Aaand BOOM goes the dynamite!

We've been on a hiatus from "all the things that I hate, but take my kid to anyway". It's been amazing. Actual free time.

While we were away, my favorite swim/cub scout mom got her ass bounced off the pool deck at swim team.
1. Her kid's a jackass & a distraction. My kid needs no help not paying attention on a good day. The coach got serious & kicked the kid out of practice after correcting him for likeEVER.
2. Mom gets pissy over preshus getting the boot, cusses the coach & then calls the program head an asshole to his face. "Ma'am, we're gonna need you to leave..."

JEESUS, I wish I'd been there!

No clue if they're permanently gone or if I'm still gonna have to look at her damned face when we go back. :-/

There's still the matter of cub scouts to deal with...I'm working on my telekinetic powers...

Stare.

Stare.

Stare.

BOOM!

Ok...not yet...but I'm thinking hard about it. Ugh! Hate that woman! And what's worse, it seems like my ex-husband is having some sort of weird man-love, crush, bromance with her goofy ass husband. Everybody needs a dim witted sidekick sometimes, I suppose.

Not firing on all cylinders.

Stare.

Stare.

Stare... O_O *cough*

Longer, leaner, faster, stronger!
Ashley

Griswold Family Thanksgiving Road Trip - part 2

"What time are we gonna BE there?" & "How come it's gonna be late?!"

We just hit Ocala & it's started already.

"Ayeyayayayayayaya! Buhbuh...aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!" SCREECH! SCREEEEEEECH!

Oh this trip just got better.

KickkickkickkickkickkickSCREEEEECH!

"Somebody shove some damned chicken in that child's mouth!"

"I am the tuuurkey man. Tha turkey maaan. Tha turkey man. I am the tuuurkey man. Tha turkey..." Who's going to crack first with the song coming out of the back seat? Will he tire of singing it before I reach my limit??? I'm not hopeful - that kid has the ability to endlessly focus on one thing.

Is that a second verse? Lord.

SCREEEEECH!!! "Big! Chicken him!"

Only 6.5 more hrs...

Griswold Family Thanksgiving Road Trip - part 1

All packed up & heading out on the road! Going to my parents' in Alabama...to Mississippi...back to Alabama...to Tuscaloosa...back to Mom & Dad's...& then back home to Florida. Little is a crap traveler, so there is ample opportunity for shit to go south...

In the car. Need gas. :-( Get gas. K's hungry, but Big informs me he's good. Get Chick-fil-A for K & feed it to him as we weave through traffic. "Safely".

We're going to die.

(Should this actually happen, in my newspaper obit, please make my passing the result of something more exciting like getting knifed in a transvestite turf war or a mysterious & tragic rodeo accident. Maybe a brief mention of the dead bird I almost stepped on today, but went around...because I care. And it was gross.)

Not 1 damned mile down the road, Big announces that he's "a little hungry" & starts rifling through the snack bag. God almighty!!

K's running 14 eBay auctions from the responsibility-free comfort of the front seat & there's more rustling in the snack bag in the backseat. It's going to rain damned M&M'S snack mix when he rolls this sonovabitch.

Perhaps include something about how I always liked to help people...?

I had a giant glass of wine before we left home, yet I can still feel little feet kick, Kick, KICKING the back of my seat. Curious.

On our way ;-)

A Real Boyfriend...

Saw this picture on Facebook & thought, "Ugh! THAT sounds awful..."

1. "Calls you for nothing..."
I have a strict No Calls policy that's only becoming more iron clad as I get older. Unless you absolutely cannot contain your message within the confines of a text, an email or a Facebook post/message, I'll allow it - but you'd better have a damned point. Get to it. Quickly.

2. "...texts you all the time..."
No ma'am. In the wise words of Sweet Brown, "Ain't nobody got time for that!" Quit being fucking needy & get to work.

3. "...wants to see you..."
I'm ok with this one, unless it's all the time, in which case, we'll probably break up.

4. "...cries..."
There are only a few instances in which I'm ok with you crying:
A) Death of a close family member
B) Birth of your children
C) Scoring the come-from-behind, winning touchdown in the big game with less than 1 minute left to play with a set of plays that shall be forever known as "The Drive" (Amen & Roll Tide!)

Other than that, you need to suck that shit up. There are few things more off-putting than a weepy male. Be a man. Go shoot something & have a beer.

Handle your damn business.

5. "...gets jealous..."
This is bullshit. It sounds like it'd be cute but it goes horribly wrong in practice & I have enough problems without having to worry about your baggage, too. Again, shouldn't you be working or working out or something other than fixating on me? Your issues smother me. Back the fuck up.

6. "...is over protective..."
No thank you. Stand up for me when needed. Shoot burglars & intimidate the weird neighbor who likes to randomly stand in my driveway. Creepy. P.S. Your yard smells like pee, Turtle Man. P.P.S. I wave at you every day so you'll decide that I'm nice & won't murder me when the spree eventually comes. I've got my "He was always so quiet..." news speech READY.

Anyway...Usually "over protective" is just a sweet way of saying "perp" which will eventually - probably sooner than later - bite you in the ass. Or plot to kidnap you at gunpoint after you break up..."I've got a map and a .38..." Delightfully heart warming, no? It's not love if it also qualifies as a felony.  Somebody write that down.

7. "...loves you."
I'm cool with this one. Without the rest of that shit.

Can't handle it.

Longer, leaner, faster, stronger!
Ashley

Degas vs Godzilla

My oldest has this thing where he works himself up into a damned frenzy about whatever ("It's TOOOOOSDAY! OMG!") & throws up at school. Random ass vomit. The lunchroom seems to be his favorite, but he's been known to wreck a classroom or two...I even have the school nurse's extension programmed in as "MGD Threw up", so it's pretty safe to say it's happened once or twice...

Guess what happened on Monday.

"This is Mrs. Cyman..."

SHIT.

I must have actually said it because she started laughing.

Monday afternoon, night & Tuesday, condensed: Barf, barf, vomit, throw up, beg for stuff on tv. Barf. Wake up paranoid & twitching about having to go to school after having been "...awake all night...". Back to sleep. Recover, watch cartoons & play video games, recover, beg for real food. Get pb&j. Barf.

Damn it.

I have scrubbed his mattress, carpet in two bedrooms, stuffed animals, sheets & comforter, my sheets, towels, doors, walls, floors, cabinets, both toilets, two sinks AND a tub.  Pretty sure that shit bleached out spots on my carpet, too...

Out of school again today & we've GOT to catch up. School work is collected... stupid, needlessly drawn out math homework is done & on to creative writing for the real fun. Today's inspiration is Degas's "Place de la Concorde", which is very cool because we usually get some funny ass picture of a squirrel in a baby bonnet riding a dog. By the time he slapped "The End" on it, he'd roped in Abraham Lincoln, a dog peeing on somebody's leg, swings, Chinese tv news & Godzilla.

I helped :-D

"And then Gojeeraahh attacks THAA BAABYYYYY! Aaaaaaa!" You better run, Small One. Craptastic naps only rile up the monster...Grrrraaaaaaaa!!!

*mutant T-Rex claw arms*

Fingers crossed for a tomorrow with all fluids in their rightful places...

Longer, leaner, faster, stronger!
Ashley

FYI, MiniZombie says we're out of tooth paste...

I've never been purposefully flashed.

Never, unless you count the 7 year old that can't seem to wear pjs AND take his vitamins at the same time...but we're working on that. (And by "working on that" I mean not at all, but trying to accept it as a constant...like soy milk on my floor & my chain smoking diet mtn dews.)

Not that I want to be flashed. It's usually the ones that need to keep their shit under wraps that are eager to run around in a shady trench coat, being sharers. TaaaaDaaaaa! PEEPS.

Probably the same people that go to nude beaches. No ma'am. Nothing you wanna see there. I don't need to see your burnt junk setting up for the spike. Unless I've been drinking & then it would probably be the best entertainment I'd had all day. "You! Not you...Cocktail Wiener over there...you can't bump worth shit." I would definitely not be cool. Tell your bitch to be cool...sorry. Can't. It's like IKEA - just can't get there from here.

I've had the "T-shirt only" discussion with K. GUYS T-shirt only. Just T-shirt and...dangle. I don't need that in my life & I can't handle it. "Are you punishing me for that zombie thing forever ago??!" I apologized for that. Mostly.  Granted, I didn't mean it, but I gave an 85% kind of attempt at a straight face & practiced my sad, empathic eyes in the mirror. "I am super sorry that you have a for real, full-on irrational fear of a zombie attack.  While I DID prey on your deepest fears & will laugh about it again in the future, please do not push me down in the unlikely event we are fleeing from a zombie horde.".  With any luck, they'd eat the kids first anyway...

There was effort of some sort. And it's not like I let the zombie use his toothbrush.






Ok. I DID let the zombie use his toothbrush.

And I took a picture & sent it to him.

After I posted it on Facebook.



Keeping the romance alive...

Longer, leaner, faster, stronger!
Ashley

Boogey Fever

For as far back as I can remember, my aunt told me stories about the Hairy Arm That Lives Under The Bed, along with other some bullshit that she made up to completely screw with my toddler peanut brain...scared me shitless to even think about going outside after dark or to look in my closet...but funny now & completely worth scaring the bejesus out of my own kids with ;-)

Sometimes, though, she took shit a step further...

When I was 4, Auntie Dearest hid under my bed wearing a gorilla suit. She waited until I was returning from the bathroom & crawling back into the bed to reach out & grab my sweet baby ankle with her giant monkey hand.

Holy fuck.

It was a good thing that I'd already peed because I'd have WRECKED that damned costume.

Now, I'm 35 years old & I can't let a body part hang over the side of the bed. Leave a foot uncovered? No ma'am. HELLLL NO.

I have conversations with myself about it - "Ashley, you are a grown ass woman. Put your foot out. Do it now! You know good and damned well there ain't room for shit else under your bed with all the crap you've stuffed under there - much less a fucking gorilla boogeyman." Pep talk it up real good. And then I'm all "Yeah! Fuck you, Gorilla Boogeyman! I'll put my foot anywhere I good & damned well want to. Up yo' ass, if I feel like it, sonovabitch!"

Aaaaand then I snatch it back in & under the covers because I don't want to get my foot clawed.

Shamed.

A friend posted a pic of a freaky scary-ass clown murderer hiding under a bed on my Facebook page this week, not knowing that she'd pretty much nailed it ;-) Reminds me of a friend that I used to have that sent a now ex-friend of his a pissy birthday card after not being invited to his birthday party. "Happy birthday to you! (You were an accident) Happy birthday to you! (Your parents didn't want you) Hope you have an awesome day anyway!"...not realizing that the soon-to-be-ex friend was actually adopted...oops. My bad, dog.

Awkward.

**Note to self: Clean adult human-sized space out from underneath the boy's bed**

Longer, leaner, faster, stronger!
Ashley