Please Standby

I received an email today that made me smile. It was from The Story Lady and she said "I miss your blogs". Well thank you Story Lady for reading, I greatly appreciate it!

Unfortunately, reality T.V. is consuming my life. Idol, Loser, Lost. You know, the usual. You know the problem with reality T.V.? It' doesn't go on hiatus. It's like 24-7/365. I do have one question though, when exactly did Jillian Michaels personal trainer become Dr. Michaels, psychiatrist?Very confusing.

Also, can you believe that Ricky Martin is gay? As if. I am completely shocked. There was no possible way to see that one coming.

 Nope, not at all.

The Next Thirty Years

Last week, I turned 35. And then I thought, what the hell? What the "f "am I gonna do for the next 30 years, 60 years? Jesus, I feel like I have lived forever already! You see, I am kind of at a point where everything I do seems pretty meaningless. I am not particularly fond of the world or how it works. What is my purpose? What is your purpose? What is the purpose of jello? It was then that I realized, I have no purpose. Other than the purpose that I lay out for myself. What kind of person do I want to be? What kind of life do I want to live? So now, I can spend the next 30 years deciding what kind of person I want to be and then the 30 years after that being that person. This is ridiculous.

This is Retarded

Mentally Challenged=not smart=dumb=retarded. Why is this an issue? It is what it is. Stop being so frickin' sensitive and get over it. I am pretty sure that I have the right to say what I want to say when I want to say it, you know, living in the U.S. and all. You know what? You have the right to not listen.

It's Monday, Again.

So, Monday came and went. Now it's here again. The problem is, I don't really have a plan. I just kind of say I do. So starting tomorrow, Monday, again, I am getting up at 6:30 every morning to work out in my home gym. Oh yes, I am so lucky to have a home gym. The decor is beautiful and motivating, the equipment is clean and inviting. It smells so ni.....what the hell is that? Dang it dog, did you poop on my gym floor? I know you had to go out, but I am blogging here. "Clean up in the home gym", I say to my husband in my best checkout girl voice.

Where was I? Oh yes, home gym. It doubles as our family room. But it has a very large T.V. and a great sound system which I am sure will be so motivating at 6:30 in the morning. I bet you have a home gym too. Aren't we all so fanatically lucky?

If possible, could you please remind me tomorrow that yes, those pants do make my butt look big, so I will be motivated once again to answer the 6:30am wake up call on Tuesday.

Thanks, you're awfully sweet!

Open Letter Series

Dear Fellow Driver,

I realize that as drivers, we must share the road. Since it's just not practical to request my very own driving lane, I would like to suggest a few rules that perhaps we could try to follow on a daily basis.

I use my vehicle as a mode of transportation to get from one location to another quickly. If I were concerned about seeing the world around me or stopping to smell the roses, I would walk. May I suggest you do the same if your intentions are to drive below the posted speed limit.

Know your destination and how to get there before you start driving. If you miss your turn or exit, do not slam on your brakes and put your car in reverse. This usually leads to unsavory happenings. Simply keep moving until you find a suitable location to rectify your mistake.

Use your blinker, please. My psychic powers have been on the fritz since, oh, about birth, so I am sure I had no idea you intended to turn left while I went straight.

Speaking of right of way, a four way stop works on the "to the right" basis. I didn't make the rules, that's just how it is.
When the light turns green, that means go. When the light turns red, that means stop. I only mention this because I have seen you do the opposite. I once honked at you, when you were stopped at a green light, to which you yelled back at me, "What? It will be red eventually".

I think that by following these simple rules, we can improve our driving expierience greatly and prevent me from following you to your destination and running your ass over.

Respectfully,

Retarded, Challenged, Whatever

My husband (Lawn Boy) and I are not suffering from infertility, rather, we are fertility retarded, or if you want to be PC, challenged. The fact is, we are riding the short bus down the embryo highway. We already have one chitlin, is that enough? Maybe we should just focus all of our attention on making her the most awesomest human ever. Is it politically incorrect to hang out around the door of the abortion clinic and try to convince people to go through with their pregnancy and give the kid to me? I know, there is a fine line between charitable and psychotic. I actually really think that Lawn Boy's little swimmers are the ones that are retarded, because I am practically perfect in every way, my half of the equation is golden. No, literally, if you put them under a microscope they are 14K. I should send those little bastards into the place that gives you cash for gold.

No More Drama

I have to say. I am over the drama. People, just stop, really. Live your life, be happy, get over it.