Shameful Confessions

1) I kind of like Britney's new single. I mean, I realize it doesn't exactly have a catchy chorus or deep, thought-provoking lyrics, but I like her voice in it. (That might be the weirdest thing I've ever said.)

So why do you desert me, baby boy?

Nothing says next big hit like a fake cell phone conversation in the bridge.

2) My OCD has recently reached new heights all thanks to a little something called the Swiffer Duster. I can now add frenzied, obsessive dusting to my long list of irrational compulsions.

3) I have very vivid fantasies of inviting Michael Vick over and hanging, drowning and electrocuting the incessantly barking neighbor's dog. This morning when it started up at 7:00 a.m. and woke me up after only 2 hours of sleep (see confession #5), I swear to God if I had a gun I would have shot it right between the eyes. And look, I love my dog more than I love pretty much anyone else on earth (I guess that should be confession #4), but I think I could kill those dogs with my bare hands and a satisfied grin on my face. I think I'm going to have to start being one of those neighbors.

5) I am completely, totally, thoroughly obsessed with Big Brother 8. The other day I even said to Big Daddy, "My life has no purpose on the nights that Big Brother isn't on. There is just this void there that can't be filled." I have started staying up every night to watch the live feed on Showtime from midnight to 3 a.m. (This is probably the most pathetic of all of the confessions, and that's saying a lot considering #1).

6) I have owned a pair of Sketchers within the last five years.

I hold my head in shame.

Dear Parents:

Because you spawned them, because they share your DNA, because you pretty much have to, you think your kids and all of their actions are just adorable.

The rest of the world, not so much.

I don't care that little Johnny is only 4 years old. It is time for him to start learning some manners. And no, he doesn't get a pass for being an obnoxious little pain in the ass brat just because he's a preschooler and you think I think he's cute.

You see, I'm polite and so I try to go with the flow when your little terror is climbing me like a jungle gym or interrupting my adult conversation with their whiny nonsense. But you, as a parent, aren't being polite by allowing it to happen. I know it is in good form to try with all my might to ignore her and throw out a sheepish grin while Baby Amber rummages through my purse uninvited looking for gum and when she finds my cell phone instead, opens it and slams it shut incessantly while I'm just trying to have peaceful adult conversation with her mother. But it is not in good form for you, as her mother, not to grab her by her grubby little arm and get her away from me.

What ever happened to children are to be seen and not heard?

And seriously, when did five-year olds start running the world??

I don't know how many times in the past couple of weeks I've had some little kid come up to me and start pecking me with their forefinger right in the middle of my stomach to get my attention while I'm mid sentence having a real conversation with an adult. And I really just have to wonder why the parents are just standing there watching while I stop what I am doing to attend to their ill-mannered little varmint, instead of taking this opportunity to explain to Little Emili why it is rude to interrupt adults (or really anyone for that matter) and make sure they don't do it again. I mean, for real people, if Emili is old enough to interrupt me then she's old enough to learn that it is rude and not to do it. And if not now, when?

And another thing, if you don't have the intestinal fortitude and sticktoitiveness to tell a three-year old no and actually mean it and follow through with it, then please, do the universe a favor and don't have any more kids. The world is overpopulated enough as it is. Have you guys ever seen an episode of SuperNanny or Nanny 911 and noticed that these families have vast amounts of children, one being even more out of control and horrific than the next? I mean, when your first kid is too much for you to handle and you feel defeated and tired and hopeless and your marriage is in trouble because your kid is running the house, which part of your brain tells you the best thing you can do in that situation is to have at least three more??

What the fuck, People?!!??

Perhaps because it is summer and the kids are out of school and it is cook out, pool party, social gathering season, I have been spending more and more time around friends', neighbors', acquaintances' children lately. And it isn't just one bad kid, I swear it seems like a good 80% of the kids I have come into contact with lately are completely insufferable. And as much as I want to kick the kids in the head, I have found myself just getting more incensed with the parents who do absolutely nothing about their shitty little offspring running around ruining everyone else's time. It is like a phenomenon. A social epidemic. There are friends of mine that I won't even hang out with anymore because even though I really enjoy their company, I know that they'll show up with their really bad kid that they will let run wild and ruin my day.

And look, I get it, I'm an unsympathetic kid grinch, I'll take my lumps for that. But I also know that the Mommy and Me set is taking over the world and it has become completely acceptable to refuse to discipline or teach your kids any manners. And if they are under the age of, say, about six years old, you are not only supposed accept them for the insufferable little hellions that they are, but apparently find the little darlings adorable as well.

I'm moving to a retirement community.

If You Sprinkle When You Tinkle

Please be neat and wipe the seat.

I think I'm going to go to a craft fair and see if I can pick up a hand-painted wooden plaque with that saying to hang in my bathroom. And maybe a crocheted toilet paper holder?

I don't know what I'm talking about, either.

Somehow Big Daddy and I ended up at a little get together with some of the world's classiest people. The drink of choice amongst the guests? Moonshine. I.sweart.to.Allah. Usually that's the point where I start to freak out at what my life has become, but instead I took a shot of the stuff for bragging rights and just laughed. I'm oddly proud and have told no less than 5 different people today that I sampled moonshine last night. When we left Big Daddy said, I had a blast. Which, coming from Big Daddy, is quite a powerful statement.

My mother has apparently purchased a new condo and some how finagled my poor decreped 77 year old grandmother in to making the 7 hour trip down to paint it for her. Sometimes I just can't believe that I sprung from that womb. I want a DNA test!

Speaking of new condos, I finally found one at the beach that I put a contract on. It isn't exactly what I wanted, it is on the bay and not the ocean, for instance. But the ocean is just a short bike ride away (if I knew anyone that took bike rides that is). Something about it just spoke to me and so I said, I'll take it. I might resume my search for the perfect condo on the ocean next summer, but then again, I might not. It took me all summer to find this one because I never had any time to go down there to look, which I am assuming doesn't bode well for the amount of time I'll be able to go down and enjoy it. But, whatever, being practical isn't my strong point. I was going to post a picture, but Blogger is being an asshole so some other time, okay?

Live Nudes, Bitches

How hot is this blog?

Don't cha wish your blog was hot like mine?

Eggsactly.

Big ups to Pixie for the hot new makeover and to Pissy and Monk for the referral.

I think this much fabulousness will only have a positive impact on my blogging frequency.

I have some big news that I *think* I'm going to share with you soon. I've been wavering back and forth as to whether or not to discuss it here, but I think I might just do it. I'm going to sleep on it another night, though, just in case I change my mind. It is my prerogative, after all.

And finally, there is an 82% chance that I'm in love with Elliot Yamin.

Kinky Cheese and Jobs

Today I had lunch at this cute little out of the way bistro with fancy things on the menu like chicken and spinach crepes. They had good wine on the menu and good art on the walls. But my waitress left me with the impression that they were shorthanded today and made an emergency call to Alice's Diner who donated someone from their waitstaff to help out in the pinch. As she stood in front of me reciting the day's specials she explained that the pasta was made with sun-dried tomatoes and fetish cheese. I almost ordered it just to see the tiny little gouda wheels with ball gags, but alas, I don't like sun-dried tomatoes.

Very nonchalantly and noncommittally for the past year Big Daddy has made little comments like, I almost hired you today and You would be perfect for (insert new business idea). Which always ends with a, Yes, I would be perfect for that, but you can't afford me. Today while at the cute little out of the way bistro he tells me that what has up until this point been an idea that he will one day pursue two or three years in the future, was suddenly green-lighted by the major investor to begin in the next couple of months. He kept going over and over the qualities that he wanted in the person who would head up this little project. Of course he modeled all of said qualities after yours truly, and I politely listened and offered suggestions as to how he could find someone to fit the bill. We kept going round and round with this and finally during a moment of weakness I said, Okay, fine, I'll do it.

These are the kinds of moments that Stacey lives to make fun of me for.

My stipulations to him were that I wasn't quitting my day job, but I would give him approximately 6 - 9 months of my life in the evenings and on weekends getting it up and running the way he (read: me) wants it and can set up an appropriate model for how things should go when I then find and train my replacement. I finished my lunch and then a half an hour later like a ton of bricks the reality of what I had just promised hit me. Apparently I had just signed on for a second job? 70+ hour work week? All my weekends for at least the next 6 months?

Apparently I should have just ordered the pasta with fetish cheese and listened more and talked less.

The thing is, even though it is much closer to fruition than we had ever thought it would be, say, just yesterday, it is still a couple of months away. So there is still plenty of time for me to back out or things to change or one of the other primaries involved to have a different idea about who should run it. But even though the thought of working what essentially amounts to two fucking jobs makes me want to vomit, I'm sort of a tiny bit excited about it. After all, the theme of the summer has been Try New Things and, well, hard work would certainly qualify as a new thing.

In other news, are any of you fuckers watching Big Brother?

And finally, I've contacted Pixie about a new blog. I haven't yet heard back from her, but let's cross our fingers that new digs are in our near future.

And, of course, I love ya'll.

NEW!

If I just hold off three more days, it will have been a whole entire month since I updated last. Which makes me a fuckwad asshole bitch?

Apparently Beta Blogger disagrees with her, and Stacey says she can't make me a new blog. But I can't do polka dots and daisies a day longer. Who knows someone who knows someone who knows someone that designs blog templates and isn't frightened by Beta Blogger? I want something dark and brooding.

So where do I go from here? Gas prices? The weather?

I think I'll hold out for absence of daisies and polka dots.