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.