Welcome to the Extreme Mom House of Horrors


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.


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.



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?




I went to Scare-a-Con 2013!!’

Father, please forgive me.

It’s been I-don’t-know…  two-ish weeks since my last blog post.

Life’s been batshit crazy!

I’m pretty sure I don’t have to confess using the word BATSHIT because it’s an actual THING.

Bats do in fact shit.

Had I said goddamned batshit crazy, that would’ve been an entirely different story because God does not like that shit.

Now to change gears and transform this post into an EXCUSE.

The kind of excuse kids are required to bring to school when they’re sick that I absolutely detest writing.

Most of the time I just want to tell the school that it’s none of their damned business why my kid was absent.

I’m a nurse and a blogger. They’re gonna be damned sorry if I start describing the precise characteristics of gooey green snot or say the consistency of puke chunks.

Trust me on this.

So, please excuse Gina from doing her blogger homework because she started a new job and has been batshit crazy busy since September.


During this time I took a much needed break to attend Scare-a-con.

I’m not gonna lie. I’m feeling kinda hipster now that I’ve attended an actual CON.

Since this is a catch up post and for smoother easier reading, I’m going to attempt to abbreviate and use incomplete sentences as much as possible.

Long reads can be painful.

Whatinthehell’s Scare-a-Con you ask?

It’s a crazy fun convention busting with horror movie memorabilia, nerds cosplaying as their favorite monsters, where celebrities from frightening films hang out, shoot the shit and sign autographs.

A completely awesome scary dork-fest.

I took photos of a few celebs and hell no I didn’t pay for them because Extreme Mom doesn’t pay anyone for a lousy photo opportunity.

This nurse happens to know that they’re guts are just as gross as our guts on the inside. Also, their poop DOES  in fact stink.

I’m not the autograph collecting type either, but I did get this autographed photo for my DAUGHTER by Lisa Loring (Wednesday from the Adams Family) simply because my daughter dressed like her one Halloween and not because she aspires to be a (alleged) porn star.

You heard THAT one rumor too?

I can’t confirm it, since I’m not an adult film enthusiast, but if I had to guess, I’d go with likely.

Call it a gut feeling.

“They’re creepy and they’re kooky, mysterious and spooky… ”

Enter Cousin It.

Fun fact- His name is Felix Silla and he also played an adorable Ewok in Star Wars.

Very cool pint-sized man.

When I initially walked up to his table he wasn’t there, so wiseass me lifted the table skirt and said…” YOUUUUU HOUU Are you under there?”

Of course he walked up right behind me at that exact moment.

It’s official.

I’m a Cousin It Bully and I’m going to Hell. Again.

So far I’m doing several life sentences.

Here’s my friend Deb learning how to use Cousin It’s camera so she can take a pic of him and fake Freddie Krueger.


He probably asked HER and not me on account of I bully short people plagued with perpetual bad hair days.

This here’s a photo of the Ghost Buster guys back. There was a very long line to see him. I suspect his GB canisters spray chocolate, xanax or marijuana. Otherwise, he’s JUST your run-of-the-mill Ghost Buster who gets to carry rad equipment on his back and toast ginormous marshmallows for fun.

I guess I’m a teeny bit jealous of the equipment part.

Here’s the back of the little twerpy guy who played ALL the Oompa Loompas in the new Willy Wonka film.

What… They couldn’t afford to pay more than ONE guy, so they cloned him to make him look like a herd of identical Oompa Loompas?


Big fat LAME-O move on the movie producers behalf. They were probably too busy doing dark hallucinogenic drugs with Tim Burton.

*Not to be confused with the groovy colorful drugs Gene Wilder probably did with Charlie Bucket’s grandfather in the original film. Those drugs were clearly superior in every possible way.

Hell, they even cured grandpa from being totally bedridden to performing airborne somersaults in the Fizzy-lifting drinks corridor in under 90 minutes.

Anyhow, the dark replacement guy named Deep Roy seemed kinda grumpy and/or slightly pompous, so I didn’t grace him with the pleasure of speaking to me.

My brain feels it’s necessary to blurt out right now that Deep Roy would make a righteous porn star name.

Once again, this can’t be confirmed.

It’s official that I’m an admitted bully of short people.

I don’t know what inthehell gets into me.

Forgive me Father…

Anyway, truth be told, I like the orange faced guys with green hair way better.

*Note- when I originally wrote this post, I wrote PURPLE hair and then I was like… Holy Shit! Their hair is actually GREEN!!

Maybe Deep Roy was grumpy because he got pulled outta the chocolate factory unexpectedly and he was in chocolate withdrawal.

THAT I can understand, because I get grumpy when that happens too.

Eddie Munster.

Cool guy. You could definitely party hardy with this dude.

However, EM pays to photograph no one, so here’s a nice unauthorized pic of him not knowing he’s being stalked.

In Butch’s defense, I’m certain he’s the kind of guy who’d shoot the shit with just about anyone, buy you a beer and/or pass you a dooby.

We had a pretty detailed conversation about Puff n’ Stuff and Lidsville, so I partially rest my case.

Moving right along.

My favorite!

The adorable kid from the scary Chucky movie Childs Play.

Interesting fact- my brothers name is Chucky and I’m waaaay scarier than him. I call this having the estrogen advantage.

I’ve never actually seen the entire Chucky movie, but I’m a new fan because grown up Alex Vincent is freaking edible adorable.

Yum yum.

I don’t want to roll around in the hay with him. I just want to hang him on my wall and look at his cutie face.

It’s entirely possible that I’m a failed cougar.

Also, I’d like to cuddle him like a stuffed animal.

Probably, after one (teaspoon of) beer I’d change my mind about the rolling-around-in-the-hay thing.

Women are allowed to change their minds as often or more than men rearrange their wieners. It’s some kind of rule (that I just made up)

Here’s me being very well behaved in a free photo of us that he probably has hanging over his bed.

And here’s our unofficial marriage certificate. ❤


Fun Fact- Alex Vincent writes beautiful poetry. You can view his creative artist page here.


He is totally happening in the here and now.

Pitter patter my <3.

Next up…

Kiss my what??

Ace Frehley from Kiss was also there. I guess because he looks über scary without makeup.

I can totally relate to that.

He had like a gazillion body guards and was partitioned off in an isolated corner all by his badass self.

Here’s what I think of him. I like Kiss and yes I’ve downloaded a few of their songs onto my iPod for free, but I may or may not pass him toilet paper if he was in the next stall stranded.

Jury’s out..

I don’t have any unauthorized photos of him because I didn’t want to waste my cell phone battery.

However, here’s one of him and my drum playing rocker friend Dave who did pay for a photo because he’s a fellow rocker musician guy. I’m posting this so Dave gets his money out of this particular investment. I’m an excellent friend like that.


For the record, my friend is the good looking one of the pair.

Last and certainly not least is Linda Blair best known as Regan the head-spinning, pea soup barfing pajama clad chick from the Exorcist.

Classy lady.

In real life I mean.

Her present mission is a righteous canine rescue organization called Linda Blair WorldHeart Foundation. Here’s the link.    http://www.lindablairworldheart.org

You can follow her on Facebook as well. https://www.facebook.com/LindaBlairWorldHeartFoundation

Linda tours with the creepy con movement to spread the word about animal abuse and to raise funds for her canine rescue organization.

Righteous mission. Bravo!!

She also authored a book called Going Vegan.

I bought her book for my 19 y/o son who went vegan over the past year for essentially the same reasons, hoping he’ll pick up a few nutritional pointers and possibly expand his sorry diet to something beyond peanut butter and jelly.


As you can see, she’s a beautiful woman inside and out who cleans up exceptionally well.



Other fun facts about the Scary Con.

*Beer tastes better through a straw.

*If you sell extra uber SALTY-as-hell nachos, people will drink more beer (out of a straw), become tipsy and buy more overpriced useless shit that they definitely don’t need.

*You can renew your CPR certification right there and not hurt anyone because all the patients are already unliving.

Here’s me polishing up my life saving skills.

As you can see, I remain cool as a cucumber in fake emergency situations.


Kill two corpses in one afternoon and get extra continuing ed. credit for work.

Not a bad deal.

*Also, the guy dressed as Michael Meyers from Halloween will not agree to take a photo with YOU holding the knife no matter how nicely you ask. I guess he doesn’t want to look like a wussy in front of his badass monster friends.


I guess I can respect that, although it would’ve made an AWESOME Extreme Mom Halloween profile pic.

Happy Fall Y’all.


I’m back!!

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

Bonus- Tampon Ghost from the Extreme Mom craft archives.


Christmas is in DECEMBER dammit


Where I come from we get something like three-ish months of summer, which equates to MAYBE a meager 30 days of warm sunny weather- picnics, watermelon, fireflies, swimming and sandy flip flops.
In short, we have ONE summer month and… the REST of the year.
Eleven months of the grey season, which includes but is not limited to rain, drizzle, snow, ice and every other possible form of precipitation currently known to man.
 So yes, when people (lets call them psycho-holiday enthusiasts) try to contaminate our sacred sunny month with Christmas pollution we tend to get a bit crabby.

Justifiably crabby.

I for one, happen to be a solar powered individual.
I get my energy from the sun and my reserves happen to be dangerously low these days.

The makers of Prozac can only do so much.

They’re like, “You’ve reached your limit lady… our hands are tied.”

“Go get some mood enhancing sunshine.”

And, so I do what I can. I soak in every single moment of summer.
The problem with winter-related holiday nonsense (no, I will not say the C word again) is that it’s like kryptonite for us who reside in the grey area.
The mere mention of the dark side during our sacred sunny sabbatical is enough to boot us out of our happy place clear into the fiery pits of hell, except in OUR hell, it’s snowing.

Resisting winter is a northern defense mechanism that’s been etched in our brains since the ice age.

To top it off, we broke records for cold AND snow in 2013.
I think we did. It felt like it anyway.
That’s my story and I’m sticking with it.
It sucked Frosty’s longest hardest icicle if you get my drift, then to top it off, we shattered all previously set rainfall records.
It felt like it anyway… the record breaking part.
 We did, however experience actual flooding.
Also, we made the big time meaning we were featured on The Weather Channel.

 It was definitely a How-many-Yeti’s-can-you-fit-on-Noah’s-ark? kinda year.


 Nobody really cares what the answer is.

The point is- when Yeti’s and Noah’s ark are mentioned in the same sentence you’re clearly fucked and there’s not a damned thing you can do.

Mother Nature is one moody bitch.

As a result, my people (those of us who reside in the grey area of CNY) have morphed into foul-weather warriors who’ve proven again and again that we can tough that shit out.
However, uninvited winter holiday hoopla in July tends to drive some of us right. over. the. edge.
For the publics safety we’ve established guidelines called…

The Northern Survivalist’s STRICT Winter Holiday Timeline.

Halloween– the fright fest officially begins Sept 30, although mums and pumpkins may be put out any time after Labor Day. (Note- generous leeway given, because I happen to be a mum fan)
Thanksgiving shall occupy the time period between Halloween and the C holiday.
The C holiday– not one bell shall jingle or hallway be decked prior to the conclusion of turkey day feasting.
This means the dishes are washed, dried and put away. Also, the turkey carcass is gone. I freaking hate the turkey-beast carcass with ever fiber of my being.
I would rather get a root canal than harvest meat from the leftover turkey any day of the week.
Make that two root canals and a pap smear.
(I threw that thing in there about the dishes, because I don’t care for the C holiday and I’m trying to keep it away as long as possible. Scrubbing a zillion dishes gives me a little breather)

Let’s call this- living in the goddamned moment.

Quit racing around like blind mice on meth preparing for the next three-ring circus that’s six months away.




If you must shop or bake cookies in July, that’s your business. Just keep that premature holiday pollution off my facebook.
Also, I’ll be happy to taste your cookies.
I’m generous like that.
I may be a holiday bitch, but I’m an excellent taster of cookies.
Unfortunately, there’s nothing we can do about greedy in-your-face retail peddlers who prematurely puke holiday what-nots throughout the land.
Winter holiday whatchamafuks will start polluting stores in August.
It’s the devils way.
Not only do I look the other way. (and say bad words) I also refuse to buy anything.
They’re not getting one premature cent from me until The Northern Survivalist’s Strict Winter Holiday Timeline says it’s time.
When I wander into Home Depot on August 15th in search of charcoal briquettes and get blindsided by a 12 foot blow-up of Frosty-the-freaking-unwelcome-snowman, I will breathe fire.
 This actually works out, because then I dutifully scoop Frosty up in a plastic cup and have something to chase my chocolate vodka with.

Hence, the only acceptable snowman in August is the one you drink.



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