away demon vodka!

Something I re-learned for the 198th time this weekend? When I drink, I get mouthy. The more I drink, the mouthier I get. At the time, it seems hysterical. Then when I get up on sunday, I feel wretched.

That would be why I don't drink very often.

And what is the protocol really? If you suspect you made someone mad with your honesty, do you go back and email them and say, "When I said that you were 'dead to me', I meant that in a spooky halloweeny friendly way, not like in a mean, hurtful, way. Really. I swear. Still friends?" or "You know when I called you a cockwad? I meant you were a 'hot stud'. Sometimes when i am drinking, my words get all slurry. I am sure that you thought I meant 'cockwad.' But I didn't! Isn't that FUNNY?"

Or do you let it go and assume that your friend has their head so far up their ass that they didn't notice?

A boy and his doll

I am in a foul mood today. It is cold, and raining. I needed a new shirt for a big dinner tomorrow and my tits are too big for every shirt I tried.... possibly for every shirt in America. Someone hurt my feelings. I have to leave my house at 6:30AM tomorrow to drive an hour and a half to class and sit all day learning for the 10,987th time about home insurance. And my car is out of alignment. I am having a hard day.

So, to cheer myself up and save you the drudgery of my whiney ass, here are some photos and a story.

Elizabeth picked out a cute little dolly with her Winning-The-Art-Contest-At-The-Fair money. But when Colby saw the new addition... it was true love. He will now no longer brave the scary world outside (or inside) without his "Dowwey". Dowwey goes everywhere we do, and he can't sleep without her either.

Marty is SO PROUD. Really. *ahem*

"Bye Dowwy! Bye! Work!"














Colby goes to work.














When he gets home from work, he yanks his sister's hair for even sitting next to dolly.














And how cute is this at bedtime??? I just want to squeeze him... oh wait! I can.

Why you should have kids when you are a teenager.

The other night, we got our first coldish snap. I hate cold weather. I really do. So as soon as it hits 50 degrees, I start pulling out heavy blankets, and coats, and winter pajamas.

I found out that Colby does not like winter pajamas... Why? Because you can't wear shoes with them. He doesn't care that the shoes are built in. He wants to wear a t-shirt and shoes. He also seems to be afraid of some sort of belly button emergency, and if he is wearing a zip-up sleeper, how can he save the belly button???

But that is not even the beginning of my story. Or the POINT of it, for that matter.

So Sunday night, I am putting on his sleeper and he is a hysterical octopus child. As fast as I can put one foot in, he is jerking it back out. He is yanking at the sleeper and screaming as if it is on fire. And I keep smiling, knowing that I paid $10 for this thing and it is CUTE and he is BY GOD going to wear it if it KILLS me.

And it nearly did.

I finally get my naked, rabid, octopus child zipped up into his sleeper, and he is still screaming over those shoes that cannot be worn, and I am trying to calm him down (because it is a SLEEPER for goodness sakes, in case you missed that, a BRAND NEW, CUTE SLEEPER. Not a nipple piercing, or something painful such as that.)

I pick him up, and say, "Oh, stop now!! Look how cute you look in your jams!! Cuuuuutteeee! Cute Colby!!"

*scream scream scream* (pulls at sleeper) *screams screams screams*

"Lets go show daddy how cute you look!" I say, picking him up off the changing table and heading toward the living room with him.

Unfortunately, I stepped on an oversized Hot Wheel with my bare foot, and jumped so that I got off-balance. Instinct made me step back... onto a Circus Truck. My other foot, recovering from the Hot Wheel implantation, tried to find some traction, somewhere, anywhere... and about that time, I stepped into the trash can.

That was pretty much the end of that. There are only so many ways to trip an elephant. I hit the floor hard, my right ass cheek landing on a square wooden block, one foot in a dirty diaper, the other twisted under me, and my head whacking the door frame on the way down.

I thought I managed to toss Colby into my pile of Ebay clothes, but it seems that he hit his head on something on the way down.

One thing about it, he forgot about his pajama depression.

And I feel like I was hit by a truck. And my buttcheek looks like a map of Texas.

It used to not hurt like this to fall down.

It's a bird! It's a plane!

This blog has the potential to offend someone. I REALLY hope it doesn't. Please don't be offended, ye potentially offended one. Ok?? I mean nothing derogatory about this.

Marty has started wearing a visor. I freaking HATE it. No one looks good in a visor. If you have a visor and you feel that you look pretty hot in it, well... you don't. If someone is telling you that you do, it is because you either have a lot of money, or they want to get laid. Visors are NOT hot.

He has always been a ball cap kind of guy. Ball caps are nice. Cowboy hats on the right person are nice. I have tried to get him to go back to the ball cap and he says this is just like a ball cap, only it makes him feel free-er. WHATever.

So a couple weeks ago, I pulled out the big gun. I told him that the visor made him look a tiny bit gay. (Yes, Jerry, I know. A respectable gay man would never, EVER wear a visor. I was just hoping to threaten his manhood.) Unfortunately, he laughed uproariously and said that ALL the pro-fishermen were wearing them now.

This little debate went back and forth for days.

Then, last weekend, we had a gift certificate for Red Lobster. Visor Boy and I take the kids out to eat. I beg him to just use gel and go without and he says he isn't comfortable with that. I then remark that everyone is going to think I am out to eat with my gay brother, and he retorts that everyone will think I am going out to eat with my hot fisherman husband.

Well, we have a really nice dinner and as we are leaving the restuarant, a man stops Marty and says, "HEY! How did you do today?"

Marty looks at him puzzled and says, "I am sorry?"

The guy replies, "Weren't you in the masters fishing tournament today on Lake Catherine?"

You have GOT to be kidding me.

Marty starts grinning from ear to ear and starts in, "Well, I wasn't able to fish it this year, but..." (He has never fished it, by the way.)

I roll my eyes his direction, leave him blabbering and take the kids on to the car and get them buckled in.

When he gets in the car, he is glowing and adjusts his visor with a big grin.

I say, "Boy, that was bold."

He looks confused. "What was bold?"

I reply, "That guy hitting on you in front of your wife and kids."

He punched me. And has not taken the visor off since.