This is how you piss people off at the grocery store....

1. Hog the entire aisle.  Park your cart on the left and stand in front of oncoming traffic and act like you can't find whatever it is you're looking for.  Also, act like you don't see anyone trying to get around you.  If they really wanted to get by, they'd say, "Excuse me."  Right? Right.

2. Put a bunch of crap in your cart and stroll around putting it all in places it doesn't belong.  Put some bacon near the canned goods.... frozen broccoli near a loaf of bread... toilet paper near the prune juice.  Wait. That last one kinda makes sense.

3. Bring the loudest, most annoying toddler with you to the store and either: a.) let them run around knocking crap over and leaving kid snot all over the non-perishables; or b.) strap them into the the cart seat and ignore them while they scream at the top of their lungs and pester the living shit out of everyone around you.

4. Whip out the coupons when you go to check out.  And when I say coupons, I mean STACKS of those badboys!  Everyone loves a good deal... sure, it'll piss the guy in back of you off, but when you save money at the grocery store, you have more cash for booze and whatnot... so screw it and get to clippin'!

5. Pay with a check.  Who the heck still writes checks these days?  You. That's who. And, you write slooooow.  Make sure to take some time rummaging in your handbag for a pen... and screw up and void at least one check before starting over...that will really set the next guy in line off!

Disclaimer

I thought I'd take a moment to clarify a couple of things about my blog in the very RARE instance that readers don't realize that this blog is meant to be HUMOROUS.  I don't actually spread my legs for followers; nor do I hate my children (usually).  I'm just a normal, everyday kind of gal who is stumbling through life WITH A SENSE OF HUMOR.  It's a shame we all weren't born with one of those, huh?

I'm officially a whore...

Damn.  I have FOLLOWERS!  I'm famous!  Who cares if my family and friends had to pimp me out all day?  I'll be a hooker for some blog followers.  No problemo.  Also, I found out yesterday that my pornstar name is Frisky Silkhole.  So, all you followers are lucky to have me!  You're welcome.  I take tips. 

And, now that I have followers and real live people reading this, I need to get a stripper pole installed.   What's a hooker without skills, y'all?  A broke hooker, that's what.  Momma's got mouths to feed...and shoes to buy... did I mention I take tips?  I accept paypal.  And cash. Tell your friends.

Happy Hump Day, Y'all!

Back in the day when I worked a 9-5 office job, I remember liking Wednesdays because it meant the worst of the week's bullshit was behind me and it was all downhill from there. Nowadays, though, everyday is like Wednesday....without the humps.  My days all seem to crash into each other.  Sometimes, my Friday is on everyone else's Monday because I anticipate the whole taking-youngest-spawn-to-school-and-getting-her-outta-my-hair thing that goes on Tuesday mornings.  Unless there's a staff meeting at the REAL office that day.  Then... it's like fate is playing a really cruel joke on me.... saying "HA! You only thought you were FREEE... but no, you're a prisoner for LIFE, Beeeyotch!"  Those are the times when the homicidal tendancies surface and all the idiots around me better get to running!  It's those times when I start counting down the days until all these writing gigs finally start  paying off and I can cash in and cash out!

Some people go to church on Sundays...

....this heifer does laundry.  Loads and loads and loads of stanky laundry.  I'm still not sure how two children accumulate so many dirty clothes in one week; but it seems to be a never ending menance.  I'm trying to decide now whether I loathe doing laundry or cleaning floors more.  Or cooking.  Or dusting.  The older I get, the more I realize that I'm just not cut out for this "susie homemaker" crap.  It's just too much responsibility for a free spirit like me who would rather be sipping on an adult beverage under an umbrella on beach in the Carribean somewhere.... with a hunky pool boy carrying a plate of fruit and a fan made from palm fronds. A girl can dream, can't she?! 

Anyway, as the raunchy stench of reality drifts into the room, I am reminded that another load of laundry is ready for the washing machine.  And, while I'm washing clothes, I think I'll go and do some internet surfing.  I wonder if craigslist has postings for hunky pool boy services!

I need to get urbanized

I was accused recently of not being hip becuase I don't listen to "black people music."  I've lived in a texa-fied suburbian bubble now for seven years and the last "black people music" I remember listening to is Biggie Smalls and Tupac. And those assholes are both dead now.  I was told that Eminem, the Beastie Boys and the Dirty Heads don't count so now I'm feeling particularly uncultured.  I grew up in Houston's 1st Ward ghetto, for crissakes!  I'm a disgrace to my poverty-stricken people.  For shame.  All I know about Jay-Z is that he's married to Beyonce.... Usher is a cutie-pie.... James Brown is dead.... Michael Jackson was badass when he was black, but turned white and he's dead now, too.... and Snoop Doggie Daaawg is promoting Justin Bieber. Justin Bieber ain't black! Also, whatever happened to Kid 'n Play?

Anyway, my point here is that I'm on a mission to get cultured.  Leave me a comment and let me know WTF I should be listening to and why. 
Biggie, Biggie, Biggie can't you see, somehow your words just hypnotize me.... and I just love your flashy ways... I guess that's why they're broke and you're so paid....

Momma wants to get paid!

what's the DEAL with the sudden influx of nautical stuff in the fashion industry?

According to Dolce & Gabbana, the martime/nautical trend in fashion went out when the 2009 fall seasonals came out.  Yes, I'm sure. I looked that crap up just now.  So, WTF is going on with all the anchors and stripes in all stores these days?  "French Chic" my fat ass! Did they not get the memo?  Who is in charge of this stuff?  I would like to pluck their eyes out with rusty garden shears.  Big gals like me can't pull off the horizontal stripes, so crap like this just pisses us off.  And, when a big gal gets pissed off everyone else gets pissed on.  That's just how it works. So, before I get all ghetto ass on the people at Old Navy, I'm going to go ahead and jet.  If you need me, I'll be out shopping at my favorite stores.... you know, the ones that don't sell sailor suits and miscellaneous horizontally striped and ridulously unflattering getups. 

I hate volunteering at my kids' schools. What's the deal with all the psycho moms who pretend to enjoy that crap? I hate baking cookies and cutting stenciled crap out of construction paper and I wouldn't be caught dead in a mini van with those dumbass kid sport stickers on the rear windshield.  Don't even get me started on the "honor roll" kids. 

Oldest Spawn:  Look Mom, I got an honor roll sticker for your car!

Me:  Uhmmmm.

Oldest Spawn:  Where shall I stick it?

Me:  You don't REALLY want me to answer that, right?

Oldest Spawn: Mooooo-oooom!  Aren't you proud?

Me:  Of course I'm proud, but that shiz is not going on my car....

Youngest Spawn:  Your sticker is dumb, Sis.

Amen, mini-me!  Finally, someone who understands.

Maybe my problem is that I suck at cooking.  And, my crafting skills are pretty limited.  Also, stickers don't stay stuck to my car's window because the glass is too dirty.  If it weren't for the gazillion dollars I'm going to make pimping out these clients, I wouldn't have much going for me. Need a pimp?

did someone say Vegas? DEAL me in!

I'm not really a gambler, but I do love to watch other people blow their dough.  Vegas is perfect for that.  Most airlines have great deals on flights and hotel rates are discounted all the time.  So, when my sister asked me if I wanted to plan a trip to Vegas with her, I was all over it like flies on dog crap!  Where's my favorite pair of skank-ho heels?!  Also, Momma needs a new handbag.  I wonder if the Thunda From Down Unda are still shaking their dingalings?  I better take a stack of dollar bills with me, just in case.

are they SOCIAL site lurkers or peeping toms?

Some call them lurkers, I call them Peeping Toms.  Whatever you call them, people who stalk others online are creepy.  I did one of those "see who's looking at your profile" things on Facebook today and the results were disconcerting. Are those things even accurate?  Don't answer that. I believe in them, just like I believe in my horoscope and the amazing clients I write for.  Anyway, as it turns out, all my best, good buddies don't give a rat's ass about me.  My number one peeper was a cousin of a friend's husband... my number two was my third grade teacher and my third was Arian Foster.  None of whom I have chatted with ONCE since friending them.  I went ahead and defriended the first two - just in case they have homicidal tendencies.  Mr. Foster can peep all he wants!  Who cares if he looks like he's posing for a mugshot in most of his pictures?!

Momma's got a brand new blog

I don't get PAID to write entries in this blog.  This is my OUTLET... my escape from all my fabulous clients... the ones who pay my bills and keep snazzy shoes on my feet.  So, you won't find me pimping out any weird companies here...nor will you find me linking to random crap I think you need to buy.  Instead... we shall have FUN here, people!  You hear me?  FUN!  So, let me vent and feel free to tell me to shut the hell up whenever I get carried away. (That will probably never happen.)

I DO blog for money, too, though.  But, since I get paid for it, I can't necessarily attach my name to it because then all my fans will think I'm square.  And, Momma ain't square, y'all... she can just write like a square.  Now, that right there is TALENT. 
Serious Client:          Every blog posting should use keywords relevant to what we do.

Me: Well, duh.

Stern Client:  I mean it.  No one cares about your slobbery dog or your snot-nosed kids.

Me: Seriously?  Everyone cares about that stuff.  They even want to know what I eat for breakfast, how I take my coffee and what color my toe nails are painted.

Stern and Serious Client: Stick to the KEYWORDS.

Me:  Keywords are overrated. I'm the world's next BIG thing!  I'm like Mandonna (except I can't sing and my arms are flabby) or Christina Aguilera (except I know the words to the National Anthem) or Fergie (except I don't have a ding dong in my pants)!

Client with $$:  Keywords or you’re fired.

*click*

Me: You’re the boss!

That's how shit goes down when people are paying me to write.  I do as I'm told.  Momma needs new shoes and handbags, and that stuff doesn’t just buy itself, you know.  I need these jobs.  And, for the record… my dog doesn’t slobber that much and my kids only have snotty noses when they’re sick or when they sleep under a ceiling fan covered in dust bunnies.