Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

More on our favorite topic.

Why my daughters nickname is "Hermin", by Ms. Keri Sumthin' (Whom you would never want to be your parent because I will post your embarrassing stories on my blog in revenge for the field trip from HELL I endured today).

When my oldest daughter was about 4, she developed a raging case of hemorrhoids, caused by a refusal to waste precious play time on fecal elimination. Therefore she would grunt, strain and go blue in the face in efforts to speed the process, THUS resulting in afore mentioned raging hemorrhoids.
We conversed, I convinced her to slow down the process and the anal itches would cease.
Two weeks later, I was sequestered into the bathroom. She bent over, spread the cheekies and wanted to know if the "Hermins" were gone.

That's all I have to say...until the next field trip.

Art, please don't exhibit me.

WTF was I thinking when I signed that paper?
Sure...There was pleading and MAYBE I'm the mother...
BUT
I don't DO field trips!?!?
(OK, I've done all of them, but none recently, in fact, the last one I was obliged to attend was the Seattle aquarium......Everybody just clam down).
Recently, ultra hermit hood has taken control, except for MY schoolings...Not the CHILDRENS.
In the very least, people may *look* at me...
At the very worst, they may try to *talk* to me...
Holy fucking mother of baby Jeebus.
Maybe I'll fake like I don't speak English.

Why am I awake at 1 something AM when I have field trip duties tomorrow/today?
Because. Because DeNILE is my favorite river to raft.
That's why.
Because, the way I deal with stressors is to pretend like they don't exist until they KICK my Pangaea ass all over the playground.
....I haven't EVEN gotten to the, "what the fuck am I going to wear" stage.

Monday, May 23, 2005

Glimpses of my zoo.

Four children, one niece and other family members.
Free Image Hosting at <a href=www.ImageShack.us" />

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Don't sneeze.

Disturbed.
NO, not me for a change!
And change is GOOD.
http://www.thesneeze.com/mt-archives/000367.php
WTF is that woman (scroll down) drinking??!?!?!?!
I'll continue to sit thank you very much:

  1. Because it's the only legitimate breaktime I get.
  2. It's the only time I can lock my children out and not feel guilty.
  3. Oh yeah, I'm a fucking FEMALE!!
  4. I think this inventor has penis envy.

I'll Whiz away, but prefer to do it sitting.

In other news, I'm above average!!

"The average height of an American female is 5 feet 4 inches. That's tall enough to be an astronaut, a career with a minimum height requirement of 4 feet 10.5 inches, but probably too short to be Miss America who typically stands at close to 5 feet 6 inches. "

Yes folks, I'm two inches above average and could have been Miss America. Who knew? Wait...no boobs (b flat and not the note) and a Pangaea ass. Crap. Nevermind.

Monday, May 16, 2005

Pervasive Shades of Blue.

I'm sad.
I feel sad. The panic attacks are back in ALL of their glory.
I taste sad. I've mostly given up eating. Today I had Saltines.
I smell sad. Even my favorite smell went sour.
I cannot though, ever allow myself to look sad.
I wouldn't want to fucking burden anyone.
There is a valid reason for this feeling.
Having an "acceptable" reason does not change/help the way I feel.
I still feel it.
It's very real to me.
The tears are still wet.
The pain is still raw.
It's selfish of me to feel this.
It's not OK.
It's a drop compared to others suffering.
I still do.
My epitaph will read, "no really, I'm fine".
Slap on a smile and Keri on.

Sunday, May 15, 2005

Good/Shit.

I'm not a good wife. As the separation decree may soon state.
I'm not a good student. My fellow students hate me for where I set the curve.
I'm not a good daughter. The memo to Hell that my parents sent, said as much.
I'm not a good employee. I haven't worked at all this month.
I'm not a good sibling. I just can't fix everything.
I'm not a good blogger. My space bar sticks.
I'm not a good girl. I only wear pants.
I'm not a good friend. I don't have any in this State.
I'm not a good cook. There was some Salmon kabobs left over.
I'm not even a good bitch. I'm too damn soft.
I AM a good mother.
I am.
I am.
If the exit polls were tonight, at least my children would vouch for me.
I'm good with that.

Friday, May 13, 2005

Shmell it to Hell

My ass fluid vomiting space bar won't work unless I chant expletives and do the samba on it. I wonder if it is under warranty? I doubt it's worth the effort to try to teach Mohammed English to replace my keyboard. Fucking Dell. http://www.illwillpress.com/vault.html click on Tech-support to feel my pain.
Believe it or not Ripley, someone else may soon be (temporarily, yeah right) be living in my guest house. She is in my Biology class, we carpool (house pool?), she is 18, in a highschool program here called "running start" and will have her 2 year degree this quarter which I desperately resent her for. She is currently living out of her car because her "mother" rented out her room.
I'm such a softy.

In other news, I have discovered that I am capable of living. Even when I'd rather not.
FuckingSpaceBar.

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

Ghandi with the Windy

"If I had no sense of humor, I would long ago have committed suicide." -Ghandi
Oh...and dropping one of my classes helped too.

Doink

If I believed in doG, I would totally poke her in the eye with a stick.
Twice.
Inthenameofcheeseandrice,
Amen.

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

Multiple leakage sites.

My eyes are achey and swollen from crying.
I haven't eaten since my Mother's Day omelet.
Food is useless against this hunger.
Part of me has permanently shriveled.
I have failed YOU again...
I wish I knew how you kept score.
Because you labeled me as a pessimist...
I feel optimistic because, at least I can cry.
And I can tell you why I'm crying.
Your silence adds mortar to my walls.
You win.
Enjoy the remnants of your trophy.





How is that for angst leaking from my pores?




Fuck...I wish (I bet you wish too) I hadn't committed myself to not deleting brain barfs.

Sunday, May 08, 2005

Love bigger than Costco

My blogger post number has been at 82 for six months because I type and erase (post and then save as draft) SO (voodewishly Pheebously) often. The odds are, you aren't even reading this.

I was spared today. Saved from the pressure of feeling like I should, for some reason (warped mis-placed guilt?) call the "mother" on Mother's Day. She is in Brazil.
Why do I feel obligated to contact the birth vessel (thanks for that phrase Jo) on Mother's Day, when she hasn't ever "mothered" me? Smothered maybe, mothered NO.
I didn't call her last year either, but I was exempt by rage (did I mention that all of her shit is STILL sitting in my guest house?). I'm finding that as the years pass, I don't hate her as much...I just don't give a shit. The absence of her in my life brings peace.

Either way, my Mother's Day was delightful. I slept in and was served breakfast in bed (is it still called breakfast at noon?) consisting of non-artery clogging (fuck off it's my story) omelet with sausage, green peppers, onions, garlic, mushrooms and cheese! YUMMY!

Then the thirteen year old daughter baby sat while the Husband and I spent much of the day at garage sales, estate sells and thrift stores. What better Mother's Day is there, than escaping the little beasts that made you a mother in the first place? ;o) I'm now secure in the knowledge that no one else in the Western hemisphere owns as much red and white enamel ware as I do.
I'm teasing of course, (not about the enamel ware) I love those little beasts more than triple iced coconut lattes....and THAT IS A LOT. Or as my daughter once said to me when she was about three.....I love them bigger than Costco...and THAT IS BIG.

The five year old twin boys made me Mother's Day projects in KinderFarten that made me cry. The ten year old daughter painted a terecotta pot and filled it with Lavender that made me cry. The thirteen year old daughter wrote me a poem that made me cry.

She'll deny everything of course...but here is her poem that she wrote in 6.2 seconds when she finally realized it was Mother's Day:

Dear Mom
I know sometimes you get mad at me
and I try so hard to please you
but please Mom, understand
that I really really need you.

Without you Mom I don't know what I'd do
When I'd go to bed
Without a tuck here and a tuck there
I'm sure I would lose my head.

Hey Mom, I'd just like to say
That I love you lot's
and happy Mother's Day.

This is all you're getting because I can't scan Lavender plants and the pictures the boys drew of me are NOT very flattering (one even drew me wearing a dress...he will be punished).

Happy Mother's Day, Ann, Brendz, Bard, Ciara, Heather, Jo, Keri (not me dumb shit), Rory and every other female blogger mother I neglected to alphabetically include.

Blogger Boys...you had better have called your mothers.

Saturday, May 07, 2005

Absent Apostate

Wow.
Sad.
I didn't think it would be this difficult.
My younger sister is getting married tomorrow/today in the Campinas Brazil temple.
It hurts that I'm not even there on the temple lawn to support her. I don't feel guilty, I just feel sad.
I tried to call her all day today with no luck. I'm sure tomorrow won't be any more successful.
The poopy part is, the only members of our family that could go to Brazil are the Father sans evil 3rd stepmother, and the "mother"....and they don't even talk to each other.
Her true support system/siblings are all here in the states crying.
I'm taking a small amount of comfort in the fact that she truly knows how much her siblings love/support her and wish we were there.
*sigh* she won't be back in the states until September. They are having their honeymoon/Masters Thesis project in Guatemala for three months.

Friday, May 06, 2005

A bomb in the Bush

The one issue I have no desire to study is politics. One may as well take a class on "how to fuck over your neighbor in the name of Dog."
BUT, in my World Religions class (3.9 thank you very much) I learned more about politics than I did religion.
Christianity is the ONLY religion in the history of mankind that claims (insists/demands) that their founder was divine.
Bush, get the fuck out already. 3/4 of the world doesn't even believe in your imaginary friend.
I understand now, don't agree, but I DO understand suicide bombers, and why most of the world hates the United States.
Imagine if Gordon B. Hinkley or Poop Benedict, told their mindless sheep that the only way to get to heaven was to strap on bombs and blow themselves and their enemies up? The results would be very similar.

Politics and Religion, don't come to my house for dinner.
We are Atheist vegetarians (meaning we don't believe in eating Dog?) And we drink "Fair Trade" coffee. :o)
Yes, I should be studying Cellular Respiration instead of "Brain Barfing", but how can I, when I have to beat my Cubis score of 710,000?

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

Blog space for rent:

Successful applicants should be able to pass a positive drug test, posses an intelligent donkey and not be currently enrolled in higher education.