A Surprisingly Sane Blog

Just in case you were wondering, I thought I’d lay a few of the obvious out there for you.

1. Pretend nap time is optional, and spend the entire 2 hours singing the ABCs obnoxiously while emptying out your dresser and throwing everything in sight all over your rug.
2. Fart under the covers and pull them up so that I have no choice but to endure a huge whiff of the refried beans gone bad inside your large intestine.  Please, do everything you can to kill me painfully.
3. Spam my email with right-winged propaganda.  Especially the anti-Obama messages with only half the story.  Do your research before posting that shit, please.
4. Pull your car out in front of me without looking, then road-block me behind yourself in conjunction with that other half-wit driving 27 mph in the 45 zone.   Do not tempt me to hurt you, I am clinically labeled “unstable”.  I’m willing to bet I can probably plead insanity if your car goes flying off the road.
5. Yell that I need to “squeeze my glutes harder and tighten my core” while my face is turning purple and my ass fat is melting before your eyes into a puddle of goo on the yoga ball.  Have you no soul?
6. Glare disapprovingly in my direction because my baby squeals in delight (albeit loudly) in the restaurant, you sinister old fuck.  My kids have just as much of a right to be in public as you do.  More so, in fact.  At least it’s cute when they make faces at people.
7. Snort your nose at how I raise my kids.  We all know the way you do it is definitely better, you bitch.  Nevermind the fact that my kids are happy, healthy, and well-behaved while yours are out of control and your head is stuck so far up their butts you don’t know which way is up.

Wow, that felt kinda good.  Please, feel free to add your own “piss-me-offs” in the comments section.    No censoring necessary.

Current Mood: Mischievous

Watch out, world.

I didn’t sleep last night, and I’m gonna be on the road on my way to my counseling appointment with Dee in a little while.

If you forgot your brain on your bedside table next to your dentures, please turn your vehicle around now before I end up behind your slow-moving ass.

I will *most likely* ram you off the road in a hit and run and never look back while your car bursts into flames from the hell’s fire in my wake.

Pedestrians, pull your head out of your ass so you know I’m coming.  If you think for a second that I see you jaywalking and I’m going to stop… you’re in for a surprise.

I will be looking for moving targets the second my foot hits the accelerator.

One more thing.

If you dare flip me the bird while I zoom past you, I will follow you, hunt you down, and remove your teeth one by one with pliers while you scream “uncle”.  And I will laugh as I do it.  Crazy, maniacal laughter.

I am a woman teetering on the edge.

Beware.

Current Mood: Angry

Note to self:

Remember to have a full stomach before taking your happy pills.

Otherwise, you’ll start having hot flashes like a menopausal lunatic and momentarily lose your mind.

And you’ll be forced to down chocolate like a rabid dog eating poor, innocent bunnies.  One after another after another after another…

Not a good feeling.

You’re supposed to be popping these drugs to avoid that whole thing called “crazy”.

**ugh**

And someone, PLEASE TAKE THE FREAKING GIRL SCOUT COOKIES AWAY FROM ME!

I work very hard to have a toned ass and put up with Nazi lady yelling at me during step class to have it, thankyouverymuch.

Current Mood: Sickly

So Julie has learned that her nose is inhabited by those disgusting little salty squishy things best known as boogers.  Please don’t ask how I know about the salty part.  You don’t want to know, trust me.

The conversation went something like this:

“Mommy, look!”

A huge booger gleamed on her index finger.

Horrified mom screamed, “Ew!  Julie, go throw that away RIGHT NOW!”

Said my little brat, “No!”.

I tried again, this time with a little more composure, “Come here, honey, I need to clean off your hand.”

Next came the best part.  She actually said this with some serious conviction:

“No!  It’s MINE!”

And then, my silly kid proceeded to attempt to shove the booger back up into her little nostril.

It didn’t help that James and I were practically falling over honking like geese.

I think she ended up eating it.  It wasn’t worth the fight to stop her.

Current Mood: Happy

Oh. My. Gosh.

Can someone please jump my aerobics teacher and force her to pay up for a massage?

My butt and back and thighs are so sore.

My mom and sister and I take a step aerobics/body conditioning class twice a week at the YMCA.  When we started a few months ago, this really nice young lady named Julie was teaching the class.  She’s one of those girls who have -3% body fat, fake tits, and always wears a full face of makeup when she works out.

I usually stare at her non-existent ass and wonder if she’s ever eaten a twinkie in her life while I huff and puff through the exercise routines.  You would think that she’d be annoying because she’s this perfect little Barbie doll, but we love her.  She’s sweet and cute, and my sister likes to describe her as “delightfully tacky”.  You’d just have to see her to understand why.

Well, the last few weeks, she’s just been part of the class while this other lady has taken over.

Nazi lady.  That’s what my mom and Kathryn and I call her.

And last night, Nazi lady tried to kill us.

Let me tell you, there is nothing more obnoxious than having Nazi lady in your face yelling at you to “Come’on!  Get LOWER!” as she marches in front of you, knees practically in her boobs and her ass shaking like a volcano about to rupture as it strains under the intesity of the damn squatting run she’s forcing us to do.

So maybe drill seargents are motivating for some people, but I’m a bit off the beaten path.  It doesn’t work for me.  Big surprise, I know (*sarcastic snort*).

It pisses me off and makes me want to kick her.  And in fact, I did kick her yesterday.

It’s not as bad as it sounds.  We were doing high kicks on the step.  The kind where she wants you to lift your leg so high that you fly over backwards and give yourself a concussion.

To be honest, I was kind of hoping I might collapse under the force of it all so that I had a legit excuse to whimper like a wounded puppy and crawl out of the seventh degree of firey hell my muscles and lungs were experiencing.

She walked by me and growled in her man-voice, “I wanna see you kick HIGH!  Kick my hand!”

So I did.  I hope it hurt.  Is that wrong of me?

Mind you, this is after like 15 minutes of serious ab work and another 15 minutes of arms and legs with weights.

Oh, and to top it off, the bitch made us use weights for the rest of the night while we ran through this crazy intense step aerobics for half an hour.

Ow.

Afterwards, I asked Julie’s sister when she was going to start teaching the class again. Her answer wasn’t super satisfactory.

And to console myself, I downed like 10 pounds of chocolate this morning while guzzling coffee.

Thank goodness part of James’ Valentine’s Day goodies included a bottle of massage oil.

You know, since I don’t think anyone actually will jump Nazi lady to make her pay up for a professional rub down.

She might break her assaulter’s knees with army squats and lunges that make their muscles bulge until they explode.