fervently aware of his necessity. The sound of Thomas flying off and hitting the tile jarred my attention. I run in to assist him with with aiming (which sounds like this:...."make bubbles,,,,let's make bubbles!!!!!", followed by musical toddler laughs -and- YES,,,, you CAN use this with your toddlers or old people as necessary----you're soooo welcome!!). My son is standing there,, body leaning precariously into the basin. Belly sticking out further than the appendage being used. Big brown eyes glowing in anticipation of a post potty celebratory treat offering and obligatory dance session. He lets out a grunt and I see a turtle from the back. If you don't know what a turtle is I won't explain but to say-----oh he was soooooooo dang close to success--right room--right timing--wrong position!!! With cat like reflexes I whip him up-bend him in half and position him correctly to finish the job properly. And I almost made it too......ALMOST...It wasn't Papa Smurf this time-more like a Bakugan but the effect was still the same,,although sadly there was no strange "WHAP"........ As for me-- I felt sexy......AGAIN!!!!!

I am an "inteligant women"!!!

The last few months I have been actively reading and responding to my dating site hits. I won't mention the sites but I have an active profile on two of them. One is a major player in the match world (wink) and the other is a little site with a fun and lively set up. Over these months on the big one I received 409 emails (I put up Megan Foxes pic -ha)!!! Perusing over them has been quite interesting. Most of them say they want an "inteligant women" and continue to ramble-spelling every other word wrong (if you want an intelligent woman-spell it right dipstick!!). I have physically met 4 men--2 for lunch (doesn't count right?) and 2 for dinner.
Would you like to know what happened? ....Of course you do-here I go:

A few months back I had the first one. It was a lunch date with a guy that had a name similar to "quick1974". We had spoken to each other for about a month. He seemed cute and funny but a bit dramatic. It was my first "date" in years and I was nervous and in the bathroom for about an hour before-uh-relieving nervousness and trying to hide it. The concept of dating again leaves me Chihuahua-ish (ie: shaking and peeing myself). The girls at work all posted at the windows--which--uh--helped??!! And I saw him waiting outside for me and thought he was cute. We went to a Mex place and he started talking to me about his life and his drama--his ex--his job--his finances--his health--his parent's health--his bird--(yes,,his bird) his ex--his ex--his ex.......That was the last time I spoke to him. He texted me 27 times in the next couple of days. I hope he and his bird are doing well.

The next "date" was with another long time conversation guy who worked in my field. I had free tickets to a comedy club and thought I'd use them for us. When I saw him I was shocked- "banker1986"-- looked NOTHING like his picture-and that was a really bad thing. I think he was a Muppet. Still,, I am not an appearance only girl and search more for heart than looks, so I hugged and smiled. Inside the club I found out he had no heart and was indeed a Muppet ("Animal"-sorry I love Animal too,,but it works here)-as I awkwardly sat with him I thought about my kids at the sitter,,,FOR THIS????!!! The best part of the night was when both comedians made fun of him. One even said he was dating waaaay out of his league (poufing hair<<.urp.>>). If he were a nice man I would have grabbed him and kissed him passionately right then-but instead I laughed. Later I found out that he had been putting his drinks on my tab-I had one drink that cost $60!!! I understandably waited a bit before my next dating leap.

The next guy with a screen name like "peas777" was really nice. He wasn't my type at all but I was having fun with him at Sonnys until we walked out to the parking lot to part ways. He grabbed me and swallowed my face with no warning. He then called and texted me over and over to tell me how much he loved my lips--I think he still has them.

....And then on to the last guy......He is kinda cute-funny-grounded and successful. "Artdad565" said he was separated and ready to move on. I felt him move fast emotionally,,but I liked him so I followed suit. There was no sex just nice visits-hand holding and a few kisses. He fixed my washing machine (which he should have gotten laid for) and was very caring. His company upgraded computer systems and since he was the boss he could give the old ones away,, I didn't own one so he brought one and helped me set it up. I asked "what if you decide you hate me?" he said the computer was still mine with a smile. It rocks (rubbing it's privates as we speak). Two days later he was having issues thinking about me "long term and romantically"- he said it felt like cheating---and I found out his wife still lived with him.....WHAT THE HALIBUT???? So I gotta "lets be friends" proposal and haven't heard from him since. He moved a lot quicker with feelings than I did-I am still a little confused with this one. I guess I am writing about him on my "parting gift".

So..... now I press on-sigh...Currently talking to 3 men on a regular basis-(one screen name is like "Orgazmicfruit" I really should know better)-no plans for meeting yet-will let you know. I must be insane to go forward with this but the challenge of finding a good guy intrigues me,, I'll keep my legs shaved for a few more weeks.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

The birth of a Superhero

......Well it's been a long time since I could be called "virgin". There really should be a restart button for that type of thing when it's been soooo long??. I guess you could say that being without a man has been (ahem) enlightening, however there are certain things that are always best left in their hands (wink-nudge-sigh). For the most part I have been alright. So lets take a moment to stand in reverence to me now for overcoming and living "sans man" (with no cats and without changing team orientation!). When you don't have someone simple things like arriving at a fine dining establishment (like that really ever happens) remind you of how sad it is. The 10 year old at the greeting helm always asks "how many in your party?"-now as a process of elimination-if I am the only one awkwardly standing there--I AM my OWN party,,unless I DO happen to perfect my skills of human duplication - o.k. then!! I did make this decision to truly be alone as I had never been alone before. I think it is important to know and love the fact that you CAN be alone and it is alright. I don't need someone else to validate me as a human. Now to validate me as a sensual woman, that's another matter. And that is precisely why this alone thing needs to end (loooong sigh). Now that's not to say I will be humping everything with a snausage! I am very particular and old fashioned in my ways (most of the time) so it will be a fun ride since it's been 5 years! I will share my honest happenings with you here in a open way laced with my brand of stupid jargon. I will also share the daily adventures of being a mom to 3.
........As for the name of this blog...
I am re-entering the dating scene (gasp). Coming in as someone who really hasn't dated since I was 21!!!!!..This scares the hell out of me. I have put a profile on a few sites and have had interesting experiences so far..Sooooooo,,,,,,,it seemed that I should mark this time/occasion/accomplishment with a superhero name. And so I become:

*****The Invisible Seductress*****

.....armed with an unopened bottle of Astroglide (OK-so it's opened-geeze people) and a yearning to watch------she flies over Everytownopolis------a beacon of sexual gravity and sparkles!!!!!!.....

.....and of course every respectable superhero needs a battlecry-a mantra-a one liner screamed at exactly the right moment (I know mine will never be as good as The Tick's <<<<.SPOOOOOOON.>>>> but hopefully I can make him proud!) ....What shall it be----hmmmm----wait for it------- my new battlecry will be--------TBA

.....what????!!!!!--I wouldn't be a TRUE seductress if I didn't leave you wanting more would I now..laugh...snort...

.....stay tuned as*****The Invisible Seductress*****meets Spiderman and advises: "Uh,,,,really dude,,,,you gotta stop posing for underoos!!!!