Thursday, April 5, 2012

A little about me. In case you were wondering. I know, you weren't.

I'm new to the blogging world. I only recently began blogging, and before I did that, I read maybe like, three blogs. Sporadically. And they were/are all by people I know. So I'm learning, and spending lots of time scouring the web for other blogs for entertainment and research purposes. It's intriguing to me to see what people talk about, and what the audience likes/responds to.

I picked up pretty quickly that people respond well to humor, but another thing they seem to like is the personal stuff. Blogs are like our favorite sitcoms but on the computer and in written form. We get to know and love the characters and all their quirks, and eagerly anticipate the next episode. We're happy when they are happy, celebrate their successes (even if it's that some kid we don't even know crapped in the toilet for the first time), laugh with them, cry with them, and feel a sense of kinship. Only, unlike television, these are actual people we're reading about.

So, I've decided that instead of humiliating my children in this post, I am going to humiliate myself and tell you some things about me. Whether or not you actually care, I don't know, but I am going to assume that you probably don't. I'm going to write anyway. Because I am one of the five players in this "sitcom" - hey, "blogcom".... new word for this? No? - and maybe it might be fun if you knew about some of my craziness - the craziness that is inherent in me, regardless of my kids and motherhood. And if it's not fun for you, then it's for my kids, were I to die prematurely and they didn't have a chance to figure out what a freak their mom is get to know me better.

Here goes. I'm a really strange person, so please don't be put off by me. I hope I don't lose any readers over this. Be accepting. :)

- I have a strange eyebrow situation. They're pretty sparse. If I don't fill them in with a make-up pencil, they disappear. And it looks really freaky. People with no eyebrows look freaky. So I religiously fill them in to avoid looking like a freak. So concerned am I about this that if I shower at night, right before bed, I still fill them in because what if there's an emergency and I have to run out of the house and therefore into public, and I have no eyebrows? I'll scare people.

- I have a mental problem (well, I'm sure I have many of those) in which I live in fear of being trapped in our house for months on end in some apocalyptic catastrophe. Say, a zombie overtaking or something. So, I irrationally stockpile food in the extremely unlikely event that this might happen. No, I am not a hoarder, and the food is contained to the kitchen and a bit in the garage, as my obsession has not gotten completely out of control. But don't think that I didn't go, "what a GREAT idea" when I saw an episode of Extreme Couponing in which a woman stored food under her kids' beds. And, this carries over into the car. What if we're trapped in the car for days? I keep lots of food and bottles of water in the car, plus diapers and wipes, and a couple of blankets and sweatshirts for the kids. But I can "hide" the real reason that I stockpile the car under the basis that it actually makes sense because we end up using the sweatshirts and diapers and going through the food and water regularly.


- I love to socialize. I love having intelligent, thought-provoking, deep conversations, and gossiping and laughing. All this is odd when you consider the fact that I married a mute very quiet guy. Opposites definitely attract.


- You don't want to hear me sing. You'd much rather listen to a cat fight. Or nails on a chalkboard. Much prettier sounds. Promise. I also cannot draw. I have zero artistic abilities. But I make a mean diaper cake. Check them out here (Facebook) or here (Etsy). Or not. It's cool. But I sell them. You could buy one. In fact, I love my readers so much that I am offering free shipping on the diaper cakes if you give me the code "Madness" if you buy from the Facebook page or enter "Madness" as a coupon code in my shop on Etsy. 

- I'm not particularly fond of dogs and kids. I know, I am a soulless bastard. But wouldn't you know, if there is a kid or a dog who usually ignores/hates everyone on earth except their parents, they LOVE me. I cannot tell you the amount of times that a kid or a dog has crawled into my lap, much to my horror and the utter surprise of their parents, and stared all googly-eyed at me while the parents sputter about how the kid/dog never goes to anyone and usually runs from people, and they must love me. I must be so great! ....And the entire time I'm just sitting there and thinking, I'm not great. I just don't understand. Is it some conspiracy that kids and dogs have in which they recognize the haters and decide that they are going to try to convert me by killing me with kindness?? See, look at me! Aren't I so cute?! How could you possibly be repulsed by me
OR, and this is what I secretly believe, they recognize a fellow hater and are like, yeah, I can't stand my kind, either. You're the shit, I can tell. Let's hang. I know you don't like me, but I don't like you, either, so let's get over that and sit here and hate everyone together. Word.
However, when this happens with cats, it makes perfect sense. I love cats. I'm a crazy cat lady. Okay, not really, but you get my drift. And please don't break up with me because I am not the biggest fan of dogs. Or kids. We will survive, I promise. Stay with me.


- I have absolutely no problem blaming a fart on my kids.


See? You stayed with me. And now you *might* be laughing. Probably not, though. Who does that? Me.

- I'm almost impossible to offend. No, this is not me throwing down a challenge to see if you can offend me. There are many factors that go into this. 
One, I grew up in a family in which teasing and joking and making fun of each other was par for the course. My skin grew thick as my bones were growing strong.
Two, I used to work in a jail and have had just about every vile thing possible said to me. If I had any shred of sensitivity left in me when I started working at the jail, it was gone by the time I quit. When I heard, more than once, disgusting people tell me that they need to stick their penis in my holes, among other nasty stuff, or that I'm a dumb fucking bitch whose children should be ashamed of me (I didn't even have kids at the time - who's the dumb bitch now?) I tended to develop thick skin. So when someone spews something at me (that would typically offend most people), I usually think, good try. I've heard significantly worse. You're like a toddler trying to insult someone. Go change your diaper. You stink.
Three, pretty much anything someone can say to me, I am already aware of. We are our own worst critics.
Four, how can I be offended at someone who is laughing at me or making fun of me when I laugh at and make fun of myself every day?

- I love inappropriate humor. It can't get inappropriate enough for me. I have a disgusting, vile, cursing, perverted 18-year-old boy inside of me. He comes out in me all the time but especially when I drink too much and my "filter" gets blown away in the booze-breath wind.

- I don't think the world is going to end this year. Which is odd, given my irrational thoughts of apocalyptic doom that make me stockpile food.


- I didn't drink much until I had kids. I'm sure that's a mere coincidence, though.


- I've been told that I look like Daryl Hannah, Kate Walsh, Jodie Foster, Jane Krakowski, and my parents. I'm only confused about why I would look like either of my DNA donors parents. This is what I actually look like. On a good day. With make-up. Away from my kids. With a drink in hand. I blurred the faces of the minors behind me. 


Check out those filled-in eyebrows.


- I think funny people are the SHIT. I love funny people. I don't care if you're otherwise an asshole, if you're funny, I'll still like you - kind of. Funny trumps all. In fact, if Nate ever left me for a seriously funny chick, I couldn't even be mad. Or hate her. Or him. I'd be like, dude, I totally get it. 

- I think feet and mouths are the most disgusting things. Make me look at a foot, or even worse, touch one, and I will just be shriveling up and dying inside. I could never be a podiatrist or dentist. When I worked at the jail, occasionally I had to help the nurses with the medication pass, which required me to look inside the mouth of every inmate who received medication to make sure they weren't "cheecking" it, and it was pure torture. It was so disgusting to look inside these unkempt, unbrushed mouths with rotting meth teeth, nasty tongues... UGGGGHHHHH. I wanted to fucking die. And to make it even worse, some of the inmates would wag their tongues in a sexual way at me and I wanted to throw up on my boots and then kick them in the nuts. Except, I didn't want to touch them. Not even with a vomit-covered boot. Instead, I would keep a poker face and call out "next". I would be so nauseous and traumatized after med pass that I *may* have been so desperate to get out of doing it that I *might* have offered sexual favors to anyone who would take my place.

Just kidding, Nate. I did not do that. I promise. That was just the 18-year-old boy in me coming out. No, I am not drinking.

- I may not like kids, but I love babies. I'm addicted to them. I love them so much that I will probably post about it in the near future. In painful, exacting detail. I eat those pooping sacks of sleep-depriving love UP.

- I may not like kids or dogs, but I cannot stand the fact that some of them are abused, or neglected, or going hungry. It kills me. The thought or sight of it causes a physical reaction inside; I feel like someone punched me in my gut, raked my heart with a claw hammer, squeezed my throat with a rubber hose, and burned my eyes with acid. So thanks, Sarah McLachlan, and your horrible abused animal commercials. I wish I could fix all the bad in the world so that NO child or animal ever goes hungry or is abused. Anyone have any ideas on how to do that?
Odd, I know. I don't want to hang out with you, kids and dogs, but I am filled with heartbreak and rage at knowing that some of you suffer.


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I think that's enough for now. It probably was enough about 15 paragraphs ago. I'm sorry. Thank you for reading. And were I ever to find myself single again, I'll be sure to use this as my description of myself on match.com. I'll be beating the guys off with sticks, I know. Maybe even some women, too. 

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16 comments:

  1. Hilarious. You can come eat my pooping sack of sleep-deprivation up anytime. Wow, that sounded dirty.

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    1. That did sound dirty... :))

      I wish I COULD come eat up your pooping sack of sleep-deprivation! Too bad we probably live nowhere near each other. Those darn babies. Get me every time. Even ones I don't know. I've actually offered to watch the newborns of people I vaguely know, much to their discomfort, I'm sure. Then, at 2 in the morning, they probably wish they could take me up on it. Oh well.

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  2. Tracie McKinley-LuxApril 5, 2012 at 11:54 AM

    You are so freakin funny. Thanks for the laugh, I needed that today.:)

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    1. :)) Thanks, Tracie! Glad to have helped! Give your babes hugs from me.

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  3. I'm laughing because whenever those abused animal commercials come on, both my husband I freak out & scramble for the remote to change the channel. I don't know how anyone can watch those.

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    1. Ugh... I know, they are so awful! The producers kind of shot themselves in the foot with them; they made them so heart wrenching that instead of motivating people to help, they motivate people to not want to watch them!

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  4. My Mom came by while I was reading your blog and I said Hey Mom look its B*&&! (like how I didn't type that out???) And SHE said well I can totally see Marianne in her! Personally I think you look just like you did only NOT blonde LOL

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    1. Ha, too funny! Yeah, thanks for not typing it out, although anyone who reads it might think it's "Bitch", HA! ;-)
      Please tell your mom I said hello!

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  5. I realize I'm a bit late reading this, but I was hopping around your blog today killing time till 5. Ha! I had to stop and re-read the "back when I worked in a jail" sentence like 10 times. You're too hot to work in a jail. And I mean that in a totally non-stalkerish, married mother of 1.5 (#2 not due till January) way. Love you and I Like Beer and Babies. You gals are great!

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    1. Oh, stop! But thank you! Congratulations on #2! Well, and on #1, but you know what I mean!
      I Like Beer and Babies is pretty awesome! You obviously have great taste! :-D

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  6. OMG this is hysterical! I totally relate, but I am one that has made it to the other side, kids are now 18 & 24 and life is finally becoming mine again. It was a lot of hard, fun, loving, incredible mind altering years, but you come out a stronger woman for it. Hopefully someday, not anytime to soon, I will be able to enjoy being a grandparent. I wish when I was a young mother I had these articles to read just to realize I am not the only crazy mother out there and I am insane. Thanks for the great laughs, but you will make it thru too!!

    Best of Luck and please keep the posts coming!!

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    1. Well thank you! I am glad things are starting to calm down for you. Definitely looking forward to those days for myself. And I definitely plan to keep the posts coming! Thank you for reading!

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  7. So glad you started a blog, it's great! How do you have time to blog? I have "only" two boys and my monthly blog post has fallen by the wayside. Btw, did find your blog by looking up the 2 vs 3 kids thing lol! Congrats on your miracle baby too, he was going to be here iud or not wow!

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    1. Thanks, Sally! I have time to write because I have an awesome husband who helps out so I can do that! And, I often write while kids are climbing over my back and stuff like that, sooo... ;-)

      Yep, Brandon was definitely determined to be here!

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  8. I'm glad I found your blog. You're hysterical!

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