Rapture Smapture

When I wasn't here posting blogs, the world was still moving.  Shocker... yes, I know.  And to make things more freaky, we had a bit of a scare on May 21st when for a minute (or two) we all thought (not really) that the world was going to end.  But, we're all still here; the Earth is still spinning and there is still work to be done, mouths to be fed and debauchery to partake in.    So, if you didn't spend all your life savings on bottled water, bomb shelters and zombie-killing weapons, it's time to bust that wallet open and get ready to start buying me lavish gifts!

How many steps are there in a mile?

The answer is 2,000.  No, I didn't count them... well, I tried, but I kept losing track and making numbers up.  Yes, I have a pedometer.  But, it's a cheap piece of crap that sometimes misses steps, so it's not to be trusted.  Instead, I trust the google search results... because that shiz is never wrong. 

TWO THOUSAND steps.  That's what I've been walking every day (except for yesterday because it was raining). 

At first I was feeling all proud of myself.... thinking, "hey, self, you're pretty badass to be walking a mile every day!"  But then, some jackass on TV tells me I should be walking 10,000 steps if I want to lose weight.  Needless to say, Dr. Oz is NOT by boyfriend anymore. And, when I was all heartbroken over the loss of my boyfriend, I see on my Facebook Newsfeed that one of my girlfriends rides 50 miles a week on her bicycle.  FIFTY MILES!  And, that's when she isn't working out in gyms for hours on end.  So, I sat here wondering if maybe I should push myself more and get off my toosh and walk a few more steps today.  It took me 20 steps to get this:

My workout is over.  Cheers!

Work and other things that make me tired...

Since I've been "working from home", I've realized something... when you work from home,  you never leave work. And, even when you physically remove yourself from home/work, it's usually to get groceries (work) or tote kids around (work), or to help others with something (work).  I got away from one job and took on 21 other jobs... and it pays less... and there aren't many perks, except for maybe this:



Ok, so it's not ALL bad...but still.  Momma needs some adult stimulation.  That doesn't necessarily mean I need my adult parts stimulated, either.  It means... I need conversation that doesn't require me to say, "You wanna go outstide to potty," or "Wipe your own ass!" or "Can't you see I'm on the phone!?" or "No, you cannot have another popsicle," or "no scissors on the couch!"  Besides myself and the little voices inside my head, it seems all I do these days is talk to animals and small children.  I guess it beats the alternative. I could be this guy:

1 tequila... 2 tequila.... 3 tequila.... FLOOR!

Happy Cinco de Mayo, y'all!  Drink responsibly, people, or you might end up like this gal. Also... what in the world is she wearing?  Did she go back to 1988 and ransack Madonna's closet? White shirt, black bra.... bandana headband... black tights, ankle boots and a strange belt.  Oh, wait. That style is coming back, huh?  Scary.  And, although I hate talking smack about people's hair because I may jinx myself and have all my hair fall out.... what is up with the fried and bleached mop she's got going on there?  No wonder she drank herself into oblivion.  Poor thing.

Also... Happy Cinco de Mayo!  Or... "Pico de Gallo", as one of my friends says.... she likes to celebrate May 5th with some Mexican food and extra pico de gallo.  And... do you know what goes good with Mexican food?  Tequila! So, throw a few back today in honor of.... Mexican Independance from ...???  the Alamo?? (Damn, I hate history).

Squidoo-doo

Before I took on this "social media marketing" project, I had no clue that there was more to social media than Facebook, Twitter and blogs.  Momma is learning lots of stuff these days... like affiliate networking; writing one press release 10 different ways ("say the exact same thing but make it different," says client); hubpages; and my new favorite thing ever... SQUIDOO.  The name alone won me over.  I'm easy that way.  But, the funny thing is... I don't really know what the heck to do with it... sure, I created a squidoo page, but now what??  There wasn't even a category remotely related to the business... or other similar crap that people are supposed to be "searching" for when they accidently stumble upon us.  And speaking of... I think stumbleupon is another thingy I need to get hip to.   My head hurts now. I'm having social media overload.  It was hard enough keeping up with two facebook pages and two blogs, but now we have squids and stumbles and hubs and tweets and who the hell knows what else.  I'm just one person, damnit!  Momma needs minions, y'all.

Is it just me....

.... or does it seem like all of the loudest, most obnoxious drivers on the road are the same ones sporting cars plastered in WWJD bumper stickers, chrome fish emblems, "choose life" license plate holders and church logo window decals?? Or are those just assholes driving stolen cars that once belonged to church-going/heaven-bound folks?  Maybe police officers should start targeting all the crazies posed as Jesus lovers, pull 'em over and haul their butts to jail.  I say do it and ask questions later.  I really don't think Jesus would stick the finger at a 80-year-old woman driving slow on a Sunday. Nor do I think Jesus would lean on his horn at someone for not passing through a yellow light.  I think the question we should all ask ourselves here is: What Would Jesus Do for a Klondike Bar?  Steal a car?  Possibly.

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!