Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Frustrated & Exhausted

So today I had to rush the Big Kid to the doctor for a bleeding penis problem. I'll spare you the details, but just imagine that it was really no fun at all. He's fine, we think. As fine as someone with such an issue can be.

Afterwards, I returned a dress to J. Crew and briefly considered telling Mr. Ashley that they'd only give me store credit and go on a shopping spree for myself, but I "did the right thing" and abstained. Only because we really are broke now with our fucktard tenant moving out, not because I have any kind of moral ground or obligation to be honest in my marriage when it comes to shopping.

Then I decided that the Big Kid needed a haircut. It went like this:

Ashley: Hi! We're here to get the Big Kid a haircut.
Hair lady: Okay, right this way.
Big Kid: NO! I tell you NO! Big Kid is not getting a hair cut, The Big Kid's hair is not tall enough.
Ashley: Uh, your hair is plenty tall. It's the length that is the real concern. Hop up.
Big Kid: NO! I will not, I can not, I am not getting a hair cut today. I am not, mudder!
Ashley: Yes, you are.
Big Kid: Oh no, no I am not.
Ashley: Do you want to get your hair cut or do you want me to put your computer in time out?
Big Kid: I will not get my hair cut.
Ashley: So you understand that your computer is going to be in time out?
Big Kid: It's going to be mad at you. It is going to be so mad at you.
Ashley: I don't care.
Big Kid: I am going to be so mad at you.
Ashley: I don't care. Get up there and get your hair cut.
Big Kid: NO, I say no. Nope. Nuh-uh. Nope.
Ashley: Fine. We'll be back tomorrow.
Hair lady: Um, okay.

(in parking lot)
Big Kid: My computer is not going to be in time out, mudder. It is not. It will be mad at you fwom the top of the fwidge.
Ashley: I'm fine with that. I'm mad that you aren't getting a hair cut. It will be mad at me, on top of the fridge, until your hair is cut.

(on cell phone)
Ashley: Mr. Ashley, please take the Big Kid's computer and put it on the top of the fridge.
Ashley: So do you want to get your hair cut?
Big Kid: I can't.
Ashley: Why not?
Big Kid: Because I'm a kwerl.
Ashley: Because you're a girl?
Big Kid: I'm a squir-rel, wike da aminal.
Ashley: Hmmm, well you'll be a squirrel with a nice hair cut then.
Big Kid: I am so mad at you.
Ashley: Okay.
(back in the salon)
Ashley: Hi, we're back for a hair cut.
Hair lady: (fearful) okay, right this way.
Big Kid: The Big Kid sits in THIS chair.
Ashley: Can he sit in this chair?
Hair Lady: No, that's not my chair.
Ashley: Sit here Big Kid.
Big Kid: No, Big Kid sits here.
Ashley: Okay, let's go home and put your computer up.
Big Kid: Otay, otay, I sit.
Hair Lady: So you're going to get a nice hair cut?
Big Kid: No, no I'm not. My hair is not tall enough for a hair cut.
Ashley: Ignore him.
Hair Lady: It's plenty long enough, you'll be handsome.
Bid Kid: Wook, I am fwustwated, I am exhausted and I don't wike what you're doing. I don't wike dat.
Hair Lady: Did he just say he is frustrated?
Ashley: Yes, frustrated and exhausted. He says that all the time. He also tells me his brother is exhausted, usually when he's tired of him touching his things.
Hair Lady: That's really funny.
Ashley: Not really.
Big Kid: I am so fwustwated. I am fwustwated wif you mudder.
Ashley: That's fine. I know the feeling.

Then the other hairdresser came over and proved that he would disagree with anything she said...and he did. They were good buddies by the time it was all over with though and he agrees that his hair looks nicer than it has in a long time.

His birthday is coming up and he keeps telling me he's just going to stay three. He'll skip presents and a party and cake and all that, because he is not turning four. He just can't because he is three. I wish I had known that before I planned the party and enrolled him in the super pricey pre-k....

Public Service Announcement

Chewing gum is tacky. Blowing bubbles, snapping your gum and chewing noisily in public is a slap-able offense. Now I know you gum lovers are thinking, "Not when I do it. I look sophisticated when chewing gum, plus my breath smells good!" Wrong.

If you must, do it in your car. Chewing gum in public makes you look trashy, think Britney Spears. Do you want to be like Britney Spears? If so, quit reading and take me off of your favorites list. NO ONE should want to be like Britney.

I'm just trying to help. Have a Tic Tac instead.

Monday, July 30, 2007

Dear Willie,

You are looking kind of ashamed of yourself here...as well you should. You know that I adore you. You know that I snuck past your lame ass security team multiple times in January in order to be as close to you as possible. You saw me, we made the eye contact, I know you felt it too.

I was a little irritated that you threw your bandanna to that skanky blonde and her friend, but I understand. Mr. Ashley specifically said that there would be no groupie action after the show, regardless of opportunity (however he did say we could smoke a joint together...you blew that one) and besides, my parents were present. But I love you anyway. I always will.

HOWEVER, I just read this:

“My next album is probably going to be with Willie Nelson. I’ve been
wanting to do a country record, because its just my roots. I aspire to be
Patsy Cline.”- Jessica Simpson tells the August issue of Harpers Bazaar

Um...seriously? I hope this is just Jessica talking out of her growing ass and not based on any kind of fact. Because she's no Patsy Cline and you're no Nick Lachey (Thank God for that). This CAN NOT, WILL NOT happen Willie. CAN NOT WILL NOT. The thought of it makes me puke in my mouth a little.

I know you two buddy-ed up during the whole Dukes of Hazard thing and whatever, I can accept it. She was hot then, you're old, I see it happening. But this, this is taking things to another level. An unacceptable level.

Speaking of unacceptable, she better not have touched, brushed or braided your hair. It is a dream of mine and I just can not stand the thought of her doing it. It goes like this: We hang out in your tour bus, we smoke a little, I brush and braid your hair and we laugh about Jessica's dumb ass making an album with you....oh how we laugh. Then we eat and then we smoke some more. Let's stick with that plan and let's not piss me off.


Yours Truly,

P.S. What do her roots have to do with anything? Country music does not automatically imply bleached blonde hair with brown roots. Ken Paves, please straighten this mess of a girl out.

Sunday, July 29, 2007

Better Pack a Lunch

So did I tell you all that the Jews have welcomed us into their highly esteemed pre-k institution? Well, they did. The Ashleys are honorary Jews now.

And now I'm freaking the fuck out. I'm just going to drop the Big Kid off at the Temple THREE days a week for FIVE hours a day?? He can barely pull his pants up. He can't wipe his butt. Other people have a hard time understanding him. HE IS STILL MY BABY!!!!!

This can't be happening. We're making a terrible mistake, sending him out into the world. I know, at least he's not with the Baptists or God forbid, the Catholics, but still. Can I trust the Jews? They seem nice and all, but still. I just don't know. I don't know about this at all.

Heaven help us.

Rejection Denied

Today we went to a pool party.

The Big Kid was delighted to see a gaggle of 13 year old girls in the pool and promptly became their little water-wing-wearing shadow. Oh how he shrieked and giggled and ran and swam and jumped to be near them. Oh how they ran, dove, hid, splashed, went inside and did everything possible not to include him. Little bitches.

Luckily, he had no clue. He'd be struggling on the surface of the water to catch up with their underwater escapades to allude him..."Hey, come back here you guys. Da Big Kid wants to play wif you guys. Mudder, help me." I finally made Mr. Ashley get in and distract him to save everyone the continued embarrassment.

I get it. I know through their eyes he's not cool, but he's so damn cute. He doesn't know he's not big and he admires them so. He is so sweet and it made me want to grab them by their skinny little arms and hiss "Quit being an asshole" into those snotty little faces.

I hate big kids.

Saturday, July 28, 2007

Dear Brooke Hogan,

Please. Just. Stop. You make me sad. You kind of scare me. You are not talented, everyone is just afraid to tell you because they don't want your dad to kick their ass. You are a wrestler's daughter, honey. That's okay, nothing you can do about that, but singing in the food court of malls around the country isn't going to change it. Also, tell the Hulkster to invest in a freaking stylist for you. At least try to get on "What Not to Wear" on TLC, I think you qualify. I'm sorry for you sweetie, you do seem like a nice girl, just completely clueless.


Friday, July 27, 2007

Vacation update

Tubing was great, the scenery was unbelievably beautiful. I even jumped off of a rope swing twice. Would you believe that I have jumped out of an airplane (willingly) but I was scared as fucking hell to jump off of that tree and swing over the water? A pack of English kids had to talk me into it. I only went after the Big Kid did it twice. It was fun, I refuse to get old dammit.

I also showered outside every single time and it was heaven to sit out there under the stars, smelling honeysuckle nearby and soaping up. Sigh. I want to go back.

A few observations:
-North Florida, way too much inbreeding going on here. Everyone's eyes are way too close together and beady looking or bulging and foreheads are too big. I've also never seen so many fat pale people.

-Rednecks and jean shorts. What is up with this? Why cut offs and not board shorts or swim trunks?? There must be chafing going on and they take forever to dry. I just don't get it.

-Too many kids. We all know that my rule is no more than three and that's only if you didn't get a girl/boy combo with the first two. However, the official ruling on how much is too much is when you can no longer keep track of them. I actually saw a woman lose her 13 month old on the river and then scream at all of her kids that they needed to fend for themselves. She was pissed at the 13 month old, btw. Her kids names were Cheyenne, Timber, Wyatt, Brianna and then there were 3 more. I know this because I heard her scream their names 50 times while I was trying to relax.

That being said, as soon as Mr. Ashley and I dump that fucking rental condo we're going to buy land up there. I WILL have a summer home and there WILL be tubing every summer.

The little kid took his first steps up there. I was so glad Mr. Ashley and I both got to see and it was special that I was huDgely pregnant there this time last year and then he took his first steps there one year later. Awwww. My baby.

Speaking of my baby, I almost left him in a parking lot near Tampa. He cried for 2 hours on the way home. We stopped at Chuck E. Cheese's to wear them out and that did not work. Just so you know, if you let your kids walk up the skee ball ramp to place the balls in the hole and then scream at them when they don't put the ball into the 5,000 point hole...you are ghetto trash and I reserve the right to give you dirty looks and point you out to Mr. Ashley while shaking my head.

So I'm home and I'm glad to be home but I wish I could just live on vacation. My house is a wreck. Today is The Renee's last day here and I want to cry. Last night we went to the Cheesecake Factory and ate such an insane amount I had to unbutton my pants for the ride home. Once she's gone you'll get more of me. I'm off to meet her at the teacher supply store and a farewell lunch.

I will see you all later, I have lots more to say (surprise, surprise, huh?)

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Picture Me Here

Until I can come back with a proper update (busy day planned), picture me floating here.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Holy Crap

*I'm home (we stayed an extra day).
*I'm tired.
*I missed you all tremendously.

Friday, July 20, 2007

Buzz Kill

Well, the day started off just lovely. We saw several dolphins, the kids were all happy, the weather was lovely, the tide was low and the water was the perfect temperature.

We had our pimp chalices and our bottle of wine (please note that ONCE AGAIN, I had to push the fucking cork through. This time it was due to a freezing issue, I swear, it couldn't be avoided)

Since the nanny was present (although STILL in her Brazilian cut bottoms, even though she has gotten 3 new suits with appropriate bottoms. Putting on a show for Mr. Ashley, perhaps?) The Renee and I decided to down our wine quickly and go on a kid-free walk.

So we are moseying around, slightly buzzed, feeling warm and fuzzy, enjoying an almost totally deserted island when I notice a bird that is sitting sort of weird up ahead. Whatever, I thought nothing of it. Until I made eye contact with the little bastard and he starts squawking and coming right for us. The Renee and I both had a moment of thinking it wasn't really going to attack us and had a nervous giggle until we realized that the little fucker was indeed going to attack us. It swoops in right at us with it's pointy little beak open in a screech. We screech back and do a hurried turn and run when we notice another one of the fuckers coming for us, also in attack mode. At this point we're seriously screaming and trying to run into the water. I realize now that birds can go over, and even into, water if they wanted to, but we were scared shitless and unprepared for a fucking bird attack, we didn't know what to do. Luckily, the mangy little shits took it as good faith on our part that we had learned our lesson and were turning back.

And indeed we did, but we had to take the long way through the water because we were too scared to go back onto the island. On our way back, we saw this up ahead:

We sat for a moment, under our metal framed canopy, watching the lightning and thunder all around us and trying to prevent the kids from blowing away when we decided it was best to turn back.

So we loaded up the boat and the 10 million kids and sat huddled together in the back of the boat, being pelted by daggers of rain and shivering as we held wet, scared kids under wet, soggy towels on our wet, cold laps. And we laughed and yelled "Woo-hoo" and "Welcome to Florida, folks!" and sang "There's a party in my tummy, so yummy, so yummy!" while the kids sat in stunned, cold silence.

So the whole thing ended up being a major buzzkill, but we still managed to have fun and even managed to convince the children that it was an adventure (once they were on dry land again).

Now I'm home and packed and ready for my next adventure. Well, as ready as I'll ever be.
Did I mention there is only 1 bathroom? For 4 adults, 2 teen girls, a pre-schooler and a baby? Luckily there's an outside enclosed shower, is it inappropriate to pee there?

I will miss you all. There are no internet cafes or wireless connections anywhere nearby. So for now, it's goodbye my friends. I will be thinking of you while I'm floating down the Ichetucknee River in an innertube, watching the otters frolic alongside me. I wish we could all go together, we would tie our tubes together and make one long river of people...the floating cooler stays with me though.

Thursday, July 19, 2007

'Cuz My Pimp Hand is So Strong


Thank you, thank you. I am also pretty pleased with them. Mine is the blue one, please note the monograms because that's how we roll baby!! Nothin' but class! This was a super fun craft, but that hot glue gun burns like a son-of-a-bitch!

Please note that these bad boys can be frozen for maximum enjoyment. We'll be filling these puppies up with wine and
b-o-a-t-i-n-g tomorrow!

Okay, I really need to be packing right now, since we were busy playing and ignoring the kids all day. This can't be goodbye though, I'll be back before I leave for "vacation".

(Here's the backside...we should go into business, huh?)

P.S. I told Mr. Ashley I was taking mine on vacay.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007


The Big Kid and I have totally been belting this song out at the top of our lungs lately. I wish I was technically advanced enough to show you a video of him singing this passionately, maybe one day. We'll put it on my neverending to-do list.

He's also a huDge Johnny Cash fan, we know tons of his songs but to hear him shout out, "I shot a man in Reno...just to watch him diiiiiiiiie" is pretty freaking funny. I know, totally inappropriate, I didn't plan it that way. He has good taste in music, what can I do?

I have come to realize that our family favorite "Circle, circle, dot, dot" by Jamie Kennedy is WILDLY inappropriate, but once again, oh-so-fun.

He loves to rock out to Dropkick Murphys like the kick ass Irish boy that he is, but I don't belt it out (it's more of a Mr. Ashley thing) and I'm too lazy to go find it, so just picture the Big Kid head banging to "Your Spirit's Alive".

He hums Bob Marley's "Buffalo Soldier" ALL THE TIME. I mean so much I got sick of it for a while, but still pretty damn cute.

And of course the often sung, and oh-so-relevant, Hard Knock Life (The Annie version, not the gangsta rap version, I'm not that inappropriate):

The little kid is really fond of that one.

So if you ever look over in traffic and see some crazy lady and her kid singing like they're on stage for all the world to see...there's a good chance it's us. And even a better chance it is one of those songs. Just pray our windows are up because I have more desire than talent in the singing department.


I've always had a hard time narrowing down the craziest thing I've ever done. Was it that time I ended up doing tequila shots in that basement under that nightclub in Cancun with those Mexican bartenders? That month I hung out in South Beach and did Ecstasy for weeks on end? My impromptu decision to live in Key Largo for a summer, with no vehicle, job or money? All of those crazy Fantasy Fest nights in Key West where only God knows what I did? (sorry you had to see all that, God)

No, that was nothing. The things listed above are all positively vanilla compared to the crazy shit I did today. Today I......went to a craft store with 6 kids under 6.

"WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?" I hear you shouting. I thought nothing of it really. I've taken two before, but when in large groups it is like they multiply. 6 kids becomes as chaotic as 12. Stuff flying off the shelves, people hanging on carts, screaming, crying, packages breaking open, aisles being run down, gimmes running rampant. Every time I went to walk, I was about to crush a child under the wheels of my cart because they were everywhere. You should have seen the looks we were getting. I can't tell you how many times The Renee and I looked at each other and burst out laughing just because we didn't know what else to do. We did try to convince the herd that someone just announced over the loudspeaker that everyone 5 and under has to whisper, but they either had short memories or just didn't care. Whew. Lesson learned. The craft store is too much of a sacred haven to bring children into it.

Other highlights of the day included:
Tumble Time--in 100 degree heat/300% humidity/not enough a/c/too many people

Tumble Time Parking Lot--Assessing damage to LK's car in the 200 degree heat because some fucktard backed into it (and then went in to play, not even noticing her van was now attached to someone's car AND when confronted she was annoyed that she was going to have to wait for the cops. Hobag.)

Chick Fil A--Had to take the Big Kid pee twice, had to beg everyone to eat, not to throw food, etc.

Home--Had hard core fight with the Big Kid because apparently wiping his butt was "stealing his poopy fwiends" and he wanted them back pronto. Also, cleaned up mess when little kid discovered that taking your diaper off, playing with your junk and then peeing all over your room is way more fun than napping and such entertainment is liable to get you out of a nap altogether.

The good news is that I did have fun with The Renee and we are locked and loaded, totally ready to decorate pimp chalices tomorrow. Woooo-hoooo! That's not a sarcastic wooo-hoooo either, I'm truly excited about the idea. I've come a long way....from dancing on tables in VIP rooms on South Beach to gluing rhinestones on cups...yeah.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

He Always Gets it Wrong

Ashley: Hey, this girl on my blog says I'm funny.
Mr. Ashley: Hmmmm.

Ashley: Hey, this girl on my blog says I'm funny.
Mr. Ashley: Of course she does, you're the funniest person I've ever met. The hottest too. The first time I laid eyes on you I said, "There's the woman I'm going to marry." I have read every word you've ever written, I check your blog daily and I'm your biggest fan. I wake up every morning and look at your sweet angelic face and think, "How did I get so lucky? Why me?" It makes me so happy to realize the rest of the world is recognizing your genius. Hey, let's buy you a Blackberry so you can stay in touch on the road!

Ashley: I need a typewriter
Mr. Ashley: Hmmm.
Ashley: I do.
Mr. Ashley: Why?
Ashley: For all kinds of stuff. But it can't be a cheesy new one, I want an antique one. You know those kind that actually press into the paper? Like a black one. One that looks cool. I have all kinds of things I need it for.
Mr. Ashley: Hmmm.
Ashley: Can I get one?
Mr. Ashley: Not now. We'll talk about it later.

Ashley: I need a typewriter.
Mr. Ashley: Really baby? That would be really cool. You are so smart and so pretty and you're such a good writer. I would love to encourage you in that. What kind of typewriter do you need?
Ashley: An antique one. Something really cool.
Mr. Ashley: Done. I thought of this yesterday and ordered one off of Ebay. It used to be Hemingway's. You deserve it, my love. You are going to do great things, my sweet.

Ashley: The manager at McDonald's called me bebe.
Mr. Ashley: Hmmmmm. That's funny.
Ashley: How is that funny?
Mr. Ashley: (Watching Deadliest Catch)

Ashley: The manager at McDonald's called me bebe.
Mr. Ashley: I am going down there and kicking that bastard's ass. You may be absolutely gorgeous but that gives him no right to hit on MY WIFE. When will I ever get over this fear of losing you? I didn't realize what a burden it would be to marry such a sensational human being. I love you Ashley, I will always love you. Please promise me that you'll never go back to that McDonald's, I can't stand the thought of another man calling you bebe.

Ashley: I need new shoes.
Mr. Ashley: You just got flip flops.
Ashley: No, I need shoes that will match my new dress. Remember those really cute black peep toe sling back shoes I had?
Mr. Ashley: No.
Ashley: I always wore them with that little black business suit with the short skirt. Remember? They were like black and they weren't shiny, they were matte and they were high but not too high and looked really good on me. I think I got them from Nine West. Remember?
Mr. Ashley: No.
Ashley: Anyway, I need new shoes and a new bra to go with that new dress. Otherwise I can't even wear it.
Mr. Ashley: Hmmm.
Ashley: Please?
Mr. Ashley: Not right now, let's talk about it later.

Ashley: I need new shoes.
Mr. Ashley: Here's my credit card. Buy yourself a whole new wardrobe. And book yourself a spa day. And a weekend in Fiji without the kids. I love you darling, buy yourself whatever you think you need.

Ashley: I don't want to clean the house.
Mr. Ashley: (looking around at mess) Hmmm.
Ashley: I'm tired.
Mr. Ashley: Me too.

Ashley: I don't want to clean the house.
Mr. Ashley: You don't have to, sweetheart. I don't want my beautiful wife to spend one precious moment on drudgery like housework. I have hired a nanny/maid. Go take a nap, you work hard and you deserve it, Gorgeous. You must be way more tired than I am.

Ashley: Hey, remember how when we were pregnant that my group of online friends hated that other group of girls online?
Mr. Ashley: No.
Ashley: You don't remember? I told you all about them. They called us seagulls and we got into that big fight about that Chinese lady that was pretending to be pregnant with quintuplets and I made up that bandcamp story about it and I got a warning from Babycenter? Then I wrote to the moderator, Missy, and told her that I'm sorry that she didn't want to hear about my summer in bandcamp and I'll knock it off but that I didn't think the warning was fair? You don't remember that?
Mr. Ashley: No.
Ashley: Oh, well we're all friends now.
Mr. Ashley: Hmmm.

Ashley: Hey, remember how when we were pregnant that my group of online friends hated that other group of girls online?
Mr. Ashley: Yes, yes I do. I hated them too. I hate everyone you hate.
Ashley: Well we're friends now.
Mr. Ashley: Well thank God they came to their senses. I think that's wonderful you have so many online relationships. I'm sure they are really cool girls. Tell me their names again, I want to know all about them.

Monday, July 16, 2007

Note to Self:

Chocolate frosting straight from the can is NOT breakfast, regardless of what time of day that you eat it or if you used a spoon.

Adult Discussion

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Sunday, July 15, 2007

A Sunday With the Ashleys

It's Sunday and my family room is filled to capacity with imaginary animals. There is an imaginary giraffe, a hippo, a mouse, a zebra, a monkey, a dog and a cat. I have to caution the giraffe against hitting his head on door frames and fans, I've had to pick up the mouse to rescue it from the hippo stomping it, the monkey is sitting on my lap as I type this and needs frequent petting, the little kid has been screamed at for running into the animals with his walker, and each of them have put in breakfast requests and are worried about which zoopals plate they'll get.

Mr. Ashley thinks we should be putting down imaginary plastic for the imaginary poop and I think I should be finding the nearest possible exit and spending my Sunday at the book store, beach or spa.

While trying to type this, I've been forced to participate in the following annoyingness:

Big Kid: Mommy, which one is your davorite number, 3 or 4
Ashley: Hmm, I think 3.
Big Kid: Why?
Ashley: I just like 3.
Big Kid: Why do you like 3?
Ashley: Because it's round, okay?
Big Kid: Otay. What's the little kid's favorite number 4 or 5?
Ashley: Probably 5
Big Kid: I think 4
Ashley: Okay.
Big Kid: Yes, he likes 4, mommy.
Ashley: Okay, whatever.
Big Kid: What's daddy's davorite number? 2 or 6?
Ashley: I don't know, ask daddy.
Big Kid: The Big Kid is asking you.
Ashley: (pretending I can't hear him)
Big Kid: What-evah......Look at the animals, look at the animals mommy. Dey are on your couch.

In my intense typing/ignoring him he got sick of me and went to harrass Mr. Ashley:

Big Kid: Daddy look (holding out empty cupped palm)
Mr. Ashley: What's that?
Big Kid: Dawduh
Mr. Ashley: Daughter?
Big Kid: No not Daughter, dawduh
Mr. Ashley: Dada?
Big Kid: No not dada, dawduh
Mr. Ashley: Doctor?
Big Kid: No not doctor, dawduh
Mr. Ashley: I wish you could spell.

I've actually had the Dawduh conversation before (LK has too) and it seems to be some sort of small imaginary friend, but I have no idea what it's real name is (because no one has ever pronounced it correctly) or what the deal is with him.

You know what I've discovered over the weekend? I bought these Munchkin Cupsicle Cups for the boys on the boat. You keep them in the freezer and they keep your drink cold while you're out and about. So I poured one of my drinks in one and it instantly got so cold it was a little slushy and stayed cold for a long time. Those cups are MINE now. You should get some for your kids (read: self) too.

Okay, the animals have apparently pooped in the potty and think they should get to play games on my computer as a reward. Nice try. I better go deal with the zoo. Have a relaxing Sunday ('cuz it looks like I won't be)

Friday, July 13, 2007

Guess What This Is

Too Sexy For My Hair

My hair appointment today was fantabulous, as expected. I read a whole stack of celebrity rag mags, set a centerfold of Matthew McConaughey up in our station for me and my stylist to drool over, had a nice (big) glass of wine, had wonderful literary discussion and was sent home with pretty hair, a list of recommended reading for our next meet up, and an offer to be a model in a class she's teaching.

That's an awesome deal because she would do my hair in the class for free and then do my next round of highlights for free. She's teaching a class on "base-breaking" which means dying all of the crazy, horn/wing like baby hairs forming an ugly halo around my head whenever I put my hair into a ponytail. Who would have thought that the handfuls of hair lost (and mourned) after the little kid would actually benefit me in some way?

I was just pleased as punch to get free haircare and the opportunity for all eyes to be on me, me, me but then I found out that the class is on the evening of the Big Kid's birthday. Damn it. The ONE NIGHT A YEAR I have to feel guilty about going. It would be less than an hour...I could be home by (a late) dinner. He is having a kick ass party on another day. Damn it, don't I deserve some free pretty hair and some attention for giving birth almost 4 years ago and keeping him alive this long??I really do think *I* am the one who should be celebrated on the kids' birthdays, it truly wasn't possible without me and so far, it's been easy living on their parts.

Also, the free hair appointment would make up for a good chunk of the insane amount of money spent on birthday parties and presents around here. I'll tell him I'm running out to buy him some balloons (and will make sure to come home with balloons). I think it's win-win.

Dear Nicole Ritchie's Fetus,

Sucks to be you! Sorry 'bout your luck. I'll keep my fingers crossed for you kiddo.


P.S. As a consolation, it could be worse. At least you're not Jayden James or Sean Preston or even worse, Prince Michael Jackson Jr./Paris Michael Katherine Jackson/Prince Michael Jackson II. Lord help you all and bless your sad little hearts.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Insert Witty Title Here

So today I was all excited about my hair appointment when my mom called and said she'd still watch the kids but she was sick and that my dad was even sicker. Hmmmm. She wasn't sick yesterday. Don't tell her I told you but I suspect she just realized what she was getting herself into and didn't feel like several hours of chaos and loudness. Or maybe she was sick, but the timing was good.

Luckily, they're able to get me in tomorrow and I'll just have to go in and majorly kiss my hairdresser's ass for the last minute cancellation, but what could I do? Although, trust me, I did consider dropping the kids off at my mom's and "risking it". Honestly, three hours of leisurely adult conversation (usually about my dorky books!), a scalp massage, a glass of wine, and pretty hair is worth risking the kids' health for. They would only be sick for a few days, but my hair will look great for 6 weeks. Mr. Ashley is going to watch them tomorrow, so everyone's mental and physical health (including my parents) should probably be fine.

We did meet up with The Renee and her crew for sunset. We had chicken strips, potato salad, fruit, cookies and Pinot Grigio and it was a lovely evening. It would have been even better without kids, but what can you do. They were good, kids are just so much work. The little kid wanted to eat sand like it was sugar and someone was always needing something.

The Renee and I happen to have babies that were born on the same day. We were also due on the same day, and both went 2 days over. They are so adorable to see together, but eating in front of them is like roasting a pig on an island of hungry vultures. The screeching, pushing, pulling, grabbing, biting, slobbering is so alarming you almost forget how cute they are. But then you throw a bite of food at each of them and they're all smiles and giggles and sweet breathy coos and you almost forget that twenty seconds ago they would have teamed up to rip your jugular out for a cookie.

Okay dude, you get her around the neck and I'll grab the cookie.

(editor's note: I have noticed that lately it seems that I've been drinking a lot. Please know that I really don't drink that much and this is just a summer thing, or a going out so much thing, or possibly the beginning of becoming an alcoholic, whatever you'll stay tuned for. Also, please take into account that at least two cups out of that bottle had to be dumped after someone [evil babies] poured sand into them. See cork in empty bottle as evidence that I cannot even open a bottle of wine properly.)

Ashley's Book Club

I just finished reading The Weight of Water. There were times I wavered between reading it just to finish it and reading it because I couldn't put it down and I wasn't sure I was going to recommend it, but I am. It is beautifully written, Anita Shreve has a way with words.

So although this one will not be on the "Required Reading List to Be Ashley's Friend", if you're bored and love books you should read it.

(Don't read the Amazon reviews, there is always some shit head that has to give away the ending)

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

I got a prize

Do you see THAT? Sarah over at In The Trenches of Mommyhood gave me an award!! I'm excited to have a shiny pink badge on my site!! Look at me!

I believe I am supposed to pass the award on to others, so I will award it to:

Fluffy Windover, girl after my own heart. She cracks me up. I think in real life that her and I would be a terrible influence on each other, but would have a hell of a good time.

Clemson Girl and the Coach because she hits on me and has access to college athletes (as previously mentioned). Oh, and she's funny.

The Tarnished Tiara I have just recently found her and have tons of catching up to do with her, but she is very, very funny.

Monogram Momma We all know I think she rocks.

Dear Ginger,

I kind of like you, but I kind of don't. I don't even know the name of your new show (The Real Deal? or Real Estate Pros? something along those lines), but I will admit to enjoying Flip That House and the antics of you and your friends at Trademark Properties.

Mainly, we just have two problems. The dog and the shoes. Do you look waaaaaaaaaay hotter in 3 inch heels and a short skirt? Yes, everybody does, that's why they are called "fuck me pumps". Is it appropriate on a job site? No, no it is not. I'm onto you, trying to impress the construction workers, you hussy. Now that we're on the subject, I also suspect that you're doing Richard. You two are a little too comfortable with each other and you nag and whine at him. If so, I say you go girl. You certainly could do worse (but he could do better).

About the dog....also not appropriate on the job site. Or at work really. And the dog is ugly and looks totally stupid in that shirt you've got on him there.

Okay, that's all. You're smart, you have a great career going and I admire you, I am just sick of seeing you in the inappropriate-for-the-situation shoes and I wish you'd lose the dog and play up the whole professionalism thing a little more.


P.S. Did you get a nose job? I swear you look different recently.

No Rest For The Weary Cont'd

Okay, the little kid finally went down for a nap and I gave the big kid a Go-gurt (Good mom tip: put them in the freezer and call them popsicles) and things are quiet.

I don't know what the hell is up with the little kid today, he has been nothing but a whiner. He even whined at Chick-Fil-A and he never whines there. He just acts totally pissed off at me, which really just pisses me off. I thought after taking them to Tumble Time and Chick-Fil-A to play (while I got to sit and talk to my friends uninterrupted, the Girl Crush, The Renee & LK were all there) they would be tired or at least quiet. No such luck.

The little kid also seems to have a total death wish. He NEVER plays with toys. He NEVER entertains himself. Every time I look at him he's trying to pull a lamp over, poke his eye out with a pen, put something in the only uncovered socket in the house, eat change, drown in the dog water bowl, push the buttons on the tv...it is totally exhausting to keep up with him. He's really fast and knows when he's about to get caught because he hauls ass with a delighted squeal and a smile of satisfaction on his fat little face. He also enjoys pulling the plug out of my laptop, which is having major plug problems as it is. I put his ass in time out for that today. I have had it with him.

So anyway, as I was saying, I've really been whooping it up lately. Last night was really fun and I even got a chance to announce to all of the important members of my moms group that the Girl Crush is mine and that I brought her to them and that they can hang out with her but she's my friend first and foremost and that they'd best not forget it. I hope that clears things up, because I was not comfortable with the way everyone lit up when she walked into the room.

By the time this week is over, I will probably have left the house every single day. Totally unheard of. I'm really behind on emails, comments and reading other people's blogs and I kind of miss sitting on my ass online, but it has been a fun week. The next few weeks are going to be hard for you and me both, my blogger friends. Not only do I have a jam packed schedule, I am supposed to go on a long weekend vacation with extended family. That should make for some great tales though, so stay tuned. Just remember, I may not always be here, but I am always thinking of you.

The house is a wreck but I'm so tired from running around I don't want to clean it (Do I ever want to clean it? No, no I don't). Tomorrow I have a hair appointment (YAY!!! THREE hours of uninterrupted ME TIME + pretty hair) and I'm going to try to go see the sunset with The Renee. The Renee and I are also going to decorate pimp chalices at some point while she's here, I'll be sure to post pictures of that.

The Big Kid is singing the Spongebob Squarepants theme song. How high was the person who came up with that? I want what he's having.

No Rest For The Weary

OMG, I have been so busy. Busy, busy, busy. I saw Suburban Magnolia complaining that I haven't posted in three days, so I need to point out that I only took yesterday off. I feel very guilty even taking a weekend day off and I did post two times on Monday, so no one should be feeling neglected. You all are way more important than "real life" and always will be (sometimes it's just hard to convince "real life" of that).

Tuesday I met up with The Renee and my friend LK at a big indoor play place here and the kids all ran around and had a blast. Nothing too exciting happened there, although there was one Angelina Jolie look-alike whose boobs were falling out of her shirt (and they were nice, it was hard not to look) so that was discussed at length.

I live in an area where the majority of the population who aren't senior citizens are hot (and some of the seniors are too). There are more cute moms than you could shake a stick at, I could never hope to keep up with their cuteness. We go on vacation to other states and are shocked at the lack of good looking people. I think lots of money makes people cuter. I need to get me some.

So then Tuesday night I had a mom's night out with my playgroup at a coffee/wine bar. Guess which one I drank? You'll never guess. My girl crush was there!! And she sat next to me!! And she told me I looked nice and that my hair is pretty!! LK was there and totally understands why I'm smitten.

The bartender gave me a free glass of wine because he said he hadn't filled mine up high enough...I like that A LOT.


Monday, July 9, 2007

Monday Funday

My friend, The Renee, is in town and we spent all day swimming at her rental condo's pool. It was wonderful!! She has the second most gorgeous kids on the planet and they are so well behaved. She also has a nanny! The Big Kid fell totally and madly in love with the nanny, her name is Georgina (which is one of his new favorite words) and she wears brazilian cut bikini bottoms. Yeah, The Renee and I aren't really feeling the brazilian cut bottoms as nanny appropriate attire, but the Big Kid was fascinated.

She would go to rinse off in the pool shower and he would stand there, hands on hips, transfixed. We all watched actually, how could you not watch a half naked person showering 5 feet from you?? The Renee is considering fatter nannies in the future and/or uniforms.

So we swam and swam and then sat under the cheekee hut and chatted while Georgina entertained the kids in the pool. I think the Big Kid learned to swim today trying to impress her. He also wanted her to help him go potty, which really means he's let you into the inner circle, but most people don't appreciate that particular rite of passage and decline participation. Nonetheless, he's excited to see her again tomorrow.

Then I came home to a terrible thunderstorm and had no internet. It was so terrible. Mr. Ashley worked until 8:00pm so I was alone with the kids with no internet. I swear to you, the Big Kid talked from the time he got home (4ish) until he went to bed (10ish). Oh my God. This is his new thing:

Big Kid: Mommy, can you say sun, moon, stars, clouds, planets, space, rocket?

Ashley: Sun, stars, moon

Big Kid: NO!!! NOOOOO!! Mommy, mommy, you say: sun, moon, stars, clouds, planets, space, rocket?

Ashley: I don't want to

Big Kid: I want you to

Ashley: No

Big Kid: I want you to, but I want you to, please just say: sun, moon, stars, clouds, planets, space, rocket?

Ashley: sun, moon, stars, planets, clouds, space, rocket

Big Kid: No, no, no, you messed up planets and clouds. It's sposed to be: sun, moon, stars, clouds, planets, space, rocket.

Ashley: Sun, moon, stars, clouds, planets, space, rocket.

Big Kid: Wow, dat was good. Now let's do cat, dog, cow, pig, chicken, goat, mouse, frog

Ashley: No

Big Kid: I said yes, cat, dog, cow, pig, chicken, goat, mouse, frog


Big Kid: Dat was rude. You are being a bad gull.

He also told me today that cleaning the house was rude. That is a great way of looking at it.

Then he peed behind the t.v. and wrote all over his belly with pen and then it was bedtime and I thanked the Sweet Baby Jesus, like I do every night. Because although it started off fun, today was a long day. And I'm tired.

Odd Encounters

A few weird things that have happened to me lately:

I went through the drive through of McDonald's the other day (I know, I'm a terrible mother. My kids love transfats. They are doomed) and I pull up to the window and have the following exchange:

Ashley: Thank you. Could I have some salt, please?

Manager (I could tell by the kerchief): Salt bebe?

Ashley: (Did he just call me baby? That would be so inappropriate. Perhaps it was maybe? Maybe something is lost in translation here) Um, yes, salt.

Manager: Here is your salt, bebe.

Ashley: (Sitting there in shock. Do I say something? I must be mishearing. Why is he smiling like that? Is he reaching into the car? Oh. Your food, take the food and go). Uh, thanks.

So as I'm pulling away I'm thinking, what the fuck just happened there? I am a MARRIED woman. He is the MANAGER of McDonalds. I have two kids in carseats in the backseat.

Then I start thinking of all the things I should have done. I should have said "Excuse me sir, I am a MARRIED woman, I am not your baby." and taken down his name to complain. I should have at least looked at him in disdain.

Then I got to thinking that I must be looking pretty damn hot these days and realized that if some 22 year old Abercrombie and Fitch model called me bebe I'd be flying high. But it wasn't a 22 year old Abercrombie and Fitch model and that changes everything.

Then the Big Kid starts whining for his chocolate milk and I go to grab it and realize there is none. The McDonald's Cassanova forgot our drinks. Fuck, fuck, fuck. We needed those drinks too because we were going somewhere that would not have drinks and it was hot and we were thirsty and were about to eat fries. Motherfucker. So two U-turns later, we're back and of course there is a line. And of course I can't run in because I have 2 kids and would never leave them in the car. So I wait and wait, only to find myself back in front of Lover Boy again.

Ashley: You forgot my drinks, a chocolate milk and a Coke.
The Flirty Fucktard: Oh, how could I forget you, bebe?
Ashley (Stunned disbelief. Do something, do something right this second)...(holds out hand for drinks)
TFF: Have a great day bebe!

What in the fucking world was going on with this guy? What the hell should I have done? I did manage to look disgusted the last time, or at least I tried. I was just shocked.

So Sunday I was at Super Walmart (Until the Super Target opens, it's a necessary evil). Both kids are in the shopping cart. The little kid is being an absolute doll and has made contact with everyone in the store, regardless of race, native tongue, or sex, and I have caught 4 or 5 people touching his hands. The kid is a total cupcake. The Big Kid was sitting happily and quietly in the cart, dressed adorably and just as handsome as they get.

Senior Citizen: I'm so glad that I'm not you.
Ashley: (shocked expression) It's not THAT bad. (Awkward pause as we stare at each other)
Senior Citizen: I had four.
Ashley: Then you're twice as crazy as I am.

We then went on to have a fairly nice conversation, but still, who the hell walks up to someone and says "I'm so glad I'm not you"? Okay, maybe to a burn victim or Bin Laden or an amputee or a mother of sextuplets, but to a tan, happy, quiet family doing some Sunday shopping? Totally weird.

Then, and you're not going to believe this, I was checking out and I said thanks and goodbye to my cashier and he said, "Bye baby".....I'm not shitting you. I couldn't believe it. He was Haitian and the other guy was Hispanic, so this was not a cultural thing. I am NOT hitting on people or giving off any looks or vibes (Believe it or not, I manage to refrain from coming on to every McDonald's Manager or one armed Walmart cashier I run into). I have kids with me, so it's not like I appear to be available. What the fuck is going on here?

Maybe I am looking hot these days....These extra 10lbs attract some attention...

Sunday, July 8, 2007

Don't Make Me Regret It

I hate to take attention away from myself and I am hesitant to do so now because she is so, so funny, but take a moment (once you're fully caught up here, this is an "in addition to" sort of thing, not an "instead of" sort of thing, do not ever let me catch you going there before coming here) and check out Mom-o-matic.

Don't blame me when you pee yourself a little.

Saturday, July 7, 2007

Raindrops on Roses & Whiskers on Kittens

I was tagged by Clemsongirlandthecoach!!

Get your minds out of the gutter (although I do think she's been hitting on me a little and I'm totally digging that. She's funny AND she has direct access to hot college athletes in tight pants...Definitely real life friend potential there...). I believe I am supposed to list my favorite things!

Just like Oprah (whom I adore with all of my heart). I have so, so, so, so many favorite things it is absolutely ridiculous, so I'll give you the condensed (but most likely still too long) version:

When life hands you lemons...make Lemonade!! I looooooove baths. I take one almost every night, it's really the only way I get reading time (or bathing time for that matter). I got this body wash & shampoo for Christmas and I can barely stop myself from drinking it or licking myself every time I smell it. If I had as much money as Oprah, I'd buy every single one of you a lifetime supply! It is truly delicious and you deserve some. I urge each and every one of you to run, don't walk, run out and buy it for yourself right now. There is always room in the budget for happiness.

While you are in the bathtub, soaking in your sweet smelling bubbles, you will be reading....

The Other Boleyn Girl by Phillipa Gregory

There is a required reading list in order to be my friend (I'll get that to you guys soon so you can start working on it), and this is high on the list. This is what started my almost bizarre interest in all things King Henry the VIII. It is fiction, so don't go thinking you're an expert after reading it, but it was a juicy read that led me to wanting to know more. Reading is essential to my mental health. E-SSEN-TIAL. Right up there with baths.

While you are soaking in your citrus scented water and reading your juicy novel, your hair will be soaking in a luxurious coating of Wen Cleanser & Conditioner!!! (you all scream wildly and jump up and down here) I LOVE this stuff. Please note that LOVE is in capitals AND bold. Because I really love it that much. Generally, with hair stuff I'm a "whatever is reasonably priced" kind of girl. I have curly hair that requires gobs and gobs and gobs of conditioner. If I get a Costco sized shampoo and conditioner, the conditioner will be gone in a month and I'll have the shampoo for a year, no exaggeration.

So when my mom got me this for Christmas, I was excited but pretty sure I wouldn't be able to sustain the new luxury (because Christmas with my mom is a lot like being on an episode of Oprah's Favorite Things). Sure enough, first time I tried it and felt that wonderful tingle on my scalp and how easy my hair was to comb, I rushed to the computer to check the price and realized I had better use it sparingly because there was a good chance this was it until next Christmas. I was super pissed to find the Big Kid pumping out small mountains of it to spread all over the shower walls.

Luckily, it seems to be the only product that doesn't torture Mr. Ashley's poor sensitive scalp so he considers it an essential (YAY!! This NEVER happens). I've tried all of them and prefer the Sweet Almond Mint. The only one I didn't love was fig, but Mr. Ashley likes that one so you may too. This can be used as shampoo, conditioner (and it's not one of those crappy 2-in-1 products, those never work for me) and leave in conditioner, so if multiple usages helps you justify the cost--there you go. I love to put some on, put my hair in a bun and then go on the boat so I can deep condition and keep my flyaways controlled all at once. This is another product that you DESERVE, ladies.

And while you are maxin' and relaxin' on the boat with your sleek updo, you will be protecting your complexion with.... Aveeno Sunblock.

I know sunblock doesn't seem like a luxury or a favorite thing, but after a few boat days of constant whining because of shitty sunblock eating at your kids' eyeballs like muriatic acid...good sunblock is a luxury. (Note to self: Follow through with promise to track down CEO of Coppertone for Kids, coat his hands in his crapola product, rub them all over his eyes and then send him off to play in some sand and water. Fucking bastard). We lather up in this before ever leaving the house and then we re-apply, re-apply, re-apply with Spray Sunscreen, one of the best inventions EVER. It feels refreshing, you don't have to rub sand into your flesh and you can get a moving target, like the Big Kid. Let's face it ladies, our days of baby oil and iodine tanning oil are over. Sunblock is a necessary evil. Let's at least make the transition as painlessly as possible.

After lathering up with sunscreen and slicking your hair back for the boat, it's time to look halfway presentable! Halfway presentable = Neutrogena's tinted moisturizer (probably my favorite beauty product right now, go two shades darker than you think you need) and Mary Kay's waterproof mascara. I've tried lots of waterproof mascaras but really like this one. Nothing pisses me off more than putting on waterproof mascara and then coming home to see that I have had racoon eyes all day. Don't suggest that I skip the mascara either, I feel naked without it, it is non-negotiable.

While cruising around and relaxing, you'll be listening to the Be Good Tanyas. A chaw recommended this to me (the invisible chaw) and the Canadian chaw backed up the recommendation, because I guess these girls come from there. I LOVE THEM. They make me want to dance (and I'm a piss poor dancer). I love "The Littlest Birds" and their "Oh Susanna".

(trying to attach the youtube video, if this works I'll pee my pants with happiness)

Be Good Tanyas. I'll just say, "You're welcome" right now, because I know you'll want to thank me.

After a long day of being out in the sun, there is nothing better than coming home, taking a bath and getting into my Old Navy lounge pants, aka, my uniform for life.

I'm wearing pink ones as I sit here and type this. When life was really good (and by good, I mean when I was pregnant and such a hormonal wreck that Mr. Ashley didn't dare tell me no about anything) I would wash said loungewear in Caldrea Sweet Pea detergent, after pre-treating it with Caldrea Sweet Pea stain remover. Sigh. The good old days. Oh, how good we smelled. Oh, what a joy laundry was to do. Oh, the ridiculousness of paying $16 for a smallish thing of detergent.

I can also attest to the fact that there may be nothing better in the whole wide world than going to bed in freshly washed (in Caldrea, of course) sheets that have been lightly misted with Caldrea's White Tea linen spray. Ahhhhh.

At this point you're probably sick of me and I know this has turned into an epic novel instead of a short list of favorites, but I warned you. Two last quick things:

Capri Blue candles smell seriously, amazingly good. They make the whole house smell good. I love their Gardenia scent (I didn't find it at that store I linked, but I'm too lazy to look far). I think you can get them at Anthropologie.

Coach wristlet Mine is a much cuter patchwork than this one (it matches my purse), but I love the wristlet because it makes it easy to switch everything from purse to diaper bag, or to just run in to a store with it if I don't need the whole diaper bag.

Okay, I'm going to be done now. Please don't forget about products I have mentioned in previous entries. The EMFLTB truly deserves a place on the list but you all know I love that thing.

I'm new to blogging and tagging and whatnot and don't really know the protocol. Am I allowed to tag all bloggers who read my blog? I'm not much for rules and that sounds like the easiest thing to do...so I'm just going to go with that.

Nars, I'm sure you're noticing that you didn't make the list. You're probably thinking, "What the hell? She has used our products for 6 years now and not even a mention?"

I'm pissed about the eyeliner issue. I like that it comes in a little compact sort of thing and that you apply it with a brush...I DO NOT like that it breaks every freaking time. In a perfect world, eyeliner would never need to travel, but this is not a perfect world. I have tried packing it securely, carrying it in my purse, cushioning it, but no, every time I arrive at my destination I open the little compact and spill black sparkly powder all over myself and wherever I'm staying. It's not cool.

Also, same thing applies for lip gloss. Occasionally it may be left in the car, and when I get back and go to apply it, I don't expect it to have turned into thick globs of pink shiny slime. Maybe you could ask Smashbox how they do it, but something's got to give. Because I do love you. I love your products (most of the time), I love the free samples and I love your friendly sales girls (although frankly, I think that has more to do with my own kick ass personality. I highly doubt the CEO of Nars is encouraging the reps to invite broke SAHMs out to lunch, but I'll give you credit for hiring such nice girls). Shape up and maybe you'll make the next list.
Edited to add: Don't think I haven't noticed the wonky formatting. It is killing me. However, I have already spent two days on this damn post and I really need to just let it go and move forward. Please don't judge me for my spacing issues.

Friday, July 6, 2007

Dear Victoria Beckham,

I've been meaning to write to you for some time now. Originally, I was just going to keep it short and sweet, you know, suggest that you eat a sandwich or two and try to smile every once in a while. Point out that you're beginning to resemble Skeletor. Tell you that I want to tie up your husband and cover him with cream cheese....well, we'll save that for another time.

Because something more important has come up. We'll call it..."Worst Career Move EVER". Technically I'm not even sure what your career is at this point, other than being yourself. I had almost completely forgotten the whole Posh Spice thing. I'll bet you some people didn't even know about that at all and just knew you as the hip and stylish Mrs. Beckham. But then. Then you went and announced that you're doing a SPICE GIRLS REUNION TOUR??? Are you fucking kidding me? Am I on Punked or something? I'm too incredulous to even laugh.

Your husband makes enough money to buy a small country and you're selling your dignity to be a fucking Spice Girl again? A Spice Girl Reunion. Lordy, Lordy. I understand why you did it the first time around. I am all for selling out (anyone interested in asking me to sell out in any way, please don't hesitate) but this is just insane. Fuck women's lib and independence and all of that bullshit, sometimes it is a good thing to be Mrs. Somebody. Definitely good to be Mrs. David Beckham, I should think (and I have thought...oh, how I've thought).

I'm pretty good at predicting celebrity misfortune and embarrassment (I was right on with my Lindsey Lohan, Paris and Britney predictions) and I would be willing to bet big bucks that we're all going to look back on this one day and laugh. Well, you may not laugh. And I'll probably be laughing sooner rather than later. Oh, and your boobs...they are totally and completely ridiculous.



Thursday, July 5, 2007

So Far

It is 11:30am. So far today I have:

-Woke up (at 9:30am, but still, getting up always sucks)

-Checked my email (and responded appropriately...and sometimes inappropriately)

-Gave both kids breakfast (Big Kid only wanted a nutrigrain bar, little kid was on breakfast #2 and also wanted a nutrigrain bar, so this was pretty easy. I'll admit that)

-Rinsed off high chair try (I'm so sick of that fucking thing)

-Unloaded and loaded one load of dishes (forced Big Kid to put away silverware, my silverware drawer is a mess but whatever)

-Collected misc. things that needed to be thrown away (place was a mess after being out boating all day yesterday. Sure I had enough time to blog, email and get involved with internet drama, but not enough time to clean up. No way)

-Went in search of the garbage can (I don't know what the freaking deal is with this, but Mr. Ashley always has it somewhere. I usually don't know where or why but I'm always asking him where the hell my garbage can is)

-Caught the little kid flinging a bag of potato chips all over the foyer and then crushing them with his walker. (I was, and am, pissed but I will admit that he looked like he was having one hell of a good time)

-Went to get the dustbuster (realized it was full)

-Went to get the vacuum cleaner (to clean up the contents of the dustbuster that had dumped onto the kitchen floor)

-Kicked the two dogs and the Big Kid away from eating the fallen chips (vultures)

-Vacuumed while yelling at little kid for doing it and at the Big Kid for screaming over and over again that the little kid "messeded up da whole entire house and cannot, will not, never ever never eat da chips ever again" (neither one seemed affected by my yelling, or apologetic)

-Checked my email (see above)

-Checked message boards (once again, responded when appropriate and when not. Especially when not)

-Put little kid down for a nap (Thank you Sweet Jesus!!!!!!!!!!!)

-Looked at two baskets of laundry waiting to be folded (they look quite comfy there on the couch, they're not going anywhere right now)

-Sat down to blog (which brings us to now)

And I'm already tired for today. I don't think I'm going to get an opportunity to nap, either. The Big Kid is sitting right up on me (and he smells funny) and I can hear the little babbling in his crib. Keep babbling kiddo, it is NAP TIME. You don't have to sleep, but you can't bother me.

It's also really rainy today. That contributes to my tiredness, my attraction to the internet and my unwillingness to clean. (Although really, I'm like this every day. Today the rain just gives me an excuse.)

Okay, the little kid is crying now and the Big Kid is telling me his tummy hurts. Who wants to bet I'll be sitting in the bathroom for 45 minutes begging him to just go ahead and poop already? Oh the glamorous life of a stay at home mom. Someone please rescue me, preferably someone with a yacht.

Wednesday, July 4, 2007

Wasted Away Again

in Margaritaville...searching for my lost shaker of salt, WHERE'S THE SALT, WHERE'S THE GOD DAMN SALT?

Kidding (mostly), I'm not (that) drunk. I was saving the majority of my holiday drinking for the party we were supposed to attend tonight, but after a long day of boating and some poopy pants from the Big Kid, we decided to just stay at home and relax.

However, I did not take into account that everyone that lives anywhere near me has not decided to relax, and is not in need of the same quiet calmness that I am. I am over the whole firework thing. OVER IT. Put them away, let's have some quiet time, simma down now. The Gulf was rough today and I still feel like I'm on a rocking boat, I have a post-wine headache and pink cheeks and I just want everyone to settle down. Now. Right this very second. Sirens too, thanks. My headache is the only emergency that needs attention.

Anyhoo, whether it was with saltwater, freshwater, rainwater or firewater, I hope you all had a wet and wild Independence Day and that your asshole neighbors quiet down and go to bed at a decent time. Let's have a moment of silence (or better yet, more than a moment) while I serenade you....

Because I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know Paris is free and I won't forget the paparazzi who took those crying pics for me, and I'll gladly stand up, next to you and mock her still today cause there ain't no doubt that I love celeb gossip....God Bless the USA....

Monday, July 2, 2007

It's Monday Again!

I know, I've been M.I.A. all weekend, I've been busy, busy, busy. Saturday we had a party to go to for the twins. It was fun because:

A.) The Big Kid played outside the whole time and needed very little supervision.
B.) Other people held the little kid for a large percentage of the time
C.) Several likeable adults worth gossiping with were present
D.) Beer (the key to a good kid's party, in my opinion)
E.) Plenty of seating

I got the girl twin a head-to-toe Cinderella outfit, complete with big gorgeous gown and shoes, crown and jewelry. I got the boy twin some stupid boy thing, I don't even know. Spiderman or some such crap.

Sunday we painted the house. Ourselves. Like day laborers. Now before you ask, I used to love painting. I painted our last house twice. As I stood there in the 90 degree heat with my arms aching and sweat pouring into my eyes, I realized that was two kids and twenty pounds ago.

My parents offered us their house boy, Taco (that's not his real name, that's just what they call him because they can't understand his real name. When I pointed out that this didn't seem right, they explained that he likes when my dad buys him Tacos. When I pointed out that maybe that's because he's Mexican, they clarified that he's Honduran and that they're pretty sure he likes being called Taco. Okay then.) The control freak in me could not trust Taco's painting ability and I just knew he would drip. After about an hour of painting in the hot sun, I wouldn't have cared if Taco threw paint on the walls and rolled around on them like Farrah Fawcett in Playboy. That SUCKED, I am NEVER doing it again, and I am NOT planning on helping with the remaining trim, but I do love the color.

Today I had a playdate. The playdate to top all playdates. Remember my girl crush? The one I fell in love with at Tumble Time? She joined my playgroup and had a playdate at her house with MIMOSAS and a MASSAGE THERAPIST. $20 got me 20 child-free minutes of massage. Ahhhh. And Mimosas? Are you kidding me? Do you see why I love her? I'm kind of wishing I had kept her for myself. Other moms are vying for her affection now and I want them to step back. She's mine.

So now I'm home and caught up on my email and I really need to clean up (as usual), but I am a little sore from my massage and I have a slight headache from the morning champagne. Mr. Ashley has no pity for me either and I know not to even suggest that I may need a nap. Did I mention that the playdate was at 9am? This is like 5am to me, absolutely unheard of for me to be anywhere by 9am. The other moms about fell out of their chairs to see me walk in the door and I think it made a huge statement regarding my love for the hostess. So I really, truly do need a nap. Maybe I'll go clean the bedroom and accidentally lay down and fall asleep.....