Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Dear Omaha Steaks:

Dear Omaha Steaks:

Let me be the first to congratulate you on not only mailing meat out to various places in the world, but on ensuring that the socially inept everywhere have the ability to communicate.

Imagine my surprise, upon opening up a cooler full of meat, when I discovered the Omaha Steaks Conversation Cards you included!

Have fun with family and friends when you get them talking with Omaha Steaks Conversation Cards. Simply pull out a questionand let the chit-chat begin! It's a great way to bring families, fun and laughter back to the table. Let the games begin!

So helpful! Now, please follow along, and answer in a comment (I'm including my answers in italics so that you will be able to engage me in lively discussion). How wonderful for all of us to have these little ice breakers!

1.  What is the greatest invention of the last 50 years?
I would say the I-pod. Or the DVR. Without the DVR I would never see a show, ever. EVER. Who has the time. The I-pod because, well, remember the walkman? It's just nice to have something the size of a quarter playing your music.
2.  What was your favorite TV show growing up?
I don't know. I guess I was a fan of Growing Pains. Plus Leonardo DiCaprio lived in the janitor's closet at the high school.
3. Have you ever had an encounter with a celebrity? How did you react?
I saw Tate Donovan in the subway on the way home from the NYC Marathon. My husband shoved me on a crowded subway. If he didn't I could have been pressed up against Tate Donovan instead of him. I yelled at him (my husband, not Tate Donovan). A lot.  Tate did wave at me though. That was nice.  
4. If you could name yourself, what name would you choose?
Something ridiculous like Desdemona or Evangeline.
5. Would you ever get a tattoo? If so, where would it be?
Do the ones I already have count? I guess if I were to get another one I would get it on the back of my neck.
6. Do you believe in ghosts?
YES YES YES
7. If you had to get rid of your microwave or TV, which would it be?
Definitely and without question the microwave.
8. What's the best way to see America?
By car. Duh.

Again, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Without these little cards, we would have NOTHING to discuss. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU.

Love,
ME

Monday, May 30, 2011

Dear Crazy Lady:



Dear Crazy Lady:

Your ass needs to be put in prison.

In no way, shape or form is it ok for an 8 year old child to be botoxed, lasered or waxed. 

You're a fucking psycho.

Love,
ME
P.S. Poll Time. You know where to look. (Or if you don't, cause you're new, scroll down - bottom right side)

Sunday, May 29, 2011

To Whom It May Concern

To Whom It May Concern:

I came across your ad on Craigslist:

DBI Entertainment Studios is hiring Female Live Adult Webcam Models to work in our local studios in sunny St. Pete, FL. OR from your own home wherever you are.

We are hiring female models and good looking couples. We offer great pay, flexible hours, and weekly bonuses. full and part time available.

** For more information and to fill out an application visit our website at: www.dbientertainmentstudios.net and click on the "Apply to become a model link" **

If I do full time, would that mean 40 hours a week? I’m not sure if my husband (or any man) is physically up to that task. Would I be able to write off Viagra, sex toys & lube on my taxes? What do I have to do to earn these bonuses you speak of?

I can’t make it to Sunny St. Pete, but I do have my own webcam up here in NY and I might as well make it work for me since it is just sitting here collecting dust.

Sounds like a great opportunity.

Thanks for considering me!*

Sincerely,
ME

*By the way, I am being SARCASTIC here.  I feel I have to put a disclaimer on here for all the fucking losers who actually think I am applying for this job. For you morons, sarcasm = The use of irony to mock or convey contempt (Thank you Wikipedia).  Try not to get your panties in a bunch and please don’t call my parents to say I’ve become an internet whore. Thanks.




Saturday, May 28, 2011

Note to Self 21

Note to Self 21:

These are the good old days. Keep telling yourself that.



Just hum this song to yourself while you are stepping on smashed banana and washing the dishes with a screaming baby hanging off your leg.

Keep singing it when Middle Spawn gets the mop out of the bucket and starts mopping the baby.  He thinks he's helping, since the baby is so filthy.

And whistle the merry tune while you pick up the Cheerios the boys threw around the house, much like guests at a wedding throw rice at the happy couple.

Laugh at the situation. It's funny!!! And one day they will want nothing to do with you at all, which is why this is the time to remember, cause it will not last forever. 

Friday, May 27, 2011

Dear Craigslist Hooker Killer:

Dear Craigslist Hooker Killer:

Again, while looking for work, I come across yet ANOTHER RIDICULOUS ad from YOU, the Craigslist Hooker Killer:

Melville Spa now hiring attendants for our gentlemen clientele. We are seeking personable, attractive females who are available two to three days per week. Must be reliable with a positive attitude. Private, safe, stress-free and lucrative environment. If you are interested in knowing more about us, please reply by e-mail with your name, age, phone number and two recent photos (face & body shots). Thank you

You know what I see when I read this? If it isn't obvious to you, I will spell it out.

Melville Spa now hiring attendants for our gentlement clientele.  Melville Spa now hiring prostitutes to service male clients under the guise of massage therapy.  We are seeking personable, attractive females who are available two to three days per week. Ugly bitches need not apply.  We only need you to work 2-3 days a week because we wouldn't want to have to pay your worker's comp claims for the carpal tunnel you will get from giving all those happy endings. 

Must be reliable with a positive attitude. Must be reliable, and make even the fattest, sweatiest, nastiest men feel like they are Jude Law.  Private, safe, stress-free and lucrative environment.  We'll give you your own room to work out of, and if you don't do side work you probably won't get yourself killed. Since we are masquerading as a spa, we'll have nice relaxing New Age music and aromatherapeutic candles and lube. You'll definitely make loads of money, especially if you are willing to get freaky.  

If you are interested in knowing more about us, please reply by e-mail with your name, age, phone number and two recent photos (face and body shots). Call us if you are interested in whoring yourself out. The economy sucks and we know you bitches are desperate. Make sure you send us a picture though, because even though YOU may think you are hot, chances are, YOU ARE NOT. Thank you.

What kind of people respond to these ads anyway? I can only hope the Suffolk County Police Department is trolling Craigslist and is hot on your trail.

Love,
ME

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Dear Twits:

Dear Twits:

Did anyone ever stop and think "HEY! Maybe the fucking Mayans ran out of room on their pyramid wall so they just stopped their calendar on December 21, 2012"?





This seems more logical than actually having the fucking world end on that day.  I have a feeling on December 22, 2012, I'm gonna be pretty pissed off that I have to go and buy a whole bunch of Christmas gifts and spend a whole bunch of money on stamps to try and get my cards out on time.

OR I'll be pissed off that I have to pay all my credit cards that I ran up because I figured the end of the world was coming. I was sort of hoping it would end in 2012 because then I could just engage in enjoyable bad habits with no regrets that they would kill me, since it'll all be over soon anyway.

Do me a favor and check this website out about all the times crazy people have predicted the end of the world was coming.  We're still here though. Aren't we? http://www.religioustolerance.org/end_wrl2.htm OR http://www.bible.ca/pre-date-setters.htm .
Love,
ME

P.S. Maybe the above voice of reason will alleviate some of your panic attacks. But whatever you do, don't go watch that stupid movie with John Cusack and whatshername:

P.P.S. - Poll time.  You know where they are.

IS THE WORLD ENDING DECEMBER 21, 2012?



Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Dear Ruiner of My Life:

Dear Ruiner of My Life:

Clearly you smoked too much dope in high school as you can't even remember anything that you did just 2 seconds ago. It's bad enough that the doctor called with your blood work results and you couldn't tell me how high your cholesterol was mere seconds after hanging up the phone.

But now, your carelessness is affecting ME, and its ticking me off big time.  For instance, when you "help" around the house by "cleaning" (ahem, by stuffing things into the closets I should say), you lose all of my stuff (and other family members' stuff as well).  Case in point:  I am MISSING:

1.  Both brown sneakers for BB.
2. One of each of the :
     a) Twinkle Toes (BB)
     b) Brown Mary Janes (BB)
     c)  Black ballet flats (BB) *
     d) Black gladiator sandals (Me)
3.  MY BATTERY CHARGER for my rechargeable batteries WHICH I NEED DESPERATELY FOR
     MY DIGITAL CAMERA TO WORK.
4.  Pre school bill for Middle Spawn's enrichment class.
5.  Yesterday's mail

I've already searched high and low in your favorite spots to hide things on me (on top of the fridge, in MY closet, buried in the mountain of crap on the dining room table) to no avail.

YOU keep saying you will find this stuff and YOU DON'T EVEN LOOK.  How can you move stuff around and not know where you put ANY of it? YOU CAN'T EVEN REMEMBER MOVING IT!!!

Your brain cells are dead. Kindly get yourself to a neurologist. Thanks.

Love you,
ME

*Yes I know it seems BB has a lot of shoes for a seven year old, but I am telling you, this is the bare minimum - I need brown boots, black boots, brown dress shoes, black dress shoes, and 2 pairs of sneakers.  This is not including the soccer cleats, indoor soccer shoes, ballet slippers, and tap shoes.  Oh yeah, and the crocs (from the toe hurting injury) and silver gladiator sandals.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Note to Self 20

Note to Self 20:
Why bother buying cleaning supplies at the Evil Empire when it is absolutely impossible to get any cleaning of any kind done in this house? Baby Spawn has decided that he will scream bloody murder the second you leave his line of sight, and while it is possible to just ignore him, it aggravates the other children, who then also start whining, moaning and annoying you.  So instead of doing anything useful, you have spent the day teaching Baby Spawn how to get down the stairs without doing a headfirst tumble and trying to get him to walk.  This is stupid, and you will be sorry, but it beats sitting with him in your lap as you can’t even watch TV since the President has come to town and all that is on is views of where he will be, and where he was, but you have yet to actually see him.

On a side note, please see a psychiatrist about whether it is normal to have a panic attack every time you use your credit card. Since you have no income, it seems that it is normal to want to vomit every time you whip out the plastic, but just confirm this with a professional to rule out possible mental illness.

Monday, May 23, 2011

Note to Self 19

Note to Self 19

Don’t worry, even though your day is YET AGAIN shit.

How much laundry can one family go through? IT NEVER ENDS. I think I am going to die suffocated in a mountain of dirty laundry (and clean clothes that the husband throws in there that he tries on for five seconds and disregards. HELLO THOSE DON’T GO IN THE HAMPER THEY GO BACK IN YOUR FUCKING CLOSET).  It’s not your fault Middle Spawn has to change his shirt 42 times a day because he “don’t like this shirt no more”.

Don’t be alarmed that the cat shit that was stuck to the cat’s ass as he exited the litter box fell on the floor and YOU STILL haven’t cleaned it even though you have walked passed it on the way to the laundry room 15 times today. IT IS STILL THERE practically screaming at you “PICK ME UP, PICK ME UP PICK ME UP”. This could explain why your whole disgusting mess of a house smells like a fucking sewer. (NOTE:  take a fucking paper towel or baby wipe or SOMETHING down there with you next time you take YET ANOTHER FUCKING LOAD OF LAUNDRY DOWN).

No worries that you haven’t seen your dining room table in MONTHS with all the crap that is piled on top of it.  And even though there are no signs of it ever reappearing any time soon, you should just take a deep breath, calm down and try to tackle it a little bit every day (NOTE:  STOP PUTTING SHIT ON THE TABLE DURING THIS PROCESS AND MAYBE YOU’LL SEE WHAT COLOR WOOD IT IS BY THE END OF THE MONTH).

There is no fucking need to cry over the fact that BB will be home soon and the homework drama will be starting and you haven’t cooked dinner or even taken anything out to defrost. Nor should you cry over the fact that BB, although a psycho bratty bitch at home with a mouth and an attitude that could put even you to shame can’t even manage to play in her lacrosse game because some little bitch on the team had to trash talk to her and now she thinks she isn’t good enough (meanwhile, nice of you to start cursing and screaming at her on the lacrosse field in an attempt to get her ass back in the game so that all the parents had to look at you like you were a fucking loser. Maybe threatening to beat her with the lacrosse stick was not the way to go, but to be fair, TUESDAYS ARE KILLER and you just about were at the end of your rope. You DID apologize and that has to count for something).

It is fine that Baby Spawn can’t let you out of his sight and that you have to fold & put away all the fucking aforementioned laundry with him hanging off of your ass. Or that he is crying and writhing on your lap as you write this and keeps trying to grab the mouse, which is fucking you up big time. (NOTE: NOT A SMART IDEA TO GIVE HIM THE STAPLER INSTEAD TO PLAY WITH AS HE WILL HURT HIMSELF).

By all means, do not cry when you step on that stupid squeaky giraffe thing someone got Baby Spawn when he was born while you are trying to convert an organic yam into something your children would eat. Instead of crying about your crappy housekeeping  and mothering skills you should be commended for feeding your children something that isn’t part of the dollar menu.  If you always strive to see the good in this mess, you will be much MUCH happier in life.   This is easier said than done, as you’ve been working your ass off all day and are utterly exhausted, yet miraculously the house looks dirtier than when the day started bright and early at 6AM when Middle Spawn crawled into bed, snuggled up next to you, and pissed himself.  But cheer up!! Take a page from Monty Python and always look on the bright side of life.

It’s also nice that after 7 years of higher education and an advanced degree, you can’t even find a fucking job as a cashier at the Evil Empire*. How sad to be qualified for nothing after all of that work, and to be tied down by your stupid husband’s dumb new hours (He works from 10:30-7??? How stupid is that? It pretty much guarantees that you are unable to work at all since what shift starts before 10 or after 7:30? Unless you are willing to work at an escort service on Craigslist, and end up on Dead Hooker Island in a clam bag), which, among other things, have caused your stress to skyrocket, your eating habits to go down the tube, and your hemorrhoids to flair up (probably as a result of the stress/crappy eating habits). You now LITERALLY have a pain in the ass.

Don’t worry, give the government a few years to turn this mess (they say “recession”, I say “depression” or “fucking shit show disaster mess”) around, the kids will be in school, and you can hopefully enter the work force again and be surrounded by adults (who will probably act like little children and annoy the fuck out of you, if any of the office jobs you’ve held prior to this moment are any indication).

And one more thing! How did Baby Spawn get those pretzels out of the pantry and spill the bag all over the floor and then crawl all over and through the salty mess spreading it all over the house? This is incredible.  Thank god he just passed out on the floor of the  hallway, now maybe you might actually be able to get something done! Just remember:  TRY NOT TO STEP ON HIM**.

If this manages to even get published, it will be a freaking miracle. Especially since the damn Google Gods have fucking deleted your blog thanks to some sort of fucking bug or who knows what. 

JUST BREATHE. IT’LL ALL BE OK.  Its somewhere, and there’s a bottle of wine in your fridge.


*Target

**Scratch that, one of the older ones just tripped over him.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Yeah:

Yeah:

I'm all for the 5 second rule, but when your sons are hiding behind the toy chest throwing strawberries around like they are granades, you should probably check and see which ones they have bitten first before throwing everything back in the container, and putting it back in the fridge.

I was treated to a disgusting mess when BB wanted her after school snack, went in the fridge and took out the strawberries. She screamed "did worms eat these or something"????!!?!? (No sweetie, but your father is a retard).

Next time THROW THE BITTEN ONES OUT.

Love,
ME

As an aside, strawberries cost too much money to waste, so I really could give a shit that they were thrown around my living room.  I mean seriously, I wash them before I give them to the little brats anyway.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Dear Jackasses:

Dear Jackasses:

IF YOU CAN READ THIS, WE ARE STILL HERE. THE WORLD HAS NOT ENDED. 

Love, 
ME 

Dear Baby Spawn:

Dear Baby Spawn:

Your separation anxiety is really a drag.

Haven't you figured out I always come back?

Stop your whining or maybe I WON'T come back.

Thanks.

Love you!

Love,
Mommy

P.S.

You know you are my favorite because you don't talk back yet AND you really don't get yourself into too much trouble.  (And also cause I think your eyes are hazel).

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
Mommy

Friday, May 20, 2011

Dear Crazy Bitches:

Dear Crazy Bitches:

I want to thank you for making my life so very interesting. Without you, who would I have to write about? I am so very amused by all you do.

There's the special lady who thinks it's a good idea to let her kids play with a (probably rabid) racoon in the broad daylight and wears fur coats even in the summer.

There's the kook who clearly has too much time on her hands and needs a job asap.  She's so bored she has to update you every time she takes a shit via text message, e-mail, facebook, snail mail and phone.
There's the high strung nutcase who takes everything that comes out of your mouth personally (Wake up nutcake, I'm not insulting you. It has nothing to do with you).

There's the delightful woman who loves nothing more than to throw out backhanded compliments in front of large crowds of people, i.e., "I wish I could be like you, and not give a shit what I look like".

Or the special friend who delights in your misery.

There's the lunatic who thinks that it's adorable that her child is failing out of pre-school and spends school days punching other students in the face.

There's the winner who thinks anything below high school is not "real" school, and consequently, the children should not be wasting their time learning anything so stupid and useless such as reading.

And lets not forget the stupid bitches who are too busy getting Brazilian waxes and drinking Starbucks to make a phone call to respond to a birthday party invite.

To those who fall into more than one category, hats off to you! What an accomplishment to be proud of!

Thanks for the memories!

Love,
ME

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Dear Creep:

Dear Creep:

Nothing is nicer than being awake since 5AM sick as a dog.  Even better is having all three kids awake while YOU catch up on your beauty sleep.

So sorry your Lexapro makes you exhausted.  I know you need it because the 15 minutes you spend with the kids really gets your anxiety up.

Let's schedule a time where I can give you a back rub and feed you some grapes while you watch baseball. You deserve it.

Love,
Your Loving Wife.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Dear Frat-House Rejects:

Dear Frat-House Rejects:


Are you the Craigslist serial killer dumping bodies on Dead Hooker Island? Is this how you find your victims? Honestly, while on my job hunt I cannot believe the stupid ad I came across that YOU posted.  Do me a favor, and READ THIS AGAIN:


We're looking for an attractive/single girl to be our statkeeper for our summer softball team. We won't be able to pay you in money, but we'll supply you with plenty of laughs, awesome softball skills and beer.

Requirements:

Attending all of our games, which are Sunday mornings at 9am... which isn't too fun, but coming to the games hungover is totally acceptable.
You'll have to take pictures of us while we play, record all the stats and upload them to the team website.
Must be outgoing, and have a witty personality.

Although it's not a requirement, we often frequent Sunday Fundays at Fire Island to celebrate our awesomeness after the games, if you like Rocket Fuels and other beverages, I'd suggest attending.

21+ preferred
This is what I got out of your ridiculous ad:

We're looking for an attractive/single girl to be our statkeeper for our summer softball team. TRANSLATION:  We are ugly trolls who want to play in a softball league because we have no social life and this way other people are forced to interact with us. We need some dumb slut to drool over because we really have no idea how to play softball, and quite honestly, most girls hate us.

We won't be able to pay you in money, but we'll supply you with plenty of laughs, awesome softball skills and beer. TRANSLATION:  Not only are we ugly trolls, we are also broke beyond belief. In fact, we really don't belong to a softball league because we have no money. This is just something we made up so that we could pick up girls.  You'll definitely laugh at us, because we've never played ball before, but we do like beer.  Everyone likes a good beer, right? Plus, if we get you drunk, we'll be able to do things to you. Especially if we slip some rohypnol into your beer.

Requirements: Attending all of our games, which are Sunday mornings at 9am... which isn't too fun, but coming to the games hungover is totally acceptable. TRANSLATION:  We'll also all be hungover, and it'll be great fun if you rolled out of one of our beds (since really we are looking for a team whore to share, not a stat girl), puked in our disgusting frat house wannabe bathroom and came to the game with us.

You'll have to take pictures of us while we play, record all the stats and upload them to the team website. Must be outgoing, and have a witty personality. TRANSLATION:  Please feel free to take naked pictures of yourself.  Also, it would be cool if you could shoot hardboiled eggs out of your vagina or deep throat a Polish sausage. We saw a stripper do that once at a bachelor party.

Although it's not a requirement, we often frequent Sunday Fundays at Fire Island to celebrate our awesomeness after the games, if you like Rocket Fuels and other beverages, I'd suggest attending. TRANSLATION:  We can't play softball but we can drink a lot. You should come too. I suggest doing some yoga before we pass you around for a team gang bang.


21+ preferred.  TRANSLATION: Anyone with a fake ID can apply.

Get a life, and leave my fellow females alone you LOSERS.

Love,
ME






Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Dear Jackasses:

Dear Jackasses:

Why post fucking jobs on Craigslist, Monster or Careerbuilder if you are never going to respond to people who apply to them?

Can't you assholes just send an e-mail to me saying you hate me and wouldn't hire me in a million years? I mean, its just courtesy.

It's so ridiculous that I hear nothing from you, but then I see your stupid ad appear again a few days later.

Blow me.

Oh, and fuck you too.

Thanks for nothing.
Love,
Me

P.S - Take some time to participate in the poll on the bottom right. Thanks!

Monday, May 16, 2011

Dear Fuckhead Drivers:

Dear Fuckhead Drivers:

Hi. Do you think it is possible that you not try to run us down in the parking lot while we are trying to walk into the store? I'm just trying to shop here, and really can't afford to end up in the hospital (as much as I would like a vacation - and trust me, with this family, even a hospital visit is a freaking vacation). 

Thanks!

Love,
ME

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Dear Fashion People:

Dear Fashion People:

Why is it so difficult to find an evening gown? It seems to me the only people who YOU think are in the market for formal evening wear are teenage girls going to prom. I am here to tell you that is FALSE.

Every time I have to find a gown for a formal affair, I run into this problem. 

Women who have had children, or even women who are over 30, cannot be walking around in these backless, sleeveless, crotchless dresses you call fashion.

WHERE are the evening gowns for adult females? What is your problem? WHY can't you find fucking dresses in a department store anymore? For your information, grown women, and anyone weighing more than 90 lbs cannot shop in the Juniors department, which is where any and all evening gowns can be found.

Please rectify this situation, as I will be attending a formal wedding in June, and do not want to show up in a fucking sun dress and flip flops.

Thanks.
Love,
ME

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Dear Dingbat:

Dear Dingbat:

Not sure if you realize but we do have a hamper.  In case you don't know, a hamper is a "lidded basket for laundry"*.
 It's NOT the floor of our hallway. It's that white box in our bedroom. The one with the dirty clothes in it.

Love you!
Your Loving Wife.

*Definition of hamper from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hamper.

Friday, May 13, 2011

Note to Self 18

Note to Self 18:

Call shrink to find out if it is normal that when you are utterly alone (yes yes I know it NEVER happens, BUT IT IS HAPPENING NOW!! I AM UTTERLY ALONE ALERT THE FUCKING PRESSES! THE KIDS AND HUSBAND ARE ALL GONE), you hear babies crying and an annoying whiny voice in your head.

Just need to confirm with medical personnel whether you are schizophrenic or you just are hearing things.

Thursday, May 12, 2011

Dear Loudmouth:

Dear Loudmouth:

I realize you are having fun with your boyfriend watching sports and playing Madden. But it is late at night and our 3 children are sleeping.

If you wake their asses up with your loudmouthed screeching I will feed you your balls with a spoon.

Quiet down now.

Love you,
Your Loving Wife.


Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Dear BB:

Dear BB:

It was very mean of me to tell you to suck it up and go to bed when you fell while playing football with your cousins, especially because you woke up with swollen ass foot that I thought was broken.

BUT IT'S NOT BROKEN (thank God).  But even though it's not broken, YOU NEED TO LISTEN TO WHAT THE DOCTOR TELLS YOU.

This means, no gym, no recess, no sports, no nothing for the rest of the week. OTHERWISE YOUR FOOT WILL ACTUALLY END UP BROKEN.

While it is cute that you think you can just play goalie for the soccer team (as if the goalie doesn't use her feet or something) YOU CANNOT. You also cannot run into the library at a full sprint.  You need to put that foot up with a fucking bag of ice on it.  No more chasing your brother around the house and then crying that the foot hurts. YEAH IT HURTS. CAUSE YOU ARE NOT RESTING IT.

I know it's hard, but deal with it. I know a bill for an ungodly amount of money is coming my way for those damn x-rays. So you'd better heal that shit. Cause we are not going to the radiologist's office again. And if we do, I can promise you that I will make sure something is broken on you.

Love you,
Mommy

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Dear Oil Companies:


Dear Oil Companies:

This is getting a bit ridiculous.

YOU and I both know that you don't need to be charging $4.37 for a fucking gallon of gas. YOU and I both know that if you charged $2.50 a gallon, you'd still make billions of dollars. SO WHY THE FUCKING CHARADE FUCKTARDS?

Just FYI when you charge $4.37 a gallon for gas, it makes the cost of EVERYTHING else go up because of shipping costs, etc. So now milk will go up, bread, cereal, tomatoes, EVERYTHING will start to cost more. AND GUESS WHAT? I am not making more money. In fact, I AM MAKING LESS, like a lot of us here.

AND the dipshits that raise the prices on bread, etc., DON'T LOWER THEM again when the price of stupid gas goes back down again. SO I'm still paying that extra couple of dollars for milk or whatever from when you retards pulled this shit last summer.

I'm just warning you to watch the fuck out. Because if gas goes to $6 a gallon like they are threatening, you are gonna have a revolution on your hands.

FIX THIS SHIT.

Retards.

Love,
ME

P.S. I do sense another poll coming.......Check it out, bottom right hand side...............

Monday, May 9, 2011

Dear Helpless:

Dear Helpless:

Oh yes it makes so much sense how you cannot take off any days of work that I ACTUALLY NEED YOU TO.  YET you have (supposedly) all these days that you have to take off or you will lose them. Coveniently you end up taking off days that have no benefit to me or anyone in this family. Instead you enjoy your day off ALL ALONE while I end up running around like a psycho.

OK FINE, yes, today you did make a doctor's appointment, but you were unable to drop off your prescription at the pharmacy. WHY? WHY must I take the children to the park and on the way there drop off your prescription (for anti anxiety medication. OH TELL ME ABOUT IT, I KNOW. HE'S STRESSED OUT. It's very stressful to spend 15 minutes a day with children)? Do you know how annoying it is to freaking drag a baby in and out of a car. Let alone Middle Spawn and his theatrics.

Honestly it's ridiculous. Hand in the prescription yourself, OR I will replace your Lexapro with speed.

Love,
ME

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Dear Scammy McScammer:

Dear Scammy McScammer*:

I don't really want to piss you off while my appeal is pending, but the fact is that I feel like you have quite the little scam going.

Honestly, people I know ARE going to click on the ads simply because out of the hundreds of people I know who are following this blog, some of them are bound to be interested in some of the ads. Since the ads pretty much are based on the content of the blog, doesn't it follow that the people interested in the blog would be interested in the ads?

So you say there was "unauthorized click activity" and I am told it is because people I know are clicking on the ads.  Should I have told everyone to NOT click on the ads? Doesn't that defeat the purpose of putting the ads there? As far as anyone knows, they are just there on the page, waiting to be clicked on.

Love,
ME

P.S.  - You really should give a better explanation than "unauthorized click activity".

*Adsense

Saturday, May 7, 2011

To the Laziest Child in the World:

To the Laziest Child in the World:

FYI I am not here to cater to your every whim and desire.  Therefore, laying in your bed watching TV and screaming "Mommy MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY" over and over and over again until I come into the room and then asking "is there any pudding*" is NOT acceptable. NEWSFLASH! You CAN get up out of bed and look for pudding yourself.

Likewise, you can keep track of your own things.  There are too many people in this house for me to keep track of EVERYONE'S stuff.  So, then, when you want your Pokeman Sticker Index, you will know EXACTLY where it is, instead of rolling on the floor and huffing dramatically "I can't find it, CAN'T FIND IT, CAN'T FIND IT, I NEEEEEED IT. I WAAAAAAAANT IT NOW".

AND just to let you know, when we (your parents) are gone, all you will have are your brothers. So how about we stop slapping, hitting, spitting on, pinching, tattling on, etc.? And when I ask you to help one of them, YOU JUST DO IT. Just to be a nice big sister. YOU FORGET, they are boys, and will be bigger than you someday (soon!!!), and then, they will kick the crap out of you for being a first class bitch. If you start being nice now, and helping the big one buckle his seatbelt in the car or find his shoes and help the little one with his bottle and just play with him a little, they may remember your kindness and take pity on you.

Listen to your Mommy, Sweets, I'M ALWAYS RIGHT. And the sooner you learn that lesson, the happier you will be.

Love you!
Mom

*To my darling UK followers, who I love so much, I'm not sure if you know but PUDDING in the U.S refers to an actual particular dessert e.g.,



I do so love playing amateur etymologist and am a foriegn language geek. While English isn't a foreign language I love how there are the little differences.  Meanwhile,visit http://english.stackexchange.com/questions.  It has all kinds of English/American/Whatever dialect differences, etc. Pretty interesting.

Friday, May 6, 2011

Note to Self 17

Note to Self 17:

Buy this for Baby Spawn and have him wear it to piss off people. (You know who).

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Dear BB:

Dear BB:

What IS up?

YOU totally gave me deja vu today when you knocked over an open box of orzo, spilling it all over my floor, then yelling at ME that it was MY fault for leaving the box open.

It reminded me of the time many years ago when your father knocked over my glass of wine and then blamed me for the spill because I put the glass on the table.

WOW. That saying about the apple never falling far from the tree is spot on!

Love ya!
Mom

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Dear Moron:

Dear Moron:

Not sure what possessed you to stop at the stop sign, roll into the intersection, and then get out of your car.

At first I thought Chinese fire drill, except there was no one else in the car.

It was great how you were just there, in the middle of the intersection, leaving no where for anyone else to go.  What you were doing on your phone out of the car with the rear doors open is beyond me. Why you couldn't pull over to the side of the road is also a mystery.

Freak.

Love,
ME

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Note to Self 16

Note to Self 16:

When you go to the grocery store, here's a thought.....BRING YOUR WALLET WITH YOU.

How are you supposed to pay, you jackass?

OH the PANIC thinking that you have to leave the ice cream, frozen vegetables, and meat sitting there while you go back home to get money.

LUCKILY you had your checkbook AND they didn't ask for your license or else this REALLY would have sucked.

Next time check to make sure you have your wallet with you ALWAYS.

You dope.

Monday, May 2, 2011

Dear Osama:

Dear Osama:

Thanks for dying!

The news made the price of gas go down at least 10 cents a gallon overnight! I must tell the Navy to keep up the good work and hunt some of your other comrads down!

Hopefully we can get down to below $3.00 a gallon!

Love,
ME

Dear Dummy:

Dear Dummy:

When are you going to realize that I am smarter than you?

Please don't give me that crap that you've only had 3 beers. Much like a man multiplies by 3 the number of men his new girlfriend says she slept with before him, I multiply by 3 the number of drinks you tell me you have had, and more often than not, I come up with the ACTUAL number.

I am not a nag, I really don't care (too much) how much you drink; I only care if it affects me in some way (like if you try to have sex with me after puking), SO WHY LIE?

It's probably that damned Y chromosome acting up again.....You lie because you can.

Love you!
ME

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Dear Idiots:

Dear Idiots:

You all know that I only write about the crappy stuff that happens all the time because it is funny right?

You all know that just because I'm not writing about the boring normal stuff that doesn't mean that most of the time my life is not boring and normal.  My life IS boring and normal.  And it doesn't mean that I hate my whole family or something. Which is why the blog description is basically a disclaimer.  Just because I love them doesn't mean they are not jackasses some of the time.

And I don't need to write about how Middle Spawn is so cute and tells me he loves me and hugs me all the time and it is so great. And how Baby Spawn eats anything and everything I put in front of him and always has a smile on his face no matter what.  And how my beautiful daughter always tells me how she loves me more than I love her.  No one wants to hear this crap.  They want to hear about how Middle Spawn throws piles of shit at the mailman or how Baby Spawn eats cat food and BB has the manners of a fucking circus animal (I swear, she REFUSES to say please, thank you, god bless you, etc.) AND she screams and yells and has fits in public and humiliates me beyond belief.

No one wants to hear how the husband constantly tells me he loves me or how he sneaks the credit card out and buys me mothers day and birthday and Christmas gifts even though I never get him anything (and he never wants anything - we have this agreement where we don't exchange gifts because we don't want to waste the money. But he wastes the money anyway; he's not happy unless he is wasting money - But whatever, it's the thought that counts).  It's MUCH more entertaining that this man CANNOT load a dishwasher and despite NUMEROUS lessons he STILL cannot figure it out.

I'm just trying to figure out why people think I hate my family or something.  Do you think that every day is fucking hell? If you do you are even a bigger idiot than I thought originally.  Here's the thing, retards, JUST LIKE EVERY DAY IS NOT SUNSHINE AND ROSES, EVERY DAY IS NOT HELL EITHER. But no one wants to read about sunshine and roses. They want to laugh! And Middle Spawn throwing shit at the mailman is FUNNY!!!! 

Clearly you have no life if you are gonna sit there and judge me and not take this for what it actually is:  entertainment (and therapy for me). 

Get a life, you losers.  If it is so upsetting to you, print out a copy of this post and know that we are a happy family who loves each other and that you are a stupid douche.

Love,
Me