Who done it?! 
The paranormal shit in our house is totally out of fucking control. Now, when a door is supposed to be locked and isn't.... or water is left running in the kitchen... or closet lights are left on all day... or dog hair is mysteriously all over the sofa... or the thermostat is supposed to be on 72 and instead is on 70... we all blame the damn ghost because NOBODY else "did it".  The ghost is fucking with us, I think.  Because nothing irks Hubber like someone jacking with his A/C thermostat.  Well, accept for maybe me poking him in his arm pit.... or someone parking in front of the mailbox... or dog shit in the front yard... or empty wine glasses.  Oh, wait. Forget that last one. That's one of mine.  I think we need to set a trap and nip this ghost shit in the butt once and for all. Too bad that little squeaky lady from Poltergiest died...she would have been an awesome trap setter!
Needing a Permanent Vacation... 

So, we're in the throes of planning our next vacation. I know what you're thinking, "Damn, didn't y'all just get back from vacation a few weeks ago?"  And, yes, we did.  And the day I went back to work, I immediately began anticipating the next one. As did everyone else in my household, evidently, because every single one of them have a different idea of what we should be doing.  I wanted to chill at the beach.  With my dog.

J: I want to go to New York City to see a broadway show and the Statue of Liberty.

Lil J:  I wanna have a baycayshun!

Hubber: I'd be happy just having a staycation so there's no money spending and debauchery involved.

Me: Y'all are nuts. We're going to the beach.

Lil J: I wanna go to the beach for baycayshun!

Sis: Hey, we want to go with y'all on vacation!  Why don't you ever invite us to go?!

Me: You can come, shit.

Sis: Good. Let's go on a cruise.

Me: WTF?!

J: Ooooh....I know what would be totally like awesome!  Let's go amusement park hopping!

Me: Yeeeah....we can finally go to Dollywood!  And Graceland!

Hubber:  Graceland is not an amusement park, you're thinking of Neverland.  Besides, there are three parks in Texas...if you count Sea World....so we could save tons of money on gas!

Lil J: I don't want to go to Texas for baycayshun!!  Texas is dumb!

Sis: If we go on a cruise, we'll never have to see our kids!

Me: Where the hell is my passport!?

I have a feeling we'll never agree on what to do, so I might have to flex my mommy muscles soon in order to get shit to go my way.  There's got to be a way to incorporate my dog, Elvis, amusement parks, kid-free zones, AND the beach in this plan.
Feeling Kinda Bitchy...

My allergies have been kicking my ass lately. Evidently, Houston is experiencing historically high pollen counts and it’s that shit that is wreaking havoc on my sinuses. I am now on antibiotics for a sinus infection which means no booze for 10 days. That shit is fucked up. How’s a girl to get her thrills? And my jackass doctor said that wine counts as booze. So…basically, it’s ok for a pregnant woman to drink a couple of glasses of wine a day, but a totally UNpregnant woman with a sinus infection can’t?! WTF? Something ain’t right with this picture. And, as if that piece of news wasn’t bad enough… I had to do blood work while I was at the doctor. I try to tell those bitches that I have only one good vein, but they don’t listen…so now I look like a junkie with track marks all over my arm from where they poked me and no blood flowed.

In other news… Work sucks, y’all. I’m finding it hard to listen to these yip yappers without getting the sudden urge to poke them in the eyes with my pen. Maybe being sick has drained me of patience, I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m about to go postal if they don’t get out of my face with all their nonsense. Smiling and nodding and NOT listening to them seems to work for a few minutes…the trick is to get them out of my office before I lose my shit. I’ve tried singing songs in my head. I’ve tried imagining the yip yapper with a tiny Beatlejuiced head. I’ve tried imagining I could do a Chuck Norris kick to their head and snap their neck in two seconds. I’ve tried counting the number of times they blink their eyes…or look at my boobs… or say “like”…or “and uhm”. All the while, smiling and nodding… like I give a shit. Maybe I’m just jonesing for some booze. Since I KNOW I can’t have any, it makes me want it even more which makes me irritable and totally intolerant… or intolerable… or both.
Excessive Booze, Paranormal Activity, Police Searches, Road Trips, BBQ Cook-Offs, Golf Tournaments...and all the other shit you've missed out on since my last post... 

So, let's see....where to start....where to start...?  I'm thinking the "excessive booze" doesn't really need explanation.  Because, really, y'all?  It's what I do.  I mean, I show up at my sister-in-law's house in Colorado, and what's there waiting for me?  Two bottles of vodka...HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!! 

Then, I put on my STFU shirt and pop into a bar on St. Patty's day and what do I get? Green beer.

Nice, huh?  Sometimes I wonder if I should be offended because everyone sees me as a skanky lush....but then, I think again....and I say, bring on the booze peeps!

But seriously, let's get down to biddness.  Turns out our house is haunted.  And, I blame my sister, because before she moved in, there were no ghosts here. But now, all kinds of crazy shit has happened.  We hear the shutters opening and closing....the attic fan vent opening and closing...knocks on the wall... and most recently, locked doors opening.  Yeah.  So, get this.  My obsessive, compulsive sister who checks 6 times to make sure doors are closed tightly and locked was the last person to leave the house one day.  And, we all rest easy knowing that she's the last one out the door because that means we can rest assured that all the doors are closed and locked...all the faucets are turned off...all the chi irons are unplugged...etc.  So, when J was the first to get home that particular afternoon, and the back door in the garage (leading into the house) was slightly ajar, she knew something was up.  Someone or SOMETHING had opened that door. 

Of course, we reacted like sane people and resisted the urge to call Ghost Hunters and called the cops, instead.   They searched the house and found no one there and nothing missing.  Which made me regret not calling Ghost Hunters afterall.  Mofo. The police search DID, however, make me aware of how ridiculously filthy my house was.  J had panties on the floor (what else is new)... Lil J had so many toys strewn about her room that the floor was nowhere to be seen and dog hair was an inch thick on the house floors that were actually visible....and let us not forget what "toy" was accidentally left on the master bathroom counter. Because, evidently, no one thinks it's their job to wash the damn thing and put it away! Do not get me started.

Enough about that.  So, the road trip we took was to Colorado to visit Hubber's peeps....who were great and showed us a fabulous time.  On the way back, we hung out in Amarillo to see Cadillac Ranch and to visit Palo Duro Canyon...both were awesome, by the way.

When Spring Break was over, it was back to work as usual.   Which meant a bbq cook-off that took place over the course of 3 days and consisted of an attendance of over 5,000 people...half of whom were drunk off their asses one night....then the planning of upcoming golf tournaments, a motorcycle/auto rally and a new subscription service newsletter.  Yippee.  Shit just never seems to slow down around here. It is nice to be able to stop and smell the roses once in a while, though, and that's what our road trip was to me.  I wish I could take a permanent road trip.

Teenagers, toddlers and other things I don't really like to talk to...

I'm not sure I like this new video chatting thing the kids are using these days. When I barge into my teenager's room half dressed, dropping f-bombs and tossing her dirty panties at her face because she keeps leaving them on the bathroom floor after her shower....I'd prefer not to have any witnesses present.  Especially little perverted boys. And especially when it's cold and I'm wearing a wife-beater tank and no bra...and there's a hole in the ass of the boxers I have on.  It kinda defeats the purspose of my dramatic exit.  But, it mortifies my kid.  And that ain't a bad thing.  Maybe it'll make her think twice before giving me a reason to burst into her room during her chat session.

J: MOOOOM....I'm on skype!

Me: I don't give a shit...you need to quit leaving your stanky drawers on the floor!

*snickering is heard from the computer*

J: And, why didn't you KNOCK?  You have no clothes on!

Me:  *looking down that the complete wreck that are the rags hanging from my body*  This is MY house, I can wear whatever I want.  And, until you start paying rent to live here, I don't have to knock on shit!

This is basically how all my conversations with J go these days.  Her, wanting her privacy. Me, reminding her that she has no privacy and embarrassing the living shit out of her. 

Conversations with lil J aren't much better, though.  Here's what happened when I asked her how her day went yesterday:

Me: How was your day?

lil J: It was awesome.

Me: Really?  What made it so awesome?

lil J: I didn't even get in trouble...and I did't have to sit on the blue rug OR go to the office ALL day!

Me: ??

lil J: guess what?!

Me: what?

lil J: fuck.

Me: uhm...

lil J: is that a bad word?

Me: yes.

lil J: oh, ok.

This is my life, y'all.
Long Duck Dong

My hair stylist's name is Duc. The first time I met him, he said, "My name is Duc - you know, like Long Duck Dong."  I fell in love with him immediately.  I quickly learned, though, that if Duc does your hair (or you want him to do your hair), you best be prepared to be broken and beaten down...and dragged through the muck that is your fucked up hair (because, until you have a fresh Duc do, your shit is fucked up...trust me).  I like to go 12 weeks before touching up my highlights and color. And in the hair dresser world, that is the hugest NO-NO ever.  Well, that, and having a long, nappy, fried mane.  So, if you don't want to hear "DAMN, GIRL, your hair looks like shit!" the second you walk through the door, Duc's not your man.  I happen to think his brutal honesty is refreshing.  If Duc's thinking it, you're gonna hear it.  Period.  And when I tell him that I hadn't been in to see him because I've been soooo poor lately, he says, "Yeah, it shows....I hope you don't go around telling people I do your hair when it looks like THAT!"  He's a straight-up Jackass. But I love him. And I miss him.  I did my own color this past weekend. He's going to kill me.
What's YOUR life plan?

That is the question J recently asked herself. She shared her plan with me once she had it all figured out...
  1. Find a high school sweetheart.Get good grades in highschool.
  2. Get scholarships for college.
  3. Go to college with high school sweetheart. (preferably to Texas A&M, but wouldn't turn down Harvard if they accepted her.)
  4. Graduate college and start a career.
  5. Get married to high school sweetheart.
  6. Travel the world with husband.
  7. Start a family - one daughter and one son.  (will consider adopting because the birthing process grosses her out)
I asked her when she planned on making tons of cash so she can take care of her parents in their golden years and she said she's pretty sure we can take care of ourselves.   What a selfish heifer.  Who the hell is going to pay for Hubber's nursing staff when he becomes an incontient, slobbering, blubbery mess?  She certainly doesn't expect that shit to fall on me!!  And what about when her sister ends up in prison?? Who's gonna send her cigarrettes?  Who's gonna make sure she makes her parole meetings when/if she gets out? She's gonna need to re-think this list. For sure.

So, anyway, I got to thinking about MY life plan.  Because, honestly, I hadn't given it much thought. Ever. I've been one of those "live for today" types of people. And I ain't getting any younger.  You know shit is going downhill when you discover you have a crazy hair on your chin that grows 7 inches OVERNIGHT.  And when you highlight your hair to cover the gray. And when you decide that eating anything after 7 pm is a BAAAAAD idea if you're going to sleep at 9.  I've turned into my mother and I haven't even traveled the world yet!  And according to J's plan...she'll have traveled the world BEFORE having children. Smart, huh? 

I'm not sure WTF happened to me along the way...and why, as anal as I am, I didn't come up with a clever plan like J's a long time ago.  Well, fuck it. Better late than never, eh?  So...here goes...
  1. Find a job/opportunity that pays better than the one I have and allows me to work a lot less than I do now.
  2. Kick my boss in the balls on my way out the door.
  3. Learn to be a ninja warrior - or at least to kick ass should the need arise.
  4. Renew my wedding vows and get a new wedding ring.
  5. Send J off to college.
  6. Remodel my kitchen.
  7. Spend a week on a tropical island.
  8. Visit California before it falls off the map.
  9. Send lil J off to college.
  10. Spend a St. Patrick's Day in Ireland.
  11. Take an Alaskan cruise.
  12. Spoil the living shit out of my grandchildren.
....to be continued.
Kicking Ass in 2010

New Year's Resolutions are evil. I'd like to start a petition to end this nonsense altogether. Because, really, NO ONE ever sticks to their resolutions.  Making them only makes you feel like a loser....a failure...a person on the verge of suicide.  Fat people want to get skinny.  Smokers want to stop smoking.  Alcoholics want to save their livers.  Sex fiends want to be virgins.  Blah Blah BLAH. You know what I want to resolve to doing?  Making more money and drinking more booze!  Oh, and learning how to kick ass.  In case I get abducted or something.  I don't want to pack heat, so the least I could do is learn how to stab someone in the neck with my pinky to debilitate them. I know what you're thinking....alls you have to do is knee them in the ball sack. Am I right, ladies? Well, what you probably should consider is that abductors may be on to us.  They know that we know that they know that we know their soft spots. So, they wear protection.  Like jock straps or something.  And what are we left with?  Bruised knees and broken toes!  That's why surprising them with killer Chuck Norris moves could prove to be more effective. Wait, I hate Chuck Norris.  Jackie Chan.  Let's go with him. Or, that guy that used to do those Tae-Bo videos?? YEAH!  He was tough.  I bet no one ever tried to abduct his ass! Or Steven Segal!  Or John Claude Van Dam!  Or Arnold Schwartzenager back in his Terminator days!  Or Daniel Craig.  Yeah.  No body messes with 007....lest they want to DIE....or have wild, bad boy sex.

What the fuck was I talking about again? 
Quilting. It's not just for grannies.

What started out as a wild hair up my ass has turned into this:

I'm doing that by hand, y'all. And I'm pretty damn good at it, too.  What I didn't realize is that pre-cut 4" quilting squares can get quite expensive.  So, I've gotta buy that shit on ebay because if I'm not careful, it'll start cutting into my booze money. Which, also, is not just for grannies. I'm just saying.   The other drawback is that once your family starts figuring out how fucking badass quilts are, they all start putting requests in.  The one above is for lil J...but now J wants a blue-themed one to match the walls in her room...and my neice wants one for princesses.  Shit.  Being crafty sucks sometimes. You know what else sucks?  You can buy a brand new, completed quilt on ebay for less than $100.  WTF, grannies?!  They're devaluing themselves. I've spent at least $100 already and I'm barely (almost) at the halfway point.  And when you take into consideration what my time is worth along with my blood, sweat, and tears...I've got to be $13,976.53 in the hole. Give or take. This shit is priceless, y'all! And these damn quilting grannies with their computerized sewing machines are really pissing me off.  What happened to the olden days when you quilted by HAND and peeps cherished this crap?  

Meanwhile, I'm getting a sewing machine for my birthday!  Yessir.  Because, fuck it.  I'm a sellout, too. I will say, though, that although I plan to use the sewing machine to quilt the top to the backing....I will continue sewing the top squares/designs by hand.  Because I'm awesome that way.  And I'm not a granny. Yet.
Oh, sweet geezus... 

I'm wondering what the hell I'm doing at work this week.  The only email I'm getting is spam and the only phone call I got today so far was from my sister.  My facebook farm is up-to-date.  My facebook sorority is kicking all kinds of beeyotch ass.  I'm all caught up on the blogs I like to follow.  I skimmed the newspaper from cover to cover.  I've had three cups of coffee.  I took a long lunch. I painted my toenails.  Twice.  I cleaned out my inbox.  And, it's barely 2:00. What a totally productive work day!

In other news, Christmas is behind us and we survived with minimal drama and maximum damage to the checkbook. So much for saving money for braces.  Now, the new year is on its way and I'm hoping to ring it in with minimal debauchery and maximum rest and relaxation...preferably in front of a roaring fire with a hot mug of "coffee" in my hands and pure trash on TV.

The world through the eyes of a 3-year-old...  

This is what you get when you buy a digital camera for a toddler: