I survived

Mina's birthday party was this past Sunday and the best part is that it's over with.

Seriously though, it did go well (although next year it will end after two hours not three...).

I now know what that little smirk I got from some of the parents (the ones with older children) meant: "Two hours is the max, sweetie. Good luck! HAHAHAHAHA!"

Oh well. Live and learn.

We escaped with only two minor injuries. One was a scraped ankle and one was my poor withered balloon-tying fingers. I'll have a lovely scar to remember it by too.

In other parenting related news, I am the Room Party Parent for Mina's kindergarten class. I guess I was the only parent (stupid enough)to check the "I can be present for every party" box.

The "Fall Party" is today and I got everything covered. The parents in my daughter's class are really nice and no one balked at my requests. I'm thinking we could get pony rides for the "Holiday Party" if I ask nicely enough.

Between Audrey's "parent cooperative" preschool and Mina's kindergarten activities, I feel like I am up to my freshly cut side-swept bangs in school stuff--which is why I am nervous about my impending venture into Parttimejobdom.

Yes, Mama's gettin' a jobby job. Have I already mentioned this? I'm too lazy to go back and reread past posts...

I'm going to apply at Starbucks. Good benefits, flexible hours and most importantly, free coffee. It's a win-win for everybody.

I'm waffling about my trip to Italy in June, and I'm starting to feel guilty for spending money we don't have. If I can get a little cash of my own, maybe I won't feel so irresponsible. We'll see.

It's still 8 months away though. Plenty of time to work myself into a guilt-ridden frenzy.

Random

Dear girl holding up traffic,

I get it. You have great posture and HUGE tits. Congratufuckinglations.



Dear Garlic Press Deli,

Your pumpkin bread is so good it almost makes me believe in God. Whoever made this deserves knighthood or princessdom or at the very least, a street named after them.


Dear woman who teaches 90 percent of the exercise classes I take,

I'm sure you're a nice person in "real life" so I'm sorry for the eye lasers during class(es). I can't help but give dirty looks to someone when they are making me want to cry in public (though my waist and ass thank you for your efforts).


Dear Weather Gnomes,
Please make it nice out tomorrow so I don't feel bad for making my dogs stay outside during the birthday party.


Dear Dogs,
Don't pee on the pumpkins, OK?

Dear Spellcheck function,
"Congratufuckinglations" is a word.


Sincerely,
Chaylene

All the credit, none of the blame

I went to my first parent-teacher conference today.

Well, I guess there were a couple in preschool, but this to me counted as the first really real one, now that Mina is in kindergarten.

I'm not sure what I expected. OK, I do know. I expected to hear how awesome my kid is and how smart and friendly she is.

Mostly what I got were things she needs to work on or know by the end of the year. I was fishing too, saying things like, "Mina seems to have adjusted to all day school really well" and, "She's really enjoying school". All I got in return was a, "Oh, good" and the ol' nod/smile combo.

Don't get me wrong. I like her teacher. She's a seasoned pro. So seasoned in fact that one of the newer kindergarten teachers had to transfer a "problem" student into my kid's class knowing our gal could handle him.

I think I got spoiled at those preschool teacher meetings where they did tell me how great my kid was. I guess I just like hearing nice things about my offspring (duh), from someone not related to me, because I can pretend their good behavior and social skills are all of my doing.

I suppose I do have something to do with how well my girls are turning out, but mostly I'm trying like hell to make sure they don't end up with my neuroses.

I Stand Corrected

It has become glaringly apparent that I am a terrible judge of character.

A few tidbits of information have come to my attention that I can't ignore. I am heartbroken that I was indeed wrong about the person I trusted my stupid, sometimes annoying, but enormously loved dogs with.

Damn it.

In other news...

I saw an office in the medical park next to my bank titled "Successful Aging Center".

Um, isn't not being dead considered successful aging? What the hell do they do over there--give you a plaque on your birthday?

"Hooray, you've managed not to die! Here is a prize for your effort. Carry on."

Don't rich old people (the only people I can imagine with a use for such a place) have anything better to do? If they're that intent on handing over their cash, I'd be happy to help them out.

I Worship at the Church of Dateline

I got a letter yesterday informing me that I had won some European lottery! Oh yes, a lottery I never entered. A lottery I've never even heard of (to be fair, I don't keep up on European lotteries).

And there was a check enclosed!

Of course, I have to pay taxes on it, and these people were kind and generous enough to make the check out over the amount of my winnings in order for me to do so.

It's just that easy.

Gosh Golly, what a lucky girl I am!

I'm sure it's all on the up and up. I mean, just the other day I was praying for a miracle. Money is tight right now, and I am on a half-assed job hunt, and out of nowhere a check for $5,000 shows up. Thank you Jesus!
I think I'll call the lottery office up right this second and give them my social security number and maybe my husband's and daughters' too. Maybe they have checks waiting for them as well!

I'm too lazy to drive to the bank, so maybe I'll throw in my checking account number so they can just deposit it for me.

This must be real. I mean, everyone knows that when times get rough, free money just appears at your doorstep.

Oh My

I read in the paper today that the woman who owns the place that I board my dogs was arrested for animal cruelty.

Before I go any further, I want to state for the record that I do not think she did it. I just can't.

Is she a little rough around the edges? Yeah. Could I see her attempting to poison a person? Maybe. If she got pissed off enough. But an animal? No fucking way.

The article states that there are several witnesses putting her car at the scene. She does drive a huge, white SUV with gold trim and a vanity plate. It's wouldn't be hard to miss her behemoth vehicle even in the dark. But what the article doesn't say is who these witnesses saw behind the wheel. I'm holding onto the hope that it wasn't her driving--that someone else took some grudge or fight too far and borrowed her car to settle the score, unbeknownst to a woman I've trusted my dogs to more times than I can count.

The saddest part, as a friend of mine pointed out, is that no matter the outcome, her dog grooming/boarding business is going to suffer a major hit and may not recover at all.

Part of me wants to take my dogs over there right now to prove that I don't believe that she could ever be capable of hurting an animal.

I just hope I'm right.

"Fuck you, you sloppy nobody!"

We got to see David Sedaris read last night. Good stuff.

That title is a direct quote from one of the stories he read.

It's funny. I expected him to be a lot more nervous than he was. He misread a few things at first, half slapping his forehead as he corrected himself, and it endeared me to him even more.

Between readings he would just talk. It was weird to see him just chat off the cuff--like a real person--as opposed to some disembodied voice over the radio.

Afterwards he took a few questions from the audience. The first guy stood up and asked him about Amy, and I felt embarrassed for him (the question asker, not Mr. Sedaris). You've got one of the greatest nonfiction writers of our time right in front of you, and you ask about his fucking sister? Pisshaw! Pisshaw indeed.

I feel really lucky that the smallish city I live in actually got someone like David Sedaris to speak at a local venue. Bloomington-Normal isn't exactly known as a "hotbed of culture" much as the local hoity toities would like everyone to think.

I loved that the reading was liberally sprinkled with curse words too. That'll show 'em.

Limited Time Offer--Act Now!!

What, no one liked the last post? One response? Are you disgusted by me now?

Would it help if I told you that same boyfriend asked to pee on me in the shower? (I graciously declined).

OK, maybe that was too much sharing.

I can't help it if I've been reading oodles of the Dan Savage archives, and have been reminiscing about my sordid past. What a great job he has.

So great in fact, I think I'd like to try my hand at it.

If you'd like any of your relationship or sex-related questions...actually any questions answered (don't worry, you can stay anonymous), send them to:

betterlivingthroughbacon@gmail.com

I won't promise any great moments of insight, but I don't have much to write about so help a sister out, huh?

Don't be shy.

I found it charming.

One summer back in college I had a boyfriend who was sweet and funny and a little bit crazy. It was fun.

I had met him years before we actually dated when I was sleeping with one of his roommates. Who would have thought, years later, we would end up together for a while?

One night while Summer Boyfriend and I were hanging out, he told me that his bedroom was directly above his old roommate's, and he used to be able to hear us having sex through the floor.

And he would masturbate while he listened in.

Italy by way of Pooptown and Shitsburg

I spent the better (or rather worse) part of an hour on the phone to Delta airlines this afternoon.

My online itinerary stated I was still "waitlisted" a few days after I spoke with a skymiles representative, so I needed to find out what was up with that.

Also, when I told my brother how pleased I was to get a nonstop flight in business class, he got pissy. It seems he wasn't planning on giving up that many of his frequent flier miles and ordered me to downgrade to coach. Apparently he needs some left in his account for when he has to fly 22 hours straight for work, and needs that upgrade in order to be somewhat presentable to the client he is meeting with. Bastard!

So I had to change my whole plan. I'm leaving a week later than originally planned and now I have two stops. One is in Detroit and the other in Newark. It's like some sort of cosmic joke. No offense to anyone reading who might live there, but these are not two locations I have ever dreamed of visiting, even if only in the airport.

But hey, at least I still get to go.

I'm not looking forward to sitting in a cramped seat for hours upon hours, but what I'm really not looking forward to is not getting to smoke for pretty much a whole day. Unless one of the airports I have to stop in has one of those crazy smokeboxes (ever see them in the St. Louis airport? It's like a zoo exhibit.), I'm SOL in the nicotine fix department.

And don't tell me to quit before I go. Don't remind me how gross it is and bad for me. It's the last vice I have, and I'm not ready to let it go quite yet.

When I finally land in Milan, I should resemble a crazed and very tired junkie on a binge.

I should really get a picture of that hotness.

Fuck you Barbie

It wasn't enough that you gave the little me an unrealistic expectation of what I thought my breasts would eventually look like as an adult (large, perfectly perky and nipple-less)?

Now this? You stupid cunt.



Today is my daughter's sixth birthday. Happy Birthday Mina! I got her a birdhouse kit and a Barbie doll. Not just any Barbie either--a mermaid(?)/fairy Barbie with wings that flutter and a DVD game that is supposed to be easy to use. Whatever.

People have been buying Mina Barbie dolls for a few years now, and I'm just now beginning to get over the guilt of "selling out" to Feminism's Antichrist. I allow her not only play with them, but play with the wretched little hussies with her. I expect the ghost of Betty Friedan at my doorstep at any moment.

I thought I was getting Mina the perfect gift. She wants to have a Fairy-themed birthday party this year, so getting her this particular Barbie fit the bill. She opened her gifts up this morning, and I promised her that she could play with it the second she got home from school. It may be her birthday, but I wasn't going to break the 'no television before school rule' even today.

First off, Fairy Barbie needs batteries. Thank the babyjesus I keep extra on hand at all times...for their toys...yeah...

The battery compartments are located in the doll's inner thighs. I felt like some kind of masochistic perv digging around near Barbie's no no spot. From the looks of her eyeshadow choice, I get the feeling this was not a new experience for her.

Then I was to program Barbie with the DVD remote so that she becomes the remote (so Zen, don't you think?) and can work with the game. It looks so simple, but apparently I am not, as previously thought, smarter than Barbie. I couldn't get the stupid fucker to work.

So, we forged ahead using the actual DVD remote which meant that I had to play too. What good is this toy if I can't sneak out for a smoke break while the girls are entranced by sparkly shit and an 18" waist?

The game itself involves finding jewels, eating seaweed and picking up lonely sailors on the dock.

OK, there weren't any sailors involved. I suppose no one at Mattel shares my love of the inappropriate.

Hopefully when my husband gets home, he can figure out what the hell I did wrong in trying to get that bitch to work.

I'm not touching the birdhouse kit project with a ten foot pole.

Happy Columbus Day!

Today I discovered that step aerobics doesn't have to suck. One might say it's opened up a whole new world, quite by accident really.

Ciao, suckahs!

I got my passport today!

I am now free to travel the world.

Part of my afternoon was spent on the phone with the airline. My trip to Italy is in the works! Whoo hoo! June seems so far away...

My brother's job takes him all over the world so he's racked up quite the pile of frequent flier miles which, as it turns out, are transferrable. My plane ticket will be free.

My cousin lives in Italy with her military husband (off base), so I have a free place to stay.

I guess all I'll need is spending money for is food, taxis and lots and lots of wine.

Happy dance!

So, who's been there? Tell me what you did. Tell me what to look out for. Tell me what I absolutely shouldn't miss.

Most importantly, tell me how to not stick out like a sore thumb.

Weighing In

I've resisted until now, but it looks like my rabid obsession with stupid people has won out.

Oh Britney....

Did fame at an early age warp her grasp of reality, give her an overinflated sense of entitlement and rob her of a normal childhood? Yes. (paging Michael Jackson)

Is she a drug addict/alcoholic/fame whore? Yes.

Should she have ever been allowed to breed. Fuck no. There should have been someone on her payroll with the sole job of sneaking birth control pills into her Red Bulls every morning.

But she did breed, and I could weep for what those poor little boys have probably seen and been subjected to. Being dropped out of a highchair is likely the least of their worries.

I think she thought she wanted the domestic life, but (in obvious news) not only did the husbitch turn out to be a skeezy loser,(in more obvious news)it turns out that having children is hard work.

"Oh mah gawd, like, why aren't they just sitting there being cute and stuff?"

So, here's the thing. Now that she's had her children taken out of her custody, why does everyone assume that she wants them back?

A quick scan of the supermarket checkout stand and a few minutes of E! is sure to clue even the most die hard Britney fan that she couldn't care less about being a mother.

I think she's relieved not to have to take care of (or rather pay someone else to take care of) her kids while she blows some douchebag in the hot tub at the Palms.

She's not going to go to rehab...rather, she'll go for show, but not take it seriously. She's not going to stop flashing her bald vag at the paparazzi, and she's not going to get those kids back. If she doesn't want them back, why would anyone want her to have them?

I don't understand how anyone who's given birth doesn't want what best for their offspring. In this case, the best thing for those boys is not being around their trainwreck of a Mom.

I would actually think more of her if she just fessed up.

Lowering the Bar

Someone please explain to me why it's apparently become socially acceptable for a 20-something year old guy to wear a shirt that reads, "I JUST SHARTED" in any capacity, let alone in public.

I'm no prude, but christalmighty, that's just wrong on so many different levels.

Recently the business department at ISU implemented a corporate attire requirement for class much to the collective groan of its students.

I don't really give a shit either way except that now it's a lot harder to tell the future MBA's from the Jehovah's Witnesses on campus.

Word to the wise: Check for a Bible before making inappropriate comments at young male co-eds.

Whiny kids and poop

Am I a total asshole for not liking someone else's kids?

OK, maybe that's a little harsh.

Audrey's in a swim class on Thursday mornings with two brothers. One is 3 and one is 6 and both of them are screeching messes once their bodies hit the water.

To back up a little here...

Audrey was so excited to get signed up for "big girl" swim class (the one where I don't get in the water with her). Jim and I made the mistake of bringing her to one of Mina's classes last session and Audrey wailed and tore at her face wanting to get in the water too. At the time, she wasn't potty trained, so I told her that when she graduated to big girl underpants, she too could join in on the aquatic fun.

So, here we are, four sessions into a 13 week session and Fric and Frac have turned my once enthusiastic swimmer-to-be into a puddle of tears.

What happens is that as soon as the teacher tries to hold one of the brothers in the water, they claw at her shoulders SCREAMING for their mother. "MAMA! I'M SCARED! I'M GOING TO FALL! HELP ME!"

It's kind of terrifying to watch for me, so I can only imagine what's going through my 3 year old's head with her front row seat.

Today the intstructor grabbed an assistant to help her out, and Audrey did a little better being distracted from the other two.

I hate to say it, but I wish the Mom would just stop coming to class. Half of the 30 minute class is taken up by the teacher trying to calm one or the other of the brothers down.

It's totally selfish of me to think that, but I feel like I paid $100 to watch some horrible child psychology experiment.

On a sidenote: It smells like a giant shit on my back deck. I don't see any shit in the general vicinity, but it smells like there is big steaming pile of it right next to me.

And now I'm back...from outer space....

I've been a busy little bitch for quite some time now. Mina's doing well in kindergarten and has adjusted to the long days. Audrey's loving preschool, and I'm enjoying a few hours of quiet here and there.

I'm planning a trip to Italy for summer and I've been getting lots more tattoo work done. I'll have half sleeves sometime in the near future. If I ever getting around to unloading the camera, I'll post some pictures.

Other than that, I'm still as boring as ever.


A couple of days ago, I was at the grocery store with Jim and Audrey, trying to do a quick run for essentials. As far as I'm concerned, wine is an "essential", and anyone who says differently is probably a sour old coot...

Kind of like the sour old coot couple who shot me the most unpleasant of looks as they passed me by.

Maybe they didn't like the cut of my jib. I happen to think my jib is fucking fantastic, but I might be alone on that one.

I didn't think we were in their way. Audrey was being adorable and well-behaved, and I think we were giggling about something when I looked up and Ma and Pa Grumpypants stopped, horrified at the sight of me. Jim was a little ways ahead of us, so he didn't catch it.

I even said "excuse me" as we passed even though there was more than two feet of room between us. I'm nothing if not fucking polite.

My theory, and I could be wrong, was that they were confused by a tattooed Mom. Sounds stupid, right?

The woman half of the couple was dressed in a high-collared button down blouse and long black skirt. She also had a tightly wound doily covered bun. If we were a time zone over, I'd say Amish but my guess is Apostolic Christian.

Add old and AC together with not old and "different" and you've got yourself a storm of cuntastic magnitude.

So, I smiled politely and kissed my daughter on the head knowing that that horrible old pinchyface had to go home and get ready for her daily self-flagellation...or whatever it is AC's do on a Monday afternoon.

Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Grumpypants, a woman covered in tattoos and 4 bottles of wine in her grocery basket can still be a good person and a good mother.

Suck it.