Not a Creature was Stirring: Holiday Chronicles of ThatGoddamnedCat

Twas an early Sunday morning, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse

The holiday decorations had been tossed aside-in-a-tizzy
In hopes that caffeine would kick-in and make-me-get-busy

The teenagers were unconscious, asleep in their beds
While visions of Xbox polluted their heads

With the pooch at my feet, I guzzled my Java
A feeble attempt, to deal with-the-days drama

When out in the hallway, arose an overexcited pup
So, I sprang from my chair, to see what was up

When what to my wondering eyes, did appear
But a motionless rodent – in asystole – I fear

My infamous cat, was so lively and quick
I knew in a moment, it was that-serial-killing prick

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Out leaped ThatGoddamnedCat, in a quick graceful bound

He was pure feline badass, from whisker to toe
With a rap sheet so long, it could be tied in a bow

His ears they were pointed, like the tips of a star
His vision acute, so he could stalk from afar

His instincts were primal, his senses were keen
His pounce when airborne, was… stealthy and clean

He mewed not a word, as he glared at his prize
Pride and contentment, gleamed in his eyes

Then he sprang to his feet, and bounded away
Like a satiated feline, who’d gifted us prey

But I knew he was thinking, as he leapt out of sight
Happy Christmas lowly humans…

I’m done for the night!

Dummies Guide to Web Commenting

Posted in Everything Extreme, Facebook Parodies by Extreme Mom

Newsflash- The Internet is a pretty ginormous social platform that’s not by-invitation-only.

It is not YOUR personal living room where you can screen and confine visitors to your very own social clones -bearing similar beliefs, ideas and values.

Like it or not, there are infinite perspectives on just about everything. It’s called diversity and it runs rampant in our world.

I find it extremely pompous when people make an extended effort to comment on content they stumbled upon while browsing a public platform, because they deemed it to be personally offensive and I’m not talking about news sites and current events. The latter two are known mine fields of volatile opinion.

Sure, everyone’s entitled to an opinion, but if the writing in question happens to appear on, for example, a humor-based, variety or entertainment page, it should be perceived as exactly that. It’s highly doubtful the author intentionally penned something funny in an effort to incite a religious or political debate.

It’s like stopping at the butcher shop to debate vegetarianism.

You’re unwelcome. Keep scrolling.

I cannot imagine mustering up and expending any amount of negative energy debating something that was not personally addressed to me.

Sure, many people are passionate about a certain causes and I am not referring to them. I am referring to the busy-body web commenters who creep the Internet looking for something to get defensive about.

Trouble seeking trolls with an agenda… highjacking public posts.

Perhaps it creates an avenue by which despondant Internet dwellers are able to project deep seeded personal unhappiness or insecurities onto random strangers-that-weren’t-addressing-them-in-the-first-place. A means of letting the negative energy out of their mood balloon before it spontaneously combusts. In that particular sense it can be an effective coping mechanism, although dragging the public into your own personal misery bubble is just plain wrong.

In the big scheme of things one person’s opposition rarely has any changing effect on the author or target readers. The end product is simply the unnecessary polluting of public air space with negative energy.

The Internet’s a ginormous place and while it’s true that any sites readership is likely composed of a diverse group of people, in the end it’s the publisher who has the final decision whether or not to run an article – usually based on its anticipated appeal to the majority of it’s audience. Publishers aim to retain readers. Oftentimes web pages also touch on controversial topics in an effort to engage readers in healthy objective debate. I assure you, sponsored sites are not deliberately trying to offend you.

Perhaps this is the perfect opportunity for you to practice an exercise in personal open-mindedness.

Not everything on the Internet is intended to appeal to everyone.

When skimming an article I deem ridiculous or over-the-top, I usually let out an amused chuckle or belly laugh, do an exaggerated eye roll, and immediately close it. Adio’s dumbasses!

I choose to remain sarcastically entertained, which is immensely healthier than morphing into a vicious Internet troll bearing-fangs-and-claws and looking for a bar fight.

The biggest most explosive mine field on the web can be found in the comments of any mainstream discussion on politics, religion and race, as these subjects tend to attract the most narrow-minded loud-mouth extremists on the planet.

Fact. This group of people almost always has a personal agenda.

However… life is all about compromise.

Most things are not inherently black or white, but fall somewhere within the spectrum of fifty-kazillion shades of grey. Anyone solidly planted at either pole is at risk for becoming a close-minded extremist.

Although, every case has exceptions. Remember, we’re practicing open-mindedness.

Much wisdom can be gained in simply pondering other people’s opinions.

Think about it… even if you disagree. An open mind is an ever-expansive mind.

Only close-minded jackasses are quick to comment, because they’ve inadvertently snapped their minds shut, much like a heavy steel trap. They choose to remain self-justified and righteous even when there’s the slightest possibility that they may be wrong.

The wise grasshopper ponders EVERYTHING… which is exactly how he got to be the wise grasshopper in the first place.

Take a moment to think before you comment.

PS – This is not my first Troll Rodeo. I’ve had a lot to say about Trolls in the past.

30Oct2014

Welcome to the Extreme Mom House of Horrors

Posted in Everything Extreme by Extreme Mom

Good Eeeeevening and welcome to the Extreme House of Horrors… otherwise known as Moms Tunnel of Everyday Terror.

If you suffer from anxiety, OCD, panic attacks or PTSD, this exhibit is not for you.

You’ve been warned.

This Halloween themed attraction is FRIGHTENING in caps simply because it’s the real deal.

None of the featured subjects have been staged.

This is my actual home.

I shit you not.

Fortunately, it took a few years to compile this unique chilling collection. The following is not a complete depiction of scary activity found in the Extreme House of Horrors, these are simply the highlights.

Ready?

Extreme Cousin It will be your tour guide!

Enter my offsprings bedroom where we discover a once healthy and refreshing glass of apple juice that was taken over by sinister fuzzy green goblins while the family slept. Nobody knows where they came from.

Fortunately, Ghostbuster mom was able to defeat the fuzzy green goblins with bleach. Ghostbuster Mamacita kicks ass.

Here we have the Blob Monster. He started out as a nutritious glass of vitamin D fortified milk. Nobody knows how he managed to penetrate security and slither into this unsuspecting glass.

Next up is this lovely plaster of Paris sculpture Wednesday is currently constructing for her 3D art class. We’re not sure whose heart she’s attempting to recreate, but we’ve all decided to be extra nice to her…. just in case.

If you didn’t notice, Wednesday is sculpting on my unprotected cherry finish dining room table with razor sharp tools, because… that’s how she rolls. It seems rather obvious that she accidentally consumed the apple juice from the above photo and fuzzy green goblins immediately ate her brain. It’s the only logical explanation. And, it’s also why I can’t have nice things.

Below is Wednesday dressed as herself for Halloween. She still has the headless doll, Marie Antoinette which used to be a lovely decorative Amish doll that-I-did-not-need-anyway.

In addition to sculpting, Wednesday enjoys wood carving on the living room coffee table.

These harmless fuzzy green visitors are frequent guests in our kitchen.

All I have to say is… What your family doesn’t know can’t hurt them.

Spaghetti… it’s what’s for dinner. It’s also evidence that I do sometimes use the stove.

I also hate doing dishes. I left these for Wednesday. Her other name is on the traffic cone because it’s her chore.

The kitchen isn’t always scary.

Sometimes we play games.

This is Tim, the winner from the Jenga game featured above.

This is also him.

Let’s get some fresh air and venture out to the back deck.

Nope, this is not a giant rat. This look-alike is actually a decaying banana. I can only assume that Pugsley aka Tim left it for the flying monkey’s who are due to fly overhead any minute now on their annual migratory trip to the Devil’s Triangle.

My children are dedicated ambassadors of wildlife preservation as well as fierce protectors of exotic creatures. They’re givers from way back.

Whooooopsy!!

Look out below.

ThatGodamnedCat apparently bagged another flying monkey. Mum is the word. We don’t want that testy green-faced bitch whose strung-out-on-MaxwellHouse to find out about it. She has an ug-ly temper.

It’s always seems to be something with ThatGoddamnedCat. He’s a murdering machine who obviously needs a new bell collar.

Meet our Extreme Pets

This scary guy has glowy eyes, but he’s actually pretty harmless. I heart him.

The brainless one… we’ll call him Spot.

Dumb with a capital D.

This asshole feline is the star of many of my posts. Most people know him as ThatGoddamnedCat.

Has anyone seen spot? It’s Eddies turn to brush him.

Sometimes, we play with pet fur for fun.

The following scary bedroom attraction is admittedly lame.

I’ll admit, waking to find a 3.5 pound femur in your bed covers is nothing compared to finding the entire bloody horse head. We’ll give this unwelcome body part an honorable mention.

Credit to Spot, the brainless family canine who can’t resist a delicious midnight snack.

Wednesday cuddling with her horse head.

Speaking of bed covers, It’s time to wash the horsy-femur-sheets.

The following is random stuff I found under my bed.

When Gomez speaks French I tend to get frisky…

or maybe I’m just a fun mom hoarder of unusual stuff .

Also tucked away in my extreme jewelry box…

I actually own this and yes I’ve worn it to work.

Bathrooms can be scary for many reasons.

This one is definitely possessed by twin demons called PMS, which incidentally stands for Pretty Mutherfcking Scary.*

I try to stay out of this room.

I recently painted the powder room a lovely shade of Exorcist Pea-Soup Green, because I crack myself up… or possibly I’m cracking up.

Same difference.

This genius color serves to camouflage any unholy venomous regurgitation spewed by the girls as they are primping for school.

You might be a witch if… you squeeze the toothpaste from the middle.

*Note to self – order firewood.

My Extreme family also enjoys painting with toothpaste and making arts and crafts in the bathroom. The toothpaste thing really happened. Quite frankly, I was too baffled to investigate and the perp got away scott free..

You have to choose your battles carefully.

*For the easy version of this tampon ghost, just draw the eyes with a Sharpie marker, because not everyone can be an admitted hoarder of useless craft supplies like myself.

No scary mansion is complete without spiders, snakes, bats and toads.

Here are a few photos of me and my favorite creatures.

No, I’m not afraid of exotic house guests.

Awesome hair clip I scored at the Dollar Store.

Despite her cozy accommodations in my aloe vera plant, Anastasia only stayed with us for a week.

Other disturbing and intriguing finds…

Pugsley’s glasses…

And another pair…

I bought this nifty violet-light-powered beauty mask because nobody over 40 should have both acne and wrinkles, but mostly because it’s a fantastic way to embarrass my kids.

Thank you for visiting the Extreme House of Horrors!

Y’all come back now, ya hear?

Go back

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25Oct2014

While I was asleep…

Posted in Damned KIDS, Everything Extreme by Extreme Mom

From the moment I brought my first two children home from the hospital, barely 12 months shy of one another… nobody slept. My Irish twins were jacked-up baby Energizer Bunnies in stereo.

*Irish twins- when the same woman produces multiple offspring in a 12 month period through separate pregnancies. This probably causes many women to take up recreational drinking later in life, so I’m pretty sure that’s where the Irish part comes from.

I gave birth to up-all-night babies who quickly grew into up-all-night toddlers who were about as difficult to settle in bed as a pair of adolescent spider monkey’s on crack. I kid you not, my bald tail-less monkey’s would not. stay. in. bed. And yes, I tried everything from warm soothing baths, calming music, and dreadfully mundane bedtime stories to… Benadryl.

Yes, I did.

Don’t go all judgy June Cleaver on me. I was exhaustipated with a capital E. Also, in my defense, as an RN I’d been advised by physicians on numerous occasions to administer this same medication to adult patients FOR SLEEP. I was working in pediatrics at the time, so it was easy to figure out the safe dosage. Unfortunately, medications can have the opposite effect on some people. Particularly, small noisy restless humans between 2 – 3 foot tall whose sole mission is to siphon adult energy. As Murphy’s Law would predict, Benadryl effected my toddler like a double shot of expresso laced with pixie stick powder.

As a result, I quickly came to terms with the reality that there was no magic bullet – NOTHING could guarantee to convert my hyperactive children into sleepy mode at sundown. Colassal bummer. In addition to holding the ever-taxing mom title, I had a full time job. I was so tired it hurt. More often than not, I’d simply give in to exhaustion and assume the vertical-cozy-position next to my bouncing balls of energy, which meant I was out for the entire night… in a bed intended for baby bear.

This moms episode of Sleepless in New York actually took place 18 years ago, before the explosion of social networking and subsequent 24/7 online moral support for Mommy’s-at-the-end-of-their-ropes. Quite frankly, I don’t know how I survived without the almighty Internet life line.

I just do not know.

I recently finished reading the new mom anthology, Motherhood May Cause Drowsiness, which is a funny and heartwarming collection of tales written by kindred sleep deprived mom goddesses. Rest assured, fellow mombies, the sleep-deprived state you’re experiencing is indeed a widespread and universal phenomenon that’s also temporary.

You’ve just got to love nocturnal children.

For me, it quickly became a nightly contest to see who would fall asleep first. Predictably, I was hardly ever victorious. To this day, the same image pops into my consciousness whenever bedtime shenanigans are mentioned. The infamous night I frantically woke to discover my two year old son was MIA, which meant he had escaped from his room and was most likely on a mischievous adventure. At the sight of his empty bed, I instinctually rushed into my daughters room, where thankfully, I discovered them both. She was nuzzled under the bed covers fast asleep and my Energizer Bunny Boy was perched on top of her sleeping figure with the entire contents of the toy box spilled onto her bed. Bizarre, but funny as Hell. He had the Fisher Price farm set up next to her head and was gleefully manipulating the animal figures up and down her arms, making barnyard noises. Moooooooo!!! Cock-a-doodle-doo!!! Apparently, he needed someone to play with and it didn’t matter to him if his playmate was interactive

For the official record, it’s not easy to portray a convincing bad-ass disciplinarian when you’re gasping and turning colors trying to stifle an impending laugh-out-loud-and-slap-your-thigh. Some things are just plain entertaining, especially when you’re exhausted.

The strategy I most often resorted to when attempting to wind down my hyperactive monkey-boy was to force him to lay on the couch and watch National Geographic, while I took care of whatever needed to be urgently attended to – like washing the families underwear, tossing the after-dinner wreckage into the dumpster or mopping up the lake left on the bathroom floor after evening baths. The drone hum of the NG narrators voice was enough to put a herd of elephants to sleep, although predictably, it hardly had any effect on my high strung monkey child who, incidentally, had been diagnosed with off-the-charts ADHD by the tender age of five. I can’t confirm that off-the-charts ADHD is an official diagnosis in the DSM, but I do hereby swear it came out of the psychiatrists mouth.

This particular memory came bouncing back into my consciousness like a baby grenade the moment I sunk my teeth into Motherhood May cause Drowsiness and began to read. I suspect it’s also very likely that I have a touch (or full blown) case of PTSD.

And on the glass-half-full-of-vodka kind of note – the ultimate pay-off for the struggle is that my eldest offspring are now 20 and 21 years old, meaning it’s almost their turn to join the up-all-night watch crew also known as team zombie… and I can hardly wait until they have kids.

Be sure to check out this heartfelt, painstaking and funny new mom anthology! It’s recommended reading for the Hot Mess Mom Club. Welcome!

Edited with BlogPad Pro

3Jun2014

How to Avoid Drama for Dummies and Wannabe Queens

Posted in Everything Extreme, Facebook Parodies by Extreme Mom

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.

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.

********************************

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.

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.

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

The end.

Let the dramatic hate mail roll…

Go back

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24May2014

Things that make the Seasons Joyful- or Not

Posted in Everything Extreme by Extreme Mom

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.

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.

***********************************************************************************************

Things that make the season JOYFUL- #2

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.

**********************************************************************************************************

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

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

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.

*******************************************************************************************************

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

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.

*************************************************************************************************

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.

******************************************************************************************************

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.

*********************************************************************************************************

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

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.

************************************************************************************************

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.

***********************************************************************************************************

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.

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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13May2014

Secret Mother’s Day… Shhhh!!

Posted in Damned KIDS, Everything Extreme, Holiday Bullsh*t by Extreme Mom

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.

28Mar2014

My Ghost Life…

Posted in Everything Extreme by Extreme Mom

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.

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.

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.

18Jan2014

YOUR Easy Guide to YOUR and YOU’RE

Posted in Everything Extreme, Facebook Parodies by Extreme Mom

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.

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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23Nov2013

How NOT to be an Internet Troll for Dummies… and Trolls

Posted in Everything Extreme, Facebook Parodies by Extreme Mom

How NOT to be an Internet Troll for Dummies… and Trolls

1. Brush your hair and use a deep conditioner.

2. Put on clothes.

Ok, seriously.

Here goes…

3. Don’t be trigger happy. Before you comment, READ the entire post.

4. Comprehend the post. That means let it really sink in until you understand what is being said. (I had to say that, as this post is intended for DUMMIES)

Does it ask a question? If the answer is YES, feel free to comment.

If the answer is NO, then nobody asked your opinion. Simon says, “Do not comment unless you have something positive or constructive to say.”

WHEN it’s acceptable to give your opinion on the Internet-

1. When someone specifically asks for it. A written passage might read something like this- “What do you think?” “What would you do?” “Please tell us your opinion on this matter.”

Should you happen to stumble upon a recipe for chocolate chip cookies, know that it’s merely a recipe for readers to try if you choose to, and not an invitation to start a discussion on the potential ill effects of polyunsaturated fats found in semi-sweet chocolate morsels. This would RUIN a perfectly good cookie recipe post. (Keep your sour grapes to yourself)

Do you see where this is going?

On a related note, Extreme Mom shares ~~batshit crazy~~ nontraditional child rearing tales as a means of creating parental comradery through HUMOR. It is absolutely NOT a serious open forum on parenting.

I REPEAT, this is NOT an open forum on parenting.

Did I mention this is NOT an open forum on parenting?

June Cleaver and Carol Brady do not moderate this blog.

There will be no discussion on the best potty training method, debate on how much TV you allow your child to watch or what the appropriate age is for a kid to have a cell phone. Quite frankly, I could care less if you duct tape a smart phone to your kids ear as he passes through the birth canal.

*******************************************************************************************************

For shits and giggles, let’s play a fun game of Simon Says as an exercise in reading comprehension and responding appropriately.

Ready?

1. Simon says, “What’s your name?”

Correct answer- “My name is… ”

Incorrect answer- “Everyone named Simon is an asshole.”

2. What’s your favorite color?

Correct answer- < nothing > Simon did NOT ask.

Incorrect answer- “My favorite color is RED but you typed this in black ink, so you suck. Black ink makes me unhappy and irritable. You have no regard for people who are color RED enthusiasts. You’re obviously a prejudice bigot.

3. Simon says, “Look up into the blue sky.”

Correct response- < tilt head back and LOOK UP >

Incorrect response- “I’m wearing yellow sunglasses, so my sky is green. Green is BETTER and you’re an ignorant slut.”

As a page moderator, I’m getting incredibly tired of troll invasions.

I can’t tell you not to be an Internet troll, but I can tell you that your rude off-subject troll comments are NOT welcome here.

I have a troll taser in my hip holster and I’m not afraid to use it.

“Say hello to my little friend.”

*Note to other Facebook pages and blogs- you’re more than welcome to share this. Together we can defeat the trolls.

Don’t get me wrong, bloggers LOVE comments… as long as they are in sync with the theme of the post. We also love to hear your opinion. Although, starting a heated debate or attempting to put the author on trial is seriously frowned upon and you will be tasered.

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8Nov2013

Marching to the Beat of a Different Drummer

Posted in Everything Extreme, Health and Wellness, Special Needs and Sensitivity by Extreme Mom

As a parent of four young adults- two faced with special life challenges, I’m often presented with rude comments on how I should handle certain situations.

Let me explain and hopefully open your eyes to a corner of the world that you’ve probably never visited.

An exercise in enlightenment, understanding and vast open-mindedness.

Chronological age is not the only indicator of where and what a person should be doing in regards to life’s milestones. This seems obvious, but trust me, it is not.

Many young adults are affected by invisible conditions which prevent them from reaching their full potential and may also make them appear lazy to the rest of the world, putting even more pressure on their already fragile self esteem.

Invisible condition (my definition)- a condition/disorder that is not necessarily obvious to the general public and may not even be detectable in a first hand social interaction with said individual. The person may appear completely normal. However, underlying condition(s) may be absolutely crippling thus preventing this person from being anything from marginally functional to ultimately meeting their full potential.

Examples- ADHD, autistic spectrum disorders, depression, anxiety, bipolar, post traumatic stress disorder, dot. dot. dot.

I live with two excellent examples of said invisible conditions, which in their cases are (at the present time) pretty debilitating. We get through life ONE DAY AT A TIME.

I love my SPECIAL children with all my heart.

My children, whom I happen to know are misunderstood by society, certain close friends and family members, whom I will stand up for until my last dying breath and probably continue to protect in the afterlife.

Hell yeah.

It goes something like this-

My 19 year old son has pretty profound ADHD. *Note- There’s the ADHD where you take a pill and <<poof>> life is good, functional and manageable and there’s the ADHD where every waking moment is a challenge. I mention this to make you aware that ADHD is not the same on any two people. It’s a spectrum disorder. Your nephews ADHD may be a completely different animal than my sons ADHD. On a similar note, the higher your chronological age, the higher societies expectations become of you, making coping often more challenging as time passes.

KNOW that, APPRECIATE that and most importantly, RESPECT that.

As it rolled out for my guy, he did not grow out of his ADHD, nor did he learn to completely compensate. Every day is a challenge. He has chosen not to take meds, which at age 19 is his prerogative. My feeling is that he needs to manage his life in a way that feels right for HIM.

It’s a slow steady process in which there is no deadline.

I stand supportive pretty much… forever.

In addition, this same adult-child falls on the autistic spectrum. Aspergers presents an infinite number of social hurdles every single day. Add sensory integration dysfunction- another spectrum type condition and you amplify the same challenges by like ten fold.

Despite starting sensory integration therapy at the young age of five, being in sync with the outside world continues to be an every day struggle. Everybody’s brain is different. One of his major sensory challenges include a struggle with proprioception and spatial relationships- knowing how hard to press the gas/brake pedal in a car or how far to turn the steering wheel.

An example of how ordinary tasks that may almost seem second nature for most, may not in fact be simple for everyone.

This is REAL life stuff.

*For anything and everything related to sensory integration, check out the book “The Out of Sync Child” by Carol Kranowicz. Excellent read. My sister and I actually attended one of her conferences awhile back and she was lucky enough to be chosen to be part of the human sandwich exercise. I think she was the lettuce.. which figures because she’s teeny. I would’ve definitely been like the quarter pound burger.

Anyway, if you’ve absorbed the significance of the above challenges, you will most likely be able to better appreciate that things like driving a car, attending college and working are equivalent to an obstacle course within an obstacle course for some young adults.

On a completely different, but equally significant note, the oldest love of my life is afflicted by severe anxiety and panic attacks. No, we didn’t break her, nor did she ask for this or bring it on herself. She’s smart, beautiful and exceptionally talented, but doesn’t accept or acknowledge any of these things.

The current plan is to chip away at the anxiety, so that we may eventually step up the ladder rung to higher level challenges like college course work, getting a drivers license, maintaining a job and nurturing close relationships.

One step at a time.

This is not the portrait of a lazy person. This is a person who is struggling.

So, when you add your two cents that sounds something like- “You drive them to college??? They need to get jobs!! If you don’t force them to take responsibility they’ll never learn… use TOUGH LOVE or I would never tolerate THAT from adult children blah, blah, blah… ” you most likely have no idea what you’re dealing with and/or how unfitting your unsolicited advice actually is.

Let me say to you, in addition to treating those you love with much needed understanding, compassion and respect, first and foremost and even if it means simply just being there, a parental figure or caregiver must most importantly do no harm.

Let that sink in.

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24Oct2013

The Gardasil Vaccine… Just say NO

Posted in Everything Extreme, Health and Wellness by Extreme Mom

How safe is the Gardasil vaccine?

*Gardasil is a relatively new vaccine that was approved by the FDA in 2006 for use in the US as a preventative against the HPV virus which can sometimes lead to cervical cancer.

To date, 57 million doses have been distributed. There have been 139 deaths and somewhere in the ballpark of 22,000 adverse reactions reported.

The question is- how essential is this vaccine and more importantly, do the risks outweigh the benefits?

The answer is unclear and unfortunately, it’s become even more muddied by predictably irresponsible media coverage.

Sadly, we’ve come to expect a certain degree of biased media interference in almost all facets of our lives, due to the saturation of self serving special interest groups in this country.

The result of this never ending flow of biased opinions is that eventually it becomes background noise.

We start to ignore it.

Thank you, over-the-top whack jobs who dispute anything and everything.

I’ve long concluded that most news is nothing more than a smoking train wreck of opinions.

It’s difficult to distinguish fact from fiction. Which is precisely why I feel compelled to research and validate almost everything I read.

It’s exhausting.

“Ain’t nobody got time for… ”

Never mind.

That said- anyone who forms an opinion after reading ONE article or story is a complete moron and liability to society.

I mean that from the bottom of my heart.

So wake up if that describes you. The world is full of self serving liars.

It seems as if almost everything has an underlying agenda these days, which may not necessarily be in the consumers best interests.

As a result, I honestly hadn’t paid too much attention to the hoopla regarding the Gardasil vaccine.

Until recently that is, when I stumbled upon a link on Facebook that lead me to do further research.

What commanded my undivided attention on this particular topic were reports of Dr. Diane Harper- leading international developer of HPV vaccines and former Merck scientist’s very unexpected public address where she voiced concerns regarding the vaccines safety, during what was supposed to be a promotional conference.

It motivated me to dig around.

The evidence left me in a state of hopeless disbelief and validated something I kind of already suspected.

Pharmaceutical companies do in fact RULE the WORLD.

More specifically, money rules the world.

You knew that.

We both did.

The story goes something like this.

The Gardasil vaccine manufactured by Merck Pharmaceuticals is being strongly recommended (pushed) by health care practitioners as a seemingly pseudo insurance policy against cervical cancer for the 9-26 year old demographic.

*Note- It’s also starting to be recommended for boys as a preventative against penile warts and throat cancer.

The “Be One Less” campaign launched by Merck attempts to frighten or guilt young girls and their consenting parents into receiving the vaccine, so that they will subsequently be ONE LESS victim of cervical cancer.

It’s being pushed by your trusted pediatrician without question.

Cancer is bad… get the vaccine and live happily ever after. Right?

Not so fast.

Sure, it lowers your risk of cervical cancer, but first let’s explore a few things.

*How EFFECTIVE is this vaccine against cervical cancer?

*What are your ODDS of actually being diagnosed with cervical cancer in the first place? Essentially, how many HPV infections actually turn into cervical cancer?

*And most notably, what is the MORTALITY rate for cervical cancer?

A Few Fast Facts.

FACTS on Incidence- 14 million HPV infections are diagnosed in the US each year.

The Gardasil vaccine only protects against four out of over a dozen viral strains thought to cause cervical cancer.

More Perspective- There are over 100 types of HPV viruses out of which 40 are sexually transmitted and only a dozen are thought to cause cancer.

Also, scientific evidence has shown that 90% of all HPV infections clear up within two years all by themselves WITHOUT treatment.

Just WOW.

“Cervical cancer is the easiest cancer to prevent with regular screening tests and follow-up.” *Excerpt from the CDC’s web page on Gynecological Cancers- http://www.cdc.gov/cancer/cervical/basic_info/screening.htm

In other words, regular PAP screening is more than sufficient in preventing this disease. All by itself.

FACTS on Mortality- 3.5 out of 100,000 women will DIE from cervical cancer in the US annually. (12 out of 100,000 women will be diagnosed)
*2013 statistics – American Cancer Society

Pay attention here- That’s LESS than a 1% chance that a woman will actually contract cervical cancer in her lifetime and LESS than one quarter of 1% that it will lead to death.

To put that into perspective, out of every 100,000 women, 11 will die in a car accident. Therefore, you’re twice as likely to be killed in an automobile accident.

People don’t generally lose sleep worrying about losing their life in a motor vehicle accident.

Reputable professional organizations endorsing the Gardasil vaccine include; American Academy of Pediatrics, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), American Academy of Family Physicians, American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists and the American Cancer Society.

I mention this to clarify that YOUR physician is most likely promoting this vaccine.

The question is… WHY?

This vaccine seems far from NECESSARY.

Sure, it’s obvious that nobody wants cancer or sexually transmitted warts, but if the likelihood of this is already relatively low, why get injected with something that’s currently under scrutiny for causing serious ill effects and possibly death?

The Adverse Effects can be deadly. The Vaccine Adverse Effects Reporting System (V.A.E.R.S) reports there are currently139 known deaths associated with HPV vaccinations.

There have also been at least 22,000 reports of adverse reactions, which may be quite fluid as many reactions are never reported.

Serious reactions reported include-

Seizures
Convulsions
Coma
Hemorhages
Guillane Barré Syndrome and Paralysis
Pancreatitis
Blindness
Cerebral Vasculitis (swelling of the brain)
Lupus-like immune disorders
Blood clots
ALS-like schlerosis
Idiopathic Thrombocytopenic Purpura (ITP)

Take another look at the reactions. They are NOT your run-of-the-mill generic side effects like- nausea, vomiting, headache, dizziness, upset stomach, constipation or diarrhea. These effects are quite serious and potentially life threatening.

The victims stories are horrifying. I’m attaching links to several victim web sites for you to review and form your own conclusions.

The intention of this writing is not to persuade you one way or another, but to merely to encourage you to question your choices.

Ethical Concerns-

One might ask WHY there’s an URGENT push to vaccinate?

Why all the media hype, the boisterous campaign- Be One Less… ?

Also, why was this vaccine fast tracked for approval by Merck after only being tested on 1,200 girls under the age of 16?

Most likely it’s the almighty dollar.

MONEY MONEY MONEY… MONNNEEEEEY.

The vaccine is expected to reach one billion dollars in sales next year. Wall Street analysts predict that sales could reach four billion dollars over the next five years.

Is Merck using young girls as guinea pigs for profit? It’s very possible. The bottom line always seems to lead to the inner lining of the corporate world’s pockets.

Cervical cancer is not an imminent threat if you diligently have PAP screenings. This is NOT something that sneaks up on you and suddenly takes your life.

“The rate at which invasive cancer develops from dysplagia (atypical cells) is usually slow, measured in years and perhaps decades. (1)

1. Holowaty P, miller AB, Rohan T, et al: Natural history of dysplasia of the uterine cervix. J Natl Cancer Inst 91 (3) 252-8, 1999

The choice here seems obvious.

*********************************************************************************************************

Please do not lose sight that throughout history, certain vaccines have been integral in eradicating deadly mass epidemics such as small pox, diptheria, measles, rubella, tetanus, polio and whooping cough.

These advances in medicine have absolutely changed the world and saved millions of lives.

This is not about THAT.

This is about creating a questionable nonessential vaccine with a sketchy safety margin that’s seemingly being marketed purely for profit.

Parents –

Question it.

Do your own research.

Stay informed.

Make your own decision.

Do not be bullied by your practitioner.

Higher education was the precursor to their fancy degree.

Common sense and conscience were not necessarily a factor.

PASS IT ON- Even though this vaccine has been on the market and in the media since 2006, does not mean the majority has been properly informed. Every day thousands of new young people become age eligible for this vaccine.

Please spread this important information.

****************************************************************************************************

http://www.gardasilandunexplaineddeaths.com/facts

http://communities.washingtontimes.com/neighborhood/stress-and-health-dr-lind/2013/apr/10/us-court-pays-6-million-gardasil-victims/

http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2012/01/24/hpv-vaccine-victim-sues-merck.aspx

http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2012/10/16/unproven-hpv-vaccine-safety.aspx

http://www.pop.org/content/merck-researcher-admits-gardasil-guards-against-almost-nothing-985

Click to access Death-after-quadrivalent-human-papillomavirus-vaccination-full-paper.pdf

http://www.cancer.org/cancer/cervicalcancer/detailedguide/cervical-cancer-key-statistics

http://www.chicagomag.com/Chicago-Magazine/February-2012/Dr-Joseph-Mercola-Visionary-or-Quack/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diane_Harper

http://www.cdc.gov/vaccines/vpd-vac/hpv/vac-faqs.htm

Click to access cervical_facts.pdf

http://www.cancer.org/cancer/cancerbasics/lifetime-probability-of-developing-or-dying-from-cancer

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2964337/

http://www.greenmedinfo.com/anti-therapeutic-action/vaccination-hpv-gardisil

http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S1568997214000664

http://onemoregirlmovie.com/

http://www.cbsnews.com/news/gardasil-researcher-speaks-out/

Click to access BSEM-2011.pdf

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Good Eeeeevening and welcome to the Extreme House of Horrors… otherwise known as Moms Tunnel of Everyday Terror.

If you suffer from anxiety, OCD, panic attacks or PTSD, this exhibit is not for you.

You’ve been warned.

This Halloween themed attraction is FRIGHTENING in caps simply because it’s the real deal.

None of the featured subjects have been staged.

This is my actual home.

I shit you not.

Fortunately, it took a few years to compile this unique chilling collection. The following is not a complete depiction of scary activity found in the Extreme House of Horrors, these are simply the highlights.

Ready?

Extreme Cousin It will be your tour guide!

Enter my offsprings bedroom where we discover a once healthy and refreshing glass of apple juice that was taken over by sinister fuzzy green goblins while the family slept. Nobody knows where they came from.

Fortunately, Ghostbuster mom was able to defeat the fuzzy green goblins with bleach. Ghostbuster Mamacita kicks ass.

Here we have the Blob Monster. He started out as a nutritious glass of vitamin D fortified milk. Nobody knows how he managed to penetrate security and slither into this unsuspecting glass.

Next up is this lovely plaster of Paris sculpture Wednesday is currently constructing for her 3D art class. We’re not sure whose heart she’s attempting to recreate, but we’ve all decided to be extra nice to her…. just in case.

Below is Wednesday dressed as herself for Halloween. She still has the headless doll, Marie Antoinette which used to be a lovely decorative Amish doll that-I-did-not-need-anyway.

In addition to sculpting, Wednesday enjoys wood carving on the living room coffee table.

These harmless fuzzy green visitors are frequent guests in our kitchen.

All I have to say is… What your family doesn’t know can’t hurt them.

Spaghetti… it’s what’s for dinner. It’s also evidence that I do sometimes use the stove.

I also hate doing dishes. I left these for Wednesday. Her other name is on the traffic cone because it’s her chore.

The kitchen isn’t always scary.

Sometimes we play games.

This is Tim, the winner from the Jenga game featured above.

This is also him.

Let’s get some fresh air and venture out to the back deck.

Nope, this is not a giant rat. This look-alike is actually a decaying banana. I can only assume that Pugsley aka Tim left it for the flying monkey’s who are due to fly overhead any minute now on their annual migratory trip to the Devil’s Triangle.

My children are dedicated ambassadors of wildlife preservation as well as fierce protectors of exotic creatures. They’re givers from way back.

Whooooopsy!!

Look out below.

ThatGodamnedCat apparently bagged another flying monkey. Mum is the word. We don’t want that testy green-faced bitch whose strung-out-on-MaxwellHouse to find out about it. She has an ug-ly temper.

It’s always seems to be something with ThatGoddamnedCat. He’s a murdering machine who obviously needs a new bell collar.

Meet our Extreme Pets

This scary guy has glowy eyes, but he’s actually pretty harmless. I heart him.

The brainless one… we’ll call him Spot.

Dumb with a capital D.

This asshole feline is the star of many of my posts. Most people know him as ThatGoddamnedCat.

Has anyone seen spot? It’s Eddies turn to brush him.

Sometimes, we play with pet fur for fun.

The following scary bedroom attraction is admittedly lame.

I’ll admit, waking to find a 3.5 pound femur in your bed covers is nothing compared to finding the entire bloody horse head. We’ll give this unwelcome body part an honorable mention.

Credit to Spot, the brainless family canine who can’t resist a delicious midnight snack.

Wednesday cuddling with her horse head.

Speaking of bed covers, It’s time to wash the horsy-femur-sheets.

The following is random stuff I found under my bed.

When Gomez speaks French I tend to get frisky…

or maybe I’m just a fun mom hoarder of unusual stuff .

Also tucked away in my extreme jewelry box…

I actually own this and yes I’ve worn it to work.

Bathrooms can be scary for many reasons.

This one is definitely possessed by twin demons called PMS, which incidentally stands for Pretty Mutherf*cking Scary.

I try to stay out of this room.

I recently painted the powder room a lovely shade of Exorcist Pea-Soup Green, because I crack myself up… or possibly I’m cracking up.

Same difference.

This genius color serves to camouflage any unholy venomous regurgitation spewed by the girls as they are primping for school.

You might be a witch if… you squeeze the toothpaste from the middle.

*Note to self – order firewood.

My Extreme family also enjoys painting with toothpaste and making arts and crafts in the bathroom. The toothpaste thing really happened. Quite frankly, I was too baffled to investigate and the perp got away scott free..

You have to choose your battles carefully.

*For the easy version of this tampon ghost, just draw the eyes with a Sharpie marker, because not everyone can be an admitted hoarder of useless craft supplies like myself.

No scary mansion is complete without spiders, snakes, bats and toads.

Here are a few photos of me and my favorite creatures.

No, I’m not afraid of exotic house guests.

Awesome hair clip I scored at the Dollar Store.

Despite her cozy accommodations in my aloe vera plant, Anastasia only stayed with us for a week.

Other disturbing and intriguing finds…

Pugsley’s glasses…

And another pair…

I bought this nifty violet-light-powered beauty mask because nobody over 40 should have both acne and wrinkles, but mostly because it’s a fantastic way to embarrass my kids.

Thank you for visiting the Extreme House of Horrors!

Y’all come back now, ya hear?

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

Scenario-

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

This one is definitely possessed by twin demons called PMS, which incidentally stands for Pretty Mutherfcking Scary.*