Posts Tagged ‘F-bombs’

The First 2 Days of 2012

Posted January 2, 2012 Life, Parenting 5 Comments

 

What I’ve learned in the first two days of the new year:

1.     “The difficult brown”  is apparently what Sinead O’Connor likes to find in her partner.  I find this term incredibly funny.  Kind of gross, in relation to Sinead O’Connor.  But still; funny.

1A.     There is absolutely no “ok” way to phrase the first sentence.  Every time I write it, it comes across as dirtier than I intend.  Adding the the hilarity, I’m sure.

2.     Saying “…and Bob’s your Uncle” is incredibly fulfilling.  Even if I’m not British and no body around me knows what the hell I’m talking about.  (Note:  it’s even better if you do this in a ridiculous I-don’t-understand-what-the-fuck-you’re-saying cockney accent.)

3.     Fergie pee’s herself.  (I think I’m incredibly behind the times on this one, but it’s news to me.)  Also: I was quite lucky to not pull a “Fergie” when I heard about the first list item above.

4.     I’m funnier when I cuss.  So fucking funny.

5.     Apparently, allowing your kids to stay up until 1 am for New Year’s Eve, then expecting them to go to sleep before midnight for the next few days is next to impossible.

5A.     Tomorrow, my kids’ teachers will want to kill me.

5B.     It’s a good thing we gave them Christmas presents.

5C.     Note to self:  Next year don’t be such a cheap ass and get them more than just hot chocolate.

6.     Tom Cruise runs like an idiot.  It’s kind of like a jazz hands, hoppy, 80′s springy run that makes me giggle like a school girl.  Also?  He runs a lot,  as evidenced in this YouTube montage that I in no way created, but that I am loving the shit out of.  I don’t know if it fully does the run justice, since it doesn’t include MI:4, but it’s totally worth 2 minutes of my life.

 

7.     Resolutions suck ass.  But so does having a large ass, so resolute I must be.

8.     This 7-layer Greek dip is amaze-balls.  Well, my husband didn’t like it, but everyone else at my New Year’s shindig did.  And I did.  And that’s what really matters.

9.     Stopping a list at 9 instead of 10 is really off-putting.  Why the hell would someone do that?

 

 

It’s NaBloPoMo, Bitches.

Posted November 1, 2011 Mom Media 4 Comments


 

Back when I started this version of my blog, I was all “hey, I’m gonna say what ever the hell I want to say and be who ever the hell I want to be and you can suck it if you think that’s lame.”

And then I fizzled out. I forgot that I didn’t need to write “frickin.” I mean, frickin’ has it’s place and all…but dammit, this is MY space. Not my kids, not my parents (big love that you’re a reader though, guys!), and certainly not some “sponsor’s.”  Why edit myself in a space that I created with the intention of being true to the “real” me?

I don’t need to write about crappy swag that I get at a conference. (Not to say that some stuff isn’t worthy, but really, why the hell do I need to write a diatribe on the “awesomesauce” fiber bar I just got – For FREE!?!  Exactly.)

I don’t need to wait to post until I have a grand sentiment to share. Because, lets face it, if you were waiting for that, it might be a while.  The closest I’ve gotten to that might be “Save the Hoo-Hah!”  (Not that I don’t have deep thoughts, but I’m guessing you don’t read blogs to find the meaning of life. If you do…ummm….good luck with that.)

I don’t even have to post on a certain topic. Sure, I love kicking cancer’s ass. And sure, I’d love to be a whole hell of a lot more healthy. And yes, I definitely write about motherhood – even though I hope the kids don’t read this stuff for a long, long time.  But I don’t need to box myself into one corner.  And I don’t need to post what I think will draw in the masses.  I just need to write.

That brings me back to NaBloPoMo – Novemenber is National Blog Posting Month.  And I want in.  I’m sure you are just as aware as I am that there is no way in hell I will be able to post every day like this event begs you to do.  However, I hope to use it to just go ahead and post something.  The best part about blogging is the “getting it off your mind” bit.  Or, at least, the “getting it on paper so I remember later since I have the memory of a block of swiss cheese” bit.

I want to write that I had a shitty day.  Not to scar my kids with my foul language or to make them think I loathed motherhood, but so that when they are mom’s one day, they will see that it’s not all puppies and kittens. It’s also surviving shitty days.

I want to write that I had a great day.  So that when they are teens they remember when mom let them stay home from school and hang out and just cuddle in bed and giggle.  Not just that I’m someone who wants to ruin their lives.

I want to write when I want to cry.  Because sometimes that makes me feel better.  Especially since I have the tendency to keep it in til it boils over, which is never pretty to those on the receiving end.

I want to write,  just for writing’s sake.  Let my fingers do the talking while my brain just says “Ahhhhhhh, that’s a relief.  Now there’s finally room to breathe.”

Yep, It’s NaBloPoMo, bitches.  Buckle up.

The last of the first days of Kindergarten (aka: shut up, uterus)

Posted August 26, 2010 Parenting 5 Comments





My daughter is going to Kindergarten on Monday.  The little one.  To Kindergarten.

I remember when my first one went.  It was ugly.  I cried.  My baby (at the time) cried.  My husband insisted on taking a picture of all the crying.  Jerk.



Since then, I’ve heard other moms say they were gonna cry on the first day of school.  And I, being the “experienced” mom that I am, slightly scoffed at them while reflecting back on those days.  When my baby proved she was no longer a baby.  She got on the bus.  I did the ugly cry.  The rest of the day was calm.  And when she came home, she managed to arrive in one piece.  And I sniffed a little more.

But, that was then, and this is now.

This time, I will be left at the bus stop with out a toddler.  I will be child-less for 6.5 hours.  I. Will. Celebrate.

My plan is to catch up on skanky reality programs.  Not clean up after, not cook for, not discipline.  Maybe take a long walk with the dog. Or maybe go see a movie.  Do whatever I want.  And there may be a drink or two involved.  Or, at the very least, chocolate.

And it will be good.

And when I’m all high on my “I’m free, I’m free!” buzz, it will hit me.  Not only is my little buddy gone, but I probably won’t have any more babies to watch get on the bus for the first time.  I am alone.  And my stomach will pang, and my throat will close. And then my uterus (in conjunction with some crazyass hormones) might even try to convince me that it’s time for a third.  And then my brain will tell my uterus to mind it’s own fucking business.  And then my uterus will remind my brain that I’m probably too old and shriveled up for another baby anyhow.

Then the ugly cry will take it’s toll one more time.

And it won’t be funny.  Just sad.

But when the two of them come home once more, I’ll already be too busy with snack, then homework, then dinner to realize I’ve officially moved on to the next era of motherhood.

Cheers to that.

Frack, freak, or just eff it.

Posted July 28, 2010 Life 11 Comments

I’ve been posting for over a year at “I’d Rather Be . . .” (a year, really? huh…) but, I never really found my groove over there.  I opened up, I made friends, I have learned and been supported – but I never felt like it was 100% me.

So, I’m sitting here, wondering – what is it that I didn’t do there?

Did I not reach out enough?  Maybe.  Did I not give it enough effort?  Probably not.  Did I just generally suck?  Yeah, we all know that’s highly doubtful.

The answer I came up with: I didn’t cuss.

A “freak” or “freaking” appeared every now and then.  I think once there was a “eff it.”  And I’m ashamed to say, that even though I have tweeted a “frack,” there has never even been one in a blog post.

But in real life?  When the kids aren’t around, and I’m not trying to do what’s “right,” or I’ve had a drink, or just a crappy day?

Yeah, um, I can curse like a sailor.

Side note:  I like to creatively cuss too.  (This book can help you do that. Or, if you don’t want to buy the book, just put together random profanities with other random nouns…half the time you’ll be money.)  Anyway…

The next question is, why didn’t I cuss?  I think my voice was pretty authentic, but I tried to stay upbeat as much as I could.  I didn’t want to disappoint any of my supporters or readers (read: family) or drive away those that were faint of … heart? words? f-bombs?

But now?  Now, I’m thinking it’s going to happen eventually.  Not that I want to be a downer.  Not that I want to drive anyone away.  Not that I want to be a disapointment.  But, I just want to be more me.

And sometimes, dammit, I just need to say FUCK.

Ahhhh…. I feel much better now.

Still here?  Didn’t run you off?  Huh, okay, then tell me — do you drop F-bomb’s in your blogs or just because?