Shit You Should Know

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

You Know It's Time To Blog When...

Do you know how long it has been since I posted here?  Try all summer long.  I know many of you are blaming my children and have probably plotted having them kidnapped.  Believe me it wasn't just having them home for the summer that made blogging difficult.  I have taking on a mission to keep myself busy during my husband's absence.  Here are a few things that I did and/or currently doing:
  • I located a house I liked and got my husband's stamp of approval via email.  With my power of attorney in hand, I closed on the house.  So, now when I fill out surveys I get to check "own home" instead of "rent".  That's bad ass! 

  • The kids are doing all sorts of activities in addition to scouts.  The boy is enrolled in both gymnastics and kung fu.  His dream of being a professional wrestler is at his fingertips.  My girl child is doing gymnastics and we are getting ready to sign her up for horseback riding as well.
    • I have joined a gym.  It is time to get my fat ass moving.  My husband is out there getting his desert sexy on, making me look bad.  We can't have that now, can we?
    This is just scratching the surface.  I have learned from previous deployments that too much downtime leads to depression.  I have decided instead to keep busy and just embrace my anxiety.

    The house alone is keeping me busy.  Since we have moved out to the country, I can read my zombie books in peace knowing that the country folks usually live longer for the simple fact that there are less people to turn into zombies.  See?  Living 30 minutes from the nearest Wal-Mart is a good thing.  Now if we have an outbreak of zombie cows, I'm screwed.
    Deviant Art

    In the meantime, I'm trying to get into a groove of blogging again and I'm sure I will attain one soon.  After all, the children are back in school but I had to spend the first weeks running around the house naked waving my freedom flag.  It was glorious.

    Don't worry though.  I will be back again soon.  I knew it was time to blog again when I started dreaming about it.  Of course, in my dream my ramblings were much more entertaining...and I was skinnier.

    Monday, June 13, 2011

    I Ain't Skeered!

    Don't worry.  You're children are safe.
    This agnostic mom goes on a lot of adventures and I manage to get myself into some awkward spots.  The latest adventure involves me agreeing to be a co-leader to my daughter’s Brownie Girl Scout troop.

    Yeah, I’ll pause so you can soak that in and say a prayer, light a candle or do whatever it is that you people do when you want to save a child’s soul.

    Over the weekend, I was able to go on an excursion to Oklahoma City for an overnight training session.  I knew ahead of time I would be staying at the Catholic Pastoral Center.  I joked with my friend, Julia that I’d probably be struck by lightning or something.

    We were assigned to our room.  It was still daylight but the hallway was sparsely lit even with the glass exit door and sidelights at the end of the way.  The room had two twin size beds with white linens and your grandma’s quilt.  There was a small desk with a set of towels and a few bars of soap.  In one corner was am old sink with a mirror above it.  In the other corner was a closet with a hideous metal chest of drawers inside of it.  Between those two was a doorway that led to the bathroom that we shared with the other room.  The highlight of the room was the depressing crucifix on the wall.
    I'm sure under that white paint is some pea soup stains.
    Yes, I said it.  Crucifixes ARE freaking depressing.  Why on earth would anyone want to look at that gruesome image all day long?  I suppose that the symbol is to remind the flock of the sacrifice that Jesus made but c’mon.  Isn’t that picture of him looking all pretty just as good?  Doesn’t the faith remind you of what he did every Sunday?  Or at the very least the cross itself minus the dead guy seems like it would get the point across.

    I get it.  Some people believe he died for them but the dead guy image is still just a tad disturbing.  If a mother died in childbirth, how appropriate would it be for her child to mount something on the wall of the dead mother all sweaty and bloody in a hospital bed.  Or should said child just wear a golden uterus? 
    I’m convinced religion makes you weird.  Period.

    To prepare myself for this adventure, I watched The Exorcist, Rite, The Exorcism of Emily Rose, and The Last Exorcism.  I told Julia it was just in case she got possessed and I needed to be able to exorcise her.   I believe in being prepared.
    Anyway, back to the retreat…

    Before everything started, Julia and I made a sweep of the building taking mental notes of which hallways looked the creepiest.  It seemed that the wing we were in was the oldest.  It had a musty mildew smell that crept into your nose and then Chuck Norrised you in the throat.  As we trekked down hallways, we found a room full of books for the clergy such marriage, marriage counseling, being married to a homosexual, and many more interesting topics.  I looked for one on exorcism.  No luck.

    There was a wine tasting.  We were limited to two taste tickets which resulted in me trying to hustle more from anyone who would listen.  Eventually I just bought a bottle of Pinot Noir from the wine vendor and proceeded to create my own evening itinerary in my head.
    What?  I was thirsty.

    The first day wasn’t too bad.  Dinner was catered.  It was decent, nothing fancy.  We attended a class that was roughly two hours long and we got Girl Scout “swag”.  I love free shit and the majority was actually useful.  We were able to have our room switched to one on the upper floor in a different wing where we had our own bathroom instead of having to share with the room next door. 
    Ok.  Maybe I was zapped by some lightning in the ass.  I guess I've got so much cushion, I didn't even notice.

    Later, we had a meeting with other ladies in our area in one of their rooms.  She managed to snag herself a suite complete with a sitting area.  Wine bottles were uncorked making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  It was nice.  It made my surroundings more tolerable.  After the hen house party dissipated and we went to our rooms, Julia and I decided it was time to be…

    Wait for it…

    Ghost hunters.  Yes, bad ass mamma jamma ghost hunters!  So we roamed the hallways with our cameras snapping pictures of dark hallways,
    This was snapped with no flash.  Many of the hallways looked like this.
    old lady furniture,
    This decor was scary all by itself.  All it's missing is a bowl of hard candy from 1952.

    creepy staircases,
    This was with the flash.  Apprently, they were conserving energy by turning off most of the lights.

    and each other acting like total morons. 
    I ain't skeered!

    At least I'm not the only one not afraid to make an ass of myself for the sake of fun.
    All the while I was humming the 007 theme music.  Our mission was to go down to the basement which ended up being completely disappointing because it looked just like the rest of the place only the mildew reeked more than the upper floors. 
    See?  Rain.
    Outside it was storming making the dark hallways all the more delightful many times reminding me of scenes from the movie Gothika. 

    We were lucky enough to learn that a few days after us the Legion of Mary Ass would be using the facility.  We found the letter “M” for “mass” on the floor under the board.  I snapped a picture and Julia fixed it. 
    There's a legion in there.  Poor lady.
    It seems my interesting humor does not go unnoticed because the next day I found out that everyone in our group assumed it was me that made it that way in the first place.  I’m shocked.  Blame the heathen. 

    After we returned to our room, we were overcome with a craving for a slushy…a yummy, delicious, icy slushy.  I looked out the window over the rooftops at the pouring torrential rain and turned to Julia and said, “It’s just misting.”  I must have been pretty convincing because within minutes we were creeping downstairs.  We discovered the lobby gates were pulled down in the same fashion as a store in the mall would to protect its wares.  We found the nearest exit.  We were smart enough to check the door to make sure they didn’t lock behind us.  The downstairs door leading outside would have locked so we decided against our slushy adventure.  Boo!
    How sad...

    Before bed, we checked under each other’s bed…you know, just to be sure.  The beds were so much tinier than I am used to.   I had to be mindful so I didn’t fall out of it when I moved around in my sleep.  At one point during the night, I was tempted to flip the cross over just to freak Julia out in the morning but I decided against it.  Some people just don’t get my humor.  When it comes to religion people tend to get a little uptight.

    6:30 in the morning is just an ungodly time for any sane person to be awake.  At least they fed us.
    Breakfast of Champions!  Word!

    What makes it even worse is sitting in a three hour lecture listening to shit that is basically common sense.  The speaker actually insisted on leading us through guided imagery.  I nearly fell asleep.  I thought it was a horrible, HORRIBLE idea considering she was attempting to take some people back to when they were eight.  There were actually women crying around me.  All I could think was someone is diving into some dark ass memories.  I’m not playing that game.
    Do what you have to do to pass the time.
    Sometime during all this mind numbing boringness, my partner in crime Julia says she is “going to the bathroom” which was code for “I am going to the other conference room so I can find out what next year’s mystery cookie is”.  A few moments later, I get picture mail from another lady in the next conference room asking if I’m missing someone.

    Three hours!  That’s how long the first class lasted.  It was torture.  It felt like the part in the movie Zoolander when Derek Zoolander is held captive at the “day spa” by Mugatu who subjects him to extensive audio visual torture...only I wasn’t lucky enough to actually watch something.  I got to listen to some woman drone on and on like Ben Stien’s character from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

    Apparently, I wasn’t the only person bored stupid.  When I went to the bathroom at one point, I saw a girl on her laptop playing World of Warcraft.  Later an older lady tripped over the laptop cord causing a big scene.  Too bad it was AFTER we sat in there for most of the morning.  It would have been a welcomed diversion halfway through when I was on the verge of chewing off my own arm just to entertain myself.
    You know it's bad when you can't get up.
    We attended a few more sessions, which by comparison were only 30 minutes to an hour so they went by stupid fast.  When four o’clock rolled around, I was itching to leave.  The drive home was interesting.  Someone and I won’t name names (Julia) kept falling asleep.  Good thing I was driving or we may not have made it home. 
    Now I’m back in my part of Oklahoma where the wind comes sweeping down the plains just to ass rape my hair.  Let’s recap for my believer friends out there.  Everyone’s favorite agnostic mom stepped foot on holy ground and my feet didn’t sizzle.  I was not struck by lightning nor was an exorcism necessary.  Although there were a few times when I could have sworn some of the popes in the large portraits lining the hallways were totally checking me out.

    In unrelated news, I should point out to my readers (and any potential readers out there) it’s summer.  Don’t expect too much from me.  My kids keep me busy and we got a lot of traveling in our future.  I’ll be around.  You've been warned.

    Friday, June 3, 2011

    I'm Around...You Just Can't See Me

    As most of you know already, Blogger and I are not getting along. My commenting is thrown all off whack. It’s not letting me log in to leave comments…even on my OWN blogs. I have to take the time to manually type my name and URL in yet I remain faceless. Some of your blogs won’t even let me do that much!

    It’s also very finicky about when it allows me to make posts. Thank goodness I use Microsoft Word to write my posts or they’d be lost forever in Blogger limbo. When I hit “publish”, sometimes it takes me back to the log in page. It’s a big ol’ mess.  I had a lovely post for my anniversary on May 25 but Blogger was being a butt and after trying numerous times to post it I gave up.

    Damn you, Blogger Demon!!

    Rest assured though, I am around the blogosphere but I am silenced. I’m like a ninja all up on your page. I’ve actually been spending a lot of time hanging around this new blog collaboration which is named, simply ::snicker::, Fabulous Atypical Ramblings of Nuclear Cheese. If you clicked that link, I’m sorry but you can’t get those minutes you wasted back. They’re gone! Forever!
    To answer everyone’s most pressing question, yes your votes made me number one in May Concours d' Cuisine but apparently there is another round to the contest. You guys know how I am when it comes to rules and shit. K over at Big K, Little a has final say over who wins. I am in the final three. Now I have to wait on K to make all three dishes to see which one tickles her taste buds more. In the meantime, I’m going to join the June contest but I’m not going to fight to be number one again…just final three.

    Tuesday, May 24, 2011

    Whipping Out The Big Guns

    I'll make this brief.  I am in a contest...a battle of kitchens, if you will.  I'm neck and neck with another contestant battling for first place.  I NEED your votes.  Whip out your pcs, your smartphones, Ipads, ANYTHING that has interent access and vote for my Yummy Banana Cake.

    I do not lose gracefully, people.  I'm a sort of a sore loser.

    Also, bambi eyes...
    How can you say no?  You can't.  If you can, it means you are a cruel jerk that kicks kittens and puppies, slaps babies, and punches old people.  I'm just saying!

    So, to prove to everyone you aren't a big meanie pants please visit Big K Little a and vote.  The poll is located on the left hand side of the page.  Please cast your vote for my Yummy Banana Cake.  When I win, I will give all of my supporters a slice.

    Sunday, May 22, 2011

    Somewhere Over The Rainbow, It Burns When I Pee

    A few of you out there recognize true awesomeness when you see it. Then there are the rest of you that seem to have a warehouse of blog awards that you pass around like STDs at a frat party. Ironically, I was given an STD recently and, no, it did not involve cheating on my husband. And before you say, “Gee, Asha, I didn’t know you could get STDs from your vibrator,” I must warn you all. You are NOT safe. This STD was contracted through the blogosphere! Jewel over at Really?! Wait! What? and I are apparently getting a little too close and now I have a damn STD with no cure. No, it isn’t herpes or even AIDS. Jewel gave me…the Sexy & Talented Diploma.

    As with all blog awards, there are rules. However, this one had an interesting meme that makes me want to infect as many of you as possible, mainly because the bulk of you have the creative brain power to rock this shit.


    1. Make up ONE totally ridiculous story about yourself that is a complete rip-off from a movie. It can be as long or short as you want; clean or crass as you want.

    2. Pass it on to whomever you feel is deserving of this STD – or accept it and keep it for yourself; it’s your blog – it’s your choice.

    3. If you choose to accept this STD, please link your acceptance post back to the person who gave you your STD. I was also supposed to link it to some other site but, well, you know me and rules. Check out Jewell’s acceptance speech…err, confession if you need more information. She obviously follows rules better than me.

    Please turn off your cellphones.  Remove all crying children.  Be sure you have your overly priced popcorn and soda.
    Now for your feature presentation:

    Living in the suburbs of Oklahoma, I took many things for granted. Even though everything wasn’t always black and white, it was always a shade of gray at best. That is until that fateful day when a twister sucked me up and spit me out in a strange land of color. It’s possible I was raptured but it’s unlikely.

    Seems I sat on one lady with interesting socks and killed her. The land of midgets didn’t mind. Apparently, she was a kind of a jerk anyway. They warned me of her sister who was an uber bitch. They feared she would probably try to kick my ass at some point to avenge her sister. I shrugged it off and asked the mayor what they did for fun around there and by fun I meant where could I get drunk.

    After knocking back a few, this ugly chick showed up. There wasn’t beer goggles thick enough to make her look hot. She was running her mouth about…I don’t really know. I wasn’t listening. I was trying to get my hands on one of those large lollipops.

    I decided the only way to get this woman to shut her yapping would be to get her a drink or two. I snagged a couple of beers and figured the two us could take a stroll down the yellow brick road and have us a nice little chitty chat.

    Well, being the klutz that I am, I ended up tripping over my own two damn feet. Both beers flew out of my hand and spilled all over that lady. If I said she wasn’t happy, I’d be cheating you from the over dramatic wailing she was doing. She was hooting and hollering something fierce about how the world was so horrible and she was melting or something. She ended up a hot green gunky mess right there on the yellow brick road. Good thing those little midgets used Bounty, the quicker picker upper, because I only needed one sheet to soak that wicked bitch up.

    These little guys knew how to party. Regardless of how much fun I was having, I couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to go home. Luckily, this fabulous little neurotic who really liked pink showed up and reminded me I had awesome shoes that could pretty much get me anywhere as long as I didn’t kick her dog with them.
    I also met a stickman with an interesting vocabulary that was running for president, a night owl who gave himself nuclear headaches over his interest in scatology, and an atypical primate who owned a seedy motel.

    I’m not sure which of my new friends it was but one of them (probably the primate) suggested that I just keep drinking and that would get me home. I must have passed out at some point. I woke up the next morning in a random motel room with a nuclear sized headache surrounded by naked midgets and crudely drawn campaign posters. My shoes were missing and I’m going to assume that there is a neurotic strutting her stuff fabulously in Texas somewhere. Next time, I’ll avoid taking advice from a primate.

    The End

    In case, you haven’t guessed it. I’m sharing my STD with these guys (and gal):
    Bryan of Notes From A Night Owl, Nuclear Headache, and My Brown Log
    Scott of Atypical Read and Tales From A Motel
    Chanel of Fabulously Neurotic
    Doug of I Like Cheese and Made Up Words
    You can also find short quips of wisdom from this bunch over at Fabulous Atypical Headaches of Third Shift Cheese.

    Now that they have all been infected, I have faith that this motley crew will not hold back in the entertainment department.

    Also, Bryan bestowed an additional award on me…one that involves NO RULES! In a way, I’m relieved. I don’t think my brain could handle another set today.
    Thanks again to Jewel for lathering me up with your blog cooties and thanks Bryan for withholding your torture this time. You guys are great!

    Lastly, if you guys love me...I mean, REALLY love me you'll go vote for my banana cake.  The poll is on the left hand side of the page.

    I Lost My Boarding Pass

    My agnostic mind, although relieved the rapture did not transpire, was intrigued to say the least of the miniscule possibility of people “disappearing”.  Last night, I laid awake thinking about how awful it would be since my husband was on the other side of the planet. How would he get to us?

    To say I have an over-active imagination would be an understatement. My mind journeyed through scenario after scenario. I’m the queen of the “what ifs”. Sometimes I wonder why I haven’t locked myself in a closet somewhere.

    I called my mother and basically said, “Look. Although I think this is a crock of shit, I wanted to tell you good-bye… just in case I’m wrong.” As an agnostic, I do not claim to know what others are sure about.
    As I said, I laid in bed thinking about how things would play out. I thought about if this god decided to take his flock and leave behind the rest of us how angry I would be if he didn’t take my children. What an asshole that would make him to punish the innocent because of my choices and beliefs…or lack thereof.

    Also, I wondered what would happen to society. Would we crumble? Obviously something as major as the rapture would change life as we know it. That’s a no brainer but would civilization itself fail to exist? Would we live in a state of post “apocalyptica”…all because some “sheep” disappeared?

    Then…of course…my brain turned to zombies. Shocking, right? Me? Zombies?
    I thought about if just the souls of the “sheep” were raptured what exactly would be left behind? Lifeless bodies? Rotting corpses? Would these “souls” merely be the thing that makes us human in the first place? Would the rapture of these souls leave behind the living dead, violent…without any remorse? After all if those of us left behind are to be punished and tormented until the grand finale of existence than that would sure be how I’d fuck with folks if I was this god people are so set on selling their souls to.
    That’s another thing…the concept of being “left behind” is ludicrous to me. Why would a god after mercilessly torturing his strayed flock allow them to still “accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior” to avoid eternal damnation? Does that sound stupid to anyone else? I mean, holy fuck! Who in their right mind would choose NOT to believe at that point?????? So, in other words…regardless of how you live this life post rapture you still get to go to heaven. You may just need to deal with a few minor setbacks like some plagues and shit.

    Now some people are demanding a public apology from a one Harold Camping who started this rapture nonsense. I guess I’d feel the same way if I shared similar beliefs.  If I was a believer…especially if I was one of his followers I’d be pissed. Some people took this nonsense as gospel. As with anything, you’ve got your coo coo banana heads that take a small slice of crazy pie and turn it into a whole freaking bakery like this loco broad.

    I leave you with this. It seems appropriate.

    And if you would be so kind as to show me a little love that would be superb.

    Friday, May 20, 2011

    Crazy Lazy...Or Just Crazy

    To say I’ve been lazy would be an unfair statement. Yes, I’ve been neglecting my blog but I’ve had good reason. Apparently, the school board over planned their extreme weather days for this school year so there are days left over. Instead of letting the kids out of school a few days early they have decided to give them shorter weeks and longer weekends until summer vacation starts. That means that my normal Friday morning posting is interrupted by having to, you know, do parenting stuff.

    All and all, May has just been crazy so far and it isn’t over yet that’s for sure. School and scouting are both coming to a close for summer. My daughter has had her weekends jam packed with things to do for scouting. Her troop has been spending their cookie earnings on all sort of different activities for the girls. They were able to go to Nations of Fun which is this Chuck E. Cheese’s sort of place. While the kids played, I ran around snapping pictures as usual.

    Later, one mother was telling me about the problem the place used to have with pedophiles. I was like, “Oh great! You tell me this now! I was chasing kids up in the climby-thing with my camera. No wonder I was getting dirty looks.” Of course, it may have to do with the fact that I’m white and the place is run by the Comanche Nation.
    Who can really know?

    Another place we went was to Build-A-Bear Workshop. I had never been there before and I wish I could have stayed away. Imagine if you will a small store in a mall filled with at least twenty little girls between the ages of 3 and 12…squealing, giggling, whining. My anxiety was on red alert! Visions of Xanax and beer danced in my head.

    The concept of the store is clever. You personalize your own little stuffed animal for a retarded amount of money. I wish I’d have come up with that ingenious idea. Each girl received a $50 gift card to spend, compliments of the cookie money profit. My daughter picked out a gray cat. She wanted a black one which she was going to name Darth Vader but since they didn’t have black she got a gray one and named it Elizabeth after her Aunt Liz. I swear one extreme to the next.

    The toy was $16 all by itself. That price included the stuffing, a heart to go inside, and a birth certificate. However, the store is filled to the rafters with clothing and accessories for your furry friends.

    You could choose to have your “friend” say something. For instance if she wanted hers to purr, there were small sound pouches you would slide into the toy before it was stuffed and when it was squeezed it would make the desired sound. OF course, there was a hefty $10 charge on that. You could also get a beating heart instead of the one that came with the toy…another $5. I managed to talk her out of these by telling her that she wouldn’t have enough money to get the clothes and accessories she wanted. It didn’t take much prodding at all.
    Next we moved on to the clothes and such. She ended with this sparkly cotton candy-ish dress, complete with shoes, a crown, and even a septor. After she dressed her toy and ripped off the price tags, she found a Darth Vader costume! She didn’t have enough for it. I must have asked her at least five times, “Are you sure you don’t want to look around the whole store first before you make up your mind?” She decided that since she had already decided to name it Elizabeth she had to dress it like her REAL Aunt Liz.
    Then she informed me that we would just have to come back another time so she could create Darth Vader. Oh…of course. Lucky me!

    The troop also paid for the girls to attend the science museum in Oklahoma City.

    We had gone when my parents visited so I didn’t feel too bad when we left a little early. My son was staying over at a friend’s house and I didn’t want him to outstay his welcome. So we dipped out around 3:30pm. The drive back is like an hour and thirty minutes.

    My daughter also received all of her patches she earned for this year. I’m going to have to consider getting her a vest. Her sash cannot hold all of the patches she managed to snag this year.

    The girl scouts hooked my son up as well. As a thank you for all of the hard work he did during the cookie sales, they gave him $20 AND a $30 Wal-Mart gift card. I told him next year; maybe he won’t bitch as much.

    To reward my daughter and the other western Oklahoma Girl Scouts who sold 600+ boxes of cookies, we were invited to go to a local camp for a day of fun.  Yours truly actually acquired a tan.  That's right!  I am no longer pasty white, of course, you don't want to see my ass but at least my legs aren't glowing anymore.

    The kids were able to go on a scavenger hunt throught the camp.  The camp pool sprung a leak a few days before so we weren't able to go swimming.  There was a massive lake but the kids were only able to wade about knee deep in it...better than nothing, I guess.

    I managed to snag some good nature shots while we were out there too.

    Everything hasn't revolved around Girl Scouts.  The kids' school held their annual carnival which happened to be the same day as the girl child's girl scout awards.  I allowed the boy to go with a friend and I'd meet him there.  Upon arriving, I discovered that he was the lucky recipent of a two liter of freaking Mountain Dew. 
    I gave him a WTF look and his response was simple, "But I already opened it!" 
    How convient!

    My daughter played a few games...then she spotted...the...horses.  That was it.  We spent the rest of the carnival riding the My Little Ponies over and over again.

    Later that night, I allowed my son's buddy to stay over.  Throughout the night, I found my sleep being interupted by loud video games and such to which I would scream from my bedroom, "GO TO BED!"  In the morning, I found the ENTIRE bottle of Dew was gone!  I'm sure the boys had pinwheels in their eyes for most of the night.

    Still to come in a later post…the boy’s crossover ceremony from cub scouts to boy scouts, his promotion ceremony from elementary school to middle school, the last day of school, the beginning of the summer, AND most importantly the rapture…yes, the rapture.  Don't worry.  My little agnostic slice of a blog will still be here on Sunday.  I'll be preparing for the zombie apocalyspe.  I made sure to call my hypo-Christian mother to tell her goodbye.  I've got to get my ducks in a row.

    So you read it here first…all of my bullshit excuses for neglecting my blog.  However, lucky for me Scott still loves me and I'm off now to read his zombie post, followed by a pity party for being left out of this.

    Oh and just in case Doug wants to be a smart ass again and has any snarky comments about forgetting to post my bowel you go...