I Met a Girl with Anorexia and she Stole my Heart

I met a girl with Anorexia Nervosa and she stole my heart.

A definite benefit to working in a service profession like health care is the abundance of life-learning opportunities that present themselves regularly.

I’m specifically referring to the “been there, done that” phenomena, where wisdom is gained as a result of a persons constant, often unintentional, but necessary involvement in the lives and struggles of others.

Social workers, health care professionals, teachers and law enforcement officers are a few vocations profoundly effected by this phenomena… for better or for worse.

We’re presented with the sometimes vivid and painful reality that unconsciously prompts us to assign a human face to many situations and events.

Gifted a diverse perspective that can’t be learned, as it’s the exclusive byproduct of experience.

We’re humbled.

Constantly reminded not to take anything for granted.

I honestly covet the reality of it all.

Life is predictably unpredictable.

So, no I’m absolutely not a person who fusses over superficial things like hair, make-up and nails or desires to carry the latest designer purse, and it’s not because I’m lazy, it’s because I don’t think it matters a lick in the big scheme of things.

It’s incredibly unimportant to me, thanks to my own menagerie of past experiences.

I will never swim or even wade in the particular shallow puddle of superficial vanity.

As long as I can remember, I’ve always been disconcerted by the thought of women manipulating their appearances in the quest to attain a certain holy grail body image.

The most obvious example is predictably– elective breast augmentation– done exclusively for vanities sake.

I find it superficial and flippant as a result of having associated with countless victims of breast cancer.  Women who’ve willfully surrendered their bodily parts as a means of survival.

Women filled with gratitude to have been given a second lease on LIVING.

So yes, I’m inherently guilty of forming  judgmental comparisons when it comes to the frivolous primping of ones outer shell.

Everything is relative, unto itself and as to where it happens to fall in the big scheme of things.

My biggest objection to the glorification of the perfect physical image is the simple fact that beauty is not an earned trait, it’s merely the result of the incredibly random genetic lottery.

Case in point- pretty people are born with an advantage… and that sucks.

It’s unacceptable that our culture continues to worship a random variable that has the indisputable power to make or break the lives of so many beautiful spirits.

The $64,000 question is— what role do YOU play in all this?

Have you ever really taken a moment to analyze your own thoughts and actions?

Actions absolutely speak louder than words.

When you take part in certain activities or portray a certain attitude, you condone the behavior, thus encouraging the end result…  to a certain degree.

I’m not pointing a finger at the newest dieting or exercise craze, it’s more about the expedited evolution of plastic surgery, tanning, hair removal, teeth whitening, hair extensions, the explosion of the day spa concept and the mere notion that some women indulge in weekly mani’s, pedi’s and facials as if they’re necessary medical treatments.

What was once considered to be an extravagance is slowly edging toward what we now consider to be the norm.

In fact, it’s not at all unusual for professionally manicured and polished fingers to reach out and hand you say, their public assistance card.

I said it. No disrespect intended.

And, I’m not saying that women of lower incomes do not deserve these things. My point is that when a certain standard of living becomes commonplace, people make sacrifices to acquire what society deems the norm.

I’m a nurse who keeps her fingernails trimmed-right-down-to-the-nubs and never ever wears polish. My hands may not be a pretty sight, but my soul swells with pride over the regular accomplishments realized by these extensions of myself.

For me it’s not about the visual image at all. I simply feel satiated because of who I am.

And, no it’s not my intention to shame, nor am I suggesting that you stop having your nails did.

It’s not the act as much as it is the shallow attitude carried and spread by some people, even if it is unknowingly.

**

Recently, I had a personal encounter with two vaguely familiar dirty-rotten-lying-thieves by the name of Anorexia Nervosa and Bulimia.

Sure, I’ve known about them for pretty much ever, but I didn’t really know about them on such a personal level: a level bearing an innocent face and sweet fragile personality.

The common denominator in both of these debilitating and potentially life-threatening illnesses is the constant assault to a persons self esteem— by overwhelming societal influence.

Society sets the bar for what’s normal, expected and rewarded, so when the end-result is unrealistic and often unattainable, problems naturally ensue and people are broken.

Oftentimes destroyed.

The sometimes subliminal or hidden messages which promote the glorified Barbie image are everywhere and they’re inescapable.

As long as society continues to covet and idolize physical beauty, the decorative physical shell which contains us, will forever and always define us.

How we act and respond to any situation determines whether we’re contributing-  hence fueling the Barbie charade.

The purpose of this post is to prompt you to do a self examination of not only your own values and ideals, but more importantly… your actions.

Most of us are guilty, at least to a certain degree.

For example, gentlemen, actions like lifting an eyebrow, winking, casting an approving look, nod, whistling, or making a flirty comment or gesture to the opposite sex is absolutely an infraction.

You’re guilty.

These seemingly harmless playful messages are etched in (especially girl) children’s brains from the day they start interpreting social cues.

A (girl) child’s self-worth is partially formed as a result of societal osmosis.

Your actions are subconsciously being recorded and measured by your daughter and by society every. single. day.

Every instance cancels out whatever positive message you may have intended to portray.

**I know a young girl who claimed that her friends and/or siblings were consistently given compliments and positive attention regarding their appearance, where she was given very few to none. In turn, she was made to perpetually feel like the ugly step sister or homely friend. When it was brought to my attention, I evaluated the behavior, and sure enough, she was dead on. Although, unintentional it happened and unfortunately this young lady was left to reap the consequences of well-intended compliments meant for everyone-who-wasn’t-her.

Not only does exclusion hurt, it chips away at the very fragile foundation of our self worth, sometimes causing profound irreversible damage.

On the same token, a dad can jump through fiery hoops to convince his plus-size teen that she’s beautiful, loved and valued, but his efforts are null and void the instant his eyes widen at the sight of a shapely lady in the tight sweater or when he likes a sexy photo or makes a flirty comment to someone on Facebook or Instagram.

Your girls, nieces and granddaughters are absolutely paying attention to everything you do.

Every single tidbit of external data flowing into a persons consciousness is measured, ultimately resulting in the final appraisal of their own self worth.

The Wonder Women image below is AWESOME, sensitive and realistic.

While a woman may whole-heartedly intend to support this positive image, she nullifies her intention the moment she takes a selfie in a bikini or slinky evening dress and flaunts it on social media in a blatant quest for likes.

Sure, most people have had their event photos inadvertently turn up on social media sites. It’s a product of the times…. our every move is being recorded.

The differentiating factor is your own deliberate calculation to sell portray yourself as a super-model mom, sex goddess or the new menopausal Miss America

Don’t let your own self-esteem issues victimize the next generation.

 

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Young fragile egos thrive on attention, so it’s easy to understand how attaining the coveted look can be so consuming and self-destructive.

Beauty is the key to attention, love, popularity, respect, overall success and happiness… because society continues to inadvertently say so.

What we do and how we act absolutely affects the next generation.

So…. Middle-aged Mommy’s,

We all appreciate and respect the overwhelming pride you feel that you’ve met the challenge of reclaiming a trimmer version of yourself, after a decade of walking around like a pregnant jello sloth.

Kudos, moms are people too.

You look fabulous and it’s been duly noted. 

It’s your choice how you chose to showboat your own accomplishments.

If you’re older than 30, you may consider becoming more mindful to the fact that your actions create a ripple that touches, and invariably effects everything in it’s wake.

Lead by example.

Whether actions are intended to deliberately cause harm is often secondary and inconsequential.

It’s water under the bridge.

I realize that I’m likely to get hoards of hate mail from women who enjoy fitness and/or engage in healthy dietary practices, so let me reiterate that this is not about you.

Healthy living and cosmetic vanity are two entirely different animals.

To view everything that crosses your path from only your own self-serving perspective is to be an egotistical pompous ass.

The world is a BIG place.

It’s not always about you, so get over thyself.

If this post inadvertently offends any of my middle-aged friends, family or acquaintances, then so. be. it.

I’m a person who says exactly what I mean and stands firmly by my convictions no. matter. what.

Even if it means standing alone.

This is about (mostly) young ladies whose self esteem continues to be assaulted every single day of their lives thanks to societies continual validation and high appraisal of physical beauty.

My loyalty absolutely belongs to the next generation.

C’est la vie.

 

Lastly, for you my young friend to whom I dedicate this, she who looks in the mirror and fails to see the intrinsic beauty in herself

You are important.

You are valued simply for being you.

You are smart, funny, artistic, talented, considerate, genuine and truthful.

You are one of a kind.

You are tall, short, round, lanky, graceful and sometimes even awkward,

You are 100% YOU… which in itself is absolutely enough.

You’re a coveted and valued child of the universe.

Barbie dolls are made of plastic and filled with nothingness, you on the other hand…. are an amazingly combination of over a zillion uniquely charged particles that create a priceless gift to the world that is you… much like the twinkling stars in the sky make up complex constellations.

You emit a unique brightness that is unlike any other star…. simply because it’s YOU… and that will always be enough.

 

 

**ADDENDUM- The following is a petition started by a daddy blogger, Pete Wilgoren demanding that ridiculous zero sizes like 0 – 00 – 000 be eradicated by large corporations like Old Navy and J Crew.

Check it out here-

http://dadmissions.wordpress.com/2014/08/08/dadmissions-take-your-super-skinny-size-triple-zeros-and-shove-em/

Sign the petition here-

http://www.change.org/petitions/old-navy-j-crew-and-the-nation-s-top-clothing-retailers-take-a-pledge-of-responsibility-in-clothing-sizing

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Chronicles of ThatGoddamnedCat – Bobbing for Bunnies in the River Styx

I’m posting this for those of you who are following and are-not-horrified by the Adventures of ThatGoddamnedCat. This particular episode was tucked away in Junes draft folder somewhere around Father’s Day.

However, this is not exactly a Father’s Day post, because I very wisely had ThatGoddamnedCats testicles decommissioned as a kitten.

God knows one of him is enough.

The world is most welcome!

Anyway,

The serial killing feline asshole… has strucketh again.

In my defense, several weeks ago I swear that I absolutely wrote, “Buy collar with bell for asshole cat” on my TO DO list.

I just hadn’t gotten around to crossing it off yet, and for that I’m very sorry Mr. Rabbit.

May you RIP.

I didn’t actually find him all festively decked out in a party hat waving a magic wand. I took the liberty of adding a few photoshop extras, so he’d appear less gruesome and… dead in a somewhat happier light.

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He probably would’ve wanted it that way.

Bunnies are promiscuous party animals from way back.

The quarter however, is the real deal though. The shiny disc, is in fact, 25 cents that I deliberately placed on his shoulder so you could better comprehend just how freaking ginormous bunnyzilla is.

Relatively speaking I mean – in relation to TGC’s body weight.

I’m not exactly sure how many ounces my Jack-the-ripper feline has on this guy, but I’m guessing not too many – making Mr. Rabbit by far his largest kill to date.

I do feel bad about Mr. Rabbit I really do, but nonetheless I’m pretty impressed.

When I carefully instructed my son to bury Mr. Rabbits remains with the 25 cent piece, he wittingly replied, “Good, he’ll need it to pay his toll to the river Styx.”

Me – you don’t say.

This apparently, is a toll paid upon ones demise – in order to travel to the underworld of the afterlife… or something like that.

I shit you not.

My bright offspring are full of obscure trivia.

Who knew?

That guy is damned lucky I found him and thought to provide him with underworld fare.

The moral of the story – never leave home without a quarter in your pocket or it’s possible you’ll be up Shits creek or possibly the river Styx… without a paddle.

Chapter Two – The Unexpected

I bet you weren’t expecting a sequel to “The Adventures of ThatGoddamnedCat- Bobbing for Bunnies in the River Styx, because… neither was I.

I had hoped it was the last we’d seen of Mr. Rabbit after I’d carefully instructed my son to bury him WITH his shiny quarter that-was-actually-toll-for-the-river-Styx.

But nope.

His saga lives on, although you won’t see him again, because he’s vanished.

By vanished I mean Mr. Rabbit has vacated the garden… did like a baby and headed out, blew that Popsicle stand, did like a tree and leaved(?)…

Since I KNOW-for-an-absolute-fact that my diligent children did not let our German Shepherd indulge in a bunny snack that was not a tidy approved canine snack shaped like a bone from a colorful box, I’m going to speculate what happened to him.

You call it denial. I call it creative writing therapy so-I-don’t-wig-the-fuck-out.

*He hitched a ride to Pet Semetary for a proper burial. (Can’t blame him)

*He was actually the Jesus Easter Bunny and he rose from the dead.

*He turned into Zombie Rabbit and will be coming for TGC soon. (In which case, this story is about to get good!)

*The Jehovah’s witnesses saw him as they headed down my walkway and decided he needed to be saved.

*The postal carrier decided to mail him back to Max and Ruby, so they could have closure.

*A bald eagle swooped down and carried him to Bunny Heaven, but kept his party hat to conceal his middle-age male pattern baldness.

*Elmer Fudd finally bagged him, in which case he’s on display over at Acme Caskets.

Anyway,

He’s gone and I’ve convinced myself beyond the shadow of a doubt that he. will. not. resurface. in. doggy. vomit.

No.

The end.

 

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Lessons in Flushing

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Let’s face it. Some bathroom jobs require more than one flush.

In fact, repeat flushing is probably twice as likely when male waste is involved.

Multiple flushes are often a way of life.

As you already know, and just like replacing the empty roll of toilet paper, “Ain’t nobody (but mom) got time for that!”

So, to make things run more efficiently in bathrooms everywhere and to prevent from grossing out everyone in your household with your shitty presents, I’ve come up with fun activities to engage in while waiting for the tank to refill… so you can flush AGAIN.

And again if necessary.

You know… that long drawn out 90 seconds or so that seems like an eternity.

Ready?

The list-

*Wipe down the faucet. There’s almost always spittle, dribble and/or ick on the faucet… which is most likely yours.

*Sing a verse from… “Another one bites the dust” as you intently watch the turd-subject make it’s final swirly lap.

*If there’s more than one turd, bet on which one will go down first.

*Use dental floss to weed the garden between your teeth.

*Count the brackets on your braces.

*Post a guess-how-long-this-is? photo on Instagram and wait for responses.

*Practice your duck face in the mirror and post it on Facebook to annoy the world.

*Play a game of solitaire. (Everyone brings their phone to the bathroom)

*Change the toilet paper roll. -just kidding.

*Play a game of Frootloop toss where you try to peg the unflushable offender with a fruity ring. This activity will fine tune your aim for when you try to win a goldfish at the fair.

*Take a moment to squeeze the trigger on the air freshener that’s sitting right next to the toilet for your spraying convenience. – this activity is highly recommended.

Just… pleeeeease.

Remember, much like the age-old camping rule… leave no trace.

This concludes today’s lesson in Civilized Bathroom Etiquette.

Have a great day.

Addendum – (a month later) because I have a GIANT mess in my upstairs toilet that’s definitely going to require a plunger and a shit-load of disinfectant. Hopefully, I won’t have to get Mr. Anaconda the snake-unplugger-tool out. Fingers crossed AND nose plugged.

The addendum- never attempt to flush more than six squares of TP at the same time. DUH. I don’t care how GINORMOUS your poop is, the toilet can only swallow so much. New rule- if it’s bigger than a hamster, divide it up.

That is all.

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Chronicles of ThatGoddamnedCat- Meet LuckyBastard my Chipmunk Friend

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Let’s face it, a nurses job is never done. This morning I’m having coffee with my new furry chipmunk friend who’s convalescing from an unexpected play date with ThatGoddamnedCat.

I affectionately named her LuckyBastard for obvious reasons, and I’m pretty sure she’s going to make it, as there’s no evidence of broken skin or internal bleeding. Unfortunately, I can’t completely rule out internal injuries because my rodent CT machine is down.

Plus, I’m obviously bullshitting you, because I don’t actually have that much needed piece of equipment that every cat owner should totally own.

And yes, I praised ThatGoddamnedCat for bringing dinner home.

He knows I hate to cook on Fridays.

Brownie points to ThatGoddamnedCat.

The dogs are going absolutely berserk at the moment, because I have LuckyBastard on the kitchen table hanging out in nurse Gina’s ICU for-unfortunate-play-dates-of-ThatGoddamnedCat, which is actually just a warm towel in a tall Hollister bag.

Her yummy chipmunk smell is driving them both batshitcrazy.

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Actually, Sketch who’s three is the one who’s pacing and nosing around like a juvenile spider money on crack. I honestly don’t think Tucker (12y/o German Shepherd)  even cares, because he’s retired from hunting prey and all other unnecessary dog related nonsense. Also, the poor guy can’t see or hear very well. He lives to chill out and protect the house.

I’m pretty sure he’s only anxious because he’s picking up batshitcrazy little dogs vibes. In fact, his poop just fell out, so I’m like 100% convinced it’s pure anxiety.

*Poop falling out is distinctly different than pooping on the kitchen floor, because this particular dog would never ever do that. He’s simply a well-mannered geriatric fellow who got anxious and well… shit happens.

Truth be told, I think this brainy canine who’s uber awesome in every way, had like one (maybe two) accidents in his entire lifetime.

We brought him home at 6 weeks and POOF! he was potty trained. He’s smarter than most people and a helluva lot easier to train than a human child.

I’m pretty sure he’s still humiliated over that one or two accidents he had when he was a pup, because if I remember correctly, his expression was all like…. “Ohhhh… you want me to go out there?? Why didn’t you just say so, master… I understand over a hundred different languages. Where’s the paper towels and carpet spray? I shall clean it up.”

And that was that.

The little guy on the other hand, who’s a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel was obviously bred exclusively for companionship and keeping humans warm because his only assets are a viable heart beat, cuteness and ability to snuggle.

End of story.

I’m not complaining though. Adorable, snuggly companions who don’t sass, talk back or ask for money are hard to come by.

Back to LuckyBastard. She’s resting comfortably nestled in her Hollister bag where this strapping young beach dude is protecting her. Her breathing is fast, but regular and reflexes seem to be intact.

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I think she’s going to be fine.

I’m glad she stopped by to visit.

Mornings are anything but boring around here.

The following has been yet another adventure from… The Chronicles of ThatGoddamned Cat.

The end.

 

For more adventures starring ThatGoddamnedCat click here Adventures of ThatGoddamnedCat and here Toasted Mouse and here Here, Birdie Birdie

 If you like this post, feel free to comment and most importantly – don’t forget to SHARE on Facebook! Your friends will thank you for putting a little FUN in their newsfeed.

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How to Avoid Drama for Dummies and Wannabe Queens

In other words- How to mind your own beeswax and not reap unnecessary emotional havoc every. single. damned. place. you. go… like the freaking Angel of Bullshit.

There’s the Angel of Mercy, the Angel of Healing and the Angel of Death… so why not the Angel of Bullshit?

After all, bullshit is incredibly abundant, it’s everywhere and it’s uber-exhausting.

As you already know, I’m not a fan of bullshit.

To keep this post slightly shorter than say the fourth edition of War and Peace, we’ll only be discussing social drama, the type of social fuckery involving more than one person victim in a circle, whether it’s friends, family or business.

Social drama is distinctly different than solo drama because it attempts to suck you into it’s spinning vortex much like a revved up Daddy Dyson on steroids.

Solo drama is more like when your premenstrual estrogen spewing 14 year old can’t find her poofy red scarf that compliments her Rosemary’s Babys charm bracelet, hair #307 is out of place and IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT, so she screams bloody murder and misses the bus.

Entirely different animal.

In a nutshell, solo drama is often just a case of raging hormones that causes temporary psychosis in young ladies.

If you’re a parent, you’re also a professional ignorer of unnecessary noises coming from your offspring.

No biggie.

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Let me be über specific here and get this derailed drama train back on track.

How to Avoid Social Drama for Dummies- so that you don’t become a trollish hen that people avoid like the plague or a pesky groups of Jehovah’s witnesses on a sunny Saturday morning.

#1- If your friend is venting about her spouse, significant other, boss, family or another friend, your job is to LISTEN with your ears and not regurgitate unconfirmed bullshit or venom.

Stay out of it. This drama tango is between two people who are not you.

Your mouth is only advised to engage, when being supportive and/or objective. Be careful of what you say.

The following examples are ACCEPTABLE responses which demonstrate supportive and/or objective interaction that does not add fuel to the Drama Queens furnace.

Scenario-

[ Drama Queen- blah blah blah blah blah….. !!!!! ]

You- “That totally sucks rotten velociraptor eggs, sorry.”

You- “Bummer. Why don’t we watch Thelma & Louise and order double cheese pizza.”

You- “Let’s go to the mall and buy shit we don’t need!”

You- “I feel your pain which is precisely why my bff is a dog.”

You- “I’m here for ya, man. Let’s go down a jug of Red Cat and fagetaboutit!”

You- “Here, have a super-size Godiva chocolate bar from the extreme emergency vault.”

You- “When I’m pissed I clean. It’s excellent therapy because… shit gets done!”

You- “I have extra xanax, should I make them into cookies or a cake? You pick.”

UNACCEPTABLE examples and sure-fire techniques to ensue that drama erupts much like the angry honey bees in the famous Winnie the Pooh scene

You- “I’m texting Alvin right now to find out if he’s privy to the details of Simon and Theodore’s peanut smuggling operation that we didn’t get a cut in.”

You- “Well, Jenny Piccolo saw him making eyes at Potsies step-sister at Arnold’s.”

You- “I never liked your asshole mom, sister, boyfriend anyway.” <– This one will blow up in your face every. single. time. when the parties reconcile.

How can anyone be this level of dumb?

You- “Let’s shoot her kids cat and leave it in a pot on the stove like in Fatal Attraction.”

Just no.

Poor kitty has enough problems.

Plus, no picking on animals ever.

What is wrong with you people anyway?

You- “Do you want me to call Chatty Chelsea’s cousin, Know-it-all Nicole and try to extract information?”

You-“My mom works with her Uncle Max at Mission Control and there was this one time he heard the mailbox say this…”

You- “Bring it. This girl’s got PMS. I need to cut a bitch”

These are all examples of FUELING the drama.

Just super-glue your ass to the bleachers and be a spectator for fucks sake.

Also, zip your lips if you’re a person who happens to naturally breathe fire… or unnecessary bullshit.

The world certainly doesn’t need this kind of vindictive chaos. Our planet is already fucked up enough.

*If you are guilty of being a generous provider of drama fuel, you’re undoubtedly a Drama Queen yourself and should promptly cut that shit out, because quite frankly, it hurts my brain and messes up the delicate balance of positive energy flowing throughout the universe.

Think about it. The other person is already in turmoil. Do you really think adding gasoline to the burning wreckage is going to be productive?

Fuck no.

Your friend needs balanced objective support, that’s not in the form of bashing, belittling or manipulating.

Lead by example. Be wise, calm and logical.

In the event that the particular situation is causing you or your friend undo anxiety, consider taking up kung fu, sword fighting or kickboxing.

I’d bet 30 minutes of any of those activities would burn off like an entire fun-sized Snickers bar. Plus, you’d get rid of toxic pent up energy.

However, if you continually chose to be the Oreo filling in the middle of others conflicts (that has absolutely nothing to do with you personally) then just maybe… you live for that shit.

You may not even know it, yet THERE it is.

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Behavior patterns are conclusive.

The person smack dab in the eye of every. single. conflict tornado is obviously the fixed instigator-monkey-in-the-middle and absolutely the common denominator… who’s not necessarily an unfortunate victim of circumstances.

Drama is everywhere.

Everyone is faced with it in some shape or form on any given, if not every single day.

You alone make the decision to either A. deflect it or B. nurture it.

Deflecting can best be exercised by both responding in a calm appropriate manner, and keeping it short and simple.

Responding immediately and passionately to each and every rant, whether be by text, fb message or voice mail, not only condones the wannabe royals behavior, but also validates it as justified and appropriate.

Let the inferno die down before someone gets burned.

Think.

Then respond.

If other peoples names continually edge their way into your conversations… you just may be a Drama Queen, the Angel of Bullshit and an absolute pain in societies ass.

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Be mindful of your actions.

Chill.

Think with your brain instead of responding to your emotions.

Don’t be a busy-body troll who’s hair stands up, much like Pinocchio’s nose- every single time they fabricate or exaggerate the truth.

Nobody wants to play with those badass colorful degenerates.

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Now, lets all join hands and take a deep cleansing breath.

The end.

Let the dramatic hate mail roll…

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Chronicles of ThatGoddamnedCat – Here Birdie Birdie…

 

Open letter to ThatGoddamnedCat who’s actual name is Max-

Dear psycho-bird-murdering-asshole,

I honestly don’t know if cats can differentiate colors, so I’m going to give your sorry butt the benefit of the doubt here.

No hunting goldfinches.

Ever.

You know those pretty little yellow and black birds that the human-who-feeds-your-sorry-ass happens to be fond of.

Those guys are my friends, dammit.

Furthermore, leaving body parts all over my sacred sun room is just twisted, you crazy fucker.

Stop that.

All birds are not created equal. For example, bluejays are loud squawky obnoxious
fuckers who get their kicks out of bullying quaint little song bird friends out of the feeders.

If you want to impress me, bring me the head of a bluejay, my feline son.

That is all.

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Things that make the Seasons Joyful- or Not

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Apologies for the off-season bullshit.

I couldn’t agree more.

Any and all persons posting off-season content on the inter-webs pertaining to the frosty C-holiday ought to be tarred, feathered and run through the wood chipper… twice.

I know, that’s a bit harsh, but the C-holiday doesn’t exactly bring out the best in me. In fact, it’s stress-filled obligatory energy has me spiraling right into the Grinchy Hulk, which is a creature similar to the oversized kick-ass green guy, except with a more wicked, vile disposition and impressively thick psychiatric file to boot.

Grinch Hulk is a force to be reckoned with.

Sing it…

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch. You’re a muther-duckin prick…”

The following rewrite is a necessary polishing where all of my estranged holiday posts have been carefully strung together like a holiday turd necklace… for your reading pleasure.

Also, I’m sending a copy to each degenerate elf in the North Pole who have nothing better to do as they’re drying out during the annual substance-abuse rehab.

It’s kind of like a community service for short overworked toy-making indentured servants, to prevent them from going North Pole postal.

This is your final chance to turn back. Stop reading. The C-holiday is about to be mentioned.

You have been warned.

 

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Things that make the holidays JOYFUL #1

My favorite part of Christmas is definitely when the kids haul out all seventy bazillion boxes of decorations, dig through them like little spider-monkey’s-with-ADHD-on-crack, flinging festive fuckery everywhere… and LEAVE.

I did say LEAVE.

POOF… they’re gone.

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Leaving you standing like a catatonic deer caught in Hells headlights.

It looks like hung-over Satan Santa threw up all over my living room.

Shit. is. everywhere.

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Things that make the season JOYFUL- #2

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FuckYou lights.

They’re distinctly different from regular holiday lights because A. they don’t light and B. they’re wrapped around mutherfucking-garland, which is obviously different from regular garland because it’s tangled in fuckyou lights.

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Things that make the season JOYFUL- #3

Dismal song lyrics at Christmastime.

Who writes a holiday song about a sorry-sap kid who spends his last dollar buying new shoes for his terminally ill mom?

Is it the songwriters intention to suck every last bit of merriment out of an otherwise festive occasion?

Why not just drown a litter of blind three-legged puppies?

Note to my children- if you buy me shoes as a departing gift, I will hurl them at you like a boomerang. A more thoughtful gift would be something in the ballpark of 80ish proof.

Perhaps the dying mother was an ancestor of a certain Wizard of Oz character and her well-meaning offspring assumed her shoes would be the FINAL impression she left on the world, much like her witchy cousin from the east, in which case and only then, bitchin shoes would be a must have departing accessory.

THAT makes perfect sense and would make the song considerably less pitiful.

Hurray for bitchin shoes.

When I leave this world, I definitely want to be wearing ass-kicking shoes, preferably red patent leather that were not necessarily a gift from my children and probably something I bought from QVC when I was drunk on 80 proof spirits that was gifted unto me.

The lyrics have a whole new meaning now. You will never be able to hear it again, without thinking of flying houses, brooms and shiny red shoes.

You’re most welcome for that.

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Things that make the season JOYFUL- #4

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Clusterfucks.

Unfortunately, there are unlimited examples of this particular brain piercing phenomenon.

Today, we’re specifically referring to holiday light clusterfucks.

I have in hand, brand new lights right-out-of-the-box that happen to be a very complicated and entangled cluster. of. fuck. because, as you already know, the fuckyou lights died.

May they rest in peace be recycled in Hell.

I’m tempted to hang them… as is.

In which case, they’d pass for a big fat snowball decoration, which makes sense, since I have a strong uncontrollable urge to hit Santa right smack in the wiener with a frozen snowball. And for the record…I don’t throw like a girl.

I think the sadistic light boxer-upper people over in China are laughing their asses off smoking weed on the assembly line.

“They never get these untangled… bahahahahah!!!!”

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Things that make the season JOYFUL- #5

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Santa’s reign of TERROR

Let’s face it, Santa’s one creepy mo-fo.

He’s been scaring the bejesus out of innocent children and small domestic animals for centuries.

It’s certainly not difficult to understand why our naive fragile counterparts are scared shitlesss.

He’s a seedy looking vagrant who pops up annually, sticking out like a sore thumb in society.

It’s true that he could probably pass for a fuzzy mutant garden gnome, but that may not exactly be an asset for him, so we’ll just scratch that and move on.

The BIG guy’s larger than life, like a gargantuan stuffed toy that escaped from the crane game, and came to life with the sole purpose of condemning and passing judgement on innocent children.

Judge, jury and executioner.

No wonder kids are terrified.

Yet, parents everywhere continue to feed their children’s greatest fears by unknowingly repeating ritualistic holiday threats.

“Santa’s watching”

“He’s can see EVERYTHING you do.”

“He knows when you’ve been good or bad so be good for goodness sake. Oooohhhh… you better watch out!

The mixed messages sent by trustworthy adults are absolutely riddled with holes.

“Don’t talk to strangers, unless of course they’re dressed like an oversized garden gnome that escaped from the Home Depot and you want a new Xbox for Christmas… then it’s okay, but only during the last two weeks of December.”

How utterly confusing.

Kids are like animals, they can sense danger.

Their instinctual shrill cries, kicking and screaming are your warning signs to abort mission. Get the hell out of Macy’s.

Now.

Run.

I also heard somewhere that if you play the vinyl 45 record of Santa Clause is Coming to Town backwards, it actually sounds like Highway to Hell, which by the way would be an immense improvement.

Just saying.

Not only is the whole Santa thing unsettling, it’s downright unfair to children.

It’s virtually impossible for kids to behave all of the time. Even the most well behaved kids are gonna slip up now and then.

Messing up is what kids do best.

It may not even be big slip ups, but to the normally well behaved kid, something like feeding your asparagus to the cat, tinkling on the guest towel in the bathroom or undressing your baby sisters Barbies and posing them in compromising positions may be enough guilt to send you spiraling over the morality cliff- straight into a life condemned by Santa induced pyscho-therapy.

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Santa Substitutes?

After careful consideration, I came up with a list of Santa substitutes that would be significantly less threatening, and therefore more likely to deliver a reaction from children that isn’t terror.

A kinder more gentler holiday mascot without the fangs and claws.

The potential replacements up for consideration are…

*A cutsie spider monkey with a candy cane striped tail. I can imagine this guy swinging from the branches of the Christmas tree. I’d definitely enjoy Christmas trees more if they had monkey’s frolicking in them. Monkey’s are fast, efficient and fun. They could also be rented out anytime after Thanksgiving to complete all of your dreaded holiday errands and attend obligatory functions in your absence. Perfect.

Obviously, they’d poop Hershey kisses.

*The Grinch AFTER he smokes a doobie. (or ten) If he’s feeling too grinchy or he’s already booked up, Cheech or Chong will do in a pinch. Those guys are Fun with a capital F. Plus, they have the required facial hair, can smoke a mean pipe and would be happy to indulge in your obligatory holiday munchy offerings of cookies and milk.

More obscure yet fun replacement options could include…

George Burns.

He’s dead you say?

My point exactly – still less scary than a red velvet garden gnome who smells like beef & cheese.

So, there you have it.

Potential replacements for reign of terror we call… Santa Clause.

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Things that make the holidays JOYFUL #6

Live sap-regurgitating pine trees that contain something like eleventy gazillion pine needles that will inevitably end up in your underwear… and other dark recesses.

Especially when said sap bleeding monstrosities are acquired during a blizzard… when it’s 10 degrees and blowing out.

Jack Frost definitely blows.

Hell NO, I didn’t cut one down like Carolyn Fucking Ingalls on crack.

Leaving my warm castle and driving to the farm stand in frigid conditions was already extra credit in my mom call-of-duty book.

It went something like this- “That one looks good.” And, a new Christmas-tree-picking-out-record of under 5 minutes was made.

My eeny meeny miney mo blind selection wasn’t half bad either. This year I won at Christmas tree roulette.

Technically, she’s not fully decorated but that’s all I’m going to do. If my minion elf staff would like the remaining dozen or so bulbs and tinsel hung, they can do it themselves.

No kidding… we still use tinsel. The only real perk is glittery dog and cat leavings.

Really.

The yard and litter box are beauteous. Even our pets help defecate… decorate.

Yes, live trees are lovely and they smell amazing, but after 20 something years of pine needle enemas, I’ve finally had enough. Who needs the extra work and aggravation during this joyful season of stress, exhaustion and pulling the last hair out of your head?

Count me out.

A couple of years ago, against my families wishes I bought an artificial tree, figuring it would grow on them.

Technically, I lost by a vote of 5 to 1, in favor of a REALmutherfuckingmessofatree.

I don’t concede easily, so I presented my fake tree as now-we’re-one-of-those-hip-families-with-two-trees kinda thing, hoping sooner or later they’d accept it and I’d be free from tree fuckery forever.

Notta.

I’m still waiting.

For the record, it’s not just the sap and needles that makes my hair stand straight up like Marge Simpson, it’s a combo of that and the ceremonial wrapping and unwrapping of the FuckYou lights, which are inevitably tangled, dead or both every. single. time.

I absolutely despise dancing the tango with lights. The end of that chapter almost always involves scissors, alcohol and singing the annual holiday overture called FuckThis and FuckThat.

So, for the next few months, I will be dissecting pine needles out of my unmentionables and chanting the FuckIt overture.

Having sex with a hostile sticky porcupine (which is actually a tree) is número 6 on the… Things that make the season JOYFUL list.

Next…

Things that make the Holidays Joyful #7

FRIGID temperatures and an over abundance of the nasty white stuff.

Winter sucks Frosty’s snowballs.

Word.

Screw snow.

Also screw Jack Frost, the Abominable Snowman, the Winter Warlock, Snow Meiser, Yukon Cornelius and his pet Bumble, Mr. Softy, Queen Frostine from Candyland and the entire cast of Ice Age.

The only acceptable snow is found in a margarita.

Margaritas and Christmas cookies… perfect.

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Things that make the holidays JOYFUL #8

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Baking Obligatory COOKIES.

I just renamed Italian drop cookies… YouStickyBastardMutherfuckers.

It seems fitting.

No wonder my Italian ancestors drank so much wine.

Also, since this description happens to fit so many varieties of the cookies I attempted to bake, I shall assign them each a number at the end of their like name.

Example- YouStickyBastardMutherfuckers #1 are snickerdoodles, YouStickyBastardMutherfuckers #2 are Italian drop cookies, and so on and so forth.

Things that makes the Season Joyful #8 is Baking Cookies- those StickyBastardMutherfuckers. I love/hate you.

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Things that make the holidays JOYFUL #9 is Christmas cards.

Not sending them.

Just say no. Let’s save the rain forest together. I for one, am super conscientious of the negative effects deforestation has on my monkey friends.

Monkey’s live, play, eat and fling poop at other monkey’s from trees. (that may or may not be evergreens, but that’s totally not the point here)

One can therefore conclude that Christmas cards are made from bulldozed monkey-family condos and Chuck E. Cheese primate establishments where baby monkey’s eat banana pizza and play Whack-The-guy-in-the-yellow-hat.

Insensitivity toward monkey’s comes to mind when I think of sending Christmas cards, and my love for monkey antics far outweighs my tolerance of humans.

Join the 21st century people and send an e-card.

Also, if you send one card, you have to send all 75 cards, and quite frankly I no longer have it in me.

My goodwill meter run loweth.

I’m a monkey enthusiast who prefers mischievous furry primates with long tails over most humans and I’m totally okay with it,

Note- I happen to love getting YOUR cards. Keep sending them, especially the ones with photos. I love those. I however, have chosen to become an exclusive e-communicator. If you ever get a hand written note from me, know that I’ve definitely been abducted by aliens.

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Next…

Things that make the holidays JOYFUL #10

Mutherfucking turkey, which is distinctly different than regular turkey found in glossy magazine photos or that you’re invited to eat in other peoples homes, because it’s dirty greasy carcass is found in your very own kitchen, that’s why.

I’m sorry if I shocked you by blurting out MUTHERFUCKING TURKEY, but it came shooting out of my brain like a kamikaze pilot. It also came directly from the heart, meaning I really meant it.

I’m a ham and lasagna kinda girl from way back, because A. Saucy Italian food trumps meat and potatoes any day and B. Ham is a no nonsense meal. Meaning, you stick it in the oven with unpeeled potatoes and POOF… Dinner is served!

No sticking your entire arm up the turkey’s ass to remove a neck that shouldn’t be in there in the first place, only to turn around and stuff it with stale bread.
Furthermore, the fancy bird-beast requires mashed potatoes, meaning you get to peel (step one), dice (step two), cook (step three), mash (step four), and cleanup (step five) peeler, spoon, mixers, pot, strainer, bowl, not to mention, bandage your bloody knuckles and clean up potato peels that are everyfuckingwhere, except in the garbage can.
Fun fact- potato peels stick infinitely better than those window clings you decorate with on holidays.

Screeeeeeeeeeech!!!

I almost forgot to bitch about the gravy. The hubinator makes his own gravy, adding an open canister of flour of which most is airborne, a colander, sifter, grease separator, small sauce pan and gravy boat to the on-deck prep station adjacent from the sink from Hell. Yes, he makes his own gravy and it’s delicious. A delicious explosion in your mouth and all over your kitchen.

There are so many steps involved in the preparation of turkey, potatoes and gravy that the FuckYou factor is amplified by like a kazillionish.

You could travel to a foreign country and back in the time it takes to prepare and clean up the dreaded aftermath from a festive birdzilla dinner.

Young ladies, take my advice and have the absolutely-NO-turkey-on-holidays verbiage added to your prenup agreement immediately. You will thank me.

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Things that make the season JOYFUL #11 is The Groundhogs Day Concept.

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The Groundhogs Day Concept-according to the movie starring Bill Murray and not the furry rodents big debut in February that he almost always fucks up.

What I mean is, you wake up and it’s Christmas over and over and over again.

My sister and her family live out of town, so in addition to having a full blown Italian seafood feast on Christmas Eve and a Mutherfucking turkey on Christmas Day, we celebrate with her family after Christmas, accounting for Groundhogs Day #2, 3, 4 or however many days they stay.

The prep, the food, the extra bodies, the clean-up… over and over.

Note- not only do these tiring celebrations extend through Christmas, they continue into the final week of December encompassing my oldest daughters birthday and New Year’s Eve. We’ll call these Groundhogs Day #5 and #6 respectively.

Don’t get me wrong- I love my family.

However, I do not joyfully embrace an entire week of holiday overstimulation.

It hurts my brain and makes me grumpy.

Just ask anyone.

There seems to be no flicker of light at the end of this seemingly endless dark holiday tunnel called perpetual Groundhogs Day.

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Numero 12 is…

Batshit Crazy Relatives in the house EARLY.

Holiday Tip- If your son ever breaks a bone the first day of snowboarding-after-you’ve-dumped-several-hundred-dollars-into-equipment, hold on to his extra doctor prescribed feel-good pills with two hands. Use the white knuckle death grip if necessary because those babies will come in handy the Saturday morning after Christmas when you wake up with the headache from hell, and your crazy family calls to say they’re on route to crash your living room like Japanese kamikaze pilots on hallucinogens.

Rewind- I thought I had agreed to having a dinner-thing sometime like after 4:00 pm. It’s not even noon, I have comatose teenage bodies draped across every horizontal piece of nonjagged furniture in my house, dishes and half eaten food everyfuckingwhere, and the now crazies on route.

Just… Shit.

Hell no, I’m not scrubbing my toilets, emptying the trash or even removing this mornings hairball from the stairs.

Pearl Harbor was not a pretty sight.

Things that make the season JOYFUL #12- Batshit crazy relatives in the house… EARLY.

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The Joyful series was supposed to wrap up after #12, making it- The 12 Painful Days of Christmas, but thanks to the Groundhog’s Day Concept, it keeps going and going and going…

Stick a fork in this furry rabid rodent, people… I’m done.

Finite-o.

But wait… there’s more!

Act now and receive #13 – The Brain Crisper Addendum absolutely free!

In fact, we’ll double your order… to make certain your entire brain is toast.

At this point, your brain probably looks something like a deep fried rice Krispy treat.

Sizzzle.

This holiday and post are quickly becoming a nightmare episode of Groundhogs Day where rabid zombie gophers suck the sanity out of our brains using a tiny bar straw.

Quite appropriately, things that make the season JOYFUL #13, the grande finale and unlucky número 13 is… Deep-fried brain cells.

My extended family has finally retreated and the homestead is now marginally quiet. At least until my daughter’s annual New Years Eve/Birthday bash on Tuesday.

God give me strength.

At this point, I’m finding it difficult to put words or more specifically- lucid thoughts together as well as wipe my own drool, because my brain cells seem to be experiencing a sort of coma that’s probably a precursor to brain death.

They’ve gone up in a glittery puff of smoke.

This unfortunate deep-fried state of my grey matter may or may not be the result of random family members prodding my cerebellum with invisible dull corkscrews… or quite possibly from the indulgence of a katrillionish empty calories.

Probably both.

Do not attempt to eat a katrillionish calories at home because you will undoubtedly become a brain dead jiggly amoeba sloth just like me.

I’m seriously afraid to look in the mirror right now, because if Honey Boo Boo’s mom is looking back at me I will freak the fuck out.

Anyway, an amoeba sloth is what the hungry caterpillar really turns into when she gorges on holiday comfort food that’s something like a katrillion cheesy, gooey, deep fried calories dipped in chocolate sauce.

It went something like this…

She ate through two pans of lasagna, one mutherfuckingturkey, three extra cheesy sausage rolls, four trays of Christmas cookies- thosestickybastardmutherfuckers #1 – 4, one fudge roll and one bottle of Godiva chocolate vodka.

Burp.

Nope. There’s no beautiful butterfly here.

No way in hell is this amoeba sloths massive carcass is lifting off the ground.

 

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This has been an Extreme Mom Bedtime Story and holiday exclusive.

All functioning grey matter has been destroyed in the clusterfuck of holiday chaos.

No surprise, as this time of year, chaos tends to completely dominate my existence, much like an elephant sitting on a flea.

Let the brain cell regenerating begin… NOW.

The Things that make the season JOYFUL is far from over.

The grande finale is not when the fat lady sings – Grandma got run over by a reindeer, but when she finally face plants into home base otherwise known as New Years Day.

Then you may applaud LOUDLY.

If I’m not dead, I may join you.

The End.

Have an Extremely Happy New Year!!!

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Secret Mother’s Day… Shhhh!!

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I’d like to propose a new holiday called Secret Mother’s Day, because we absofuckinglutely deserve it, that’s why.

Secret Mother’s Day would be just that.

A big fat secret.

After careful consideration, I’ve determined that it would be absolutely necessary to conceal it from our offspring, because God knows they’d just fuck it up.

It’s what they do best…. which is precisely why we’re keeping them in the dark.

In addition, we’d also keep it from our own mothers because (no offense or disrespect to them) but, obviously, you can’t thoroughly enjoy your own day as Queen Mother her Royal Highness, if you’re obligated to kiss someone else’s ass. That shit just cancels itself out and makes this day very confusing, not to mention disappointing.

Don’t give me that look.

You know it’s true and I did clarify… no offense or disrespect to them intended.

It just doesn’t mesh.

Nothing like winning a weekend to a five star resort and being asked to scrub the hot tub when you’re finished.

Just no.

This lets the air right out of the balloon of intended appreciation.

So there you have it… Secret Mother’s Day.

It would be an entire day, as in 24 entire hours and not just say a two hour block for brunch– if you’re lucky enough to be on the receiving end of that particular gift.

Alone.

No kids, no spouse or significant other, no relatives.

You’re welcome to bring the dog though, because dogs rock.

I said so.

Dogs are incredibly therapeutic, unconditionally loving and awesome in so many ways where humans essentially fall short. every. single. time.

So, it’s you and the dog.

All you have to do is chose the location (my venue is definitely a beach with warm surf and seashells) the type of lounging device you wish to recline in and what you’d like others (who aren’t your family— remember, they’d just fuck it up and for this reason, they’re not allowed within 100 miles of your special Secret Mother’s Day celebration) to do for you.

My short list includes a massage (that’s not in exchange for sex), cold drinks in fancy crystal glasses with pretty little umbrellas, chocolate covered strawberries presoaked in vodka, a stack of books to be read to me by Channing Tatum, an unlimited supply of chocolate peanut butter ice-cream served in waffle cones and a 20-something boy decoration to fan and water my dog, so he doesn’t get overheated.

That’s all I want.

Scratch that, not done.

Throw in a photographer to capture the evidence of our extremely secret and awesome adventure, as well as an Internet connection to plaster this red carpet day all over social media like the rest of the faux Internet moms who-are-most-likely-full-of-shit.

That’s all I want.

Just writing this proposal relaxed me.

Imagine that.

It’s the little things in life, people.

Grab your imagination by the mammary glands and run with it.

It’s Mother’s Day… Dammit

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As Supreme Ruler of the Kingdom, I hereby proclaim that Mother’s Day be celebrated the entire weekend this year… and forever.

It’s been a rough one, that’s why.

No way is one lousy day of cleaning up your own shit and being on excellent behavior gonna cut it, girls and boys.

Not this year, my precious offspring.

Extreme mom is going completely proactive this Mother’s Day to guarantee that it doesn’t SUCK.

You have been hereby enlisted… as a GIVER.

Therefore, specific TO DO lists will be distributed to each of my brood.

We’re gonna get it right this time.

Here we go.

Mother’s Day… Take 21!!

(The number is accurate. No. Shit.)

ACTION!!!

Here’s a preview of my short list of demands:

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*You will bathe the dogs with excellent smelling shampoo, then scrub the entire bathroom including the tub.

YES, this does need to be spelled out.

The powder room and pets shall smell like a fresh meadow.

*Clean my car- that was incidentally trashed by YOU.

You shall vacuum the resident floor rubble and debris that you dragged in, clean all dog slobber off the windows, dispose of dead insect carcasses from the dashboard and remove sticky goo from the cup holders.

Again, sparkly clean.

•Vacuum both sets of stairs in the house and do not attempt to make a new family member out of the pet hair.

NO, I wouldn’t mention this if history hadn’t dictated already that it’s was absolutely necessary.

Plus, we already have our limit of dependents.

Use care not to clog the vacuum. I’m tired of performing a colonoscopy on the Dyson every single time I attempt to turn it on.

This is a proactive exercise, because unfortunately some things do have to be spelled out.

Remember, this is only my short list.

*grin*

Had my children had the foresight to say… toast me a lousy poptart, scribble HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY on a sheet of paper or pluck me a few daffodils from my own garden, I wouldn’t have been forced to make these heinous demands.

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I shall also, hereby be completely EXEMPT from partaking in any of the following on Mother’s Day weekend, which absolutely includes Friday and Saturday… from this year until the end of time.

I shall not cook or touch unprepared food.

I shall not go to the grocery store.

I shall not do laundry.

I shall be exempt from driving you anywhere.

I shall not do dishes… or even look at them.

I shall not answer questions or engage in conversations beginning with:

Will you?

Can I?

I need…

I’m hungry…

I’m borrrrrrred…

It’s not fair…

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Things that YOU can do for me:

Pretend to be unmiserable.

Make me coffee

Do not complain… about anything.

Most importantly, do this shit WITHOUT being told or reminded.

Anyone breaking the rules of Mother’s Day Weekend will be exiled to the back yard and forced to live in a tent.

I know my expectations are ridiculously high this year.



A girl can dream…



NOTE- This post was from 2013 and my children failed miserably that year.

That’s entirely different post.

You’re not alone fellow moms.

I, and almost everyone who’s not your kids, appreciate the Hell out of you.

Rock on, mamacita’s!! The world as we know it would come to a screeching halt without you.

Word.

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Staying Healthy During Flu Season- Flu Prevention and Treatment

Note to regular readers-

The following is informational material penned by my school nurse persona as a guide for college students. While it’s not in sync with my usual comedic posts, it’s factual information worthy of being shared. Regular whacky posts will resume immediately following.

Thank you for your patience and stay well!

 

Protect yourself from the FLU!!!

The flu is caused by the influenza virus.

imageAntibiotics are therefore ineffective as it is a viral infection.

The most commonly prescribed medication for flu relief is called Tamiflu.

Tamiflu does not cure the flu, but it may lessen the symptoms and shorten the duration.

Roughly speaking, flu season runs from October to April, reaching it’s peak in mid February.

Your best defense against the flu is prevention. You can arm yourself against the flu by observing the following measures-

Wash your hands OFTEN with soap and water or an alcohol based hand rub.

Wash your hands for at least the length of time it takes to sing the Happy Birthday song twice.

Seriously… sing the Happy Birthday song.

ALWAYS wash your hands before eating or preparing food, after using the bathroom and after blowing your nose or covering a cough.

Make it a habit to carry hand sanitizer during flu season.

Don’t share drinks or cigarettes.

Replace your toothbrush after you’ve been ill or sanitize it using boiling water. Keep your toothbrush isolated from other family members toothbrushes when you’re sick and vice versa.

Use disposable hand towels in your home or dorm room when you or others are sick.

Avoid touching your eyes, nose and mouth. This is how germs ENTER the body.

Avoid close contact with sick people and stay out of crowded places.

Frequently sanitize shared items in your home and office like phones, computer keyboards, remote controls, game controllers, door handles, refrigerator door handles and sink knobs.

Wash your hands or use sanitizer immediately after having contact with frequently touched surfaces in the community such as door handles, ATM and elevator buttons, hand rails, the check-out conveyer in stores and even the pen used by God-knows-how-many-people for signing credit card transactions.

Get plenty of sleep, exercise, eat healthy and DRINK PLENTY of fluids. *Limit caffeine and alcohol as they act as a mild diuretic causing your body to actually LOSE FLUID.

Stop or at least cut back on smoking. Smoking makes you more susceptible to illnesses like pneumonia, bronchitis and the flu, as well as increasing the intensity and duration of illness. Seriously. Cut back by one or two cigarettes per day. Yes, you CAN do it and it will help.

Cover your mouth and nose with a tissue when coughing or sneezing or use the crux of your arm.

If you have a flu-like illness stay home for 24 hours AFTER you’ve been fever free without the use of fever reducing medicines.

Talk to your doctor about the risks and benefits of receiving a flu vaccine. 

What’s the difference between the common cold and the flu?

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What do I do if I get the flu?

Treat each symptom individually. For instance, if you have a fever and cough you treat exactly that.

Treatment of FEVER-

Drink plenty of non-caffeinated fluids to prevent dehydration. *Jello, Popsicles, broth and Italian Ice are considered fluids.

Take fever reducing medicines as needed- Acetaminophen (Tylenol), Ibuprofen (Motrin, Advil) or Naproxen Sodium (Aleve)

Rest.

Dress in light clothing.

A tepid bath should be considered for children with a high fever to prevent febrile seizures. Never use cold water, ice or rubbing alcohol. This may actually cause your temperature to rise through shivering.

When to CALL YOUR DOCTOR or REPORT TO URGENT CARE for FEVER-

Temperature over 103 F

*Always report a fever over 100.4 (rectal) – in babies under 3 months of age*

Fever lasting more than 72 hours

Fever unresponsive to fever reducing medicines

Stiff neck or severe headache

Severe abdominal pain

SORE THROAT-

Most SORE THROATS are caused by viruses and are usually accompanied by other cold symptoms (runny nose, cough, red or watery eyes or sneezing) This type of sore throat is self limiting and is not helped with antibiotics.

Only CONFIRMED cases of STREP throat caused by the streptococcal bacterial are treated with antibiotics. You can have a rapid strep test done in your physicians office or an urgent care facility. Do not go to the emergency room for a sore throat unless you have difficulty breathing.

The emergency room is for emergencies only. If you’ve had the same sore throat for 4 days, it does not become an emergency on Friday at 5pm when your doctors office is closed. Call your doctor, (someone is always on call) or report to an urgent care facility.

Symptoms of STREP throat include SEVERE sore throat which usually comes on QUICKLY, SEVERE pain with swallowing, fever over 101 F, red swollen tonsils sometimes with white patches or streaks, tiny red spots (petechaie) on the back or roof of the mouth, headache, nausea and vomiting, swollen lymph nodes, body aches and rash.

TREATMENT of sore throat symptoms

Take a pain reliever like Acetaminophen (Tylenol), Ibuprofen (Motrin, Advil) or Naproxen Sodium (Aleve)

Use throat relieving sprays like Chloraseptic or throat relieving lozenges like Sucrets. They have a temporary numbing effect and will diminish pain.

Drink warm beverages like tea with honey, hot cocoa or broth. *Never give honey to children under one year of age. It can cause botulism and/or death.

Gargle with warm salt water.

Drink cold beverages, suck on ice chips or Popsicles.

When to CALL YOUR DOCTOR or REPORT TO URGENT CARE for SORE THROAT-

SEVERE sore throat that comes on QUICKLY

SEVERE pain with swallowing

Fever over 101 F

Red swollen tonsils sometimes with white patches or streaks or tiny red spots (petechaie) on the back or roof of the mouth

Nausea and vomiting

Swollen lymph nodes/glands

Accompanying rash

TREATMENT of COUGH accompanying a cold or bronchitis-

Drink plenty of fluids to loosen the mucous. Warm fluids are best.

For a DRY HACKING cough add HONEY to warm water, tea or lemon juice. *Never give honey to children under 1 year of age as it can cause botulism and/or death.

Use a HUMIDIFIER in your bedroom and keep the door closed to keep the steam in.

For a severe coughing attack turn on a hot shower, close the door and breath in the steam.

Don’t smoke. If you do, quit or at least cut down. Every cigarette makes a difference. Yes, you can!

Limit exposure to second hand smoke, dust, strong chemical fumes and perfumes.

Cough drops and/or hard candy can soothe or moisten throat and prevent coughing.

Elevate the head of your bed or use extra pillows.

Take cough medicine- being mindful when choosing the correct type as stated below. Suppressant vs. Expectorant.

*Take a cough SUPPRESSANT for a dry nonproductive cough. Acts to decrease coughing. Cough suppressants are products containing DEXTROMETHORPHAN.

*Take a cough EXPECTORANT for loose productive cough. Acts to thin mucous making it easier to cough up. Cough expectorants are products containing GUAIFENESIN. (Mucinex)

Read the label.

*CALL YOUR DOCTOR or REPORT TO URGENT CARE for –

Coughing up mucous that is thick green, yellow or brown

Coughing up blood

Wheezing or experiencing shortness of breath

Have tightness or pain in your chest

Have difficulty breathing

Cases of SEVERE asthma or bronchitis may require steroids and/or nebulizer treatments which are only available through your health care provider, urgent care or emergency room.

Difficulty breathing is considered an emergency.

BRONCHITIS is an inflammation of the bronchial passages that causes narrowing and the production of phlegm. It’s essentially treated the same as any cough (see above) with the exception that you should NOT take a cough suppressant for bronchitis.

Treatment of CONGESTION-

Increase your fluid intake. Drink at least 64 Oz (8 cups) per day. Warm fluids tend to have a better effect than cold. Fluids help to liquefy thick mucous. Avoid caffeine and alcohol.

Use a warm mist humidifier or breathe in warm mist from the shower. This will help to open airways, moisten and thin mucous. You can add ginger, eucalyptus, menthol or Vicks ointment to the water for maximum benefit.

Fill the sink with hot water, drape a towel over your head and breath in the steam if you do not have a humidifier or shower available to you.

Take a DECONGESTANT- Sudafed.

Take NSAID pain relievers to help with pain and swelling- Ibuprofen (Motrin, Advil) or Naproxen Sodium (Aleve).

For nasal stuffiness try saline irrigation (Neti pot) or saline sprays. This helps to thin mucous, moisten mucous membranes and may remove virus or bacterial particles.

For INSTANT and TEMPORARY relief from nasal stuffiness consider DECONGESTANT NASAL SPRAYS like Afrin or Neo-Synephrine. *It is very important not to use these for longer than 3 days, as this type medication can cause rebound nasal congestion. (Chronic nasal stuffiness) I cannot stress this enough. *Alternate nasal spray with plain saline spray for best results.

Apply warm compresses (warm wash cloth or sock filled with rice and heated in microwave) to your face to relieve sinus congestion and pain.

Keep your head elevated with pillows or sleep in a recliner.

Spicy foods can help alleviate congestion. Pepper, garlic, hot curry powder, ginger, chili peppers.

Hot CHICKEN SOUP thins mucous, improves the function of cilia (hairlike projections in nasal passages that protect the body from foreign bacteria and viruses) and may also improve the motion of disease-fighting white blood cells.

Massage your sinuses.

How to… http://m.wikihow.com/Massage-Your-Sinuses

*When to CALL YOUR DOCTOR or REPORT TO URGENT CARE for congestion or sinus related problems-

Fever 101 or greater

Sudden severe pain in face or head

Double vision or change in vision

Confusion or difficulty concentrating

Swelling and/or redness around one or both eyes

Stiff neck

Shortness of breath

Remember to consult your doctor or report to an urgent care facility if your symptoms are not an EMERGENCY.

The emergency room should be reserved for actual emergencies like difficulty breathing, chest pain, seizures, unbearable pain or traumatic injuries that must be treated immediately.

Immediately means symptoms that are potentially life threatening and cannot wait.

A sinus infection, cold or cough (without difficulty breathing) are NOT emergencies. Wounds requiring sutures can usually be treated in an Urgent Care facility, but may be case sensitive.

Use your best judgement.

*Disclosure- this guide is in no way intended to replace the advice of your physician. This is not medical advice. It’s purpose is to aid in managing your symptoms and to guide you in making prudent health decisions.

Stay well!

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My Ghost Life…

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If I die young, do not mourn me, for I have very important work to do in the afterlife.

By work, I mean Hauntings.

You betcha, I’m going to be like Casper’s evil brothers except with residual estrogen… so waaaay scarier.

I’m not a firm believer in Karma, so I’m compiling a list of people I’m going to visit regularly as an apparition.

Mostly, they’re the same people I have voodoo dolls of at the present time. The list is mostly made up of coaches, teachers, bosses- people who used their authority for evil rather than good and unfortunately for them… I was involved in the crossfire. More specifically speaking- people who wronged my kids, even if it was unknowingly.

Worse offense ever.

I’m an avid watcher of A Haunting and I’ve seen every episode at least once, so I know which techniques will produce the best results.

I’m not going to lie, I’m pretty excited about this. And, it’s not gonna be only three nights like Ebenezer Scrooge and <<poof!>> they’re exonerated. Nope. I plan on moving in with a couple of them.

I also planning on enlisting all of my deceased dogs and cats as my accomplices. We can cover more territory.

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Everyone knows pets are the most devout creatures on earth, so it could get ugly for a chosen few. Also, cats are assholes when they’re alive, so dead they ought to be like a scene out of the Exorcist except with teeth and claws.

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I’m hoping anyway.

If you and I happened to be friends during my time on Earth, know that It’s me performing random ghostly acts to cheer you up or make you giggle.

Like if your boss falls down the stairs carrying an extra large coffee… It was me who pushed her.

You’re very welcome.

The point of this story?

I happen to believe the “other side” has a lot of potential.

Who knows, it may even be better over there.

When my time comes to cross over, please celebrate my new adventure. Even though I’m physically gone from Earth, I have absolutely no intentions of going away.

Ps- I’m dead serious about this whole thing.

I totally believe in spirits.

Pss- you probably want to stay on my good side.

 

 

YOUR Easy Guide to YOUR and YOU’RE

Easy grammar – How to use YOU’RE and YOUR.

I’m absolutely not poking or pointing a fun finger at anyone, because I happen to know a lot of people could benefit from this very fun catchy lesson.

Plus, let’s face it, there are a lot of suckish teachers out there. When I was in elementary school I think the median age for a teacher was something like 102, so here’s your second chance to learn this shit for good.

If you happen to be fluent in Your-You’re already, this would be an opportune time to share this educational gem with your Facebook friends.

Ready?

YOU’RE means YOU ARE. The apostrophe replaces the A.

Example- YOU’RE (you are) a dumbass.

*I’m totally not talking to you because that would be rude,

YOU’RE (you are) never going to pass that test.

* Ditto. Rude. It’s merely an example.

YOUR – means possession. As in it belongs to you.

*Again. Rude. Not referring to your dumbassery.

Example- YOUR grades will be reflected on YOUR awesome report card.

Is that YOUR degree in English on YOUR wall?

Now get out there and use your newfound knowledge.

YOU’RE (you are) gonna knock ’em dead.

YOU’RE (you are) oh so very welcome.

PS- this is totally going on my LinkedIn profile under publications.

Hells yeah.

This is your diploma.

YOUR very own certificate of achievement because YOU’RE (you are) amazing!

Note- This post was a learning adventure intended in good fun.

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Thank you for continuing to follow this blog.  Life’s been 50 shades of bat shit crazy these days, so my posts have been kind of erratic.  I plan to be re-boarding the regular crazy train again very soon.

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