Holy shit. Am I a sucky blogger or what? I can't believe I have not posted shit in over a week.

As if I could possibly go that long with nothing to say.

HA!

So for your consideration, I present the highlights of the past week.

I worked, I slept, took several shits and probably picked my nose in my car a few times.

I know, amazing how I accomplished all that in a mere 9 days. Fortunately, I am a multitasker.

School has begun which results in my having to will my fat ass out of bed an hour earlier every day. I would think at nine years of age, the princess could fucking drive herself. A few phone books and a block of wood and she could reach the petals and see out the windshield just fine. I think she's just plain lazy.

I also need to announce that my wonderful son is taking time from school to find himself. Well, shit, I can help him with that.

He is in his room either sleeping until 2pm or playing guitar hero.

There...found. Now put down the controller, put out the joint and get the fuck out of my house.

I shouldn't be so hard on him. After all, he is quite adamant about having a plan.

"My plan is to mooch off of you until you throw my ass out."

Everyone needs a goal and I guess that one is as good as any other.

I'll get to checking up on the kewl kids' blogs really soon. Promise.

Peace.

I am in no mood.

Going home now to finish the ark.

Cockroaches and red ants aren't invited this time around.

Terry chimed in during my bitch shrink contemplation and asked

"Holy mother of christ!!

You seem so normal to be seeing a psychiatrist.

wtf happened??

You HAVE heard of SCM right? I would think I would be within my rights to say, nuff said. However, it is Sunday morning and since I hate the Catholic Church lately I will enlighten you kewl kids with some words of wisdom by Moi.

Not that I normally actually attend church service on Sunday. BAAAA. I am more of a C and E gal myself. But I do try to make it a habit of doing unto others or not speaking ill or whatever the fuck the big JC had to say about my ragging on the SCM in the written word.

Although I am inclined to call him a fucking prick to his face.

But I digress.

It occurred to me that many of you readers of RMDWAI have actually discovered me here.

So for you, my new friends, here is my story.

My first blog was lovingly titled, 100 Reasons Why I Hate My Husband. It was also hosted by blogger. It did grow enough to deserve its own domain name. WhyIhatemyhusbanddotcom. Don't bother clicking it, it crashed one fine day and even though I still "rent" the name, it has been stuck in neutral for well over a year now. Possibly two.

After getting over 100,000 hit, I did make it to the one hundredth reason before it crashed and burned. Some still think that was planned and have never found me again. It really was not. I don't know if I would have continued to write on that site but I certainly would have left it up. It was a great site that my good friend worked hard to make and I loved so many things about it.

But alas....

This followed Peanut Butter which SCM found and that one I pulled out of guilt.

Which brought us all here.

Back to Terry's original question. I think 100 Reasons was a kind of cheap therapy. I was able to get out my animosity in a humorous way and still retain my sanity.

However, now I have the stinky bastard back in my house, annoying the shit out of me once again and no place to vent about it. Does he read this blog? Maybe but I don't give a flying fig. If so, dear, stop fucking pawing all over me. I fucking HATE THAT. Also, following me to the bathroom isn't endearing, it is fucking annoying and a little sad.

CUT IT OUT.

Sigh...

Believe me kids, with all this fucking anger, Chris in therapy makes the world a much safer place.

I am going to cross the line today and blast organized religion.

Collectively the people that run organized religion are a bunch of political, greedy, self serving pieces of dog shit.

Discuss.

I'll be on the phone yelling at the priest of the local parish for attempting to extort more fucking money out of me in the name of the "Lord".

May your weekend be blessed by whatever god,celestial body, spiritual leader or bologna sandwich that gives you comfort.

Peace.

Me? A Bitch?

I know this is going to shock the hell out of all of you, but I actually have a shrink that I see pretty regularly.

I am sure your delusion of my being the most perfect female on the planet is now shot to shit but you'll just have to get over it.

I will not tell you why I feel the need to piss away 200 bucks an hour but I will tell you that it has nothing to do with hating my mother, being unloved by my father, being bullied in the third grade by Fat Frieda or being diddled by Uncle Sleaze after Thanksgiving dinner.

However, the reason I am mentioning this is that my therapist called me a BITCH last week.

As in.."Wow, you can really be a bitch, can't you?"

HEY! Are these dudes supposed to make judgements like that? Of course I took it as a compliment but still....what if I never aspired to be a bitch. What if I always thought I was a sweet gal with impeccable non bitchy ways and this person that is in charge of my Psyche just insulted me?

At that point in the session, my mind began to wonder about what the fuck he meant by that? So being that we were on my 200 bucks, I asked...

"What the fuck do you mean by that?"

And he chuckled and said time was up.

It occurs to me that the SOB just goaded me into laying down another 200 bucks to find out why he thinks I am a bitch.

Brilliant move dude. I hope you're on commission.

Back To School

School begins again in two weeks. I realize that some of you are anxious for the kiddies to return to the classroom but during the summer I get to sleep in a couple of extra hours each day.

I am getting older and I NEED that extra beauty sleep God Damn It!

I printed the school supplies list off of the Internet and I will be meeting with the bank manager to secure the loan that will be necessary very soon. Two pages of very specific supplies. I am still trying to figure out what she is going to do with 30 boxes of baby wipes and 30 cans of Lysol.

Are the kids THAT dirty and stinky?

I am happy that the Princess's teacher is the same woman she had in 1st grade. Not only is she very nice, she effectively communicates via Internet daily posts. For working mom's like me, that is a beautiful thing. It is nice that she acknowledges that all the kids don't have professional dads and soccer moms despite the hefty tuition.

I think as a teacher it would drive me crazy having all those moms grilling me about their kids every single fucking day but I guess if you came from a school with no parental interaction, it might be nice.

For a day or two.

Then I would imagine you'd miss the junky dads and crack whore moms that stay the hell out of your classroom and don't question every fucking aspect of the lesson plan.

I don't hate SAHMs by any means. It is a great gig if you can get it. They feel like they are very in tune to every aspect of their kids lives.

Of course, being me, I found it necessary to smack down that theory during a Girl Scout "High Tea" recently.

At the end of high tea which consisted of PB&J finger sandwiches with the crusts cut off, the moms and daughters were handed a blank piece of paper.

"We are going to play a game", the leader bubbled. "It is called who knows their daughter the best. We will follow that with who knows their mom the best."

I have to be honest, I fucking panicked. Here I am in a room with SAHMs who live and breath their kids. I would imagine they rarely throw the kid last night's left over pizza for breakfast or simply turn the uniform shirt inside out when they forget to wash it.

20 questions for each of us.

What is your child's favorite TV show.

What is your daughter's favorite color.

Favorite thing to do with Mom.

Blah Blah.

Princess and I got 18/20 and 17/20. The closest soccer mom had 13.

We rock.

Something to be said for quality time. Or perhaps merely paying attention.

Sorry to bore you all today. We'll talk more about oral sex next week.

Last night I traded SCM oral sex for a Doggy Loo. Does that make me a slut? What if I said I got him to throw in the extra grass?

Things that are pissing me off.

It occurs to me that my first husband is turning 50 this year. What the fucking fuck?! Sorry kids but 50 is fucking old no matter how you look at it. Funny how I still see him with the long hair blow under and bell bottoms. I remember how at 16, this 23 year old with a kewl cuda convertible and great taste in rock n roll was the end all be all of my existence for ten years. Now for the life of me, I can't even fathom what I saw in him. Couples that can meet young and stay and grow together for years have my utmost respect. I just can't see it.

In addition, the things that annoy me most about my son is the shit he got from his Dad. Little quarks that I found so endearing years ago. Now I feel like slapping both of them on principal.

Sign.

To make matters worse, my father turned 65 this year. 65. That is a fucking senor citizen! His hair is going grey but he still has a lot of it and in no way seems that...dare I say it again? OLD.

By the time my parents were my age, I had made them grandparents for the first time. Fortunately, I don't think I have anything to be concerned about as far as that goes.

I can't get the fucking kid out of the house, let alone responsible enough to support a family. When he stops stealing his baby sisters quarters for burritos at Taco Bell, I'll start worrying about learning to knit baby blankets.

Well......no, but it sounds nice. I'll just buy them from a designer store, rip off the tags and swear I got arthritis making the fucking things.

To continue: With SCM back, my pantry is now too fucking neat and I can't stand it. Canned goods on one shelf, boxed below it, cereal opened in front, unopened in back....who the hell can live that way?

I forgot to pay the pool guy and make my car payment. Apparently both of these companies got a little testy at my oversight. I mean it isn't that I don't have the actually funds...I just didn't distribute them in a timely manner. Shit happens so fuck off.

AND the spare dog shit on my fucking pillow yesterday.

See ya later, I need a mimosa to even consider getting on with this day.

A thought.

It really is true that the older you get, the faster time goes by bringing you closer and closer to death and decay.

Now you all go and have a great weekend..ya hear?