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Hey,

HEY!

You don’t have to do this. You DO NOT have to do this.

I know it seems like it.

I mean, you’re here…with him…

two tickets, a rental car

gifts have been opened.

How would get you home?

You’re stuck.

stop messing with your hair, stop stalling…

get the fuck down the stairs and do this thing

He isn’t THAT bad

But he is THAT bad. It will get worse.

You will never be so unhappy.

Misery will paralyze you

while you waste away.

You are only stuck if you say yes.

We have so much in common

LIKE WHAT?

Well, old movies for starters…

Christmas in Connecticut isn’t that fucking great, dude.

Blackened Catfish


I still think of you as Gabriel.

Gabriel Kristiansen, right?

Your pictures burn bright in my mind.

Bald, glasses, a smug smile.

Now I wonder who the FUCK I was even looking at.

Did that stranger know you had stolen their face and renamed them?

Did you buy them off, like you did me?

That face, sending me gifts from a P.O. Box in Del Mar.

Anonymity was crucial. A phone call finally explained why.

The airport sealed the deal.

Anyway, JENNIFER…

seven years is a lot to steal.

No psychological experiment should have lasted that long.

The funding alone…

And yet, I keep addresses…

faxed copies of contracts I signed,

a receipt for two silver rings

One of which was tossed outside a moving car window on Galloway Street.

I pray that ring has never brought happiness to the finder.

I was all in. Then nauseous, trying to run faster than the truth.

Shamed, My love wasted.

Your mission accomplished.

Is there anything better…


than listening to the same Bright Eyes song TWENTY TIMES IN A ROW,

pretending I don’t pick up on the obvious meaning

as we drive to my parents’ home in your stupid fucking Honda you never let me drive?

It wasn’t even a Prius.

Drying my tears in the driveway,

I do this ALL THE TIME.

Just not in this in driveway.

Loving my marriage, mom! Surely you can see that.

Ignore the pants hanging loosely on my hips.

Marathon training.

Plus he likes me this way, doesn’t he.

Pass on dessert and you’ll get a prize.

I can’t wait.

Fuck You, Brad.


I should have known,

YOU

reading my journal. MY PRIVATE JOURNAL

You would ruin me.

Putting me in a corner, accusing me, pressing me for a truth

a truth I wasn’t ready to accept

much less ready for you to know.

But yet

there you were in your smug cardigan

Making me feel like a useless piece of garbage.

So lucky to you have you!

No one would want me with secrets like those.

But be sure to stay skinny,

and listen to my music

Because I am a small man with big plans,

and I can’t have them without you. Understand?

Yeah, I finally understand.

FUCK YOU, BRAD.

(I’m writing some poetry after a 14-year hiatus, inspired by real-life events! Exciting!)

Certainly I Want to Hear About Your Parenting Skills, Because I’m Standing Next To You.


So, I took the boys to “play group” yesterday. Is that one word or two words? I don’t fucking know. Anyway, taking them to play group is not my favorite thing in the world but it’s different and there’s a goddamn craft to do that’s far more creative than anything I can dream up (I could check on Pinterest but fuck Pinterest), and it eats up time. THIS IS KEY FOR A STAY-AT-HOME MOM.

I’ve been to this group numerous times and none of the other moms like me much. I know this because they never talk to me and they always talk to each other. One of them is even someone I went to high school with. AND SHE IGNORES ME. (She wasn’t even cool back then so get the fuck over yourself) Well, YESTERDAY WAS THE EXCEPTION. A pale, pinched woman (who really looked like she needed a joint) decided to be my friend! Can’t you just tell when someone is just DYING to impart their “wisdom” on literally anyone who will listen?

I heard her theories on the Power Rangers being Satan’s servants, how her kids NEVER EAT SUGAR (WTF is wrong with a world where a kid NEVER GETS SUGAR…EVERYTHING IS WRONG WITH A WORLD LIKE THAT!), how her husband lost his job, blah blah blah. Then she told me she liked public school because it exposed her kids to “different kinds of people and cultures”…you “know what I mean.” Yeah, I think the lady with the full tattoo sleeves and nose ring has some idea of WHAT YOU MEAN. Jesus Christ, I cannot stand other mothers. I CANNOT STAND THEM. The ones I could stand I’ll never meet because they’re too busy not telling me how amazing they are.

So we took the kids to see the Easter Bunny and literally everyone in front of us came with kids having major anxiety attacks over this man dressed in a very soft fur suit. These people were all like, “Oh this happened last year too…” OKAY, SO MAYBE DON’T TAKE YOUR KIDS AGAIN? Am I the only parent who thinks, “Oh, well my kid screamed over that last year so maybe buying a new outfit and getting the picture taken for Grandma isn’t such a big deal this time.” I think so. The boys are four, and it was all pretty magical to them. They couldn’t figure out what the fuck the kids were screaming about. As Clark put it, “It’s not like a shot at the doctor or someone hit them in the head to be mean.”

In other news, since I last wrote, Justin had somewhat of an emergency knee operation, we got Influenza B (that’s on top of the A we had back in December), we had that nasty stomach flu bug, and I think we have ants already. In the bathroom. WTF?

Oh it’s just all such an “adventure!”

My Year in Review, Which I Kept Writing as “The Rear in Yeview…”


Oh wow! HERE I AM! Grab a beer; I WROTE A FUCKING BLOG! WOOHOOOO!!!

If you’re wondering where I’ve been, I have a very short answer for you: LIVING. If I got paid shitloads of money to write this blog, I’d be sharing my HILARIOUS adventures with you all the time but I don’t get anything for this, so sorry….. You know how it goes with 3.5 year old twin boys.

YOU DON’T? EXACTLY.

People randomly find this thing and write the weirdest comments in response. I assume they’re drug-inspired. I hope so, anyway. Someone deserves some freaking weed in this world.

Anyway, I’ve spent the past 1.5 weeks sick as shit with Influenza A. Now I’ve got a sinus infection. It’s been a great Christmas. Being a parent to sick children while simultaneously feeling like you’re going to die is just the most uplifting character-building experience I’ve had all year. I haven’t been this sick in my first 35 years. I don’t need to repeat it again for another 35. AND, if I’m 70 when I get this sick again, I’ll probably die, so that’s something to think about…

So, here’s the condensed version of my year:

I hate life less. I’m not so angry. My kids are more fun. I still hate your kids, unless your kids are my nieces and nephews. Then I like them just fine.

I ate Halloween candy for the first time in 12 years. NOT being anorexic is a nice experience. Not always easy but nice. I’ve pretended NOT to be anorexic many times in my life. This time it feels more legitimate. I know this because I’m not just pretending to eat food. I am actually eating it. CRAZY

Clark was in the hospital for a week with pneumonia in May. It was awful. I hate hospitals. I hate God for letting little kids get that sick. Actually, I’ve discovered I hate God for many reasons. I AM a believer. But as far as liking God, I’ve got a ways to go.Still…progress.

I’m going to see Neil Diamond with my hubs and my dad in April. The last time I took my dad to a “big city” concert was to see The Police. That was with a different husband. Hopefully, we can replace that memory with the sweet sounds of I’m A Believer.

I saw The Lumineers…was that this year or last? I don’t remember.

I ran a few more marathons, my knees are all fucked up with arthritis, we’ll see what I can do this year but certainly, IT WILL INVOLVE RUNNING LONG DISTANCES AT SOME POINT.

I drink a lot of Coor’s Light these days. Maker’s Mark, as well. Fuck wine.

Until next year…CHEERS…

Keep Your Sick Cussing Kids At Home. I’m Over It. AND YOU.


So after having various illnesses pass back and forth between the four members of our household for the past two months, we’ve finally been feeling “well enough” for like two weeks. Because we love being healthy, we logically take ourselves to the Eau Claire Children’s Museum over the weekend. A place where everyone else will CERTAINLY only bring their healthy, well-adjusted children to. RIGHT? RIGHT?

WRONG.

I yelled at three different groups of children over the course of two hours. Two knocked down the towers we were building in the giant foam Tinker Toy area, and the others blew past us up the stairs and shouted behind them, “WATCH OUT.” I, of course, yelled back, “Watch out yourselves and slow down, it’s rude.” I might have also suggested they were brats but I refuse to put that in quotations. I yelled at the other kids too, and right in front of their parents. I don’t give a cuss. And you know what? I knew the moms were scared of me, because of the tattoos, so I totally used it to my advantage. It’s like, “What. You want to mess with this?”

Then there were tons of miserably sick children there, sneezing over everything and coughing, repeatedly, with their mouths open. WHAT KIND OF PARENT THINKS IT’S A GREAT IDEA TO DRAG YOUR SICK KIDS ANYWHERE. I don’t get it. You know how many times I’ve opted to leave the kids at home versus toting them around to some family function with their illness in tow? It’s for the kids. It’s for everyone else. Have I made some enemies with choices like this? CERTAINLY.

My point being; What the frick is wrong with parents? They’re either selfishly toting their kids around to stuff with major illness because DAMMIT, WE ARE GOING TO THIS EVENT WHETHER YOU’RE DYING OR NOT AND ALSO WE DON’T CARE IF YOU WE YOUR KIDS SICK. Or they’re bringing their healthy kids with the worst personalities in the world to things and making me boil to the point of wanting to punch the whole lot.

My kids play well with others. I apparently don’t. SO WATCH OUT.

Is There a Dead Magician in the Neighborhood?


So, last October I was just ready to head out for a run when my mom noticed something odd from our living room window. There, standing on its very handsome hind legs, was a bunny. Not just any garden-variety brown bunny. A BLACK AND WHITE gentleman bunny. The kind a magician pulls out of a hat. IN OUR PARKING LOT. Clearly, something was wrong with this picture. Black and white gentlemen bunnies don’t belong in neighborhoods with hawks and eagles and feral cats. And mean people who apparently THROW AWAY PERFECTLY GOOD BUNNIES.

Naturally, I obsessed about this bunny all day. During my run, I puzzled how I might rescue the bunny. I returned home and saw the bunny hopping around in the brush near my car. Eventually, I put out a bunch of baby carrots (I know these aren’t real carrots but it was ALL I HAD), a laundry basket, and a towel. In my dream world, I envisioned this bunny hopping perfectly into the laundry basket, snuggling in, and asking me to PUHLEASE get him some jelly beans.

It didn’t quite happen that way.

He eventually ate a few of my carrots but refused to get near that overturned laundry basket. I can’t imagine why a caged basket wasn’t appealing to him.

Eventually, I contacted my friend Candice. I fancy her kind of an animal whisperer. She managed to get the bunny into a tupperware container. I know that sounds terrible but it was rather large. Just as she carried it up the stairs and we almost let the boys touch it, she noticed that it was kind of filled with bugs. Of all kinds. Time to close the box. Sorry, bunny. (The boys named him Oscar, by the way)

Oscar went to the humane society and that was the end of our exciting adventures. OR SO I THOUGHT.

Last night, I pull into our parking spot and what should I spy hopping around in that same patch of brush? A BLACK AND WHITE GENTLEMAN BUNNY. WHAT THE CUSS is going on here. Either the same bunny ran away from the humane society/his adopted home (but who are we kidding…it was the humane society), OR, this is another bunny that doesn’t belong in the “wilderness” that is Chippewa Falls. I’m thinking that a dead magician could be rotting somewhere with a box filled with bunnies that periodically hop out and scavenge for food.

I wasn’t going to mention this but when I saw the bunny last night, I shouted, “WHO ARE YOU. WHY ARE YOU HERE.” And he stopped to look at me. I also made some noises I thought might be bunny-like. Don’t judge me.

Either way, I am obsessed with staring out the window today and it has to stop. WHO ARE YOU BUNNY.

Kidoodle. TV makes me happy. And they want to give you free stuff too!


Full disclosure, my friends:

“I participated in a Blog Blast program on behalf of Mom Central Consulting for Kidoodle.TV. I received a promotional item and a free trial as a thank you for participating.”

I started a free trial of Kidoodle. TV a few months ago because I love my kids and I love getting work done around the house. Guess what? Those two things are not always synonymous with each other. Love this platform because it’s built for kids, not just aimed at them, Kidoodle.TV is designed specifically for the use and navigation by kids (ages 12 and under). I can filter what they watch and they can easily figure out how to work the controls (even a nearly 3 year-old set of twins can do it!). My boys love nearly EVERY show deemed appropriate for their age-range.

You can try Kidoodle.TV for FREE and enter by December 31, 2013 to win 1 of 10 tablets or 1 of 10 Kidoodle.TV year-long subscriptions! Just visit their website for your trial and sweepstakes entry. Check them out on Twitter and Facebook because you’re cool like that.

 

Have you created your adorable Christmas cards yet?


Full disclosure, my friends:

“I participated in a campaign on behalf of Mom Central Consulting (#MC) for Cardstore. I received a promotional item as a thank you for participating.”

Before the kidlets came along, I simply sent out the Christmas cards I bought on clearance from the year before. So my styles might’ve been slightly behind, but really, does that matter in the world of Christmas cards? Now that the boys are here, it’s like some kind of unspoken rule I simply MUST SEND OUT FANTASTIC CHRISTMAS CARDS FEATURING MOSTLY THEM. And of course, now that I have kids, I have zero time for this task. Just when I thought I’d have to tape old photos to pieces of cardstock, Cardstore.com came to my rescue. They’ll print, address and send cards out for you. If they would also design my cards, that’d be great, but I’ll take what I can get. If order today (Cyber Monday!!), you get $.99 flat cards. Log on and make your holiday card today: http://po.st/PersonalizeYourCard