Black Market Fertility Drugs

The other day I was browsing the interweb (as the boy calls it), looking for some information about ovulation.

Exciting, I know.

But then I come across this website where there are hoards of women discussing their fertility problems and how they are seemingly unable to conceive.

Here's what struck me. This was not just a discussion about trying to conceive, it was a conversation about how to get Clomid from online pharmacies because their doctor's wouldn't give it to them. They didn't need it, but they were taking it anyway.

What?!?

After that whole thing, I suddenly decided that I was over it. Like, I really want to have a baby, but those chicks are just effing crazy. Their craziness completely cured me.

So that's it. No more counting. No more planning. No more peeing on sticks. We're sticking with the one we've got and we're moving ahead with planning our early retirement.

Thanks crazy ladies with your black market Clomid; you just made my life a whole lot less stressful.

This is Too Good Not to Share

I got a note from my daughter today - a note in which she was very displeased with me.

But first, a little background.

Waaaayyyy back in January, I pre-ordered the Twilight movie from Borders. While it shipped on Friday of last week, the FedEx website reports that it will not arrive on our doorstep until the 27th. Of course, the kid is freaking out over that.

In an effort to make it up to her, I offered to rent it from iTunes, thinking we could cozy up in bed and watch it together tonite on my newly repaired computer. This is where things got ugly.

I've never rented a movie from iTunes before, so I guess I was unprepared for the amount of time it can take to download it. We are currently at T-6 hours and counting. The kid is not very happy about it.

An argument ensued in which I became so frustrated that I did something I usually avoid at all costs. I called her a name, albeit a little bit indirectly. In fact, what I said was, "you are acting like such an ungreatful brat. All I did was try to do something nice for you, and you're acting like it's my fault that it takes some time to download it. Do you think I'm controlling iTunes Sydnie? Do you???"

It is a rarity that I ever say anything mean to the kid. In fact, for the most part, we have a pretty great relationship. And now I'm beating myself up for the possible emotional trauma I've caused her. Next thing you know, we'll be on Dr. Phil.

Anyway, she storms to her room and very quietly closes the door. The next thing I know, she comes back in our room with a smirk on her face and a note in her hand. This is what it says:

"I dis liked that you called me an ungreatful little brat I can see why you are upset with me but, like you say to me is there a better way you have said it? Please write back! - Ungrateful brat Sydnie!"

Sadly, all I could do was laugh at the note. And laugh I did - only because she sounds so much like me that it is absolutely frightening.

We've patched things up, but this note was too good not to share.

Toddlers and Tiaras :: This is NOT a Good Thing

Have you seen this show? TLC's Toddlers and Tiaras?

This show is absolutely disgusting. Unbelievable. Does this look like the face of a happy child?

During the course of the show I watched her mother berate her, force her to get a spray tan, force her to wear makeup, and coach her through an entire routine designed to "flirt."

Here's what else I observed:

Every stage mom is fat - many are bordering on obese. Which makes me question why the eff they have any business telling their daughters that "they look a little pudgy," or asking "if they ate any cookies today." Are you kidding me?

Then we've got the mom who's sobbing - not because her kid won, but because he's just done his last pageant and he won't be competing anymore.

These women are nuts. And not nuts like a little Paxil is going to cure them. These women need some to shake them and be like, "Woman! You're an effing train wreck! Get your shit together you bitch and stop making your pre-pubescent kid more self-conscious than she's already going to grow up to be!"

Then they need to be kicked or something.

Seriously. This is infuriating. As if our poor girls don't have enough to worry about. How about we dress them up like little china dolls, stand in the audience prompting them to shake their asses and "flirt," and then, when they don't win a crown tell them, "well, you didn't deserve to win - your routine was off."

By the way, there is nothing more disgusting than a really obese woman in a tight shirt jumping up and down and coaching her kid to "shake it." I'm all about embracing your body, but you've got to know your limitations - really.

Here's what I actually find funny about this though. These women are willingly on this show, justifying their behavior, and thinking that America actually agrees with them. When all most people are doing is sitting around laughing at what a bunch of effing idiots they are.

But, that's entertainment in America, right?

Oh, and what's really sad? That the little girl at the top of this post is actually a really beautiful little girl - without any makeup. However, due to her mother's great guidance and wonderful example, she was sure she would win because, as she said, "I'm prettier than the other girls here."
Photos Courtesy of TLC.discovery.com

How Facebook Is Ruining My Life

It's pretty simple. It's a total time-suck.

I spend so much time on Facebook that I rarely get anything accomplished anymore.

And if I'm not at my computer on FB, I'm using it from my CrackBerry.

Combine that with my Twitter addiction and it's over. Someone call the doctor because I need to be committed. Seriously.

But it's ruining my life for other reasons as well. For example, I'm catching up with old classmates, which isn't a terrible thing at all. But I look at some of them - particularly those still living in the town that I'm from - who are driving mini-vans and coaching soccer and attending church every Sunday.....and I can't help but wonder, is that what would have become of me had I stayed?

Then of course, my imagination runs wild with all the, "what if's."

I start panicking about our upcoming reunion. I'm almost afraid to go lest I make a total ass out of myself with my potty mouth and liberal opinions about gay marriage and having babies out of wedlock.......

See, it's started again. Now I've just wasted another 30 minutes. Dammit Facebook!

Not Everyone Appreciates My Sense of Humor

So we all know that I write for a living, yes?

And we also all know that my sense of humor can be slightly off-color, snarky, and wholly inappropriate. In fact, I regularly offend people, like those in Sanford.

Now, it's not secret that I write for a couple of big companies that have legal departments with the ability to pull the plug on any article I come up with; so for the most part, I try to be pretty good about what I say, and I typically keep it pretty clean.

So imagine my surprise when I got something sent back to me yesterday, covered in strike-throughs. What was the offending statement you might wonder?

Something about how the maxi-dress style can often make you look like a beached whale if you're not careful when you wear it; or, for example, if you're short like me.

What I want to know is, how is that offensive? It's totally true. I mean, find any short chic and throw her in maxi-dress and see how it turns out. I'm telling ya right now, she's not looking like Angelia Jolie. There are girls out there making bazillions of dollars being bitchy and snarky - for example, Ms. Jen Lancaster.

Not that I'm funny like her, but still, I'm trying to make a point here.

If We Both Come Out Alive, It Will Be a Miracle

I am not allowed to drive the truck that sits in our driveway - that's his truck. Just because of some little dent I put in his old truck, he claims that I am far too reckless and irresponsible to drive the new truck. Apparently it doesn't matter that my name is on the loan.

Why is this important? Read on.

I drive a 1998 VW Wagon. And I love my car, don't get me wrong. But indeed, it is possessed by electrical demons, just like all other VW's out there. My sunroof opens for no reason, you actually have to turn the radio UP, to get the volume to go down....you know, just little electrical demons. And primarily, I am the only one that drives it, so it doesn't really matter because I'm used to such things and I handle them accordingly. For example, when it's raining out, I don't roll anything down or open anything up, just in case it decides to not cooperate later on.

A few days ago, the boy asked if he could drive my car. Initially I told him "no," because he always smokes in my car, and then lies about it. It doesn't matter that I find ashes along the window, or that the car smells like smoke, he really doesn't smoke in it. Whatever.

I finally relented because I was too lazy to go out in the pouring rain to move my car so he could get out. I told him not to smoke in the car or I would do something equally evil to his truck.

A few hours later I hear him come in, swearing to high heaven. I am in my office and completely ignore him because that's what I do best. Then I hear him get on the phone and the words, "well, when could you repair it?" come out of his mouth.

As I look out the window, I see a towel draped over the driver's window.

Me: What the hell happened to my car?

Him: Um, the window broke.

Me: How?

Him: Well, I had the window down a little bit and then it got stuck and when I tried to pull it up it shattered.

Me: It's raining. Why was the window down?

Of course, no response.

Me: Were you smoking in the car?

Him: No. Of course not.

Me: Then why was the window down?

Him: Shh! I'm on the phone.

When he finally finds a place to replace the window, he leaves again and I don't offer to follow him and bring him home. After all, I'm not allowed to drive the truck and I'm certainly not driving my car in the pouring rain without a window. When he comes home, he's even more angry.

Me: What now?

Him: The driver's door is stuck shut.

Me: How the eff does this shit happen to you?

Him: Well, when they replaced the window, they messed something up with the power locks and now the door is locked shut.

So, again, I tell him this is his to deal with. He calls the mechanic he likes and schedules an appointment - 3 days later. For 3 days, I am forced to climb over the stick shift and the emergency break to get in and out of my car. Finally, yesterday, the car went in to get fixed.

When he drops me off to pick it up, I open the drivers door - so far so good. It's freezing and all the windows are rolled down, so I push the button on my door to roll them all up. Nothing happens.

Me: Excuse me, do my windows not work?

The Mechanic: Um, well, not from the driver's door they don't. But each person can roll their window up or down on their own door.

Huh. Ok, so then I notice that, although I'm sitting in the car and three doors are unlocked, the driver's door lock is down. I push the button to unlock it, nothing happens.

Me: Excuse me, does my door lock not work?

The Mechanic: Ah, geez, well, yeah. It's definitely not locking. But all the other doors lock.

Me: OK, but what good does that do me if one door doesn't lock at all?

The Mechanic: Well the good thing is that, since it's stuck down, it looks locked, so chances are, no one is going to try to open it.

WTF?!?

After driving home, I came in the house, took his keys, and left with the kid. Then we went to McDonald's and got french fries and chocolate milk shakes. I told her to sit in the back seat of the truck and to make sure she got plenty of food stuck in the crevices. I pushed all the buttons and gadgets to make sure his seat position was all messed up and I deleted all of his radio stations.

Petty? Sure. Is he pissed at me? You bet. And just like a good woman, I reminded him that, if he hadn't smoked in the car in the first place, this entire chain of events would not have occurred.

I'm pretty sure he's mentally willing me to step in front of a bus.

Why I Don't Grocery Shop with The Boy

I have a lot of friends that refuse to shop with their other half, simply because there is always an argument at the store. Whether it's over what to buy, how much they're spending, or just what section of the store to start in (produce or dairy), they've all got a story.

I, on the other hand, don't mind shopping with the boy. Sure he usually tries to sneak Yodel's in the cart, and he often begs for crap like Cocoa Puffs, it's not a bad trip.

Until today.

After we got all hopped up on Starbucks, we headed to the local Hannaford. After navigating the aisles and loading up the conveyor belt, I stood in line to pay while he ran outside to grab the car. I go outside and he hops out to help load the bags in the car. We make quick work of it and I go return the cart.

When I come back outside, the car is gone.

I scan the parking lot and realize that he's all the way at the other end of the parking lot, near the actual entrance, with his blinker on to leave. I start to jog down the sidewalk, thinking he's stopped to wait for me, and calling him an asshole the whole way.

Then I notice that the car is moving, but not in my direction.

It was then that I realized he was leaving without me.

I was just getting ready to call him when I saw the reverse lights pop up. I climb back in the car and slam the door shut.

Me: Oh, you're really funny.....asshole.

Him: *nervous chuckle*

Me: What's so funny? Were you trying to be funny?

Him: No.

Me: What the hell were you doing then?

Him: Driving home.

Me: Without me?!?

Him: I didn't realize you weren't in the car.

I'm speechless, but sadly, not surprised.

Conversations with The Kid

Me: I'm impressed with your recent willingness to try new foods.

The Kid: Yeah, those wraps were pretty good - but don't buy other ones.

Me: Why not?

The Kid: Those are the only kind I like.

Me: Well, that's not a bad thing, they have lots of good Omega-3's in them. You know, fatty acids are good for you.

The Kid: What?!?

Me: Fatty acids are good for you.

The Kid: How on Earth are Fatty Asses good for you? That's gross mom.