tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52900150318481981502024-02-06T20:42:57.347-08:00Mom to BeeUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger381125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-67896178619809439742009-03-03T09:21:00.001-08:002009-03-15T23:00:37.486-07:00Switch all your Links!Don't forget to change the links on your blogroll and in your readers to:<br /><br /><big><b></b></big><center><a href="http://www.momtobee.com"><big><b>www.momtobee.com</b></big></a></center><br /><br />Good stuff over at the new site including my Open Letter to Jason Mesnick, ABC's The <strike>Douche Bag</strike> BachelorUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-46089268632412775292009-02-22T21:38:00.000-08:002009-02-22T21:42:50.181-08:00Come On OverJust a final FYI:<br /><br /><b>All new content can be found at <a href="http://www.momtobee.com">www.momtobee.com</a>!</b><br /><br />Come on over! I guarantee you will find the same (if not more) expletives and belligerent judgmental rants on the new site. And maybe some shit about my kid, too.<br /><br /><br /><i><small>Song title: Come On Over by Shania Twain</i></small>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-77116285287463071192009-02-20T16:06:00.000-08:002009-02-20T16:07:55.786-08:00www.momtobee.com**NEW POST at the new <a href="http://www.momtobee.com">www.momtobee.com</a>**<br /><br />Make sure you switch over your links and your reader subscriptions so you don't miss out! This new post is about how I'd rather fuck a clown than stand on a high bridge. You <i>don't</i> want to miss it!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-39982424500013664432009-02-19T20:38:00.000-08:002009-02-19T20:43:41.639-08:00Big Time OperatorI've got big news!<br /><br /><center><b>My blog can now be found at www.momtobee.com!!</b></center><b></b><br /><br />I won't take down the blogspot blog right away, but I'll probably start posting the new stuff on the new <a href="http://www.momtobee.com/">Mom to Bee</a>.<br /><br />I'm still trying to figure out <a href="http://www.wordpress.com/">Wordpress </a>(seriously thinking about jamming a fondue fork in to my right eye), so give me a little slack when it comes to random retardedness on the new site.<br /><br />Start updating your reader subscriptions now!<br /><br /><br /><i><small>Song title: Big Time Operator by Big Bad Voodoo Daddy</small></i><small></small>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-20662681708975581582009-02-19T10:12:00.000-08:002009-02-19T10:12:04.508-08:00Death is Certain<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMUXxkR9pA-dGMpUwrodxI_4jZMuBqAdU1dFhguT7bYRjAuNGs-QEvIQCaoInlERMrNtk9zchpmai5Upqtn8pz0NWBzjNyYCZh-ehl_1hH0zU0RWtwO5h2XhTy0wHsW1mYfmLxj00G1B8/s1600-h/pill_bottle_and_pills1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMUXxkR9pA-dGMpUwrodxI_4jZMuBqAdU1dFhguT7bYRjAuNGs-QEvIQCaoInlERMrNtk9zchpmai5Upqtn8pz0NWBzjNyYCZh-ehl_1hH0zU0RWtwO5h2XhTy0wHsW1mYfmLxj00G1B8/s200/pill_bottle_and_pills1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304572686258511010" /></a>Have any of you heard of this new drug called <a href="http://www.humira.com/">Humira</a>? Apparently it is being marketed for psoriasis but also is prescribed for Rheumatoid Arthritis, Juvenile Idiopathic Arthritis, Psoriatic Arthritis, Ankylosing Spondylitis and Crohn's Disease.<br /><br />First of all, it's kind of weird to me that one medication is prescribed for these different conditions.<br /><br />But there is something else that jumped out at me when I watched a commercial on television for <a href="http://www.humira.com/">Humira</a>: The Side Effects.<br /><br />The commercial warns that the drug can lower your ability to fight infections that spread throughout the body. Some of these serious infections have been fatal so tell your doctor if you've ever had tuberculosis or hepatitis b, are prone to infection or get an infection.<br /><br />The website clarifies that "These infections include TB (tuberculosis) and infections caused by viruses, fungi, or bacteria that have spread throughout the body. <b>Some patients have died from these infections.</b>"<br /><br />And remember to not start Humira if have an infection such as an open sore or the flu. God only knows what happens then.<br /><br />Oh and don't take the drug if you have any numbness, tingling, a disease that affects your nervous system, have heart failure or other heart conditions, are scheduled for major surgery, are pregnant, become pregnant, plan to become pregnant or are breastfeeding, or are allergic to rubber or latex.<br /><br />Oh wait. But these aren't even in the list of <b>SERIOUS SIDE EFFECTS</b>!!<br /><br />You could also be stricken with:<br /><ul style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0pt;"><li><b>Serious infections.</b> </li><br /><li><b>Certain types of cancer.</b></li><br /><li><b>Allergic reactions.</b></li><br /><li><b>Hepatitis B virus reactivation in patients that carry the virus in their blood.</b></li><br /><li><b>Nervous system problems.</b></li><br /><li><b>Blood problems.</b></li><br /><li><b>New heart failure or worsening heart failure you already have.</b></li><br /><li><b>Immune reactions including a lupus-like syndrome.</b></li></ul><br /><br />What. The. Fuck.<br /><br />And all of this is being marketed for Psoriasis, which totally sucks and would be embarrassing, but to resort to taking a drug that could give you cancer or kill you?!<br /><br />What do you think?<br /><br /><br /><i><small>Song title: Death is Certain Pt. 2 (It Hurts) by Royce Da 5'9</i></small>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-63963203906357956952009-02-17T11:39:00.000-08:002009-02-19T10:16:29.130-08:00A Lot in Common<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOMnz5UTSvc6ZAYvN856N7-vpJSybbJ5Yd2vuTXt8jBtbZgfZqnykaP1mFwwItLsP9mOatz-vaFxyWnz9QsrxNY5ZfT_QK3YYu3QipT-8d__sjILqFXtCHPQHy17MQoPs5EEpl4gkSCcM/s1600-h/MuteButton.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 152px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOMnz5UTSvc6ZAYvN856N7-vpJSybbJ5Yd2vuTXt8jBtbZgfZqnykaP1mFwwItLsP9mOatz-vaFxyWnz9QsrxNY5ZfT_QK3YYu3QipT-8d__sjILqFXtCHPQHy17MQoPs5EEpl4gkSCcM/s320/MuteButton.png" alt="Mute Button" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303849654044339890" border="0" /></a><b>And by "A Lot" I mean, nothing at all.</b><br />Am I the only one that think Moms Groups are kind of weird?<br /><br />Don't get me wrong, I have met a lot of cool moms through my local parents group, a few of which I think could really be long-term, super cool friends. I mean, really, if your <a href="http://www.facebook.com/">Facebook</a> profile photo has <a href="http://www.facebook.com/people/Jamie-Garvey-Quinlan/1393047757">penis balloons hanging in the background</a>, you will definitely be a friend of mine!<br /><br />But the overall theory that proximity and the ability to pop a kid out your vag will make you immediate friends? I'm not so sure.<br /><br />The first meeting is always uncomfortable because you feel like the one mom who doesn't know everyone. You spend your time watching your little kid playing <i>near</i> the other kids, because at this age, do any of the kids actually interact (besides stealing each other toys, I mean)? The conversation could range from "Hey! I popped a kid out of my vagina a few years ago!" to "Hey! I live right over there! You can see my house from here!"<br /><br />My Moms Group is hardcore too. We make dinners for moms that just had kids (I totally signed up and then promptly forgot about my meal day and left a new mom and her family starving. Nice, huh?) and some moms even switch off babysitting for each other.<br /><br />Maybe Mom Groups are like church: they are a good support system when you need them but maybe they just aren't for everybody?<br /><br />I mean, I'm all for people making me free food when I pop another kid out of my vagina, but babysitting? I hardly even like watching my OWN kid. Why would I want to watch other people's kids?! There's maybe one or two kids that I could handle watching or letting Moms watch Bee, but as for everyone else? I guess my rule of thumb is if I don't even know your last name, you probably aren't going to be babysitting my child. Fuck, why don't I just walk in to the local grocery store and drop Bee off with the first lady with kids I see?<br /><br />And then there is the problem of so many people in the group that never come to things. Part of me doesn't blame them because each event gets booked up quickly with the same 7 people, which makes it really awkward for the newcomers to try to infiltrate their ranks.<br /><br />Don't get me wrong. I don't mean to <i>entirely</i> bash on Moms Groups.<br /><br />But since we've already started...<br /><br />Let's discuss the basic etiquette that I think is necessary to participate in anything where children interact (play dates, story times, etc.)<br /><br /><i>Rule #1: If your kid has green oozy snot running out of his/her nose, please keep them home.</i><br />I know you probably really want to get out of the house and interact with adults, but Dear Lord, if you get my child sick, I swear to the Flying Spaghetti Monster I will hunt you down and cover your front porch with my child's drippy oozing snot.<br /><br /><i>Rule #2: Please teach your kid to share.</i><br />Most of our children are too young to grasp the concept of sharing, but it'd be great if you'd, well, <i>try</i> to teach your kid that it's not okay to forcefully grab shit from other kids. It's fucking Dog-Eat-Dog-Lord-of-the-Flies here anyway, we don't need some crazy Incredible Hulk kid ripping toys from little hands, okay?<br /><br /><i>Rule #3: Since we're on the topic, don't let your kid hurt other kids.</i><br />Seems obvious, right? If your kid has the tendency to tackle, hit, or stab other kids with a shiv, please keep them home. Honestly, it just makes it really awkward for the rest of us moms to have to be Mama Bear protecting our cubs during play group.<br /><br /><i>Rule #4: How about a lesson in how to behave in other people's houses?</i><br />Sweet Jesus, it might be okay for your kids to swing from the curtains, climb on tables and color on the walls at your house, but I actually care about keeping things from breaking at my house. Kthxbai.<br /><br /><i>Rule #5: Discipline is great when your kids don't abide by Rules #1-4.</i><br />Seriously, try it some time.<br /><br />Besides having to deal with people who aren't familiar with Rules #1-5, I have enjoyed meeting new friends close to my house. My advice if you haven't joined a Moms Group yet is have an open mind. Realize that you aren't going to be BFFs with everyone, but you might just be lucky enough to find a few really incredible new friends.<br /><br />But you might want to pack some extra disinfectant wipes, just in case.<br /><br /><br /><i><small>Song title: A Lot in Common by Group 1 Crew</small></i><small></small>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-53745228975429548052009-02-14T13:21:00.000-08:002009-02-14T13:22:11.352-08:00Happy Valentine's Day!<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rgevBTjKfZE&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rgevBTjKfZE&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-71926516876655691032009-02-14T09:20:00.000-08:002009-02-14T09:22:14.362-08:00(almost) Wordless WeekendYesterday, Sissy and I (with the childrens) visited <a href="http://www.uwajimaya.com/">Uwajimaya</a>, a huge Asian market that sells selling mainly Asian food—with an emphasis on Japanese—though it also stocks Western staples (which is just weird because seaweed and weird jelly fruit thingies just don't belong elbow to elbow with Stove Top Stuffing and orange marmalade. It's just weird to see.)<br /><br />Here are some awesome products I saw there while perusing the shelves:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF2pDh0e5eKLnhfx9clBNIkYoSq83HC3JNhxQ_H9uUQNMUwksx_Nm7s7sHt9oEya0VotpMEZUDBhxvZYoY5HWLcPRi2ealyPTsFyNaxjI2D4X-rXnzjj9PgDQFQJdDH6gT-vf5NT6LxXs/s1600-h/SoySauceAisle.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF2pDh0e5eKLnhfx9clBNIkYoSq83HC3JNhxQ_H9uUQNMUwksx_Nm7s7sHt9oEya0VotpMEZUDBhxvZYoY5HWLcPRi2ealyPTsFyNaxjI2D4X-rXnzjj9PgDQFQJdDH6gT-vf5NT6LxXs/s400/SoySauceAisle.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302496528104553442" border="0" /></a><center><i>8 trillion different types of soy sauce.<br />Who knew there were so many choices when it comes to soy?</i></center><i></i><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDm8EOE3h_rPmGtqdgazQo_1exTYsfsE1Z8K7yo5iIm2yXkKe2WUPMVtz6luBwL2y78Q2smECgL4KEqkO7Ik-14aSJ5c0tS0LvE1LTGHEqtdF0uvQmG802oR_-aLtNV43TfnL_dBgDBak/s1600-h/DriedBlackFungus.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDm8EOE3h_rPmGtqdgazQo_1exTYsfsE1Z8K7yo5iIm2yXkKe2WUPMVtz6luBwL2y78Q2smECgL4KEqkO7Ik-14aSJ5c0tS0LvE1LTGHEqtdF0uvQmG802oR_-aLtNV43TfnL_dBgDBak/s400/DriedBlackFungus.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302496511725119762" border="0" /></a><center><i>Mmmm....Dried. Black. Fungus.</i></center><i></i><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhii1GIKvNs8h-rLLCrCbjck1iN15eIsJftUKotqQ6bxdI523cut8Kttc2TPuY-wynbWAhom9dI6or2LhjGoQ652axYuq4pFyGEJgRvHcwTojRMeKe-Osvgk5Dm3DZ9-ZP9gxfZwe60y8Y/s1600-h/PorkUteri.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 303px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhii1GIKvNs8h-rLLCrCbjck1iN15eIsJftUKotqQ6bxdI523cut8Kttc2TPuY-wynbWAhom9dI6or2LhjGoQ652axYuq4pFyGEJgRvHcwTojRMeKe-Osvgk5Dm3DZ9-ZP9gxfZwe60y8Y/s400/PorkUteri.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302496518392518226" border="0" /></a><center><i>You read it correctly. Pork. Uteri.<br />Personally I prefer my uteri fresh, not previously frozen...</i></center><i></i><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbOoFW-TdGZ24DN4XCBU-poE6NzTCAnQew95SdRIo3ip5-oS_tr4CS8hoRo08xBPwKk-hQBQJqQ-oT0tV0XOSYoYpJsYsr5kV5DXB99386HAE-0RPJH9UTrCv1rcA9bF2pIlAmm36JT3c/s1600-h/PocariSweat.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbOoFW-TdGZ24DN4XCBU-poE6NzTCAnQew95SdRIo3ip5-oS_tr4CS8hoRo08xBPwKk-hQBQJqQ-oT0tV0XOSYoYpJsYsr5kV5DXB99386HAE-0RPJH9UTrCv1rcA9bF2pIlAmm36JT3c/s400/PocariSweat.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302496516753450210" border="0" /></a><center><i>I don't know who Pocari is,<br />but I'm pretty sure I don't want to be drinking his sweat...</i></center><i></i><br /><br /><br />Seriously, people. Pork UTERI. Excuse a second while I go vomit.<br /><br />Oh, and Happy Valentine's Day y'all. Go kiss somebody or something.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-37765917801729311422009-02-12T11:00:00.000-08:002009-02-12T11:00:00.188-08:00Looks Like A Job 4...I think I really need to get a job writing for <i><a href="http://www.theonion.com"></a>The Onion</i>. What do <i>you</i> think?<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8AyVh1_vWYQ&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8AyVh1_vWYQ&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><i><small>Song title: Looks Like A Job 4... by Baby Aka #1 Stunna</i></small>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-43500911771954928892009-02-12T08:23:00.000-08:002009-02-12T10:05:26.367-08:00The Longest Pee<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ebImQza5FcYwwrd4mrqwscm2XUSsctJEOaffFaKhYz-wGxffsERu8it_fGURQmO6ZuubNxdT3deZETPtmvdu6M4Yrp6OlZZuzoJnWgWNnMNIWdqC4BFdAWBdZe0kT0Rzqy4OVh7bMo0/s1600-h/CalvinComputer.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 140px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ebImQza5FcYwwrd4mrqwscm2XUSsctJEOaffFaKhYz-wGxffsERu8it_fGURQmO6ZuubNxdT3deZETPtmvdu6M4Yrp6OlZZuzoJnWgWNnMNIWdqC4BFdAWBdZe0kT0Rzqy4OVh7bMo0/s200/CalvinComputer.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301697569575550530" border="0" /></a>I had a friend over for Girl's Night on Tuesday when she got an unexpected phone call from her husband who was at home, watching their 18-month old boy.<br /><br />My friend's husband had been working on his laptop when he had to take a break to change his son's diaper. He put the laptop on the playroom floor and began changing his son in another room.<br /><br />Mid-diaper-change, the little 18-month old pops up naked from the floor and runs away. The husband runs after him, following the little rascal in to the playroom where he sees his son peeing directly on his laptop.<br /><br />Now the husband's laptop is possible ruined!<br /><br />Lesson learned: when in comes to computers, it's always a good idea to keep the peeps in the pants.<br /><br /><br /><i><small>Song title: The Longest Pee by Adam Sandler</small></i><small></small>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-37823026819963913292009-02-11T16:00:00.000-08:002009-02-11T16:00:00.183-08:00Valentine Day MassacreOne of my favorite romantic things that Mr. Bee has ever done for me happened on a random Monday. He was up and out of the house before me, as always, but left me these photos on my camera.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrrpASJU5wRBPcb5aLjNGArkxgWPHjZOIGRFnux7zYBBKI3c6TC6DM3Twr3GHJA-CdR2ohrXIZmRZrHJ6JOL0D_FuauYgmVcxFl1mARiHPRez9UHtDvFgYNuJy2F1zKhJAootiWnZCL6E/s1600-h/ILoveYou.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 296px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrrpASJU5wRBPcb5aLjNGArkxgWPHjZOIGRFnux7zYBBKI3c6TC6DM3Twr3GHJA-CdR2ohrXIZmRZrHJ6JOL0D_FuauYgmVcxFl1mARiHPRez9UHtDvFgYNuJy2F1zKhJAootiWnZCL6E/s400/ILoveYou.png" border="0" alt="Isn't he the cutest?"id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301691057414393474" /></a><br />Mr. Bee has been quite the romantic during our courtship and early years of our marriage, but now that we're a little older (wiser?) we're not big on the "You have to be romantic because it's February" deal.<br /><br />I mean, does anyone over the age of <strike>17</strike> 27 really give a shit about Valentines Day?<br /><br />I vividly remember being a teenager and Valentine's was pretty much the important holiday in my sweet little teen drama life. Watching countless girls get flowers or balloons or gifts at school was torture. I mean, what was the point of those "buy a rose for a dollar to be delivered to your sweetheart in class" deals anyway. Just a special type of water boarding for those of us who never, ever received a single rose, candy cane or whatever the stupid ASB happened to be selling at the time.<br /><br />But I'm not bitter.<br /><br />Anywho, does anyone who is married and/or have kids actually really celebrate Valentine's Day anymore?<br /><br />Mr. Bee is planning to take me out to dinner but I really could care less if he buys over priced roses that will die five minutes after I put them in water. We briefly discussed having him buy me some yummy chocolates for "the special day", but I quickly realized that he would probably end up getting all the wrong flavors and it would be easier and less painful for me to just by myself chocolates when I have the craving.<br /><br />Maybe it's just the price of growing up and older. Some holidays loose their luster, their magic. We hardly even celebrate our anniversary anymore. We eventually buy something that we both want (matching iPods, etc.) and chalk it up to an anniversary present. Cross one more thing off that to-do list, right? Cutting back on the gift-giving and celebrations just makes life a little less stressful.<br /><br />But maybe also just a little bit dull.<br /><br /><br /><i><small>Song title: Valentine Day Massacre by Cilvaringz</i></small>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-92163903384520841212009-02-10T09:04:00.000-08:002009-02-10T09:12:48.291-08:00A Secret SecretI have a secret.<br /><br />Did I mention that I'm terrible with secrets?<br /><br />I'll be able to tell you about this secret in a few weeks, but I do fear that if I don't get to talk about it soon my brain will explode in to tiny little gossiping fragments, killing me instantly and/or resulting in an orgasmic relief of story-telling.<br /><br />I <i>will</i> say that what I may or may not be able to talk about may or may not have something or nothing to do with an event I participated in last night.<br /><br />And it was FUCKING AWESOME.<br /><br />You WILL be jealous.<br /><br />Let's just say it is the fodder for many a fantasy now.<br /><br />Sigh.<br /><br />I promise to write up the post today (so I don't forget anything juicy) and post it as soon as I'm given the Thumbs Up from the (wo)Man in Charge. There will be photos too.<br /><br /><br /><i><small>A Secret Secret by Ashley Stove</i></small>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-70367367989046169832009-02-09T06:34:00.000-08:002009-02-09T06:34:00.192-08:00I'll Tell the WorldI'm trying to figure out a funny way to tell my friends and family that we're pregnant (when it happens - don't freak out on me; I'm not pregnant yet!). Last time, Mr. Bee sent out an email to our friends:<br /><br /><blockquote><i><b>Subject: Life-altering Health Issue</b><br /><br />Dear Friends,<br /><br />I don't mean to catch you off-guard by any of this, but (Mama Bee) has a doctor's appointment soon and we may have less than 8 months left. We don't think it's contagious, but we're pretty sure I gave it to her (don't worry, I don't expect to give it to anyone else). If it turns out she got it from someone else I'll be very upset.<br /><br />(Mama Bee)'s appearance may be significantly affected and our lives will definitely be changed forever.<br /><br />We will need your support and encouragement during this terrifying time (for Kola <small>[our dog at the time]</small>). No, really. Baby toys scare the shit out of her.<br /><br />- Mr. Bee</i></blockquote><br /><br />I definitely need to start brainstorming...<br /><br /><br /><i><small>Song title: I'll Tell the World by Ever Stays Red</i></small>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-12264324120523332882009-02-07T07:33:00.001-08:002009-02-07T07:40:20.934-08:00(almost) Wordless Weekend<center>Quite possibly the best (read: worst) photo ever taken of me.</center><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeB11wmNcVnTtHNXXaDXNugL-wFXtTNcGQJIRZobwcx93m7RjCsKT75KnDAgKQTDnM1ClS_779H0c_dLyReR9hKa9kNg4Sg6nI2-ceQSuPdYtNmWg4fnxCr9CHhy65wWMVLB5Aa71C0gw/s1600-h/bestphotoever.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 370px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeB11wmNcVnTtHNXXaDXNugL-wFXtTNcGQJIRZobwcx93m7RjCsKT75KnDAgKQTDnM1ClS_779H0c_dLyReR9hKa9kNg4Sg6nI2-ceQSuPdYtNmWg4fnxCr9CHhy65wWMVLB5Aa71C0gw/s400/bestphotoever.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300079364613754930" /></a><center><i><small><a href="momtobee.blogspot.com/2008/12/celebrate-and-party.html">Santabator 2008</a></i></small></center><br /><br />Things to Note about said photo:<br /><ol>1. Sadly, this actually <i>isn't</i> the worst photo ever taken of me. At least my makeup and hair look pretty good. Shit, I might use this for my <a href="http://www.facebook.com">Facebook </a>photo from now on...<br /><br />2. Mrs. J stealthily hiding behind her glass of vodka with a splash of vodka.<br /><br />3. Mrs. J's husband's (Mr. J) freakishly large elf ear.</ol>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-38302676012039106522009-02-06T16:29:00.000-08:002009-02-06T16:31:42.704-08:00A Little Help From My FriendsI need some serious HTML help!<br /><br />What did I do to my blog to make that horrible poopy color show up in the header and footer? And why doesn't my blog header ever just stay automatically in the center?! ARG!!<br /><br /><br /><i><small>Song title: A Little Help From My Friends by Joe Cocker</i></small>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-67403163284568268782009-02-06T13:41:00.000-08:002009-02-06T14:00:58.625-08:00Force FeedSo any of you that subscribe to my blog via a feed site (Google Reader or whatnot) have noticed that I changed my settings to "partial feed". That means that now instead of just reading a post in your reader, you actually have to click over to my site to read the entire post. I'm hoping this will give me a more accurate reading of the number of people who have nothing better to do than read my nonsense!<br /><br /><center><script language="javascript" src="http://www.blogpoll.com/poll/view_Poll.php?type=java&poll_id=164919"></script><noscript><a href="http://www.blogpoll.com">Free Blog Poll</a></noscript></center> <br /><br /><i>Update to add: Now that I got all fancy and shit with the poll, my header and footer are featuring this beautiful poo colored background. That's what I get for trying to play with the Big Girls.</i><br /><br /><br /><i><small>Song title: Force Feed by Agnostic Front</small></i><small></small>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-27263003343107101342009-02-06T04:00:00.000-08:002009-02-06T04:00:00.676-08:00Vagina Ice<small><i>Surprisingly, I only had three song title choices that included the word 'vagina'. "Moist Vagina" by Nirvana just seemed inappropriate. I </i>do<i> have limits, people.</i></small><br /><br />It seems that my fans have one thing on their minds lately: random women's vaginas. But hey, who am I to judge?<br /><br />First off this week, we've got a Baltimore woman who decided to donate a kidney to her niece. THROUGH HER VAGINA. Apparently the procedure is less painful and produces less scarring.<br /><br />Huh.<br /><br />"It was easier than childbirth," said VagKidneyWoman, who has three children.<br /><br />Fancy that. Maybe because a kidney is the size of a human fist. Jesus, I could pop a fist out of my vagina any day of the week! Let alone with medical assistance.<br /><br />And in case you were worried about the poor niece who is now a vagkidney recipient, Dr. Vag said a plastic bag was placed into her abdominal cavity through a tiny incision protected the donated kidney from contamination by bacteria and other organisms in her vagina.<br /><br />Organisms? Really, though? If I was the VagChick I would be personally requesting that my doctor does not lead people to believe that I have Sea Monkeys living in my vagina.<br /><br /><br /><center>* * * * *</center><br />Elsewhere this week, a single 33-year-old <strike>crazy cat lady</strike> <strike>Child Collector</strike> woman with 6 kids already, gave birth to octuplets. That's 8 kids yo (for those of us that didn't major in Latin).<br /><br />Seriously?<br /><br />I have way too many thoughts about this. First of all, I'm pretty sure I'd be eating the business end of a <strike>gun</strike> <strike>donut</strike> plane ticket to Belize if I had six children. But what kind of fucked up person then decides to implant 8+ embryos in their vagina?!<br /><br />Apparently a woman who thinks having litters of kids will bring her fame and free shit. Oh wait, what? Yeah, that's *right* lady. No one wants to give you any free shit to sponsor because You. Are. Crazy.<br /><br />I'm LOVING that all the baby product companies in the world are like, "uh, yeah. No thanks. We'll pass on this one..." because the situation is so obviously fucked up and the mom is <strike>crazy</strike> <strike>a crack smoker for wanting so many babies</strike> mentally unstable.<br /><br />Honestly, I don't know which is worse: the "mom" (and I use the term looooooooosely) or the doctor(s) involved. What was the doctor thinking?! I've heard rumors that the "mom" lied to the doctors about the situation, but still. Epic Fail for the doc, for sure.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLmhsYoEr2UjIzuVkhaAqg73bt-nHRVv0_kMl9h2phnVZud9DMP6mrG29Sd8mpVlpKHFKvrXxcexjGWiqbleAXbMt0H4kt2Xy0O3QTyXBZB5OvyAxu8_c3DmXtUx8FBKG_JFZbdVJCt_Q/s1600-h/birthcontrol.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 319px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLmhsYoEr2UjIzuVkhaAqg73bt-nHRVv0_kMl9h2phnVZud9DMP6mrG29Sd8mpVlpKHFKvrXxcexjGWiqbleAXbMt0H4kt2Xy0O3QTyXBZB5OvyAxu8_c3DmXtUx8FBKG_JFZbdVJCt_Q/s400/birthcontrol.png" border="0" alt="PLEASE!"id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299476312157229650" /></a><br /><br /><center>* * * * *</center><br />Lastly, I'd like to send my thoughts out to Statler this week. Statler's dog was just diagnosed with cancer and it's been really rough on her, so just wanted to give her a shout-out and let her know that we're all thinking about her! XOXO<br /><br /><br /><i><small>PS: NOT a good idea to Image Google Search "vagina" thinking you'll be able to bypass all the p0rn and just find a funny image to use on your blog.</i></small><br /><br /><br /><small><i>Song title: Vagina Ice by Bliss N Eso</i></small>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-44258716492570776472009-02-04T15:40:00.000-08:002009-02-04T15:40:00.658-08:00What You Don't Know - Part Three<b>11. I like happy songs.</b><br />I can appreciate the beauty of slow songs, but I'm really not a fan. If the song has a happy beat, I'm a happy listener. I also REALLY love to sing, in the car, by myself, alone. But I have recently fallen in love with karaoke...Watch out, world.<br /><br /><b>12. I come from a family of very loud talkers and selective listeners.</b><br />I live in with the constant fear that I am talking way louder than I need to. My family also has a tendency to be very selective when listening to stories. That now is one of my biggest pet peeves - don't answer me a question if you don't want to know my answer.<br /><br /><b>13. I like to think I'm a funny person, but there are times I annoy even myself.</b><br />Besides being a mom, I don't know if anything gives me more joy than making someone laugh. But ironically, I also hate the spotlight. I'm constantly analyzing my behavior and trying to balance being funny and interjecting witty anecdotes without being overbearing and annoying.<br /><br /><b>14. I hate to buy anything not on sale.</b><br />A little piece of me dies when I have to pay full price and I lurves me some outlet malls. I can't remember the last time I spent full price on clothes. Okay, I lied, I bought a bunch of stuff at Old Navy a few weeks ago. But Old Navy definitely falls in to the not-full-price category since you can't really buy anything there that costs more than $15. The more money I save, the happier I am.<br /><br /><b>15. I really love personal questionnaires.</b><br />Honestly, it's because I know that I'll know all the answers! I'm retarded, I know. But I never have an answer for "What is your favorite color?"<br /><br /><center>* * * * *</center><br /><br />Sorry for the lack of clever posts this week. Trying to get a jump on cleaning the house and organizing, well, my life. And reading all the <a href="http://cynthialovespictures.blogspot.com/">horrible</a> <a href="http://half12.blogspot.com/">baby losses</a> on the interwebs has really bummed me out.<br /><br /><br /><i><small>Song title: What You Don't Know by Jon Randall</i></small>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-7159188345787372652009-02-02T10:52:00.000-08:002009-02-02T10:52:00.437-08:00What You Don't Know - Part Two<i>A continuation of the <a href="http://www.facebook.com">Facebook </a>25 Random Things <strike>You'd Rather Not Know</strike> About Me Meme</i><br /><br /><b>6. I think about death and funerals (mine, specifically) a lot.</b><br />I really don't know why, but I'm very fixated on my own funeral. I'm convinced that only like 4 people will go. Why I think about it or care, who knows. It's also really important to me to plan my will and funeral/wake, even though I have yet to begun planning either. I want the celebration of my <strike>death</strike> life to be as inappropriate and fun as I am.<br /><br /><b>7. I cry VERY easily.</b><br />Maybe it's because I'm thinking about people dying all the time? Really though, it doesn't take much as Sissy and a few of my friends could tell you. I think I am the polar opposite of Mrs. J in that way!<br /><br /><b>8. I love my family.</b><br />In today's day, my family is weirdly close. We love hanging out together and watching the kids play. My parents crack me up and I hope to continue to be an exact combination of both my mom and my dad.<br /><br />My <i>older</i> (and only) sister, Sissy, is my best friend. Sissy and I speak on the phone usually by 9 or 10 in the morning most days. This will be the first of many phone calls during the day where we talk about <strike>the need for Calgon to take us away immediately</strike> anything and everything. If we <i>do</i> go a day without speaking, it's just <i>wrong</i>. We also have many nicknames for each other including, but not limited to: Hook, Hooker, Beeyotch, Hookity Hook, well, you get the idea...<br /><br /><b>9. I totally believe in "Friends at first sight".</b><br /><a href="http://momtobee.blogspot.com/2008/07/one-of-these-things-is-not-like-other.html">I talked about it a while ago</a>, but I totally believe in friends at first sight. My usual technique for testing out my theory is this:<br />a) See person and note "future friend" feeling.<br />b) Expose said person to inappropriate jokes and uncontrollable Tourette's.<br />c) If said person responds in kind, then consider yourself my friend.<br /><br /><b>10. I always pee with the door open.</b><br />You might be thinking, "well yeah, as a mom, I always have to pee with the door open now or my kid will freak out." That's true. But Mr. Bee (sorry to "out" you, honey) and I just had never closed the door around each other. So much for the romance, right? I mean, it's not like we'll just hang out in the bathroom together while one person is dropping a deuce or anything. We just never close the door. Unless people are over or we're at someone else's house. 'Cause that'd just be weird, yo.<br /><br /><br /><i>TO BE CONTINUED...</i><br /><br /><br /><i><small>Song title: What You Don't Know by Jon Randall</i></small>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-4369644079292623942009-01-31T08:41:00.001-08:002009-01-31T08:46:24.896-08:00(almost) Wordless Weekend<center>Our 2008 Christmas Card</center><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Ax7wvFI4Ikusx0Kura2QTSmuQoYe8sZo95LnoV0i7fLa5Hb11NkGgK47VP9eb9WmGEvui5B1l2xuxCsU-CyF81w_9n4KtsizoK5IxZ4v0LTtw7nok6pi5v2DZxRuKsYrN5BGMyCgkTI/s1600-h/ChristmasCard.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 277px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Ax7wvFI4Ikusx0Kura2QTSmuQoYe8sZo95LnoV0i7fLa5Hb11NkGgK47VP9eb9WmGEvui5B1l2xuxCsU-CyF81w_9n4KtsizoK5IxZ4v0LTtw7nok6pi5v2DZxRuKsYrN5BGMyCgkTI/s400/ChristmasCard.jpg" alt="Doesn't Santa look PISSED?" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297499255533742194" border="0" /></a><center>And, yeah, our Christmas cards went out like 3 weeks <i>after</i> Christmas this year. I blame it mostly on my <strike>lack of ambition</strike> Snowpacolypse 2008 which lost the package from Snapfish. Probably would've been helpful if we had even remembered we had ordered the cards before January came and went...</center>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-67738132465791807662009-01-30T09:15:00.000-08:002009-02-02T09:49:03.725-08:00What You Don't Know - Part OneSo I've been tagged on <a href="http://www.facebook.com/">Facebook </a>about a billion times in the last week or so for this 25 Random Things About You thingy.<br /><br />Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 (uh, yeah, I hardly know 25 people, so I'm only going to tag a few) people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.<br /><br />As I write this post, I am quickly realizing that it will be <i>really</i> long. So this will be my first installment of Things You Don't <strike>Care To</strike> Know About Me.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1. I can paint.</span><br />Since I haven't painted in a while, and it's not the kind of thing you just carry around with you, a lot of people don't know about my paintings. My two favorite paintings are <a href="http://momtobee.blogspot.com/2009/01/this-year.html">the one I already showed you</a>, and a painting of a row boat that I gave my parents years ago. One of these days I'll get better photos of them to show y'all.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">2. I'm seriously afraid of heights.</span><br />I always knew that I wasn't a huge fan of heights, but until about 7 years ago, I didn't realize how severe it was. Mr. Bee and I had just started dating and he decided it would be super duper fun to go bungee jumping. We drove down to <strike>the middle of fucking no where</strike> somewhere around Mount Saint Helens so the boys could jump off of <a href="http://www.bungee.com/bzapp/">highest legal bungee bridge in the United States.</a> Yaaaaaaay.<br /><br />Okay, so this bridge is approximately <i>8 billion miles</i> above the ground. It is a one-lane concrete bridge with one side that is completely unprotected. The other side has a grated walkway with a shabby railing made out of metal pipe. Oh, and did I mention that one side is completely <i>un-railed</i>?! Holy shit, I'm having a panic attack just <i>thinking</i> about it...<br /><br />Needless to say, my chicken shit ass was walking right down the middle of the road, trying not to look over either side. When it was Mr. Bee's turn to jump, everyone insisted that I at least come over to the railing to get a better look. That's when I realized how severe my fear is. For the first time ever, I literally could not make my body move over toward the railing. It was bad enough that I would have to stand on grating (which enabled me to see straight down underneath myself), but that railing looked like it was built by a retarded monkey after a stroke. There was NO WAY I was going to lean up against that shit.<br /><br />And that, my friends, was when I realized that all those stupid people on the Amazing Race who cry when forced up on a tall bridge or have to bungee jump off the Space Needle or something are not stupid after all. They're just like me.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">3. I have 5 years of learning Spanish under my belt.</span><br />...and all I can say is "Me llamo Mama Bee" and "Yo quiero Taco Bell."<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4. I have a law degree.</span><br />This is always followed up with "Did you practice?" or "Did you take the Bar exam?" to which I promptly laugh and say, "You mean I was supposed to <i>use</i> the piece of paper on my wall that cost $140,000?". Oh yes, my friends. I could buy a house (somewhere, I'm sure) for how much my degree cost.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">5. Out of the (I'm guessing) couple hundreds of classmates of mine from law school, I only know the names of about 10 people.</span><br />You know that song <a href="http://lyrics.astraweb.com/display/589/bowling_for_soup..the_great_burrito_extortion_case..high_school_never_ends.html">"High School Never Ends"</a>? Well, law school was like high school with huge amounts of alcohol, prescription drug abuse, and sex. You know, MORE of that stuff than in high school.<br /><br />Law school was also full of cliques. Groups were pretty tight and therefore you really only hung out regularly with your own friends. This lead to MANY nicknames being created for, well, the entire population of the law school practically. Some of the names I remember: Monkey Girl (girl REALLY looked like a monkey, I shit you not), Meth Mouth, Arch Nemisis (man, I fucking hated that guy), Robot, Psycho, Skunk, Ken (of Ken and Barbie), Peg Bundy... I'm pretty sure everyone else was generally referred to as "Douche" or "Asshole" - there were a LOT of those. It <i>was</i> law school after all.<br /><br />Anywho, I didn't realize how bad it was until graduation. Each classmate was called on stage by name to receive their diploma. With each and every classmate, I remember thinking, "Ooooh! THAT was her name?! Huh."<br /><br />Now years after graduation, I have tons of people that ask me if I know so and so and I have NO idea unless they specify that "Janet Smith" really was called "Stink McPoopyPants".<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><small>Song title: What You Don't Know by Jon Randall</small></i><small></small>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-32956110746755241562009-01-28T12:00:00.000-08:002009-01-28T12:00:00.953-08:00Baby Don't You Break My Heart Slow<center><b>Momnesia:<i> the mental fuzziness and memory lapses that set in shortly after childbirth</i></b></center><br />For those of you without children, there is a funny thing that happens the very instant you blow out your vagina: you forget all about it. More accurately, you forget about all the shitty stuff that you had to endure during the 10 months of pregnancy.<br /><br />Oh, you thought pregnancy only lasted 9 months? How sweet.<br /><br />But that is a post for another day...<br /><br />My memories of even attempting to conceive Baby Bee are fuzzy. But through attempting to conceive Cletus the Fetus (also known as Baby Numero Dos), I recently recalled one of the (many) crappy aspects of trying to have a baby:<br /><br />The Negative Pregnancy Test.<br /><br />As I've said before, when I'm <strike>bored</strike>, <strike>hungry</strike>, <strike>sleepy</strike>, (fill in the adjective blank) <a href="http://momtobee.blogspot.com/2009/01/oops-i-did-it-again.html">I like to pee on things.</a> But peeing on prego sticks is not all happy rainbows and unicorns and whatnot. It's actually beyond heart-breaking when you <i>don't</i> see that happy little plus sign or double line or whatever.<br /><br />It wasn't until Mr. Bee and I decided to start trying to get pregnant that we realized that it's not always that easy. With Baby Bee, I got off birth control at the start of the new year and thought that I would with child in no time. I mean, Sissy pretty much only has to wink at her husband and she's prego. But fast forward 6 months later and no baby, just baby blues.<br /><br />It's then that I joined a club of sorts. The I'm-Having-Troubles-Getting-Pregnant Club.<br /><br />Before I go on, I must apologize to all the women out there reading that are <i>still</i> having troubles getting pregnant. They must be reading this and thinking I am the biggest whiner ever. I can't imagine what it must be like to struggle for a year or years or forever without having a baby.<br /><br />Since you spend your pre-child-bearing years trying so hard to NOT have a baby, I think the majority of us figure that when we decide to have a baby, it'll be easy, right? I mean, all that birth control wasn't for nothing.<br /><br />However, for some of us, it's not that easy. Without even trying I can think of a half dozen women my age (late twenties/early thirties) who had real serious trouble conceiving. In fact, one of my friends has been trying to get pregnant since <i>before</i> I was even thinking about getting pregnant with Baby Bee. It puts so much in perspective to think about those women. The women that would give <i>anything</i> just to see that double blue line on their pee stick.<br /><br />But the test is negative. Again. So you must start <i>another</i> month of trying and hoping and keeping your fingers crossed that this month, well, <i>this</i> month will be different.<br /><br />And while you wait for that baby to come in to your life, you hear on the news about girls tossing their babies out like trash. Recently, here in Washington, a teenager (with the help of her father - good parenting) gave birth and killed her baby, throwing it in the dumpster behind her house.<br /><br />Or you hear about people just "accidentally" getting pregnant. Like when I was trying to get pregnant with Baby Bee, my neighbor's eighteen year old boy accidentally knocked up his seventeen year old girlfriend.<br /><br />Really though?<br /><br />I'm planning my sex down to the day and you "accidentally" get Little Miss High School Musical prego?!<br /><br />But there's nothing you can do. You just have to get back in the game after every set-back:<br /><br />1. Have sex. (okay, that part doesn't suck)<br />2. Wait.<br />3. Pee.<br /><br />and, unfortunately,<br /><br />4. Repeat as necessary.<br /><br /><br /><i><small>Song title: Baby Don't You Break My Heart Slow by Vonda Shepard</small></i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-18152949506214605202009-01-28T09:46:00.001-08:002009-01-28T09:49:25.493-08:00Do You Want To Break Up?I think I found out <a href="http://momtobee.blogspot.com/2009/01/karma-comes-back-around.html">who stop following me</a> and I think it was one of my favorite bloggers.<br /><br />Sigh.<br /><br /><br /><i><small>Do You Want To Break Up? by Eurythmics</i></small>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-10155122182253455652009-01-27T07:36:00.000-08:002009-01-27T09:56:51.964-08:00This Year<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmuPoWqAQs-TxcheeZb4HHdxOAYDYeC3zEcy1IJP7XcSMBjODfChYhgF04wv8b2jC8j4Y2cTu1djppLw4ut0Y9Ezs0PRX3LcE9OGGZ5tKslMveZV2HAc6BSvFLQkVXJvpKSkb-XpSmiSk/s1600-h/LostAtSea.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmuPoWqAQs-TxcheeZb4HHdxOAYDYeC3zEcy1IJP7XcSMBjODfChYhgF04wv8b2jC8j4Y2cTu1djppLw4ut0Y9Ezs0PRX3LcE9OGGZ5tKslMveZV2HAc6BSvFLQkVXJvpKSkb-XpSmiSk/s200/LostAtSea.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295658994976356706" border="0"></a><br /><i>This year, is gonna be incredible<br />This year, is gonna be the one<br />All the planets are lining up for me<br />This year, I'm gonna have fun<br />This year, I paint a masterpiece<br />This year, I'll be recognized...</i><br /><br /><br />I'm not really a New Years Resolution kind of girl. With that said, I think that there are definitely things I can work on. I heard the song "This Year" on my iPod the other day and thought, "Why can't this be *my* year?!" So here is my list of things I hope to accomplish in 2009...<br /><br /><font style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">1. Exercise at least two times a week.</font><br />That shit ain't gonna happen unless I plan for it. Tomorrow I'm going to sit down and figure out a schedule for exercising, whether it be every other day or only two times a week. But sista, I need to slim down before (the not-yet-conceived) Cletus turns me in to the Michelin Man again.<br /><br /><font style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">2. Watch less television.</font><br />Hahahahahaha, yeah right! This one actually applies to Baby Bee. I'm so crazy proud of how smart she is and I give a lot of credit to the educational programming she watches, but I feel like she's watching just a bit too much right now. I'm sure every one else will gasp as this "new time allotment", but I'm gonna try to keep her down to under 2 hours a day. The girl loves her frickin' shows, what can I say?<br /><br /><font style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">3. Find time to paint more.</font><br />See that really blurry photo at the top of this post? Yeah, I painted that! Not too shabby, right? I absolutely love to paint, but I haven't gotten to pick up a paint brush (to paint something other than the walls) for about a year with the move and whatnot. Even though it will require cleaning up the office/craft/painting room, I'm determined to not only pick up a paint brush again soon, but to finish a large scale project I've been <strike>not</strike> working on for a while.<br /><br /><font style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">4. Stop comparing myself to others.</font><br />Whether it be fashion, weight, houses, salary, etc., I'm constantly comparing and judging myself against other people. I even compare how clean I keep the house to ridiculously high standards like <a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/">Martha Stewart</a>. I need to teach myself that being an adult doesn't equate to being <font style="font-style: italic;">perfect</font> all the time. Adults make mistakes. Adults make messes.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">5. Have more fun.</span><br />The last <strike>few</strike> five summers have been far too busy with weddings on Saturdays and wedding rehearsals on Fridays. I'm hoping this year to have some time off and to fill that time with children's museums, trips to the park and the beach, play dates with new friends and old ones, and trips out to our family lake house in <strike>the middle of no where</strike> Shelton.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">6. Be a better friend.</span><br />I don't think that I'm a bad friend. In fact, I try really hard to be a dependable and fun friend to every one <strike>I like</strike> I know. But I could be better. I also want to make time for each and every friend and get to know my friends on a deeper level.<br /><br /><i><b>7. Accept my weight/physical appearance for what it is.</b></i><br />I do not think I am a pretty woman. In fact, I hate 99.99% of all photos of me. But I need to wrap my head around the fact that (1) people probably do not think I'm as ugly as I think I am, (2) I probably do not look as fat as I think I am, and (3) who the frick cares? I'm hoping to become healthier/thinner through my exercising (see #1), but this face ain't going any where. So I probably need to just deal with the fact that I am what I am (yes, I'm quoting Popeye. You gotta a problem with that?)<br /><br /><i><b>8. Write gooder on this blog.</b></i><br />'nuf said.<br /><br /><i><b>9. Start compiling my ideas in to a book.</b></i><br />Oh yeah, I've become one of *those* bloggers. But hey, I'm not looking to write the next Great American Novel. Just something funny for moms and moms to be.<br /><br /><i><b>10. Keep making people laugh.</b></i><br />It humbles me (and makes me poo myself with happiness) that people actually find this POS blog entertaining! I resolve to keep trying my hardest to find relevant topics to mock, controversies to dispute, and keep supplying you with an endless variety of synonyms for the vagina.<br /><br />As a sidenote, I must add that yours truly at <a href="http://www.momtobee.blogspot.com">Mom to Bee</a> exposed her 5 year old niece to the word "vagina" for the first time yesterday. Sissy got the great opportunity to answer the age old question "what is a vagina?" followed up with "What are pads/tampons for?"<br /><br />You're welcome.<br /><br /><br /><i><small>Song title: This Year by Chantal Kreviazuk</small></i><small></small>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5290015031848198150.post-32373784529734053212009-01-26T16:00:00.000-08:002009-01-26T16:00:01.006-08:00Family ScripturesI just sat down and watched a few episodes of <a href="http://www.tlc.discovery.com/">"17 Kids and Counting"</a>, including "The Very Duggar Wedding" episode. Here are a few of my thoughts:<br /><br />1. What<br /><br />2. The<br /><br />3. Fuck<br /><br />No seriously, what the hell is going on with these people?! First of all, Mrs. Duggar's baby hole must be the size of a manhole <i>{rim shot}</i> by now. Having so many kids is just, well, WRONG. The thought of having more than two kind of makes me throw up in my mouth a bit. Imagine having SEVENTEEN!?!?! Shit, make that EIGHTEEN now. Holy crap balls.<br /><br />And those poor kids. The oldest children I'm sure never got to be that. Children. Even on the episode before the "big wedding", the parents were commenting on how hard it was taking care of the younger kids without the older girls around.<br /><br />But let's talk weddings (my specialty):<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl5hA8M_L_mzyXPOPgrFyrb3oMYy7TuMumiqqgZHR0wbB7uJb8dX-FOWKneXOz6zsi5pzQW3KIXQ6_PyuwHQMtoC6jyh-xMiJCUXuGHgq3mpU9cpXNBmGhMavlWJfHkb48tLehu_c-F-o/s1600-h/duggarweddingdress.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 131px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl5hA8M_L_mzyXPOPgrFyrb3oMYy7TuMumiqqgZHR0wbB7uJb8dX-FOWKneXOz6zsi5pzQW3KIXQ6_PyuwHQMtoC6jyh-xMiJCUXuGHgq3mpU9cpXNBmGhMavlWJfHkb48tLehu_c-F-o/s200/duggarweddingdress.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295736726659626818" border="0" /></a><b>(1) Wedding dresses with sleeves are HAWT.</b><br />Nothing says "I dress to impress" more than an ill-fitting wedding dress with sleeves. Because God hates shoulders, dontcha know? And while we're on the topic of fashion, what's the deal with this Anna chick being so matchy matchy? When Josh (Okay, I was seriously going to make up some random degrading name for the Groom - something like "Jim Bob" - until I realized that Jim Bob is actually the name of the Duggar dad. Really though? Geez.), Okay when Josh proposes to Anna, she and her mom are wearing matching shirts. Then, when Josh and Anna get their marriage license, they are wearing matching striped polo shirt! What is this, twin tolo?! Oh yeah, and let's not forget that Josh proposed to her with balloons in like a T.G.I.Fridays. Keep it classy, Duggars.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBrHwKeGrYgRIKgtwrcHfedf6kUwKJsH5CM3-kz6TPbg2EZxJ9OUPWVfZ9QT7j0lKzPtLbmFyrYJvpbdm24gzJWAX5qKeIFbm6DcFfAvytfyFF41R4raASYEz6Pdw6QXvClhgne2Ii7pk/s1600-h/jessiespano.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 131px; height: 140px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBrHwKeGrYgRIKgtwrcHfedf6kUwKJsH5CM3-kz6TPbg2EZxJ9OUPWVfZ9QT7j0lKzPtLbmFyrYJvpbdm24gzJWAX5qKeIFbm6DcFfAvytfyFF41R4raASYEz6Pdw6QXvClhgne2Ii7pk/s200/jessiespano.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295753239305538322" border="0" /></a><b>(2) Spiral perms are so <strike>1980s</strike> 2009.</b><br />Apparently the Duggar girls keep their hair long because "our dad likes long hair, so we try to keep our hair long." Excuse me a second while I vomit up my lunch...<br /><br />They also perm their hair regularly. I blame this on a prohibition of television that must have occurred after the last episode of Saved by the Bell. Jessie Spano is super rad, y'all.<br /><br /><b>(3) Saving themselves for marriage.</b><br />Okay, so up until college I was all gun-ho for the saving yourself for marriage thang. I even got irritated at women who weren't virgins having the cajones to wear white on the wedding day. Oh yeah, I was *that* girl. But roughly 10 years later, I am somewhat older and wiser. I won't bore you with the crude "you'd never buy a car without test driving it first, would you?" (oh wait, I just did. Sorry.) but let's just say I'm supportive of people saving themselves for love, but maybe not marriage.<br /><br /><b>(4) Saving their FIRST KISS for marriage.</b><br />Really, though? Does this even require commentary from me?! Like you don't have enough pressure on your wedding night if you're a bunch of virgins; now let's add kissing to the list. I haven't kissed a ton of boys in my time, but I've kissed enough to know that you would DEFINITELY want to test drive that shit before marriage. {shudders with memories of horrific kissers in past}<br /><br /><b>(5) (Not wedding related, but oh well) Duggar Home Guidelines.</b><br />I couldn't possibly mock all of them, but here are some of my favorites:<br />~ Don’t mock or put others down. (Aaaaahahahahahaha! Oh, uh, oops?)<br />~ Never argue, complain, or blame. (What fun is that?!)<br />~ Think pure thoughts (Philippians 4:8, Romans 13:14). <a href="http://www.blogger.com/momtobee.blogspot.com/2008/12/christmas-is-coming.html">(What do you think?)</a><br />~ Always give a good report of others. Don't gossip! (Again, what fun is that?)<br />~ Amendment J.O.Y. - Put Jesus first, Others second, Yourself last. (I won't go in to my religious beliefs but I don't think anything good can come of putting yourself LAST! Oy, people.)<br /><br /><br />Oh my God! I almost forgot the best part! The show was sponsored by the Plan B birth control pill! Oh, the irony! AAAAAAhahahahahahahahahahahah!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRFQlVnBce1zrzCwoIlcPZY7xjCX_abDTUnpCuFn34x8WTrU5bxUAuq2VRyxzVfgWQBjwh1cWHBWbq8FnnqTsb0g-J4cD_5oQD9aeU9YOhw6qpvshNYzx9v_GjWKrTtQmJjZ1qcNHdA_8/s1600-h/DuggarVagina.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRFQlVnBce1zrzCwoIlcPZY7xjCX_abDTUnpCuFn34x8WTrU5bxUAuq2VRyxzVfgWQBjwh1cWHBWbq8FnnqTsb0g-J4cD_5oQD9aeU9YOhw6qpvshNYzx9v_GjWKrTtQmJjZ1qcNHdA_8/s400/DuggarVagina.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295749690252790770" border="0" /></a><br />Lastly, because it is completely unrelated (I'm having one of those "start 27 blog posts but never finish any of them" kind of days), I am watching NBC's The Last Templar right now and it sucks monkey balls. Mira Sorvino chasing down a Templar Knight on a police horse in a ball gown? Are you shitting me? I swear Sorvino is the worst actress EVAR.<br /><br />But Scott Foley is yummy.<br /><br /><br />Oh, and PS: Don't be like the Duggars. They are Crazy with a capital WTF.<br /><br /><br /><i><small>Song title: Family Scriptures by Mo' Thugs</small></i><small></small>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7