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.

Rules:

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.

And The Award Goes To...

Now is the time for more awards. I have a few to dish out today. I know you guys look forward to this. The first award is the Life is Good award that Kamilla over at Basket of Dreams has given me to me. Of course, I have to share it with some other folks but that’s ok. I’m not selfish.

In receiving this award I have to:

1.) Thank and put a link back to the person who so kindly gave this award.
2.) Share a few things about yourself.
3.) Pass the award onto some other bloggers you deem deserving.
4.) Inform these said bloggers that they have received the award.

I hate rules and out of respect for Kamilla I will follow them but to the recipients of this award I relinquish you from all of the above rules. If you want to pass it on, great! If you want to forget I ever gave it to you, that is fine too. Well, let’s get to it. Shall we?

1.) I love to throw maraschino cherries into my mixed drinks so that when I’ve had enough to drink I can munch liquor soaked cherries.

2.) I loathe laundry and it seems like a never ending process.

3.) I am very close to paying the truck off so suck it, Chrysler Financial!

4.) My favorite thing to do is read.

5.) Floral scented candles and lotions make my nose itch something fierce.

6.) I’m a total pussy at the dentist. I still require nitrous to keep myself from having a panic attack as sharp objects come towards my face.

7.) I love cheesy zombie movies…the cheesier the better.

8.) I am so over all this snow.

9.) I’ve been a nail biter for as long as I can remember.

10.) I enjoy cooking very much and I’m usually good at it except when almond milk is involved.

Now I bestow the Life is Good award on the following four people…

Tanya at A Taste of T


She's rocking her baby belly and is extremely clever. I think I’ll keep reading.

Canela at From My Home And Heart


I’ve known her since high school and she’s always been quick witted and fun to be around.



Debbie at No Filter Mom



She’s proof that 40 is the new 30 and she’s really good about keeping me up to date on various blog hops.

Nic at Life Reassembled


She’s coming down with the flu and could use some cheering up (and Nyquil).

 Now on to the awards I know you knuckleheads have been looking forward to all week. I’ve got three this time.

The first one goes to Mother Teresa (or MT as I tend to refer to her) at The Rain In Spain... Each Friday she photographs something in her home EXTREMELY close up and asks her readers to guess what it is. Each week I rack my brain to try to figure out what the hell it is. So to MT, I’d like to give the Photo Capture Award.

Next, I’d like to give an award to the one and only Atypical Scott at Atypical Read (not to be confused with Bryan because that would be silly). He keeps me thinking and has a tendency to make me feel slightly stupid. So let me put on my dunce cap so I can give Scotty boy his award.

Last but certainly not least is my new buddy, Jewell at Really?! Wait! What? She’s a fun one and finds some of the craziest headlines.

So there you have it, this week’s awards. Be sure to check out these folks because I like them and you may as well. Stayed tuned tomorrow for another Fantastic Friday Five.

Back on the Sauce

There are days when my children are little angels. Then, my alarm clock goes off and I realize those weren't my kids at all, but some faceless little dream people. *wink*



Honestly, my kids are great. Yes, they both have these larger than life personalities and, yes, they stress me out more often then I’d like but after I calm down I am usually able to giggle about some of the crazy things that they do and say. Today was one of those days…

My children were finishing up their chores when their friends stopped by to play. I told them they had to finish but their friends were welcome to wait for them since they were both so near completion. I told my daughter to vacuum her room which she did with no problem. Of course, she isn’t the one that seems to lack in the cleanliness department. My son, on the other hand, is a whole other story. (Mom, if you are reading this and I KNOW you are, thanks a lot for your parental curse and for the record my husband does not “trip” through the door so, HA!)

That boy, he is just perfectly satisfied with being funky. If I didn’t tell him to bathe he never would…EVER! Today I walked into his room and something just reeked. It smelled like a combination of rotten bologna and ass crack. When I told him his room was stanktastic, he retorted by saying, “I don’t smell anything.” Of course you can’t, you goober, you’re used to it. Most people don’t recognize their own B.O. especially if they are normally putrid.

While trying to decipher exactly where the stench was coming from without actually sticking my nose up to anything (I didn’t want to pass out, ok??), I told him to take the dirty clothes basket out of his room and change the sheets on his bed and then I’d come in there and Febreeze the shit out of the place. I, then, went about my task of cooking an exquisite meal aka Hamburger Helper.

Later, he came through the kitchen with his friend and said he was done and he was going to play outside. I specifically asked him, “Did you change your sheets?” “Yes.”, he said. Then I asked, “Did you make your bed?” (You got to be very specific!) “Yes.”, he said again. I told him after I finished getting our fancy grub going I would be taking a stroll into his room for verification.  He nodded and walked out the door.

Who thinks he did what was asked of him? Anyone? Anyone? Beuller? Beuller? If you guessed “not a chance in hell” you, my friend, are right! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!

Shockingly, when I went into his room his bed was made. For a second there (and only a second) the heavens opened up and a majestic being surrounded by a radiant white light extended his arms towards me and began to speak in some other worldly tongue. Then I realized the smell of week old gym socks and stale Funyuns were causing me to hallucinate. I glanced over to the dirty clothes basket and it was empty. So where were his sheets? I quickly held my breath and pulled back the comforter just enough to see the same army green sheets on his bed. Damn it, boy!!

At this point, I was angry that he didn’t change his sheets but I was furious that he had lied straight to my face. Enough is enough. It dawned on me that with my husband being away for quite some time I needed to pull in the reins before things got to out of control.

I marched outside and told him to come inside immediately. Once inside, I asked him again if he changed his sheets. He told me he did. I ask him where the old sheets were. He told me they were in his dirty clothes basket. Lies! Lies! Lies! So, I told him I smell bullshit and it stinks almost as bad as his room.

In my calmest yet stern voice (which by the way is more difficult to execute than you might think considering the present circumstances), I told him that I was fed up with his lies and from now on when he lies I will be putting a dab of hot sauce in his mouth. Now I’m not talking wimpy ass Tabasco either. I’m talking hot as a mofo, burning like the freaking sun in your mouth HAWT sauce! I whipped out my husband’s “a little dab will do ya” hot sauce conveniently called “After Death Sauce”. The sight of the bottle made my son start to cry REAL tears. Part of me wanted to take pity and let it go at that but I’m the Queen of Empty-Threats usually which is part of the problem with my kids lately. I knew that by not following through with this he would think he got over on me once again.

Carefully, I unscrewed the cap and put just a smidgen on my index finger. The boy kept backing away from me and I blatantly told him if I need to hold him down so be it. Finally, he gave in and I lightly touched his tongue with my finger. It was barely any but it doesn’t take much to make you feel it.

He proceeded to cry (and I don’t blame him) and pant with his tongue hanging out. I let him squirm for maybe a minute. I’m sure it seemed like at least a half an hour to him. Then, I handed him a glass of milk and a tortilla to help neutralize the burn.

Afterwards, I explained to him that the lying had to stop and this is the new way to remedy it. You lie. You get hot sauce in your mouth. Period. I’m considering implementing this for back talking as well. We’ll see.

Later after their friends went home, I noticed the vacuum in the middle of the floor. I asked the kids which one of them left it there. Of course, both of them said, “Not me!” I pretty much knew it was my daughter because she was the one I told to vacuum earlier. So, I turned to my son and said, “Boy, did you tell your sister what happened to you earlier when you lied to me?” He proceeded to tell her the tale of the sauce. Almost immediately, she leaped up and declared that it was, in fact, her and she raced to rectify the problem.

Maybe to some people this all seems cruel but I’ve never been one to really put my hands on my children other than a swat here and a slap there. I’m always cautious because I have a tendency to loose my temper and the last thing I want to do is hurt them. Now the previous statements are, by no means, me trying to explain myself to anyone that is reading this. I am merely stating facts. I am truly hoping that by giving them a taste of the sauce it will have a similar effect that smacking a toddler’s hand does when they touch an electrical outlet. If I can’t get them to stop the lies now at the young ages of 10 and 7, I am royally fucked when they reach their teen years. I got to stop the madness.  Too bad kids don't come with a manual or at least a website...

Just a quick note here…

I had every intention of blogging about my children and their entrepreneurial tendencies but the above topic had me so heated I had to vent. Hopefully, I’ll get to my children and the future of sales pitching tomorrow evening. That is, if neither of my children don’t end up starting Armageddon between now and then. Cross your fingers for me and my sanity.

Bible Belt Abuse

Life here on the Sooner State (gag) is interesting to say the least.  Today I had an awkward moment with my landlord.  Out of the blue he asks me what is my families religious affiliation.  Knowing we live on the bible belt where there seems to be some sort of Christian church on every corner, we can't help but feel slightly out of place.
Let me back track a tad here...
My husband is atheist...cut and dry.  He sees things as black and white with zero room for that gray area I love so much.  Me, on the other hand, would consider myself more of an agnostic.  My husband would tell you I'm just a lazy atheist.  I believe that what a Christian sees as "god" is merely part of all of us and isn't some entity.  I do not believe there is a heaven or hell and we will not be judged in the hereafter.  I do, however, think all religions are based on some fact.  The fact being simply some uncivilized Neanderthals saw something in the sky they didn't understand and named it god.  Then as civilization progressed there came a need to control the populace and how do you do this?  You make up rules and say "god" wants you to follow these...much the same as parents do to their kids with Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy.
Here's where the gray area comes into play.  Things like clairvoyance and spirits don't fall into the fiction category in my internal library.  While I think there are many kooks out there, I don't think they are all full of shit.
OK.  Fast forward...
Now do you see my dilemma?  We are here living on the bible belt.  We may as well be satanists in the eyes of these church-goers.  How in the hell am I supposed to explain this to my landlord without his entire church showing up to pass out tracks and do vigils on my front lawn?
All of these things are racing through my brain as I'm standing there dumbfounded with what I'm sure was a blank expression while he stands there staring at me waiting on a response.  Even though nanoseconds passed it felt like an hour.  I take a deep breath and I say, "Well, my husband is atheist." 
He replies with a simple head nod and an "Oh".  It was almost as if to say "Sorry to hear that.  He's going to hell." 
Now it's my turn to attempt to explain my end of the religious spectrum.  This ought to be a blasty blast!  Again, I breathe in deeply and reply, "I'm...well, I'm...".  My brain is on overload.  How do I even begin to explain the gray area?  If I were a Christian or a Muslim or anything, I could spout out the belief system that has been taught to me.  Problem for me is I don't have some book to refer to...I just have life and all that is around me. So, I simply say, "I have no religion, sir." 
"So you are atheist?", he inquires.
"I just don't know what I am.  I'm not fond of labels."
He raised his eyebrows at me and made a "mm-hmm".
So me being the socially awkward person that am decide to lighten the mood a little and before I can stop the words from spewing out of my mouth these word come out:
"Don't worry.", I say, "We aren't satanists or anything like that.  There aren't any baby sacrifices going on here.  If you pull up the carpet, you won't find a pentagram draw on the ground."
He then informs me of this little tidbit of knowledge.  "You know, they have problems with that around here.  People often find mutilated livestock in their fields."  Then he told me he had to run and he left.
For goodness sakes!  Now he probably thinks we are satanists.  Next time he hears of some cattle found mutilated, he'll think of me.  Awesome!  This is why I don't have many friends.
Ironically, later that day there was a knock on my door and who should be standing there?  There on my porch was a church group passing out tracks and asking if they could pray with me.  I declined and they proceeded down the street to pester someone else but not before they left me with some pamphlets even though I told them I don't believe in wasting paper and I will not be reading them. 
These people don't care about my beliefs.  They only care that I don't believe in theirs.  They are like club members and every now and then they have to do membership drives.  God forbid some other religions recruit more!
Oh well.  We've been here for almost six months and I'm bored out of mind.  So if there is anyone out there that lives in the Texhoma area and you aren't looking to "save" me please let me know.